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Emboldened, I blow hot air over her pussy… not touching, of course, because that would just be gross.
The entire time, I gift her with the most seductive smile I can muster, and Oriana’s eyes go wide in horror, her mouth hanging open. Her face is so comical. I nearly burst out laughing and only hold on by a thread.
“Well, Oriana. How are we getting on?” I whisper in my most sultry voice, struggling to keep a straight face, all the while continuing to stroke her upper legs and hips.
Oriana still hasn’t moved a muscle, and I’m dying of laughter on the inside.
Man, this is wild.
The next knock on the cubicle door is more insistent. “Ladies, is everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say breathily. “Nothing… could… be… better,” I pant, pausing briefly between each word.
Oriana’s suit jacket is open, exposing her blouse, and brazenly, I let my hands wander upward, tracing the outline of her breasts. She gasps even before I boldly grab them with both hands.
“How are the sizes?” asks the attendant.
Still cupping Oriana’s boobs, I call out, “Size is great.” Licking my lips for added effect. Gazing into Oriana’s eyes, I add, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Oriana turns crimson.
Tense and rigid, she stammers nervously, her voice cracking, “We’re almost done.”
“Aww, come on,” I whisper.
Smacking my hands away, she pulls me up to standing and hisses, “Just try on your things. I’ll wait outside.”
I inch even closer and tap her nose playfully. “Oh Oriana, don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
The color drains from her face, and she freezes once more. This should teach her not to mess with me.
Sensing she wants to flee, I quickly ruffle up her clothes. She slaps my hands away, but the damage to her always-proper appearance has been done. Oh, I wish I could see the shop girl’s face when she sees Oriana stepping out, hastily tucking her shirt back in.
Smirking from ear to ear, I can hardly contain myself.
Who am I, pulling this off?!
Go me! I mentally high-five myself.
Now that was fun. Pranking Oriana might be the only way I can tolerate this woman. There’s no love lost between us. I’m sure, given the chance, she’d sprinkle gravel on my muesli.
I take my time trying on the pajamas, and when I finally leave the cubicle, Oriana is waiting just outside the door. She’s avoiding looking at me, and I can’t help but grin stupidly as we walk out of the change room area. Putting on my best fake afterglow expression, I give the attendant a broad smile and wink at her. She blushes and quickly looks away as a still pale and stone-faced Oriana rushes past.
Yep, this attendant believes we got down and dirty in there. The thought makes me chuckle out loud, earning me a death stare from my nemesis.
This day is turning out pretty damn good.
I march out of the boutique, head held high, feeling stoked from my achievements.
Bitch-strike number two was a roaring success.
And on top of it, I found some sleepwear to hide my body from Gualtiero. Maybe shopping isn’t so bad after all.
Though, having said that, shopping with an entourage of five is not something I want to repeat. The only advantage is I don’t have to carry the bags.
People stare, probably thinking I’m someone important, walking the streets flanked by guards on every side. It’s uncomfortable, and I wanted to abort my shopping mission twice.
But the success of my change room antics more than made up for it.
