Haze

"I don't know. All I know is it wasn't me."

"Are you saying it was me?" Cicely's hands jump to the waist of her purple dress. "Do you think it was me, Isla?"

I look her over from head to toe. "Of course not. No one would think it was you."

Her eyes squint. "What does that mean?"

I don't have to explain it. I can't explain it. It hasn’t slipped my mind that Cicely and Mr. Foster are going on a date the day before my birthday. I'm not about to insult her with him standing less than a foot away from me.

"I've been on the sales floor since I got here." I look down at my hands, twisting them together in frustration. "I wasn't near the change rooms at all today."

"You didn't let any of the customers in the rooms?" Cicely says in a tone that is way too judgmental. "You're telling me that not one of your customers wanted to try anything on?"

I turn towards her, my patience wearing thin. "I spent time with two customers this morning." I dart two fingers in the air. "One was a woman who wanted to buy new bras for her mother who just had a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. She knew the size. It's a perfect 34C. My other customer was in here last week. Her husband loved the things she bought so much that she came back for more so she could surprise him on their anniversary. Neither of them needed to go to the rooms."

Cicely's eyes move from my face to Mr. Foster's.

"There are security cameras," I think aloud. "I've seen Wallis watching the footage when she caught a shoplifter. There aren't any in the rooms but they do give a view of who goes in and out of them."

"I was just about to suggest that." Cicely turns towards the door. "I remember Wallis mentioning those. We can review them right now to prove what really happened."

"I need to go." I don't make eye contact with either of them. "I have customers waiting for me."

I brush past Cicely, twist the doorknob in my hand, and walk back to the front of the boutique knowing that as soon as I can, I'm leaving this fucked up circus behind me for good.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Gabriel

The water pounds down on me. The heated spray beating a path along my back. My eyes are closed. My mind is too awake. It's near three in the morning and I haven't slept. I can't quiet my thoughts.

The full day of work I had planned ended abruptly as I watched the security tapes in the Liore boutique. I'd called Wallis to the store from the corporate offices to assist me. She'd been in a meeting, an important meeting, regarding the men's line.

My better judgement was swept aside by my insatiable, unexplainable need, to see who had fucked who in that change room.

When Cicely had showed me that condom package and the refuse of what had transpired in the cramped space, I'd been hit with images of Isla bent over the bench, her dress hiked to her waist, her panties pushed aside as a customer pounded his dick into her from behind.

I'd imagined his hand bunched in her hair, pulling her neck back as he rode her fast and hard. The sense of rage I felt with those thoughts invading my mind was palpable. It wasn't rational but it was real and stifling.

She'd looked different when her eyes met mine in the boutique. I saw a need and a desire there that I hadn't before. It may have been nothing more than my remembrances of how she looked in the club. She was so ripe, willing, and waiting to be taken.

My intention when she followed me into the office was clear. I wanted a simple explanation. I wanted her assurance that she wasn’t the one who had taken a man into that space. I needed to know that. It had nothing to do with her job. It had everything to do with my selfish need to slide my cock inside of her.

I felt relief wash over me when Wallis spotted the culprits on the footage. The cleaning crew had granted themselves carte blanche in the boutique hours before the store opened. The man and his female counterpart, hired to clean the store, had instead fucked like rabbits in the corridor leading to the change room before they fell out of view and into the room.

Cicely's explanation for not finding the evidence of their misdeeds when she did her required check of the rooms before the store's opening was far reaching. She'd been interrupted mid-check she claimed at first by a customer knocking on the door, wanting early access to the sales items.

As Wallis ran through the security footage one final time, Cicely's story lost all merit. It was clear that she'd strolled through the corridor before the store opened, unlocking each of the change room doors before pushing them open with a brush of her foot as her eyes were cast down at her smartphone. She was blissfully unaware that cameras were even in place.