Standing up from the bench, I pick up the condiment tray and set the hooked harness over my shoulders, pull my hair out from under it, and situate the straps to come down over the middle of each breast. When I look in the mirror, my face flushes red as I take myself in. My boobs, which are a hefty C cup, are smashed in a way that doesn’t hurt but causes them to round outward. Even though the underside of the strap has a soft, velvety feel, it chafes a little against my nipples. This, of course, makes my nipples hard, and I grit my teeth over the realization that I’m not sure if it’s the sensation of the straps rubbing against them or the knowledge Jerico will be seeing me like this in a matter of seconds.
Just below my breast, the strap on each side splits in two and the four ends anchor to the corners of the tray so I don’t have to support its weight. In addition to being able to see almost all my boobs except my areolas and nipples, my entire abdomen is exposed as the edge of the tray sits right below my navel. I give a slight turn in the same strappy black heels I’ve been wearing the last three nights, and then look at my ass in the mirror. The thong is a dark black satin that is thankfully not see-through—not that it matters when my entire ass is exposed. At least I’ve always thought I had a good butt. It’s not too flat but not too bubbly. I also have good legs, which are long and tanned, and I have to admit there is a small part of me—way deep down inside—that admits I look sexy.
“Trista?” Jerico calls out to me.
I give a slight cough to clear the nervousness from my throat and say, “I’m coming.”
I take a deep breath, turn, and open the door to the dressing room, coming face to face with Jerico.
If I thought there might be some measure of a gentleman within him, I would be wrong because his gaze slowly runs down my body in an appreciative, slightly leering manner. He takes his time, letting his eyes wander back up, but they make it no higher than my breasts.
“I’m going to show you a trick that will make this more comfortable,” he says softly before raising his eyes to meet mine. He steps closer to me and slips his fingers under the strap covering my right breast, but about three inches below it so he’s not touching my skin. The breath I suck in involuntarily is embarrassing, and my body locks solid.
Jerico gives me a wicked smile, and then he murmurs, “I’m just going to make a slight adjustment on you.”
Before I can think to object to him touching me, he pulls the strap away from my breast and with his other hand, he places his palm on the underswell. He lifts it up, and his fingers feel like fire upon my skin. My heart thumps so hard I’m sure it might burst out of my chest. He then lays the strap back over my breast, and I have to admit it feels more comfortable as his hands fall away. My breast doesn’t feel as smashed, but the nipple is harder. Damn it.
My head lifts, and Jerico grins at me. There is no doubt there is wicked intent there. “Want me to adjust the other one?”
My voice is entirely raspy as I shake my head before turning away from him. “I can manage on my own.”
Jerico chuckles as I repeat the same maneuver to my other boob and almost sigh over the feeling of relief it produces. When I turn back around, Jerico doesn’t spare me at all, roaming his eyes over me again. This causes me to fidget in place, much the way I did when I found him in The Silo Room getting his dick sucked while the woman who was pleasuring him was getting her ass fucked. I want to deny to myself that said fidgeting is anything more than just nervousness. However, I can’t lie to myself, although I’d deny it to anyone else, but I was insanely turned on by watching Jerico. I’m not stupid. I know he planned it, because he knew what time I would be showing up and he specifically told me to find him.
I have no clue what his reasoning for it was, but it’s probably something as simple as the fact he truly didn’t care if I saw him doing that. Let’s face it, I know nothing about this man other than he is insanely attractive. Much to my shame, I’m greatly intrigued by the wickedness of him and his club.
The job of selling things from my condiment tray is not very hard. I worked in retail before, so it’s merely a matter of a customer picking out what he wants to buy and me taking the money. I learn quickly enough that the toys on my tray—such as butt plugs and tiny vibrators—are not big sellers. It’s mostly condoms and the occasional tube of KY jelly that sell. Ensuring I learn my job, Jerico explained to me that the regulars who come here bring their own paraphernalia. It’s usually only the people who are here for a single night that will need condoms or lube, and they usually don’t want to spend the extra money on a toy because let’s face it… deviant and public sex in this place is better than any toy.