“Can’t you read the sign? It says only three items per customer are allowed in the dressing room.”
Lori, Debbie, and Beth looked at each other in amazement. Here they were, three grown women in their early thirties, being spoken to as if they were small children by some officious salesgirl fully ten years their junior.
“Look,” Beth protested. “The top and the skirt are part of a matching set. You can’t really see one without the other. I’ve already got two outfits already – why can’t you count both pieces together as one?” She looked over at her friends. Lori and Debbie shrugged helplessly. Each of them already had three outfits in their hands.
“Only three items in the dressing room,” the salesgirl repeated. Primly attired in a two-piece suit and white blouse that was unbecoming to her young age, she was sitting on a stool at the door of the dressing room, putting price tags on new merchandise with a plastic hand-held tagging device. She barely looked up at them.
“I don’t believe this.” Beth shook her head.
The salesgirl regarded them dismissively. “I don’t make store policy,” she said, and went back to tagging the new merchandise. Frustrated, Beth handed over one of her other two outfits and the three women made their way inside the dressing room.
“What a b*tch,” Debbie muttered. Beth nodded in agreement.
“Somebody really needs to show her up,” Lori added with a sly grin. “Excuse me, but we need some help back here,” she called out sweetly.
Still holding the tagger, the salesgirl made her way reluctantly to the back of the dressing room. “I can’t stay back here, you know,” she complained. “I’m the only one on duty out there.”
“Well, I don’t see any extra people competing for your attention,” Lori snapped, grabbing the salesgirl roughly by the arm and propelling her into the extra-large handicapped stall at the far end of the room. Debbie and Beth followed close behind. “I guess it’s down to us to teach you a lesson about customer service.”
The salesgirl made a move to run, and Lori pushed her hard against the wall. Her shoulder blades hit with an audible thud. She looked frantically from one to the other as the three women closed in.
“Only three items allowed in the fitting room, wasn’t it?” Beth asked Lori.
“Yes, I believe that was store policy,” Lori answered, “and someone’s definitely got too many items.”
Lori grabbed the frightened salesgirl by the arm and brusquely began tugging at her jacket. “Wh-what are you doing?” her captive cried in alarm.
“Oh, just making sure that you’re compliant with store policy,” Lori answered nonchalantly. “For instance, with your jacket, blouse, skirt, and shoes, you’re already above the three-item limit. And this doesn’t even mention what else you might have on underneath!”
“Good idea!” said Beth. She grabbed the struggling salesgirl by the arms and held her still while Lori and Debbie pulled the jacket completely off.
“Liz Claiborne,” Lori read from the label. “Nice. Tell me, how much would something like this cost from here?”
“M-maybe about $60,” the girl mumbled, still immobilized by Beth’s grip.
“Now it’s on sale!” said Debbie, grabbing the tagger and slapping a price tag on the sleeve. With a pen she wrote a bold $45 – “for being slightly worn”, she explained. She shook out the garment and mounted it on a hanger, where it looked almost as good as new.
“Let’s see, what next?” Lori considered. “Well, since the skirt looked so nice with the jacket, maybe they ought to be considered as a complete set.”
The salesgirl’s eyes widened in horror and realization. “No!” she cried, struggling even harder in Beth’s grasp. Her legs kicked out, losing one of her shoes in the process. “No!” she wailed again as Lori’s fingers found the zipper of her skirt and pulled it open. The struggling salesgirl tried to open her legs to keep the skirt from sliding completely off her hips, but the combined pulling by Lori and Debbie was enough to wrestle it away. Finally they were able to work it off first one foot, then the other. By then both the girl’s shoes were off her feet, and Lori swept them out of the way along with the liberated skirt.
Lori held up the skirt critically. “I’d say this could go for another twenty bucks,” she said, handing it to Debbie, who dutifully tagged it and put it up on a hanger. “The shoes look a little worn, though. Maybe they should go on the clearance rack.”
Debbie regarded the squirming salesgirl, whose blouse now hung loosely over the top of her panty hose. “Think she’s compliant with policy yet?” she snickered.
“Well,” said Beth, “assuming she’s wearing a full set of underwear, I think we might still have a ways to go. That blouse, for instance, might have to go next.”
“No! Please!” The girl was beyond protesting now. Her pleas only elicited more snickers from her captors, however, as Lori opened the buttons of her white blouse, one by one, drawing out the process with excruciating slowness. The buttons undone, Beth reluctantly relinquished her hold so that Lori could pull the sleeves all the way off the girl’s arms. Then the filmy garment was completely pulled away, and the girl was left cringing in her bra, panties, and stockings, trying pathetically to cover herself with her arms.
Debbie put the blouse on another hanger. “I think, for this, a bargain at $14.99.” Lori and Beth nodded agreement, and Debbie tagged it promptly. The girl’s entire outer wardrobe was now hanging on the wall, virtually indistinguishable from the actual merchandise. “Well now,” she said, looking over at the salesgirl, “I believe she is now compliant with store policy.”
The girl stared back at sullenly, face burning with humiliation.
“Tough,” snapped Lori. “Store policy just changed.”
The hapless salesgirl tried to put up a resistance, but she was hopelessly outnumbered. First fighting, then pleading, and then crying, she was pinned against the wall as her captors pulled her panty hose down off her legs. “Help! Help!” she screamed out, no doubt in her mind what would happen next.
No one responded to her cries. The four of them were alone in the dressing room.
The three captors paused to survey their victim. It was almost impossible to equate the haughty, officious salesgirl of earlier with the sobbing creature before them, her body flushed from exertion and shame, only two brief, filmy articles of clothing left to protect her from complete indecency.
The salesgirl’s bra was white nylon, with a front close. Beth reached up with one hand and deftly flipped open the clasp. The cups fell to the sides, revealing a rather modest pair of breasts. “Ooh!” she squealed, “does your mommy let you work?” The other women hooted as the salesgirl sobbed even harder. Then the bra was pulled away completely and folded in a neat bundle on top of the panty hose.
Cowering helplessly, the salesgirl tried to curl in the corner in a frantic attempt to preserve the last of her dignity. Lori grabbed the back of her white panties and pulled them down off her rump, exposing the girl’s round white buttocks. In response, the girl clutched at the front of the waistband, trying desperately to keep her pubic area covered. A brief tug-of-war followed, but the frail nylon was no match for all that pulling. The panties finally tore away with a loud ripping sound, leaving the wretched salesgirl completely nude and sobbing, not a thing left.
“I don’t think we’ll be buying anything here after all,” said Lori. “Let’s put all this stuff back on the racks.” With that, they gathered up all the discarded merchandise, taking the salesgirl’s clothing with them, and left the stall.
“You’re not seriously going to put those panties out there with the rest of the lingerie, are you?” Beth whispered to Lori on their way out of the dressing room. “After all, they’re completely shredded beyond repair. I say we just leave them here.”
“But won’t she be looking for them out there?” whispered Debbie.
Lori shrugged. “So let her wonder,” she said, and tossed the panties into an empty stall.
Becky cowered in the dressing room stall covering her exposed breasts and crotch from the camera she knew was filming her from behind the two-way mirror. Her mind refused to work as her panic drove every thought from her head. She knew she could not stay in the dressing room forever, and that soon she would be missed by her always-prickly, supervisor, Mrs. Crawford.
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