I Obeyed Every Order He Gave Me in the Malls Corridors

My name is Carla, and that Saturday afternoon I dressed by following every instruction to the letter. It wasn’t the first time I’d let Andrés decide for me, but it was the first time we were going to do it away from the shelter of a room, in broad daylight, among strangers who would have no idea of the game we were playing.

The skirt was black, tight, made of a light fabric that clung to my hips and rode up a few centimeters every time I sat down. Underneath, only a fine lace thong, so small it was barely noticeable beneath my clothes. The white blouse, buttoned all the way up, was made of cotton so thin that any breeze traced what was underneath. No bra. That had been the clearest order of all.

I looked at myself in the hallway mirror before going down. I didn’t look obviously provocative; just a woman dressed up for a stroll. But I knew every choice had a purpose, and the purpose was his.

Andrés showed up right on time at three in his dark car. He lowered the window just enough to look at me as I crossed the street. He was a man with a calm presence, the kind who doesn’t need to raise his voice for the air around him to change. He wore his beard trimmed and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. When I got into the passenger seat, he let his eyes travel over me slowly, as though checking that everything was in its place.

—Spread your knees a little —he said softly—. I just want to make sure you did as you were told.

I opened my legs as much as necessary. The fabric was already damp and clung to me in a way he noticed without touching me. He nodded with a half-smile and started the car.

During the drive his right hand rested on my left thigh. It slowly moved up beneath the skirt, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on the inner side, never quite reaching where I wanted. Each brush made my breathing tighten a little more.

—Nervous? —he asked, without taking his eyes off the street.

—A little —I admitted.

—Good. I like feeling you tremble from so little.

We arrived at the underground parking garage, on one of the middle levels, neither deserted nor crowded. He parked in a corner between two columns, where the fluorescent lights barely reached. He turned off the engine and turned to me.

—Kiss me.

I leaned in and kissed him. His lips were firm, his beard scraped my chin. He held the back of my neck with one hand while the other slid up beneath my blouse and covered one breast. He squeezed calmly, his thumb brushing a nipple that was already hard. A small sound escaped me against his mouth.

—Lower —he murmured—. Someone could walk by and hear you.

He withdrew his hand slowly and left my nipple sensitive, pressing against the fabric.

—Now get out. Walk in front of me to the elevator. Don’t run, don’t look back. Just walk like you know how.

***

I got out of the car. My heels echoed on the cold concrete and the parking garage air brushed my bare thighs beneath the skirt. I walked unhurriedly, knowing he was following a few meters behind. We passed a man carrying bags to his car; he turned his head an instant longer than necessary, his eyes dropping and then lifting again quickly. My heart was pounding, but I didn’t speed up.

We went into the elevator alone. The doors closed. Andrés stood right behind me, his body a breath away from mine without quite touching me.

—Look at yourself in the mirror —he said near my ear—. See how your nipples show through in this cold. See your chest rising and falling. That’s what anyone who pays attention will see.

I looked. He was right. The blouse let the dark outlines show through, the nipples taut against the cotton. It wasn’t a scandal, but for anyone observing closely it was obvious. Heat crept up my neck.

—When we get out, walk normally. But every time we pass through a crowded area, you stop in front of a shop window and lean down a little, as if you were looking at something below. Just enough for the skirt to pull tight across you.

I swallowed.

—Yes.

***

The doors opened onto the main floor. The mall was full: footsteps, voices, the smell of coffee mixed with perfume. I walked ahead. I could feel his gaze fixed on my back, on the sway of my hips. At the first clothing store I stopped in front of a mannequin and leaned just enough to look at the price of some shoes on the lower shelf. The skirt tightened over me, marking my curve. Nothing was visible that shouldn’t be, only a silhouette. Behind me, two young guys muttered something and snickered under their breath. I kept walking as if they didn’t exist, though everything inside me was pounding.

Andrés came up behind me, his voice just for me.

—That’s how I like it. I enjoy watching you walk knowing they’re looking at you.

We went into a lingerie store. There were several women looking over sets and an indecisive couple or two. He took me to the black lace section.

—Pick one. A half-cup bra and matching thong. You’re going to try it on.

I picked an elegant set, the kind that leaves the upper part of the breast exposed. I went into the larger fitting room, with a thick curtain that wasn’t completely closed. I left it open a few centimeters, just as he’d written to me earlier by message.

I slowly took off my blouse. My breasts were exposed, and the air conditioning hardened my nipples instantly. I slipped off my skirt and thong, and looked at myself in the triple mirror: my whole body, my skin flushed, the evidence of my desire shining between my legs.

From outside, without coming in, his voice reached me low.

—Touch your breasts. Slowly. I want to see you in the reflection from here.

I brought my hands underneath, lifted them, massaged them. I pinched my nipples gently and a small moan escaped me.

—Now a finger, just brushing. Don’t come yet.

I slid one finger in, withdrew it shining wet, and brought it to my mouth. I tasted my own dampness, that flavor that was at once salty and sweet.

—Good. Put on the new set.

I put it on. The bra lifted my breasts, leaving half the areola visible from the front; the thong sank between my buttocks. I came out holding my clothes in my hands.

Andrés looked me over.

—You’re keeping it on underneath. We’re going to pay.

***

He paid at the register with complete naturalness while I felt the new lace tightening under my skirt. The blouse pulled even more tightly over my lifted breasts, and the nipples still showed through discreetly.

We kept strolling. On the escalator he had me go up in front. The skirt rode up with the movement, showing the upper part of my thighs. From below, a flash of black lace must have been visible. I heard a man clear his throat behind me, but no one said anything.

On the upper floor we went into a busy café and sat at a high table by the window, me with my back to the wall, him opposite. He ordered two coffees.

—Spread your legs under the table. Just enough for me to see.

I did. The skirt gave a little. Andrés lowered his gaze discreetly.

—Now touch yourself. One finger over the fabric. Slowly. While we talk about anything.

I began to rub myself over the lace. It was imperceptible from the outside, but every movement sent a current through my whole body.

—Do you like me watching you while you do it? —he asked softly, as though commenting on the weather.

—Yes —I whispered—. I get wetter just knowing you’re seeing me.

—And is the fabric already soaked?

—It’s sticking to me completely.

A young waiter set the coffees on the table. His eyes lingered a second too long on my neckline, where my nipples showed through the blouse. Andrés barely smiled.

—He saw you. He knows it. And you know it.

My face burned, but I didn’t stop rubbing myself slowly.

***

After the coffee we went into a large bookstore and lost ourselves in a section at the back, where there were fewer people.

—Lean over to look at the books on the bottom shelf. Slowly.

I bent down. The skirt tightened over my buttocks and I felt the cool air on the upper part of my thighs. Andrés moved very close, behind me.

—I can smell what you’re making me feel from here —he whispered—. I can feel the heat you’re giving off.

I straightened up trembling, my legs weak, not knowing how much longer I could hold out.

We went back to a large clothing store and into a single fitting room, one with a door and a latch.

—Lock it.

I slid the latch. The cubicle was small, but finally private.

—Take off the blouse and skirt. Keep the new set on.

I obeyed. I was left in the half-cup bra and fine thong, my chest rising and falling with my quickened breathing.

—Down on your knees.

I knelt on the clean floor. Andrés unbuttoned his pants calmly and freed himself, already fully hard, the skin taut and shining.

—Open your mouth. Slowly. I want to feel your tongue on every inch.

I took him in. I licked the tip first, circling it with the flat of my tongue, then went down to the base, sucking gently. He let out a long sigh.

—That’s it. No noise. Just feel how it throbs against your tongue.

I sucked him for minutes, alternating deep sucks with slow licks along the length. He held my hair without force, just keeping the rhythm, letting me do it.

—Now turn around. Hands on the wall. Spread your legs.

I turned and pressed my palms against the wall of the fitting room. Andrés knelt behind me and parted my buttocks with his hands.

—What a body —he murmured—. So soft.

I felt his hot breath and then his tongue, flat at first, tracing slow circles. One of his hands found my clit through the lace and began to rub in perfect circles.

—You’re dripping —he said against my skin—. I can feel you throbbing against my finger.

I couldn’t hold on any longer. I came in silence, my whole body shaking, my thighs closing around his hand, a long orgasm that left me panting with my forehead against the cold wall.

Andrés stood, turned me around, and kissed me deeply, sharing my own taste with me.

—Good girl —he said, and for the first time all afternoon it sounded almost like a caress—. Get dressed. We still have half the mall to go.

I gathered my clothes with trembling hands, knowing I would go back out into the crowded corridors with shaky legs and soaked lace, ready to obey the next order.