Secret Shopper



Secret Shopper

There was a man that I did shows for when I worked at Fantasy. He was a very lovely man--eyes like Richard Gere. There was a loneliness though in those dark eyes that made me wonder. It was as if he wanted so badly to get something off his chest . . . to share a dark secret he had been carrying around. When he came in to see me, he was always dressed in a suit and it was usually after 5:00 p.m. and I imagined that he was on his way home from work, making a quick stop before going home to his family. Handsome, successful men in their forties are rarely single. At first, our shows were pretty basic. They involved me taking it all off, touching myself, while he watched. He did not take it out, but there was something about him . . . I knew he wasn't a cop. He enjoyed watching me too much.

After we did a couple of shows together, he started feeling more comfortable around me. He told me that he was married, had kids, and lived on the Eastside (a nice suburb near Seattle). He went on to say that he had something that he wanted to talk to me about.

"Sure," I said. "That's what I'm here for, Sweetie . . . tell me anything you want."

"Well . . . there's something that no one knows about me. I've never been able to tell anyone. I mean . . . where I come from, nobody would understand."

"I want you to know that your secret is safe with me," I said, looking him in the eye.

"OK, I have this fantasy."

"Yes."

"I like panties and stockings."

"Do you like looking at girls wearing panties and stockings, or do you like wearing panties and stockings yourself?"

"I like wearing them."

"Oh, Sweetie, that's nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of guys have that fantasy."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's very common."

He seemed very relieved to hear that . . . like a huge weight had been lifted.

"So, do you wear women's panties now?"

"No, not very often. I've worn my wife's panties and stockings a couple of times, but she doesn't know about it. I'm afraid I'll get caught so I pretty much just fantasize about it."

"So you can't talk to your wife about it?"

"No, she wouldn't understand."

"I'm sorry, Sweetie. It's too bad that so many people are so scared about fetishes. Hopefully that will change some day."

"That would be nice," he smiled, wearily.

"You know, there's a store downstairs that sells lingerie. You should go down there and pick some things out and then come back up here for a show."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'd love to see you in some black lace panties and stockings."

"Maybe you can come down with me and help me pick them out. I'm not sure what would look good. I'll pay you for your time."

"Did you want to go down now, Sweetie?"

"Sure."

I looked at his time and it was almost up.

"I'll meet you around back by the staircase."

"OK," he said, excitedly.

I jumped out of the booth, put on my bra, panties, and a rain coat. I told the girl I was working with that I would be right back as I left the dressing room.

The customer was already there waiting for me.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

It was a little strange seeing him there without the glass separating us, and I sensed that he felt the same way.

We walked down the back stairs to the store below. The guy behind the counter gave me a strange look, probably wondering what I was doing with this man as it was obvious by my appearance and dress that I was working. I smiled at the clerk as we passed the counter, making our way towards a rack baring an assortment of lace panties. I looked at the customer and his eyes were filled with awe and excitement.

"Wow, there are so many to choose from," he said, going through the rack.

"What color do you like?

"Black."

"Yeah, black is my favorite color," I said. "Do you like lace, satin, cotton?"

"I like lace," he said, smiling.

"G-string, full bottom?"

"Hmmm . . . probably full bottom."

"Well, how about these," I said, holding up a pair of black lace, full bottom panties."

He looked the panties up and down, looking very seriously. It was obvious that this was very important to him.

"Yeah, I like those," he said, biting down on his lip.

"What size do you think you are?" I asked.

He looked down at himself and then back at me. "I dunno . . . what do you think?"

I looked him up and down a couple of times. He was about the same size as my brother. "Is your waist around a 32?" I asked.

"34."

"Hmmm . . . I think you should get large just to be safe."

"Yeah, your probably right," he said.

I looked through the rack until I found the style and color he liked in a size large. I took the pair off the rack and handed them to him. "Here you go, Sweetie."

He took the panties from my hand. He ran his fingers over the fabric and turned them over and then back again, taking in ever detail. "Thank you," he said.

"My pleasure, Sweetie. Let's find you some stockings now."

We walked over to the rack with the stockings and looked at the selection.

"You want black stockings to go with your panties?"

"I think so. That would be best, don't you think?" he said, looking up at me.

"Yeah, I think that would be really hot. How about these?" I said, taking a pair from the rack. "They have built in garter belts."

He took the package from my hand. "Yeah those look really good."

"I think they're the right size too, large. No offense . . . I mean, these are typically for girls, right?"

"No offense," he said, laughing.

We walked to the counter to pay.

"What's up?" said the guy behind the counter.

"Not much," I said. "Just helping a customer pick out some things."

"Cool," he said, ringing up the items.

The customer paid for the items and the guy behind the counter handed him a black plastic bag. The customer and I made our way back up the stairs in silence. When we reached the door to the dressing room, I turned and said, "Go ahead and change in the bathroom and then come back into my booth."

"OK," he said.

He disappeared down the hallway.

Back in the dressing room, I jumped into my booth and waited for the customer to return. A couple minutes later he emerged from the bathroom, looking the same as before. Although, this time, I knew there was something much different about what he was wearing underneath and I couldn't wait to see. I actually was kind of turned on by the thought.

He came into my booth and put $40 into the bill acceptor and slipped $100 into my tip slot.

"Wow, thank you so much," I said.

"That's for all your help. I really appreciate it . . . I mean," he said, his eyes full of emotion.

"I can't wait to see you, Sweetie. Are you going to strip for me?"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, I would," I smiled.

He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He then started undoing the buttons on his dress shirt, opening up the front, revealing a very smooth, sexy chest. He ran his finger over his nipples, making them hard. He then took his shirt off entirely.

I was just in my bra and panties. I slipped one hand underneath my bra and started caressing my nipple as I watched.

"Take off your pants now," I ordered.

He undid his belt, unbuttoned the top button on his slacks, and slowly unzipped his zipper, teasing me.

I slipped my free hand beneath my panties and started touching myself down there. I was already wet.

He pulled down his pants to his ankles and stepped out of them. He now stood before me just in his black panties and stockings.

"You look so sexy, Baby," I said.

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do."

He started rubbing himself through his panties and his hard cock started to poke through, stretching the fabric.

I pulled up my bra and pulled my panties aside so he could see all of me.

He pulled down the front of his panties, letting his hard cock fall out. He started stroking it while running his free hand up and down his right leg, feeling his stockings.

Before I could say another word, his head tilt back and thick ribbons of white cum came out the tip of his cock. He stayed that way for a moment and I watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, slowing with each breath. His head finally came forward and his eyes opened. "That was incredible," he said.

"You looked so sexy," I said, adjusting my bra and panties.

"Do you think you could keep these here for me?" he said, taking off the panties and stockings and putting them back into the bag.

"Sure," I said.

"So next time I come in, you can have them for me."

"Sure, Sweetie, I'll just keep them in my locker. Just come around back and you can hand me the bag."

His time ran out and the curtain closed. I left him to dress.

I put on my rain jacket and stood outside the dressing room, waiting for him.

A couple minutes later, he came by wearing his suit, looking as dapper as before. He handed me the bag and thanked me again for the wonderful show. His eyes looked different now . . . softer, more relaxed.

"I can't wait to see you again," he said, smiling.

"Me neither," I said, waving goodbye.

He disappeared down the back stairs.

That was the last time I saw him.

I quit shortly thereafter. I left his black bag with his things in my old locker. I wrote a note and placed it inside, which read, "To whom it may concern: These items belong to a customer that I used to see. He is a really nice guy, very attractive, looks like Richard Gere. He will probably ask for me. Please let him know that I'm gone. He likes to wear these panties and stockings during his shows. If anyone would like to do his shows, please feel free. If not, please give him back the bag. Thanks, Natalia."

I often think of this customer. I feel like I abandoned him. I'm certain he must have come back, looking for me by now. I hope he is doing well, and that there is someone else he has found with whom he can be honest.


Nude Hallway




La Dolce Vita



Cinephile

Today, a very nice man who comes into our office brought me an original copy of the book,"La Dolce Vita." The book includes 100 pics from the movie, as well as the SP (English translation).

Both being from this area, we had previously enaged in some small talk about events going on around town. He had mentioned that Nights of Cabiria was playing at The Rendezvous. I told him I loved Fellini and the next time he came in . . . voila, he handed me the book, which he had two copies of. The book originally sold for 75 cents.

While reading the book, for some reason I was reminded of a customer I had back when I worked at the Lusty. Maybe it was summoned by what could have been. He was a regular, although he saw other girls too, and he would request that we act out a particular scene from the movie 9-5. He played the boss, of course, and I played Lilly. The show always involved the same scene, which was the scene where Dolly, Lilly and Jane tie him up. The customer had the lines memorized and he would coach me on mine. However, I always seemed to fuck up: 1)Probably due to the fact that I really didn't give a fuck about the movie; 2) I hadn't seen the movie in 20 years; 3) The customer was an arse and gave me anxiety, making me feel like the character in Carnal Knowledge.

There were points during our shows that his face would actually scrunch up and turn bright red with frustration. If he had a script in his hand, I swear he would have thrown it at the window towards me, told me I was fired, and stormed out of the booth.

Zut Alors!

I now leave you with a scene (one of my favorites) from La Dolce Vita . . . cue the Nino Rota.

SCENE 23: STREETS NEAR THE FOUNTAIN OF TREVI, AND THE FOUNTAIN.

A silent narrow street in the old part of Rome. Marcello stands by the car, looking around anxiously. Behind him not far away, Sylvia is kneeling by the wall. Now she rises, and we see that she has found a little white kitten. She picks it up tenderly and lifts it to her face.

SYLVIA: Meaou . . . meaou . . . Italian kitty, are you hungry?

MARCELLO: Sylvia, what are you doing?

She does not answer. All her care and love are centered on this white kitten and its needs.

SYLVIA: Poor little thing, we must find some milk for you. Marcello, we must find some milk for him.

MARCELLO: Beloved, where do I find milk at this hour?

SYLVIA: I saw a bar over there.

Irritated and upset, Marcello does not know how to respond. All evening he has been counting on being alone with Sylvia, on making love to her, and all evening, in her strangely childlike mood, she has eluded him.

MARCELLO: But what do you know about where to get milk? Look, wait in the car. I'll go. Wait in my car.

He hurries off, annoyed and faintly ridiculous--a man who wants to make love hunting through the empty streets for milk for a kitten. He passes through a small square, past two parked cars and an old cart, its shafts pointing up in the air. In darkness, lovers are embracing.

MARCELLO: Excuse me, where can I get some milk? . . . All right, all right, thanks anyways.

After Marcello leaves her, Sylvia does not go back to the car. Instead she strolls on, enjoying the silence and peacefulness of the streets. For the first time since her arrival in Rome, she is alone. As she holds the little kitten to her face, caressing it, the hard glamor of her public role is dissolved and we see Sylvia as she really is: a woman with the body of a sex queen and the emotions of a little girl. At a crossing, she hesitates, then wanders slowly down a covered gallery. Along the walls are tattered signs and little shops, closed now in the deep night. The music of the nightclub at Caracalla is heard again, gentle and far away, as if played on a distant harp. The little kitten cries hungrily.

SYLVIA: Meaou . . . meaou. Why do you cry so much? Meaou. Meaou.

She lifts the white kitten and places it on her hair, like a hat. Oh hello, pom-pom. Hello, pom-pom. She pauses and asks casually, as if talking to herself: Marcello, where are you? Where did you go for that milk?

From somewhere close by comes the sound of falling water. She hears it and hurries forward. At the end of the street she comes upon a large, open square, completely unexpected. In its center, surounded by a wide pool, is the beautiful fountain of Trevi.

SYLVIA: Oh, my goodness.

She goes to the edge of the pool, takes off her white stole, and places the little kitten on the ground beside it, saying: Wait just five minutes.

Quickly she takes off her shoes and steps into the water. She wades forward, lifting her evening gown as the water rises against her thighs. Then she drops the gown and lets it float on the water. She goes back to the back of the fountain, where the water spills off a ledge of rock, and stands in the flow, letting the falling water bathe her face and breasts. She lifts her arms, and her head falls back in ectasy. At the edge of the pool, Marcello stares at her in wonder, a saucer of milk in his hand. She sees him and calls.

SYLVIA: Marcello, come here. Hurry up.

Marcello puts the milk down by the kitten and goes back to the stone bench. He starts to remove his shoes, never taking his eyes off Sylvia.

MARCELLO: Yes, Sylvia. I'll come too, I'll come too . .

He would like to enter her mood, yet he feels absurb. But her naturalness, her total abandon to sensual delight, pulls on him. He sees her as the figure Eve, fresh and unspoiled in a decadent and sophisticated world.

MARCELLO: Yes, yes, she's perfectly right. I've been wrong about everything. We've all been wrong about everything.

He steps into the water and strides toward her. She holds out her arms to accept him, laughing with pleasure. Marcello takes her in his arms.

MARCELLO: Sylvia, Sylvia . . . who are you?

In answer, she lifts her hand from the water and holds it over his head, letting the drops fall like a blessing.

SYLVIA: Listen!

We hear the thunder of the fountain as the water falls from the rock ledges into the pool. Marcello leans to kiss her.

MARCELLO: Sylvia.

But the sound of the water dies away . . . and now it stops. The fountain has been shut off. Marcello and Sylvia look up. It is daybreak. At the edge of the pool, a boy delivering bread on his bicycle has stopped and stands watching them gravely. They step apart and begin to move slowly out of the pool.


Completely Naked



Cool site . . .Completely Naked.


Swamper the Movie



Check out the trailer for the movie Swamper. There are some shots of Fantasy (the peep show where I worked) if you are interested in what the place looks like (the inside--outside shots were filmed at the Lusty Lady, where I started stripping a couple years back). I met the director's gf while taking a class at 911 Media Arts Center, and later befriended the director and writer through email and IM.

We haven't seen the movie yet, of course, but we certainly love the milieu!




Nude Bath B&W Pic



New week . . . :)

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