Frank Brown: Wild naughty daughter

She stroked Sally's hair.

"I can see why old George hired you," she muttered as if to herself. "Come on, let's get to work."

Cleo was a good teacher. By eleven o'clock, Sally had lost her sense of being lost and actually believed she was starting to grasp how to manage this department. There were a thousand and one items, from basketballs to barbells, from fishing rods to jockstraps, but Cleo was able to familiarize Sally with each item quickly, and Sally became confident that within a few days she'd feel right at home. Since Lipman's discounted most items except for the luxury items in certain departments – jewelry, high-fashion, imported furnishings – most customers came to Lipman's knowing what they wanted, and needed help usually only in locating it. Sally's job would be mainly to supervise the changing rooms in the Sporting Goods Department and to ring up sales. She might have to help a few men try on shoes, like football or wrestling shoes, but most of the athletic shoes were sold up in the shoe department.

"Nothing to it," Cleo said. "By the end of the day, you'll know as much as I do. You'd better, because tomorrow you'll be on your own."

"You mean, today's your last day?" Sally asked, surprised.

"Uh-huh. Tonight's my going-away party. Then it's bye-bye Cleo." She frowned slightly. "I'll miss this place. I only hope Jess – my fiance – can make up for what I'm giving up here."

"Lipman's is really a special place, huh?"

"Yeah," Cleo said wistfully, "especially Sporting Goods." She smiled as if sharing a secret with herself, then looked at Sally. "It's crazy, but I envy you, girl. Somehow I wish you were the one getting married and leaving this place, and that I was the one just starting here."

Sally didn't understand, but she said nothing. "You'll learn," Cleo said. "You'll learn mighty fast. There are things about this job I can't teach you, things you'll have to learn on your own."

The flow of morning customers was light. Two young boys came in for Little League uniforms, which they tried on in the fitting rooms as their mothers waited outside. A man came in and bought three dozen golf balls and a new golf glove. A freckled boy came in and bought a baseball glove. By noon, two-dozen sales had been rung up by Sally as Cleo watched over her, coaching her as needed. Twice during the morning, men had come in to try on sports clothing, and while they'd been in the men's fitting rooms, Cleo had excused herself to go up the women's fitting rooms. The men had then left, red-faced and hurriedly, hardly waiting for their change from Sally before striding to the elevator. Sally suspected that the men had been shoplifters, but then Cleo had returned to the floor, as red-faced as the men, and Cleo was certainly no shoplifter. Maybe the fitting rooms were stuffy and hot, Sally decided, remembering how claustrophobic and uncomfortable she'd felt in fitting rooms at times.

"Pretty hot in there, huh?" Sally had said. Cleo had turned even redder. "That's something of an understatement, doll."

Sally didn't understand, but she went on, "Especially when you're working hard. I heard you bumping around in there."

"The rooms needed an overhaul," Cleo said, then reached under the counter and turned up the music, which was already louder than the music in other parts of the store.

At noon, Cleo went to inch, leaving Sally alone. Cleo said that she knew Sally could handle things for an hour, but if an emergency came up Sally should phone the store cafeteria. As soon as she found herself alone, Sally got so excited she felt like masturbating. It was weird, but she found herself sexually excited by being alone and in charge of the Sporting Goods Department. The first thing she did after Cleo had left was to go over and check the jockstraps.

So these were the devices boys used to support their balls, she mused, pulling a jock out of its package. She held it up, inspecting the pouch and the strange connecting straps. She imagined the jock on a boy, and she remembered some of the silly jokes, her girlfriends at school had made about jockstraps. A chime went off, warning her that someone had entered the Sporting Goods Department, and she quickly stuffed the jock back in its box and ran to the cash register.

She saw a blond head moving down the row she'd just come from. The head paused momentarily, then continued on. Suddenly a familiar face appeared from between the high shelves. It was Rick Johnson, the star fullback from school. He was dressed in a yellow tank-top, shabby cutoffs, and worn athletic shoes. He was so tan and muscular that Sally caught her breath. Her heart was slamming. She was going to faint.

"Hey, babe, you're new here," Rick said, chewing gum. "I seen you someplace before. Must've been school, huh?"

"Yes," Sally half whispered, her throat so dry she was surprised anything came out.

Rick smiled without stopping his gum-chewing.

"Hey, babe, I need me a new jock. The old one just rotted apart. Mind if I try this one on? I might've grown a little since I bought the last one, if you know what I mean." He pulled the jock out of its box and dangled it in front of Sally, grinning at her.

"In there," Sally managed to say, pointing toward the men's fitting rooms.

Rick smiled again, his eyes flickering wickedly. "I was hoping you'd say that, babe. Do a good job now, babe. Cleo always did."

Sally didn't quite understand him, so she just giggled. He blew a bubble and swaggered toward the first dressing room. Before he entered and closed the door behind him, he turned toward Sally and winked.

Sally gripped the edge of the counter, her legs shaky, her guts all churned up. Not only had Rick Johnson spoken to her, but he'd said he recognized her from school! She couldn't wait to tell her girlfriends about this. This was almost as big as getting a job at Lipman's.

The door of Rick's fitting room opened a crack. "Hey, babe, ain't you gonna check out the ladies' booth next door? I don't like waiting, you know."

Before Sally could get a word out to say she was sorry, but she didn't quite understand, Rick had closed his door again. Sally wandered out from behind the sales counter. She went to the women's fitting room adjacent the booth Rick was in. This booth had to be what he was talking about. And now she was supposed to "check it out". What was all this about? She opened the door and entered the booth.

It was just an ordinary fitting room, as far as Sally could tell. A little larger than the standard fitting room, maybe, but ordinary. Mirrors, benches, paneled walls. Then she realized that a floor-length curtain was hanging against one wall. Curious, she drew the curtain aside.

And there she found a plain paneled wall. She stared at the wall, wondering what it was doing with a curtain over it, and suddenly she heard a knocking. It was then she noticed a small, square door, set flush with the wall and made of paneling like the wall itself. The door was mounted on two hinges at about waist-height or slightly lower. The door, hinges, and a tiny knob for pulling open the door, all blended in so well with the wall itself as to be almost unnoticeable. She heard another knock and saw the door move slightly. Completely dumbfounded, she kneeled down in front of the door and used her fingers and thumb to turn the small knob. She swung the door open.

"It's about time!" Rick Johnson said. "I don't like being teased, bitch!"

He was on the other side of the door, visible in the next booth – and he had all his clothes off!

Sally kneeled there, her face in the open window that she'd uncovered by opening the door. She gazed in awe-struck disbelief at the stark naked, muscular fullback as he leaned up against the far wall of his own booth, displaying all of himself to her. He was playing with his balls with his left hand as he slowly masturbated with his right hand. A thick clear fluid oozed from the wide-open pisshole of his enormous prickhead. The booth was filled with the sweaty smell of him, and Sally became lightheaded as she inhaled his potent male scent.