Personal Shopper

Xcite Books Ltd

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 11,400
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A collection of five erotic stories with mixed and varied themes.

Personal Shopper by Izzy French

Picture the scene; a man in a lingerie shop on a mission to buy some sexy underwear for his wife or girlfriend. Of course, he doesn't have much idea of her size. So far, so normal, but what if you were the shop assistant and you were asked to be a stand in?

Christina is immediately attracted to the man looking in the window of the shop and she hopes that he will come in and brighten up an otherwise dull afternoon. Today is her lucky day – the shop is about to close and she can send her assistant home and see to the customer personally.

Fortunately she's in just the right mood to be the demure and submissive shop assistant, since she soon finds out that the client wants more than for her to model for him – and, as the saying goes, the customer is always right.

Lot Twenty-One by Andrea Carver

What would you do to raise money for your favourite charity? Go on a sponsored walk? Hold a raffle? Volunteer your services at a shop or call-in centre once a week? Once a month?

A charity auction is always popular, but the lots will need to be spectacular. There are plenty of wealthy businessmen who are willing to put forward high bids, but only for something that really excites them. Would you be willing to put your virginity – a very special sort of virginity - up for sale?

It sounds like a sacrifice, but if you can raise some money for a good cause while fulfilling a secret fantasy, so much the better. Lot Twenty-One is a charitable girl, but she knows that she's going to get something that she wants out of this as well, thanks to the lucky bidder, whose generosity will be amply rewarded.

Public Exposure by Cathryn Cooper

Would you risk public exposure? For a few brave people, the tipping point between concealment and discovery is where the fun starts.

Mallory and Valentine are both looking for the ultimate thrill and are willing to risk everything to achieve it. A local shopping centre becomes a location ripe for exploitation by the daring pair as they battle for supremacy. Who is the dominant force and who is the one being punished?

And the chance of being found out adds a further spark of electricity to this illicit act. Sparring Partners by Everica May

There can be few more intimate experiences than the one that you have with a sparring partner. As you lock muscles and wits in the gym it would be strange if you didn't occasionally feel a frisson of tension. The kind of tension that might turn the encounter into something less violent, more passionate.

Two partners, one male, one female take advantage of having the dojang to themselves; everyone else has gone home. Outside it is dark. The temptation to feel that they are the only two people left in the world is strong. Anything could happen.

As they trade blows, their bodies shining with sweat, their relationship undergoes a transformation. From now on these sparring partners will see each other in a very different light.

Possession by Penélope Friday

Sometimes it's more important to hide your instincts than to show your hand. This is the problem that faces Ana when she encounters Rafael. She finds it hard not to look his way, to maintain her composure, yet she must keep up her extraordinary acting display if she is to avoid being lured into his net.

Everyone is attracted to Rafael – tall, blond, ridiculously handsome, he is adored by men and women alike, but Ana is determined to present a neutral front. This is far from easy, especially since Rafael is equally certain that he can destroy the edifice that she has so painstakingly crafted to keep him out.

The players are in their places – let battle commence.

These stories have also been published in Ultimate Submission ISBN 9781908086006

Personal Shopper
0 Ratings (0.0)

Personal Shopper

Xcite Books Ltd

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 11,400
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Elizabeth Ponting

“Beautiful, aren’t they? Designed to be taken off.”
Christina had sensed his fingers rested on hers just slightly longer than was necessary.
“There are French knickers or thongs to match either,” she said. “Which would you prefer?”
“French knickers, I’m kind of old fashioned.” This was the first time he smiled. It reached his eyes.
“I’m with you on that. Thongs leave little to the imagination. Something more romantic, and more comfortable about French knickers.” Christina returned his smile.
“Let me match them up then you can decide which you’d like to take. We offer a gift wrapping service too.” Christina found the matching French knickers, brushed everything else to one side and laid both sets carefully alongside each other on the glass-topped counter. They were both exquisite, made of silk, trimmed with lace, the bras under-wired. The black one had a glossy, satin sheen, the purple one a matt finish. Either was guaranteed to make a woman look and feel great, Christina had chosen her stock with care.
“I’d like to see them on.” His voice was quiet, but authoritative.
“But she’s not with you.”
“No, I want you to try them on for me.” His tone was insistent.
Christina hesitated, looked down at the slips of silk on the counter. Her whole body glowed with anticipation. And she was a businesswoman, this could be a good sale on a quiet day.
“Kate, you go home, I’ll finish off with this customer and cash up. See you in the morning.”
Kate nodded, smiled and disappeared, not needing to be told twice.
“Follow me,” Christina adopted his tone of authority. Glancing over her shoulder as she walked to the back of the shop, she could see he was following, as instructed. He appeared to be watching the swing of her hips in her tight pencil skirt.
“Wait there,” she said as she closed the changing room door behind her. The space was small, just room for two people, in case a customer had a friend with her, or required a second opinion. There were floor to ceiling mirrors against one wall. The other walls were painted a rich cream. The spotlight overhead gave the customer the best possible light. Not too harsh, but bright enough to show Christina’s beautiful products off to their best advantage. Not used to being the customer, Christina felt unsure for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath she undid the zip on her skirt, slid it to the ground and stepped out of it. Standing in front of the mirrors for a moment she appraised herself from the front and rear. Dressed in black French knickers she stocked in the shop, she felt good. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Her breasts were high and firm in a pretty matching plunge bra. She unfastened the bra, and pulled the knickers off. Now she stood naked in front of the mirror. Naked all but for four-inch back patent court shoes. She felt slutty, but good too. Her body was toned but curvy, a woman’s body. The kind of woman the underwear she sold was designed for.
“Are you ready?” His voice called from the other side of the door.
“Nearly,” she replied. “Wait, please.”
She wondered if this was how he really wanted to see her. Naked and hot. Parting her legs slightly she stroked her mound, touching her lips, feeling her juices flow over her fingers. She trembled. Yes, she was ready, almost. Gently, Christina slowly pulled the French knickers up. The silk slid effortlessly over her smooth skin, sending tiny electric shocks down her thighs. The bra cupped her breasts beautifully, creating cleavage. If showing him this didn’t sell the set, nothing would, thought Christina. She took a deep breath, turned round and pulled the door open.
“So do you think she’ll like it?”
He was silent. Appraising me again, thought Christina. She wondered how she measured up.
“Turn around. I need to see you from the back.”
She turned from him and leant forward, resting her hands against the mirror. Her breath was warm, frosting the glass. She gazed into her own eyes. She hoped that, for now, they were unreadable.
“Good,” his voice was close; she could feel his breath on her shoulder. Glancing at his reflection, and then back to her own, the contrast was striking. He was wearing a charcoal, light wool suit. It looked darker than it was against her pale, uncovered skin.
“Down more, please.” This felt like an order. She could feel the silk taut against her arse. She walked her hands down the mirror. Her breasts fell forwards, almost tumbling from the bra. Her nipples rubbed against the lacy edging. The sensation was delicious. She rocked slightly from side to side to heighten the feeling.

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