One Afternoon Shopping In France free porn video
One afternoon of shopping in France
By Rosie
"Avez-vous essay? ceci dessus?" the sales girl said, taking the black
satin blouse from my hands.
"I beg your pardon, I don't understand," I replied though even as I spoke
the words, I could make out the meaning of her question.
"Have you tried his on, monsieur?" the girl repeated in a rather thickly
accented English.
"Um... no, but..." I stammered, taken aback by her question.
She took the blouse off the table, lifted it up by the hanger, took a
studious look at it, looked at the size tag then looked at me again.
"I'm not sure this is the right size for you," she said.
"Actually? It's for my mother," I weakly explained but she was already
walking around the counter, acting as if she hadn't heard me.
"If you would please follow me?" she said and all but held me by my hand
as she led me to the rack where I found the troublesome garment. She put
the blouse back where it had been, then flipped around the other ones
until she found one of same style and color, but apparently a different
size.
"I think this one will fit you better," she said, holding it against me.
"I don't think you understand, it really is for my mother," I protested,
but at the same time took the blouse from her and followed her towards the
changing booths. As she walked before me I observed how her skirt wound
itself snugly around her cute behind but then flared out in a delightfully
ruffled hem that swayed and danced around her knees invitingly with each
step she took. I began to feel that old familiar pleasant tingle between
my legs.
"In here, please," she said, holding the curtain open for me. In the
mirror I noticed that under the strong lights of outside of the changing
booths even my darkest blue shirt was not opaque enough not to reveal the
black lacy edge of my royal blue silk lingerie. I squirmed with
embarrassment, then took of my shirt and put the blouse on. The cool satin
felt lovely on my skin and the blouse did fit me perfectly. The short and
full sleeves nicely accentuated my thin white arms, the black beads below
the square neckline deviously adverted the attention from my diminutive
bust. I noticed it also did a much better job of concealing my lingerie,
but then remembered that I still had to maintain it was a present for my
mother. However, even as I was thinking of how to explain that to the
salesgirl who obviously couldn't understand English very well - even
though she did speak it almost perfectly - I found myself fumbling with
the three small buttons at the back, trying in vain to fasten them.
"Are you ready, monsieur?" the girl asked from the other side of the
curtain, bringing me back to the reality of the situation.
"Actually, I..." I began, but she had already opened the curtain.
"Yes?" she said.
"Well, I..." I stammered, my hands still at the back of my neck.
"Oh, allow me to help you with that, monsieur," she said, turning me
around and fastening the buttons, "The first few times, it can be tricky,
but then the button holes will stretch out."
"Thank you," I said, turning back to face her.
"Like I said, no? A perfect fit," she said.
"I'm not sure it goes to well with my trousers," I said, trying to seem as
if I was joking, when in fact I was desperately searching for a reason to
take it off.
"You are right, monsieur," she said, "I will bring you something more
suitable."
A couple of minutes later I stepped out of the booth under her observing
gaze again, this time wearing a high waisted, knee length red pencil skirt
along with the blouse.
"Much better, no?" she said, not seeming the least surprised to see black
nylon stocking on my legs and red varnish on my toenails. She disappeared
again and came back some moments later.
"Excuse me, but I have to attend to other customers," she said, "But maybe
you can try on these shoes. If they don't fit, you can find other sizes in
that corner. Then? I think you will find some dresses that you will like."
I could see two middle aged ladies at the counter. They didn't notice me
at first but after the salesgirl spoke something to them in French, they
glanced bemusedly at me, now in black patent pumps with three inch heels,
taking one dress after another off the rack and putting it back. In the
end I found one that I liked. It was a full skirted one whose bodice was
similar to that of the blouse I was wearing, except that it was printed in
flowing abstract patterns in shades of gray. By the time I had changed
into it, the sales girl had turned her attentions to me again.
"It looks very nice on you, monsieur," she said, then continued, "If you
are interested? We give a gift certificate for a local cosmetic salon.
Usually, we give it to customers who buy a little more, but if you buy
this dress? Along with your other purchases, I think I can arrange a
session for you."
"Thanks," I said, "But your really must understand, this isn't necessary..."
Without even waiting for me to finish my protests, she took the phone and
dialed some numbers.
"Do not worry, monsieur," she said, covering the microphone with her other
hand, "I will arrange everything for you. In the mean time, maybe try on
another dress?"
She smiled at me then began talking to the phone in French.
There was another dress I liked - red, square neckline, sleeveless. It's
skirt was tight with four box pleats, two in front, two at the back. It
came with a matching short sleeved jacket that made the whole outfit even
cuter but I figured I was going to spend enough as it was.
"Everything ready, monsieur," she said, taking my credit card, "Will you
be wearing this dress to the salon?"
"Actually, I'd rather change back to my previous clothes," I said.
"Of course. This dress is maybe too festive," she said and handed me a
paper bag, "Here are your other clothes."
It was only after I had already taken off my dress when I discovered that
the bag contained only the blouse and skirt, but not my pants, shirt and
shoes.
"Excuse me? Miss?" I called out from the booth.
"Is there a problem?" she said, "The sizes are correct, no?"
"The sizes are perfect," I said with the intent to continue but she
wouldn't let me finish.
"Then? Monsieur? If you could hurry up? The lady from the salon is here
and is waiting to take you with her. We shouldn't keep her waiting."
With a bag containing my dress in one hand and my wallet in the other, I
followed the cosmetician to her salon, my high heels clacking against the
granite floor of the street.
"Sit here, monsieur," she said covered me with a pink nylon robe after I
did so. I wanted to protest and get back to the clothes store to get my
own clothes back but after a whole day of wandering around the town and
later looking for a present for my mother, sitting down felt too relaxing
to stand up again, at least not after a moment or so.
Two other girls joined her and soon a pair of hands was massaging my now
wet scalp while another one was anointing my fingers with warm oil. I
could feel blood returning to my aching legs and my mind slipping off to a
dream-like haze.
"Any particular look you would like?" the lady who brought me in asked me.
"Hmm...?" I woke up, "Oh, I don't know."
"Daytime? Evening?" she persisted.
"Well it is getting dark..." I said, then simply purred as the hands
massaging my scalp had just found a new, even more perfect spot.
I dazed off to my half-dreamlike state while the girls worked on me,
chatting softly in French all the time.
"All done," the lady said after a while and pulled the pink robe off me.
Slowly, I began to recognize my reflection in the mirror. My previously
long, straight brown hair was now a mass of bright red tight curls, my
eyebrows were two sharply pronounced, but thin arches, my eyes were framed
with black eyeliner and darkened with a deep, glittering green eye shadow,
my eyelashes were heavy with mascara. My cheeks were reddened and my lips
were painted into a dark pink that matched the color of my fingernails,
now filed into elegant ovals.
I slid off the chair and straightened out my skirt down my things. I took
my bag and my wallet, thinking I'd have to get back to the store to get my
clothes back and maybe a handbag to put my wallet in, then maybe drop them
off at the hotel... I turned towards the door, then stopped and turned on my
heel back to the salon.
"Excuse me, miss?" I said, "Could you tell me what time is it?"
"It is half past seven, monsieur," she said.
Seven thirty? That meant I only had half an hour to find a gift for my
mother before the shops closed. Though this time, I thought, I should try
in a bookstore instead.
Louise
- 27.07.2022
- 20
- 0
