by Zoey Long
Jasmine gives one last look at Carrie from head to toe before swiftly turning to gather some options. Carrie turns to face me, half-empty glass of champagne in hand. She’s concerned, I can see it in her eyes. The two of us, in a fancy lingerie store, sipping champagne while a statuesque saleswoman does our bidding. Carrie’s a poor college student, I know that. She has no business being in a place like this.
“Adam, what are we doing here? She’s going to pull all of these looks for me, but I feel bad. A proper fitting?”
She has a point. I’m basically an adjunct professor, we’re not known for raking in the big bucks. But it’s the first time in my life I have a steady paycheck and I’m not exclusively freelancing, and I know Jasmine will give me a discount. It might not be the smartest use of my money, but it’ll make me feel good.
“Tell me, do you feel like a star right now? Because you should.” She blushes at the cheeks, smiling. “Good. Then let me dress you up, don’t worry about anything else. If you like something, then...” I shrug my shoulders, like it’s not a big deal. I’m prepared to drop some cash in this place, I did just get paid. I know it’s probably my desire taking over my brain in this moment, but that’s been the overarching theme of the last twenty-four hours.
Jasmine returns.
“Darling, can I ask your name? Carrie? Okay, great. I have some looks set up for you, a few bra and panty sets that just came in that are really beautiful, I think they’ll look gorgeous on your frame, but if you don’t mind, I’d ask you to come into the fitting room with me for a moment. I’ll take your champagne.”
Carrie hands the near-empty glass to Jasmine and follows her down a long corridor behind a black satin curtain. Jasmine turns back to me.
“Adam, you come, too. Yes, that’s right. Come along. There are seats directly across the fitting rooms. When there’s something to see, we’ll call you.”
She flashes me a smile before walking away. I follow her, champagne flute in hand. Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to take a girlfriend to this place. I’ve always wanted to be a gentleman with the means to dress his girl in any fabric, shade, or cut. I laugh, sitting down on the cream leather bench. I’m not there yet, but I can pretend. Liberal arts, man.
The two women disappear into a fitting room behind another black satin curtain, Carrie giving me one last smile before the fabric falls in front of her face. I finish my champagne in one final gulp and look behind me for a place to put it. No such luck. There are about fifteen tiny branded bottles of water arranged neatly in front of me on a silver tray. I assume they’re complimentary.
I can hear Jasmine’s voice, she’s laughing jovially between words with Carrie. I hear Carrie gasp with excitement and say words like “beautiful” and “stunning.” My mind starts to go wild, wondering exactly what’s happening behind that curtain. I’m not imagining the two women together or touching each other, no, not at all. I mean, if that were happening in front of me right now for some reason I wouldn’t look away, I doubt anyone would. But that’s not what has my mind running. It’s just the precision of how well they fit here that intrigues me. Lana told me all about it.
Carrie will be asked to disrobe immediately, down to her underthings. Jasmine will discuss the fit and style of her current undergarments, how satisfied she is with them, if they fit correctly or not. Then she will be asked to take off her bra and stand topless in front of the fitter, or specialist, as they like to be called, so she can get an idea of bra size. Carrie will be given a black satin robe to put on, and after some conference about style and desire, the specialist will emerge, pulling even more looks.
Jasmine appears then, as if on cue, smiling devilishly at me.
“Oh, isn’t she breathtaking? What a lovely girlfriend you have,” she says.
“Oh, Carrie isn’t my girlfriend. I mean, she’s...yes. Yes, I know she’s gorgeous. Quite. Thank you.”
Well, I fucked that up.
“Psst...”
I turn my head and see Carrie peeking out from behind the curtain. All I can see is her face and bare neck, one downy white shoulder.
“Hey!” I smile at her “What are you doing in there? Do you have anything on?”
She crooks her finger at me, signaling me to come near. I stand up, wanting to go into that room and ravage her, but I know that Jasmine will be back any moment and I really like this place. I’d like to be allowed to come back.
With me standing right in front of the door, Carrie pulls back the curtain even farther, and she’s wearing a bra and panty set that’s a deep currant color. There are satin and lace details, and the panties have a vintage look in that they’re high-waisted with satin panels in the front and lace on the sides, covering her hips.
“Turn around.” The panties allow for a peek of her ass.
“Okay, lovebirds. I’ve got a lot more for her to try on. Now that we know her size.”
Jasmine rushes into the fitting room, her arm stacked with pieces, and I’m shut out again. I walk back to the showroom and see if I can pick out something for Carrie myself. I am just about to walk onto the main floor when I hear a low, unmistakable voice on the other side of the curtain.
“Oh, I love it!” Lana says, excitedly. “That’s such a gorgeous color. It looks like bordeaux, like a glass of red wine. So elegant. Who doesn’t love wine?”
I chuckle to myself once my stomach is done doing a once over. I consider waiting behind this curtain until she decides to leave, literally hiding from my best friend while my jailbait student girlfriend tries on every kind of lingerie on this entire store. That’s betting on her not trying anything on and just deciding to leave before we’re finished back here, which is a big gamble. I know Lana, and she’s not leaving here without at least one item.
“Let me check if we have that style in your size,” the petite blond expert helping Lana says, turning around and heading straight for me.
I duck out of her way immediately as the blonde whizzes past me. She stops at a wall of drawers, opens the one marked 32D, and begins searching for the balconette bra Lana wanted. Once the curtain falls back into place, I can still see the outline of Lana’s frame on the other side of it. She’s reaching for something higher than she can get to.
“Adam?”
Jasmine is calling from behind me, gesturing for me to come back to the fitting room. Carrie must have something on that she wants me to see. I walk toward Jasmine, who is holding the curtain aside, allowing me to come into the room where Carrie has been trying on clothes. My mouth hangs agape at the sight of her.
“It’s like the dress, see?” she says, smiling broadly, smoothing her palms against the fabric of her corset, moving them up and down before resting her delicate limbs at her sides. She has some muscle definition in her arms and shoulders, from long rehearsals, yoga classes, or just from being twenty-one.
She’s in an overbust navy blue corset with a sweetheart neckline and her breasts are lifted, ample and round. Her waist is drawn in expertly, and I have no doubt that Jasmine spent quite some time lacing her into that garment. I can see the outline of the metal stays on the front. The material is satin, with a paisley print that is so faint you can only see it if you’re close enough to touch the wearer, which at this point, I am. There’s satin piping along the neckline, I run my finger along it slowly.
“I’ll give you two a moment to decide,” Jasmine says with a knowing smile, leaving us alone in the room.
That’s when I take in the rest of her. A garter belt is affixed around her waist, navy like the corset with matching delicate print, leading down to nude stockings and the retro black and white heels. If we were in my apartment, I’d ask her to switch to plain black patent leather stilettos.
Carrie comes in close to me and whispers, “Do you like it?”
I’m like jello inside the minute she talks to me. I’ll do whatever she wants as long as she keeps smiling at me like that. I’m done for.
“Spi
n around.”
She turns around, her ass high and round, accentuated by the g-string. I put my arms around her from behind, kiss her shoulder, pull her in close to my body. She stifles a giggle, trying her best to be quiet. I ask her if she loves the ensemble, if she likes it better than anything else she’s tried on today. I’m getting hard pressed against her ass like this. I know she feels it because she pushes her plump ass back into me. I grip her forearms tighter and exhale excitedly into the nape of her neck, wrapping my hands tightly around her corseted waist. The back of it is expertly laced, but I’ve laced quite a few corsets in my day. I can do it for her, anytime she wants.
“Well, now I have to buy it for you,” I say. “I know for a fact that you’re soiling those underwear.”
She gasps when my fingers find her slit. I know where her clit is immediately, even through the laciness of the thong. I tease her by running my fingers over the fabric as lightly as possible, and I can feel her swell with my light touch. Her clit is getting excited, stiffening under my fingers. I slip one finger into the underwear and feel how wet she is, and I definitely have to buy these. I want to buy it all. I slip my whole hand inside the thong and begin fingering her more intently. I’m rubbing her in subsequent circles, holding her body tightly against mine. My eyes follow the line of her stockinged legs down to the floor, the high heels are trembling against the thin carpeted floor. I hold her so firmly that she couldn’t fall no matter what happens.
“Can you be quiet?” I ask her in her ear.
Her breath is rapid but she’s not moaning. My fingers are constant, my body stands steady and I’m rubbing over and over in the exact spot she likes before dropping my fingers down to feel how wet she’s getting before rubbing her clit again. I can tell what’s working best for her at this moment by the rhythm of her breath and how difficult it is for her not to scream. She’s trembling with pleasure, more every second.
“Do you think you can come on my fingers right now without making any noise? So no one in this place will hear you? I really like it here, I’d hate to be kicked out. Can you do that for me?”
Her breath is still rapid, tiny quiet cries escape her lips and I’m at full mast against her behind. She nods, still panting, energy buzzing throughout her entire body. We’re in front of a full length mirror, and I’ve intentionally positioned her directly in front of it so that she can’t avoid looking at herself unless she closes her eyes.
“Keep your eyes open.” She looks at her reflection in the mirror, and at me with my face buried in her hair, wrapped around her from behind, holding her in place. “Look at yourself. Watch yourself come.”
My wrist is steady, and as her pelvis rocks back and forth against my hand, I push my cock harder up against her ass. All the elements happening at once right now—the mixture of being dressed up in this way, the fact that we’re in public, making her look at her reflection and the fact that she’s my student—make her come faster than she would otherwise, and she bites her lip so hard when it happens that I’m scared she’ll leave a mark. She doesn’t make an audible sound and her clit is hard and slick against my fingers as I hold her tighter to me than ever before, her pelvis bucking back and forth and her entire body shuddering with release.
“Look, open your eyes.”
She watches herself come down, her tits lifted in the corset and heaving as she tries to catch her breath. With my lips pressed against her neck, I can feel her heart beating.
“So was this your favorite outfit?”
She laughs, regaining balance and turning around.
“It is. I love this. I don’t have any corsets, not of my own. I’ve been laced into corsets for shows for years, but I could never afford my own.”
That settles it.
“Then you should have it,” I say decidedly.
“Adam, this is… It’s not cheap. I don’t know how much this will all be together, the corset is really well made and can you even… I’d never ask you to...”
“We’re definitely buying the thong.”
She laughs.
“Besides, you didn’t ask me. Please, allow me to buy this for you. And after this I want to take you somewhere special. Do you have anything you’re doing tomorrow? Let me know if you’re free for the night. I’ll let you get dressed and I’ll tell Jasmine we’re finished.”
She looks at me speechless. “You are crazy. Absolutely crazy.”
Her face has turned the color of crushed rose petals, I know she doesn’t know what to think of me, of my grand gestures. I am her teacher, after all. I wink at her and turn to leave.
“I’ll send Jasmine in to unlace you,” I say.
Once I’m outside the fitting room, I listen for Lana’s voice. I don’t hear her anymore. She’s probably gone. I confidently make my way to the register, the blonde who was helping Lana is standing behind the shiny onyx black counter, waiting for me.
“Have you decided, then?” she says with cheer in her voice, and I wonder if she knows what just happened behind the curtain. I doubt it. I nod and ask her to ring up the corset, the stockings, and garter belt, and of course, the panties.
“Fantastic choice, I’ve just sent Jasmine back in with her, to unlace the corset. As soon as that’s done, we can ring up your items.” She looks down and sees something. “In fact, Jasmine has the item numbers written down. I can ring you up right now.”
Yeah, I’m sure she thinks it’s fantastic. I’m about to drop hundreds of dollars in this place.
“Thanks very much,” I say.
“Adam?”
My heart jumps to my throat when I turn and see Lana standing next to me, a large shopping bag in her hand filled with pink tissue paper, blooming up and out of the bag. Fuck.
She greets me excitedly, wrapping me in a huge hug and kissing me on the cheek. I have missed her, it’s true. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. All I can hope is that it takes Jasmine a long time to unlace Carrie and she doesn’t come sauntering out here all flushed and starry eyed, very obviously a post-orgasm undergraduate girl.
“What are you doing in here? Are you doing a shoot without me?” she asks, kidding. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some more clients. In fact, I have a few people interested. Let’s get a drink sometime?”
Lana looks down at my transaction. “Damn, no one told me academia paid so well.”
I can hear Jasmine talking with Carrie faintly behind the fitting room curtain, I think they’re about to come out.
“It... doesn’t pay that well,” I say. I can feel my face pricking hot.
“Mmmhm,” she says, nodding skeptically. “I have to head home, but I’ll see you soon? Promise? Call me sometime, okay, doofus? I miss you. And…” with one last look at the register, “you’re buying.”
I nod, give her an earnest smile, and watch her walk away. Beads of sweat have accumulated on my forehead and my heart is racing as I watch Lana walk towards and out the door.
“Okay, so you’re all set.”
The blonde hands me a receipt and I only feel slightly nauseated at the total. Jasmine comes out from behind the curtain alone. She’s holding the various items that Carrie was wearing folded in her arms.
“Your lady friend is using the bathroom.”
I let out an exhale and I don’t think that either of these women realize how stressed out I am or what a bullet I just so narrowly dodged. Jasmine takes the blonde’s place behind the counter and starts folding the garments in the same shade of pink tissue paper that was coming out of Lana’s bag.
“Wait, where are the panties?” I ask Jasmine, not seeing them in the pile. I was charged for them though.
Carrie emerges from the fitting room area in the navy blue swing dress.
“The lady decided to leave those on,” Jasmine explains.
I nod. Carrie leans into my shoulder. She looks only slightly disheveled, her cheeks less pink now. I hand her the bag, it’s huge and overflowi
ng with pink ruffled paper. She takes the handles and the weight of the bag drops down under her grasp. She smiles at me as we head out of the store. I’m sure I’m their favorite client now.
“Thank you. Seriously. Adam, this is too generous. I can’t believe you did this,” Carrie says, squeezing my hand.
Chapter 11: Carrie
I am floating on air. I cannot believe he bought me all of this lingerie. I know how much this stuff costs since I took a peek at the price tags in the fitting room. The corset alone was three hundred bucks. Now he’s leading me “somewhere special.” I told him I wasn’t doing anything tomorrow. In truth, I have some work I should be doing, but what college student would turn down the chance to spend time with Mr. GQ hottie to tackle her never ending reading list? That’s right. Not one.
He packed his camera before we left the house, out of habit, he said, in case he felt like shooting the beautiful day. Something tells me I’m part of his beautiful day when we get off the train in Soho, a huge downtown shopping district in New York City. All the best shops are here, at least the ones young people like to shop at. That means it’s stocked full of people, tourists, locals, everyone.
Whenever we’re together I can’t help but look for people from school, and I swear that phenomenon happens where I am convinced I see people I know everywhere we go. It takes me a second to realize that I’m not actually seeing Earnsley students and faculty everywhere. The strawberry blonde passing us behind shades in a crowd isn’t really Alexis. I looked it up once, it’s called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. It has something to do with how easily the brain creates patterns.
He has had his hand intertwined with mine ever since we left the boutique, and I can’t wait to get that ensemble back on again. My stomach is filled with butterflies, wondering where he’s taking me.
“Do you have an idea of where we’re headed?” he asks, smiling broadly. The sweat on his forehead is gone, even though he seemed a little on edge when I came out of the fitting room. It was probably from sticker shock. Man. I know professors don’t make that much money. I keep thinking about him fingering me in the fitting room and juxtaposing that with listening to him lecture in class. It’s making me even happier that I decided not to remove my brand new panties and hand them to the salesgirl.