My friend, Alec Leamus, finding himself unable to carry on with his fine
story, "Rita's Department Store Adventure," sent me a partial draft of
Part 4. He asked me if I would finish the story for him, which I have
been honored to do. In the process, and for various reasons, I edited
the entire story, including the three parts previously posted on several
sites. The last half of Part 4 and the whole of Part 5, of course, are
entirely my own.
(The original version of Parts 1-3 may also be found on several sites,
including the Yahoo groups Strip-Searched, ArrogantWomenEmbarrassed, and
dr_psychos_academy.)
I have long been convinced that Alec was writing a classic of the genre,
and it's a pity he couldn't finish it himself. But, even though I might
not have the same flair for it, I can hope that I have not done it an
injustice.
RITA'S DEPARTMENT STORE ADVENTURE
(Revised)
by
Alec Leamus and C. Lakewood
Part 1
It was 8:50 on a Friday evening, and Rita Donovan was furious. She had
stepped out of the changing room for only a moment, and now her purse was
gone. Half-zipped into a black evening dress, she stormed out of the
changing room and up to the counter, where she collared the young
salesgirl.
"Someone just stole my purse out of the changing room! I demand to speak
to the manager!"
Rita continued with her tirade, insisting that she had just stepped out
for a moment to see if there might be a smaller size, and, when she
returned, her purse was gone. All her money, credit cards, and ID, as
well as her cell phone and keys -- gone!
"Someone could be breaking into my house right now!" Rita screamed.
Several other women turned to stare at the spectacle, then slowly
returned their clothing choices to the nearest rack and moved away from
the tension-filled area.
It was almost closing time, and Stephanie Collins had already had a
stressful week and so was in no mood to deal with the screaming
irritation that faced her. Now age twenty, Stephanie had been working
at Nelson's for almost three years and had handled more than her share
of upset customers. But enough was enough.
After a full minute of abuse, Stephanie spoke. "Ma'am, please calm down.
You're upsetting our other customers. I'm sure no one is breaking into
your house. How long ago did it happen?"
"What difference does that make? Just call your manager!" Rita fumed.
Rita was twenty-four and used to dealing with staff and tradesmen. She
had led what most would describe as a privileged life. Dealing with a
common department store clerk was almost beneath her.
"I already called security. My manager is gone for the day," Stephanie
quietly answered, well aware that her calm manner would only further
infuriate Rita.
"You ignorant bitch!" Rita spewed. "I make more money in a week than you
do in a month. I don't know why they hire such incompetent little fools
like you. All you have to do is ring up sales, re-hang some clothes, and
help the customers. But you're too busy gossiping with your friends and
just goofing off to notice a thief sneak into a changing room right by
your register and steal my purse." Rita was shouting now.
Stephanie drew a long, deep breath, trying to regain her composure before
trusting herself to speak.
"Ma'am, I am sorry, but I can direct you to the security office, and you
can fill out the proper forms there. And, if you like, you can leave a
message for my manager about my lack of service." Stephanie smiled.
"Right!" Rita stormed back into the changing room. Moments later,
there was a short scream from inside. "You! Miss! Whoever! Come back
here...now!" Rita shouted.
Stephanie removed her register keys and reluctantly walked back into the
dressing room area. Outside dressing room, three Rita stood with her
arms folded. "Now my clothes are gone, too," she stated flatly.
"Oh, just now? But there's no one here. The store is practically empty,
and the mall is about to close. Who could've taken them?" Stephanie was
genuinely perplexed.
"I don't know, but I don't have anything to wear now," Rita said.
"Ma'am, the store is closing. I have to lock up my register and do my
reports. Did you buy anything that you could wear?" Stephanie asked.
"NO. And if I had, I am sure that would have been stolen too. I guess
I'll just have to wear this home and bring it back later."
"Uh, ma'am, that's an eight hundred dollar Donna Karan. I just can't let
you walk out with that," Stephanie hesitantly replied.
"Well, go find me something else then; this is your fault," Rita spat.
"But ma'am, we have a very strict policy about that. Look there, at that
sign: "This store is not responsible for the loss of unattended personal
items," Stephanie quoted.
Rita glared at her.
"However, I might be able to find something in our lost and found. It
won't be a Donna Karan, but it will...." Stephanie's voice was
controlled, with some difficulty.
"Fine. So do it. My god, you're lame," Rita said.
Stephanie stood silently for a moment.
"There's just one thing. I have to go upstairs to get to lost and found,
but I have to lock everything up before I do."
"So what?" Rita said mockingly.
Stephanie spoke slowly, "Because we carry such high profile designer
names, they just made it a new policy that we have to lock all of our
racks. So I have to secure everything before I leave, or I could get
fired."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I have to have that dress," Stephanie said quietly.
"What? Maybe you're not listening. All my clothes are gone."
"I know, and I'm sorry, but it will just be for a moment while I go
upstairs. There's no one here. It's past nine. They have already
locked the front doors. And I'll be right back."
"Fine," Rita huffed, as she began to slip out of the black evening
dress. She cursed herself for not wearing panties (wanting to avoid the
dreaded VPL). Then she remembered that she had taken off her bra to try
on this stupid damn dress.
"You don't have anything tucked under the counter?" Rita asked, suddenly
polite. "Anything?"
"No, I'm sorry. We're very neat here." Stephanie suppressed a smile,
knowing full well there probably was something pushed into the back of a
drawer. Moreover, Stephanie noticed that without her clothes, Rita was
not as imposing as she had first appeared. Naked, Rita's breasts seemed
even smaller -- a 32B, perhaps -- while Stephanie was a 36C. She glanced
down at her own breasts as if for confirmation.
"What are you doing? Do you mind?" Rita asked, as she slipped the dress
down past her hips. "Would a little privacy be too much to ask?"
"Ma'am, I have to...." But Rita cut her off again.
"Whatever.... Please don't quote me any more policies, thank you....
Here!" Rita roughly tossed the dress in Stephanie's direction.
"I need the shoes, too." Rita, though seething with indignation, saw no
alternative and grudgingly complied. Stephanie stepped closer.
Previously, the two had been able to stand almost eye to eye. However,
now barefoot, Rita found herself staring up at Stephanie's chin.
Stephanie smiled quietly as she realized that, at five foot six and in
low heels, she now towered over Rita.
Rita, standing in front of Stephanie completely nude, was beginning to
feel a little strange. Naked and all alone in a big department store,
relying on a younger woman to help dress her, Rita was suddenly overcome
with memories of childhood shopping trips with her mother. These trips
were often humiliating, since Rita was allowed no privacy and was often
paraded around wearing only panties during frequent and lengthy quests
to find just the right dress.
"We have to step out of here," Stephanie announced.
"What? Why can't I wait in here?"
"I have to lock it up. Policy."
As they stepped back out into the store, Stephanie turned and locked the
dressing room's main door.
"This just gets better and better," said Rita, with a sneer.
Stephanie suddenly wheeled around and stared down her nose at Rita.
"Look, I have had just about enough of you. Here I am helping you and
trying my hardest to keep my temper -- and all you can do is gripe and
moan. I'm sorry that you were careless and didn't keep an eye on your
belongings, but that is not my fault. So keep your snide comments to
yourself and wait right here quietly until I get back." Stephanie
was livid.
Rita, stunned by this sudden outburst, merely nodded. The words "wait
right here quietly" struck several memory chords in Rita, leaving her
speechless.
Stephanie turned and walked away briskly. She laughingly called over
her shoulder, "I can see now why you were looking for a smaller size."
Rita had always been comfortable with her shape and size, but to be
completely nude in an unfamiliar setting and then scolded like a child
made her feel small. Rita turned and looked in the mirror. She was
small on top, but she had always worn the right clothes to improve her
figure. Her eyes wandered farther down her slim frame to her
clean-shaven pubic area. She always kept herself shaved, which, she
now realized, not only enhanced her nudity but also made her appear
even more childlike.
Rita quickly dismissed these thoughts as she gazed at her reflected face.
Her makeup was always impeccable and definitely womanly. As she peered
more closely, however, she saw that she had smeared her eyeliner. A
dark brown smudge marked her cheek. She imagined it must have happened
when she took off the damn dress.
Realizing that the spiteful store clerk would take her sweet time in
returning, she glanced around the now dimly lit store. Security had
already closed everything down, and some areas of the huge department
store were positively dark. Peering around through the clothes racks,
Rita spied a cosmetics counter and moved over to the display samples.
Finding a cleanser and cotton balls, she decided to begin with a clean
slate.
"I'll be damned if I'm going to wait quietly for that little bitch. I
can do what I want. Hell, I'm the customer!" she muttered.
Unfortunately there was no mirror handy, and the only passably good
substitute she could find in the gloom was the slightly reflective glass
countertop. She commandeered a makeup stool and dragged it over to the
counter. Kneeling atop the stool, she leaned over the counter and
squinted at her dim reflection -- but then her hair fell down around her
face. Frustrated, she straightened up and peevishly pushed her hair out
of the way. Again she leaned over, only to have her hair fall right back
again. With a sigh, she climbed off the stool and glanced around the
counter. On the far end were some hair clips, barrettes. She had not
worn those things since she was about ten years old. She smiled as she
chose a pair of pink-and-white clips off the rack. She quickly clipped
them into her hair on either side of her face and went back to work.
After she had removed all of her makeup, she used several bottles of the
sample cleansers. She knew these were probably expensive, but didn't
care. After cleansing, she searched for a toner, but found none.
Then, tucked behind some perfumes, she found a small orange bottle that
obviously contained toner. She liberally applied the liquid and then
wiped it off. When she peered into the countertop again, she noticed
small markings on her face, mainly across her cheeks and nose.
"Shit!" she said out loud. "They look like freckles!"
She scrambled down off the stool and snatched up the orange bottle.
Unable to read the small print in the low light, she could only guess
that she had inadvertently used a bronzer instead of a toner.
Unfortunately for Rita, certain bronzers did not react well with her
lighter skin tone.
She was just beginning to wonder how she was going to repair this
blunder, when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a flashlight
beam and a deep voice.
"Put your hands where I can see them," the voice commanded.
"I'm just waiting for a salesgirl to...." Rita's voice trailed off as
she remembered her nudity and tried to move behind a nearby rack of
sweaters.
"Just stay where you are. We've been looking for you. And don't you run,
either. I'm in no mood to chase you."
"Look, I think you're mistaking me...."
"Put your hands back where I can see them...over your head. Now
interlock your fingers.... That's right. Put them on your head and
stand still," the voice commanded. "If you move, you'll get maced."
Shaken and scared, Rita obeyed orders, and the tall figure of a security
guard emerged from the shadows. As he approached, he began to chuckle,
though his flashlight beam didn't waver. He pulled out his two-way radio.
"Yeah, Hal? I found her. She was in cosmetics. Don't know what she was
up to, but you were right -- she's sure as naked as a jaybird. Beats me
how you spotted it on the monitor in this light."
"The trained eye, my boy. Remember, I've got satellite at home and a
bunch of X-rated channels; I get in a lot of practice. So okay, Joe,
secure the area and bring her back to the office. I'll make some calls.
Hey, and check Door 7 on your way back," Hal said.
"Ten-four, over and out." Joe signed off.
Throughout this exchange Rita stood completely still, grateful for the
dim lighting. However, her surprise was now giving way to anger, and,
as Joe pocketed his radio, she began to vent.
"You're a security guard! You're in so much trouble. You have no idea
who you're dealing with! I hope you have saved up some money, goon,
because you are going to be unemployed for a long time! I'm a customer
here, and you have...."
POP!
Rita's speech was suddenly interrupted by a sharp slap on her naked
rump, causing her to unlock her fingers and rub her butt cheek.
"Shut up," he said. "You're trespassing." He chuckled again. "And
you're naked in a store that's been closed for almost twenty minutes. I
don't want to hear any threats from you. And d'you know what? If you
ARE somebody important, I'm sure your country club set would truly love
to hear about this incident." He stopped and smiled.
"Now, are you going to give me any more trouble? Do I have to cuff you,
too?" Joe asked. "Right. Suppose you begin by telling me just what
you're doing in here...and in that condition."
Rita, still a bit stunned from the little slap, huffed and quickly
explained, grateful that Joe kept his flashlight trained on her face.
After listening patiently to her tale, Joe grasped her upper arm roughly
and began dragging her out of the cosmetics department.
"Where are we going?" Rita exclaimed. "Let go of me!"
"Listen, missy, that was a great story, and you can tell everybody all
about it, later. Come on." Joe took her more firmly by the arm.
"'Missy'? Who are you calling 'missy'? I'm twenty-four." Rita shouted.
Joe stopped, although he did not let go of his grip. He moved his
flashlight beam, very slowly, from the floor up over Rita's body to her
face.
"Yeah, in eight to ten years...maybe," he said dryly.
*********************************
Meanwhile, upstairs, Stephanie smiled broadly as she found the exact
outfit for her nude customer. Right on top, it must have been turned
in just before the store closed....
It was a Harrington School uniform, complete with ID.
*********************************
Rita's embarrassment increased as the giant guard resumed dragging her
out of the sales area, up a series of stairs, and into a brightly lit
corridor that she presumed led to the security office. At least in the
darkness she was not as exposed; however, here in the light, she felt on
display. Once or twice, as they turned corner after corner, she caught
the security guard glancing at her bottom. When they passed a row of
reflective windows, Rita glimpsed herself in full view beside the guard.
She seemed tiny next to him. And, as she was -- naked, without makeup,
her hair pulled back in barrettes -- she did look rather like a little
girl, at least in passing. She couldn't shake that image from her mind,
and all sorts of terrible scenarios began to play out inside her head of
what he might do to her when they reached the office. Her breathing got
heavier, and she began to sweat, despite the air conditioning. In the
meantime, his stride being longer than hers, every so often he would
yank her arm and scold her for dawdling -- just as if she were a child.
So she was grateful when they reached the office and the guard roughly
manhandled her into a chair and tossed her a green and orange striped
cotton towel.
"Here! Quit whining and don't move from that chair if you know what's
good for you," Joe said, as he disappeared into the back office.
As Rita's bottom hit the cold chair, she let out a little yelp. She
strained to hear what was being said in the next room and struggled with
the towel. She had immediately passed judgment on it as being a
"ghastly" color combination. More to the point, however, was that it
was fairly skimpy and did not cover much, even on her. Regardless of
how she draped it about her, its bottom edge came no more than an inch
or two below her navel. Her crotch and bottom being completely exposed,
she decided to obey orders and remain seated.
Eventually, Joe emerged from the back office with another security guard,
an equally large, rather older man. She assumed this was "Hal."
"So what were you up to down there?" Hal asked.
Rita began again, complaining bitterly about her stolen clothes -- and
about Stephanie, the treacherous store clerk who never returned.
Hal and Joe smiled. "Look, girlie, we already called your school," Hal
said.
*********************************
