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Sam
The bad weather was a stroke of luck. Vicki on holiday and Toni phoning in sick left me alone. Closing up would be frowned upon, but it was an option. After all I am only a volunteer.
Donations can be left until Monday, when there will be staff to sort through them. Maybe I’ll give it until lunch time.
The small kitchen is out back, beyond the storage area, making a drink would mean leaving the counter and till unmanned. Only two customers in an hour and a half, neither spending, and the weather showing no signs of improving made the decision easy.
Just as I was pushing the snip on the door a figure, wearing a hoodie under a leather jacket, tried to push backwards into the shop. Finding resistance they turned and knocked on the glass, “Are you open?”
I pushed the snip down and stood aside. The customer, a gust of wind and a sharp shower of cold rain came in.
“Thanks, what a day!”
I abandoned my plans for a cuppa and returned to my post behind the counter.
“Where’s Vicki?” The customer asked.
“Off this week.”
“Oh yes, she did say, she’s going to that wedding.” The customer pulled down their hood, it was Sam, a regular browser and occasional buyer.
“I’m not sure where she’s gone.” I said.
“Yes a wedding, away somewhere, she told me ages ago.”
Sam knew her way around the hangers and shelves. She picked things up, turned them over to see the prices stuck underneath, made faces and put them down.
“Not very busy.” She said from the back of the shop, browsing her way along a rack of shoes.
“No, the weather.” I said without looking up from the open magazine on the counter.
“My bus was empty, only me on.”
“Mmm…”
“Unusual for a Saturday, driver was early, no traffic you see.”
There was a clatter. When I looked up Sam was picking up a set of place mats and putting them back on the shelf, “Someone’s packed too much on here,” she said.
I looked back at the clock above my head then down to my magazine.
“This one says three pound, this one has no price.” Sam had a hanger in each hand.
“Let me see.”
She placed two hangers on the counter; a pair of jeans folded over each one.
“Oh, it must have just fallen off.”
“Three pounds as well then?”
They were both in good condition and not any make I was familiar with, “Yes three pounds.”
Sam held them at arms length, “These.” she left one pair on the counter and went towards the fitting room.
The fitting room was a curtain that drew across the far corner of the shop, a full length mirror was mounted on the wall. Sam pulled the curtain; it hung to about six inches from the floor. ordu escort She undid the laces of her Doc Marten shoes and kicked them off. Her white socks were dull and pimpled with fluff, her heel pushed through a hole in one.
There was the scooting of a zip and Sam’s jeans bunched on the floor, she stepped out of them.
I found my place half way down the page of British Transport Monthly.
“Oh no!..Erm, hey.” Sam was holding the curtain under her chin, “Sorry I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Mike.”
“Mike, sorry Mike, there’s a problem.”
I held my finger under the last word I’d read, “If they are ripped or..or whatever you’ll have to try these.” I nodded to the jeans she’d left on the counter, “that’s probably why there wasn’t a price tag.”
“Oh no not that.”
“We don’t give credit either, if you’ve forgot to bring money you’ll have to come back. I can put them aside until Monday as I’m probably going to close early anyway.”
“No I’ve got money. Can you come over, it’s my fault.”
I memorised the last three words I’d read and stepped from behind the counter, “What is it?”
“I want to try these on,” she showed me the jeans, “but I forgot, I’m not wearing knickers.”
“Sorry?”
“I want to try the jeans on but I’m not wearing knickers. I sometimes don’t.” Sam explained.
“I’m not sure I can help.”
“I do want to buy them, just not without trying them. What’s your rules?”
“Rules?”
“Is it different, as it’s seconds?”
“I don’t think we have such a rule.”
“I’ve come all this way, in this.” She looked towards the door and the weather outside, holding the curtain under her chin.
“I don’t see…”
“I am clean, I had a bath on Wednesday. You can check.”
“Check, who’s here to vouch for you having a bath?”
“You. You check me. I don’t mind, just quickly to make sure I’m clean. I buy stuff here all the time.” Her voice sounded indecently loud in the empty shop.
Was she really suggesting I inspect her? Just to try on a second hand pair of jeans. The clock above the counter was touching ten-fifty, the shop would normally be full by this time on a Saturday.
“Three pounds is very reasonable.” she said
Nodding slowly I said, “It would be a shame to have to come back another day.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. Her teeth were small and straight. She dropped the jeans but kept the curtain in place.
“Erm, hang on a moment,” I stiffened my neck, “You say you had a bath on…”
“Wednesday.”
“And you are confident you are clean?”
Her smile dwindled as she spoke again, “Well I suppose so yes, not as clean as osmaniye escort if I’d had a bath yesterday but,” she shrugged, “bums are bums.” She sounded frustrated, “If you just check you’ll see.”
Sam was an open and chatty young woman, it was unlikely any news ever stopped with her, each time my pushing met no resistance I felt myself edging closer to trouble.
“Are you bare now?”
“Yes.”
“Is there enough room in there.”
She turned her head, “Of course, plenty.”
“How do you want to do it?”
“Well if I just bend over.”
“And me?”
“If you’re behind me I can just stick my bum out.” She let go of the curtain; standing close and with the difference in height I was just vaguely aware of the bare skin below her waist.
“Is it just your bottom?”
“I suppose so; but in that position you will see… the other as well.”
I had to force myself from turning to check the door.
There was a wooden chair that looked like it came from a kitchen set in the changing corner. The full length mirror on the wall reflected Sam’s rear view; thick hoodie, bare buttocks, bare legs and thinning socks.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, “Do you want to turn around then.”
She turned and stood still, hands clasped loosely in front of her crotch, she was shaven completely bald.
“OK over.” Her shoulder felt firm and bony under my palm; she bent forward and let her arms hang loose until her fingertips touched the floor.
From above, her pale buttocks were slim ovals, the divide in the middle revealing nothing. The flesh of her lower back was warm beneath my palm. I squatted down. There was no bell above the door but the gusting wind would announce any visitors.
“You’re going to have to move your feet apart.” Her socks slid easily on the linoleum.
My jeans felt tight as I settled level with the young woman’s bottom. Her cheeks were fleshy but not fat and covered in a soft down that caught the light from the exposed bulb that hung above the dressing room. Beneath, in the gap at the top of her thighs, was her small, closed lipped pussy.
“Can you see?” Sam’s voice was strained in her bent position.
“Not properly, I’ll have to hold your bum open.”
She moved her hands from the floor and grabbed her ankles, “Hurry up then, this is really uncomfortable.”
“OK.” I placed a hand on each cheek, fingers pointing upwards and thumbs towards the divide.
“Oh, cold!”
“Sorry.”
“Hurry up and look.” She bent her knees, pressing her buttocks against my hands, there was a hint of the darker inner slopes.
“I’m trying to.”
“Trying?”
Swallowing sinop escort became a concious act, my tongue, although dry felt swollen.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam’s questioning tone so pronounced it became mocking, “check my arse so I can try on the jeans.”
A firmer grip on her buttocks steadied my shaking. I dug my thumbs in and pulled.
“Ooff. Good, now look.”
“I am.” Unlike her pussy, the area around Sam’s bum hole was hairy. Blond, springy hairs clung to her inner cheeks as I flattened them out. Her anus was a small dark brown ring of skin, dry and closed.
“Well?”
“Sorry?”
“What do you see?” Her voice reverberated around the empty shop. Over my shoulder the mundane normality of a Saturday spent volunteering in a charity shop was more appealing than ever. In front of me, the exposed bottom of a young woman had me in way over my head.
“Michael!”
“Erm…Well yes, your bum looks fine.”
“Fine, what the Hell is fine?” She bent her knees and dipped her back, “Tell me what you see.”
“See?”
“Yes I want you to describe what you’re looking at.”
“Please,” I whispered, “I think you’re just fine.”
“Describe my arse hole Mike.”
“It’s gone eleven, the rain’s eased, people will be starting to come in soon.”
“Mike, Mike here.”
Looking in the mirror was the tipping point. Sam, her head pushed up and red in the face from bending down was staring right at me. “Look in between my cheeks and tell me if my arsehole is clean enough for your charity shop fuckin’ jeans.”
“It’s…”
“Now!”
There was relief at breaking eye contact, but replaced by the trepidation of having to verbalise such a base observation. “You’re clean. I’m looking at your anus and it’s dry and clean. You can try on the jeans.”
Silence and stillness, I looked at the mirror knowing her gaze was waiting.
“Do the job properly Mike!”
“Properly?”
“Sniff!”
It was easier to look at her anus, the small brown anus my thumbs were exposing, than at Sam’s cold eyes.
“Please, I think it’s gone too…”
“No bath since Wednesday Mike. Sniff and make sure.”
The warmth from her bottom, especially the exposed divide, fell against my face as I moved my head forward. The air was heavy, musky.
My whole vision was taken with Sam’s exposed bottom. I inhaled evenly and deeply at the bum soiled air. The smell was three parts sweat one part shit; unwashed rather than dirty.
I exhaled a low groan.
“So?”
“You can try them on.”
“Super clean?” Sam stood up.
I stayed on my haunches, “Not dirty, but not clean just….natural.”
Sam forced a laugh and grabbed the curtain, “Get out then.”
Back behind the counter I slumped into the chair and started picking at the corner of my open magazine.
The curtain drew back and Sam dropped the jeans on the counter, “Too baggy.”
The wind and rain blew into the shop as she left.
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