ChangingRooms
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Changing Room free porn video
Changing Room
By Rosie
"Sir? Are you sure you're buying these pants for someone else?" she asks
and pulse starts to race. But before I reply she goes on.
"If these are actually for you? Why don't we just cut the crap and measure
them right here and now?"
My head spins and I'm evaluating the possibilities here but I guess the
moment to deny the pants are for me has already passed as the salesgirl is
already walking around the counter towards me. She is smiling in a kind,
understanding way that makes me blindly follow her to the changing rooms.
"Put them on, I'll be with you in a sec," she says, showing the mass of
light blue, slippery fabric in my hands.
I feel like everyone can hear the loud hissing sound the pants make as I
pull them up my legs. I fumble with the rest of my clothes and I manage to
close the zipper on my left side just a second before she knocks on the
door.
"All ready?"
Suddenly I want to tell her to go away, that I'm not ready and that I'll
never be ready or at least one more minute because I've remembered that
there are some things I should take off first, but all I can manage is a
high-pitched "uh-huh."
Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose.
She comes in and gets right down to business. She tugs gently on each leg
and smoothes the fabric of the pants, then bends down and starts to
measure the length of the pant legs.
Although I'm facing the mirror, I'm keeping my eyes focused into a spot
somewhere in the distance, above me. There is no way that she hasn't
noticed I'm wearing white nylon stockings, she is even touching them
regularly as she is folding up the pants around my legs. When I pluck up
the courage to finally look in the mirror, I see that my garter tabs make
very noticeable bumps in the front of my pant legs. I guess that the same
goes for the back side, too.
She's soon finished. She marks the length with a pin at each leg, then
straightens up.
"All done," she says, turns around and I'm hoping she'll leave me to
change and I'm planning on just running away, leaving the cursed pants
just laying there on the ground when she turns around again.
"I'm sorry, but I forgot to ask you," she says, "Are you going to wear
these pants with high heels?"
I can't reply I can't even speak and my head is spinning it's all I can do
to keep me from falling down.
"If you are, I'll need to measure them again," she goes on, "it would be
best if you put on a pair."
I have to hold on to the wall for support. I feel a trickle of cold sweat
run down the back of my neck.
"What's the height of the heels you usually wear?" she asks, "Oh, and I
need to know your shoe size."
"I..." I begin to stammer, I want to tell her of my plan to dress in women's
clothes that would still be unisex enough to pass as men's though on the
other hand these pants would probably really look nicer if I wore them
with heels and it doesn't really matter because there is no way I'll get
another word out of my mouth no matter what I decide to say.
"Sir?" she says. "You look awfully hot. Shouldn't you take your hoodie
off?"
No, no, I'm fine, it's a very light hoodie but she's already pulling down
my zipper and all I can do is helplessly stare in her eyes and feel my
knees go weak when she sees the bodice of the white silk blouse I'm
wearing underneath. My head is ringing with please don't please don't
please don't but I don't say anything because it's too late anyhow and my
legs are literally hurting as she pushes the hoodie off my shoulders,
revealing the billowing sleeves of my blouse.
"That's a very nice blouse you're wearing, sir," she says. "You bought it
here last week, didn't you?"
I nod dryly and she says, "I thought I recognized you," then I break out
in a shy smile.
"Now, are you going to tell me what size shoes you wear?"
"Nine and a half," I all but whisper and only then remember I should say
eight and let her work out the conversion herself.
I don't dare move I don't dare make a sound and when I do finally sit down
on the bench it sounds so loud to me I think everyone will just bust
through the door and see me trying on women's pants while already wearing
a women's blouse and when the door latch snaps open I nearly shriek with
fright but it's only the salesgirl.
"I think these should do fine," she says, handing me a pair of white
patent leather court shoes with what must be a four inch heel, "They go
well with your blouse."
My hands are literally shaking but I manage to slip the shoes on my feet
and stand up.
"I'll drop the hem down to somewhere in the middle," she says, "So that
you can wear them with a bit lower heels, too."
"Thanks," I manage to mumble.
"You know, the shoes are thirty percent off today," she says.
"Oh, okay," I say, "But I... um..."
I hesitate because I don't know if they're really for me well of course
they are but maybe I shouldn't be spending so much. I'll have to get
another pair of pants anyway as I won't be able to wear this one with
flats and she says "Maybe you should try them on with your jeans," and she
goes out of the booth again.
I change back into my jeans, tucking my blouse into the waistband and
while I have no intention of buying the shoes, what harm can it do but to
try them on? My jeans are too a bit too long anyway. When I roll them down
the hem comes about an inch above the ground, and the shoes look really
nice with them and then the salesgirl comes back in.
"Well? What will it be?" she asks, "Will you take them?"
Acting on pure reflex, I nod, lift my right leg at the knee, take the shoe
off, hand it to her and do the same with the left one.
"Great," she says, "I'll take the pants and have everything ready for you
at the counter."
She carefully picks up the pants while I bend down to put on my shoes back
on and roll up my jeans just enough to clear the ground, but still
completely cover my nyloned ankles.
"Thank you," I say to her.
"Sure, honey," she says and exits the booth.
I take another look in the mirror to check if my pants really cover my
ankles, then I'm ready to exit myself. I turn around to put on my hoodie
when I notice it's not there. The salesgirl must have taken it with her by
mistake.
"Miss!" I call out feebly.
"Miss."
Oh. Shit. Oh. Shit. Oh shit oh shitohshitohshitohsthiohshit. Oh shit.
Maybe she'll notice she's taken it and bring it back.
Maybe I just have to stay put and wait, but suddenly the store seems full
"Miss?"
There's no reply, just a uniform hum of customers, women who are walking
in and out of the changing rooms.
Mei
- 18.11.2022
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