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It was the middle of the week, I guess maybe a Thursday, when I decided I was asking the wrong person. If Jason didn’t want to talk about lingerie modeling, so be it. I started calling around town, discreetly asking questions until I found what I was looking for. There was a place about a mile and a half from our house that offered this service.
It took me about ten minutes to get there. It was another forty-five before I had the nerve to get out of the car and at least another fifteen spent pacing in the parking lot. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go in and check it out or just wait outside for one of the girls to leave so I could talk to her. Either option would have probably given me all the information I needed, but in the end curiosity won out. I went inside.
At first glance things seemed fairly normal. It was a lingerie shop, big deal. The merchandise was maybe a bit more risqué than what you find at Victoria’s Secret, but nothing too shocking. I wandered around for a while, even did a little shopping. I had almost convinced myself that there was nothing more to see when a young man came out of one of the dressing rooms. On his way toward the door he spotted me and smiled. I was still lingering near the front of the store, afraid to go farther, so with only a slight detour he was standing next to me.
“You must be new, Sugar. I’ll have to catch you next time,” and he turned to leave. I was embarrassed and insulted … and extremely turned on. That was a feeling I’d have to analyze later. I’d come too far to back out now. As I headed for the counter one of the sales girls met me and walked me up.
“You find everything alright?” she asked.
“Well, no, not exactly.” There, I had opened the door. Now what was I going to say?!
The clerk just stood there, smiling sweetly, waiting for me to go on. Finally she prompted, “Is there something in particular you are looking for?”
My mind was screaming, “Check out and leave. Go before you make a fool of yourself.” I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and mumbled, “I called earlier asking about … modeling.”
I glanced up and could see she was fighting the urge to laugh. “Honey, if you want to model you will have to get over this shyness.”
“Oh, no, I … well, I came to … I mean I just wanted to,” too late, I was making a complete ass of myself.
“You came to watch? I take it this is your first time.” I nodded. “My name is Lisa. I’ll explain how things work and we’ll go from there, OK?” Again I nodded. Lisa grinned and went on. “All of the sales girls here are models. If you see one that interests you just let me know and we can work out something. I’ll be honest with you, some of my girls don’t like dancing for women, but we have several that should do just fine. The fee is $50 for thirty minutes or $75 for an hour, cash or credit, paid up front. The rules are simple; all arrangements are subject to the dancer’s consent and no touching whatsoever. Do you have any questions?”
“What exactly happens in there?” I whispered.
“I have no idea. What goes on behind those doors is strictly between the model and the customer … no windows and no cameras.” She winked as she said this. “There are emergency buttons for the girls in case a customer gets out of hand, but as long as you don’t touch, you can do whatever you want.”
“What if I just want to watch?”
Another wink as she said, “Everyone is ‘just here to watch’. Same price either way.”
“One more question, do you allow couples in?” This question seemed to surprise her, I guess because I’d come in alone.
“Yes, $100 for an hour. The selection of girls willing to do that is considerably smaller, but we do what we can to suit your tastes.”
© Chase 2010
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