My coworker took control in the empty fitting room

There were only a few days left until the holidays, and the store had been packed to the rafters all day. People came in in waves, emptied the shelves, left clothes strewn in every corner, and headed back out loaded down with bags. Diego and Marina had spent the last two hours behind the counter, heads down, until two coworkers from the afternoon shift relieved them.

“I’m going outside for five minutes to breathe or I’m going to lose it,” Marina said, already crossing the glass door to the street.

Diego followed her. The cold December air was a relief after the sticky heat of the fitting rooms and the breath of so many people.

“So what are your plans for Christmas?” she asked, lighting a cigarette and taking her first drag with her eyes half-closed.

“You know. Wife, kids, her family... It’s going to be one exciting holiday,” he replied, making air quotes.

“In other words, hell with colored lights.”

“Something like that. And you?”

“I’m going to the mountains with some friends. Skiing, mulled wine, and no schedules.”

“Want to switch?” he said, half-joking.

“I would, but the girls would kill me. We’ve been planning it for months.”

They chatted about nonsense for the rest of the break, about the January slump and a customer who that morning had tried on half the men’s department without buying anything. When the cigarette burned down, they put it out and went back inside. And both of them stopped dead the moment they crossed the door.

“What the...?” Diego left the sentence hanging.

The store was empty. Not half empty: completely deserted. Hangers on the floor, mannequins half-dressed, piles of clothing stacked in the aisles as if a tide had swallowed it all at once. No customers, no coworkers, no sign of the two who had relieved them.

“There’s going to be a zombie apocalypse any second now,” he muttered.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Diego. People have to be somewhere. Let’s look around.”

They split the ground between them. Marina took the checkout area and the bathrooms at the back; Diego, the clothing departments and the fitting rooms. He went through the aisles calling softly, feeling a little ridiculous, until he reached the end, by the booths. There, over the hum of the air conditioning, he heard something that didn’t belong in an abandoned store.

“Just like that... don’t stop...”

It was a woman’s voice, hoarse, broken up. For a second he thought it was coming from a person, but he immediately recognized the metallic filter of a small speaker. A recording. And judging by the tone, it was not exactly a sale announcement.

He crept up to the last booth, where the curtain was half-open, and peered in, holding his breath.

“Put it all the way in...”

On the screen of a phone propped up against the mirror, a movie was playing. And on the floor in front of it was Natalia, the HR girl. Sitting on the carpet, skirt hiked up to her hip, one hand between her thighs and her eyes fixed on the phone. She hadn’t heard him come up. She couldn’t hear anything but the voice on the recording.

Diego froze. He knew he should back away, get out of there, pretend he hadn’t seen anything. But he didn’t move. The sight held him: Natalia’s legs sheathed in sheer stockings that caught the scant light, her feet braced against the booth wall, her fingers curling each time she stroked herself deeper.

Fuck.

It was his weakness, and she didn’t even know it. A woman’s feet, a good silk stocking taut over the instep—that disarmed him more than any naked body. And here he had both at once, added to the ragged breathing of a coworker masturbating without suspecting she had an audience. The equation solved itself.

“So good...” Natalia moaned, slipping two fingers inside herself and throwing her head back.

Diego couldn’t take it. Without taking his eyes off her, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard, throbbing in his hand. He started stroking himself slowly, measuring each movement so he wouldn’t make a sound, his forehead pressed against the cold edge of the booth wall.

***

Marina, meanwhile, hadn’t found anything in her half of the store. Not a soul in the checkout area, not in the bathrooms, not in the small stockroom at the back. She checked the time on her watch and frowned. It made no sense for the whole staff to have vanished, but whatever was going on, she and Diego weren’t going to save Christmas on their own. The most sensible thing was to close up and send everyone home.

She went looking for him in the fitting rooms to tell him to forget it all, to go home to his wife and kids in peace. And when she turned toward the booths, she saw something that made her stop.

Diego was standing with his back to her, motionless in front of a curtain, his arm moving in a back-and-forth motion that took her a second to understand. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions. She came closer on tiptoe, holding her breath.

“So good...” she heard coming from inside the booth. A velvety woman’s voice, panting.

She understood at once. Someone on the other side was enjoying herself, and Diego, her coworker, was standing there, spying like a voyeur while he pleasured himself.

Something lit up in Marina’s stomach, a mix of scandal and heat she hadn’t expected. She took off her shoes so she wouldn’t make noise and took the last few steps barefoot over the carpet. When she got behind him, she leaned over his shoulder.

She covered her mouth with her hand. Natalia, the HR girl, masturbating on the floor in front of a movie. Diego, cock in hand, devouring her with his eyes. Marina bit her lower lip. She felt her nipples tighten under her shirt, and lower down, without having decided to, she started to react too.

She didn’t think twice. She stretched out her hand and closed it over Diego’s, over the cock he was stroking himself with.

He jerked and was almost about to turn around, but she pressed her mouth to his ear before he could say anything.

“Shh. Better if she doesn’t hear us,” she whispered. “Imagine it’s her doing that to you.”

Diego swallowed. His heart was hammering. Feeling Marina’s hand close and move over his, setting the rhythm, completely undid him.

“Stockings drive me crazy...” he confessed in a very low voice, almost without thinking.

“Stockings?” Marina arched a brow, amused. “Well, well. You’re into fetishes?”

“You have no idea how much.”

Marina smiled in the half-light. Something in her took charge of the situation with a naturalness that surprised even herself. She took her hand off his, grabbed his arm, and, without raising her voice, made him back up a few steps to a corner of the aisle where Natalia’s curtain was still a flickering band of light, but nobody’s eyes could reach them now.

“Lie down,” she ordered.

“Here?”

“Here. And keep quiet.”

He obeyed. He let himself fall backward onto the carpet, pants open and cock pointing at the ceiling. Marina sat down in front of him, hiked her skirt up to her thighs, and slowly lifted one foot. She was wearing dark, opaque stockings that ended in a round, soft toe.

“Let’s see if you really like them that much,” she said, and set the sole of her foot on his glans.

Diego let out a groan that he smothered by clenching his teeth. The warm fabric slid along his full length, top to bottom, with deliberate slowness. Marina watched from above, enjoying the effect every inch of contact had on him.

“Marina...” he panted.

“Don’t say anything. Just enjoy it.”

She braced herself on her forearms to get a better angle and added the other foot. She trapped his cock between both soles and began to pump up and down, pressing, twisting her heels, feeling him harden even more beneath the silk, if that was even possible. On the other side of the booth, the recorded moans from the movie and Natalia’s real ones mixed together and covered up theirs.

“God, Marina...” Diego murmured, his hands clenched on the carpet.

“So you’re a voyeur,” she said, without stopping her feet. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I don’t...”

“And I love it.” She cut him off, pressing a little harder. “Admit it. Have you ever spied on me while I was changing? Have you ever touched yourself thinking about my feet when I took my shoes off in the back room?”

Diego’s breathing broke with every word. He didn’t need to answer; his body said everything.

“You’re a textbook fetishist, aren’t you?” she went on, dropping her voice to a thread. “A lover of women’s feet. Able to lose your head over a well-placed stocking.”

“I am...” he admitted, defeated and turned on in equal measure.

“And mine? Do you like mine?” Suddenly she stopped completely, leaving him halfway there, trembling.

“They drive me crazy, Marina... please, don’t stop.”

She smiled, satisfied with the power she had over him in that moment. It made her feel something new, something she had never tried before: setting the pace, granting and withdrawing pleasure at will, seeing him beg with his eyes. She resumed the motion, this time faster, without mercy.

On the other side, Natalia announced between gasps that she was coming. Her voice cracked into a long moan. Diego’s face, tight, sweat beading on his forehead, showed he was at the same point.

“You have such gorgeous feet...” he managed to say.

Marina sped up. She wanted that man to empty himself all over her stockings, over the silk that drove him so wild. And she had already decided something else: when it happened, she wouldn’t change them. She would go home wearing them, marked, and she would have a story her friends would never believe on the trip to the mountains.

“I’m coming,” he warned, voice broken.

“Do it in my stockings, Diego. Come in them.”

She didn’t have to repeat it. Diego arched against the floor and the warm stream stained the instep and lower part of his leg, over the dark fabric. He fell back, breathing in gasps, while Marina watched the mess with a slow smile and caressed the stained thigh as if it were a trophy.

Just then the booth curtain was pulled open. Natalia came out still flushed, adjusting her skirt, and froze when she saw the scene: Diego sprawled on the floor, Marina seated in front of him with her stockings gleaming, both of them looking at her. She brought her hands down in a clumsy gesture of modesty.

“Don’t cover yourself, Natalia,” Marina said with wicked calm, rising to her feet without the slightest hurry. “And keep those stockings on. The store is empty and nobody’s coming back for a good while.” She picked up one of her shoes from the floor, swung it by the toe, and smiled. “I have the feeling this has only just begun.”