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From: J <autoeroticrobot@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Wow Thanks Chp. 9
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Date: Sun, 17 Dec 2006 16:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "thanks09.txt" begin>

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by the author unless explicitly waived.  Non-commercial re-posts
to ASSM or similar venues are allowed provided copyright information
remains on the re-posted story.  As a courtesy to the author please do not
delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are authorized.

   The author enjoys feedback and comments:
autoeroticrobot[at]yahoo[dot]com.  ...  Or look me up in Second Life:
avatar Fnugus Abismo.

   WARNING: This story depicts consensual sexual activity between men and
women, or women and women.  Some of the fictional participants in the story
may be under the age of 18.

   Wow Thanks (MFf, exhib, voy, inc, cons) by autoeroticrobot

   Chapter 9.  Black Friday.

   The next morning, at like 6:30, there was a tap on the door and Lissa
burst in.  She was wearing the long-t-shirt nightie I'd seen her in the
morning before.  "Time to get up, uncle Jason," she trilled.  "We're going
SHOP-ping!" She'd said 'shopping' exactly that way, as if it were two very
exciting words that were even more exciting when put together unexpectedly.
Like maybe it was a new word for 'orgasm,' I chuckled to myself, recalling
yesterday's vocabulary quiz.

   I had been lying there awake (having set my alarm), but I was radically
non-mobile - a fairly typical morning-time state for me.  "Need coffee," I
grunted.  It was meant as a joke, but much to my pleased surprise, Lissa
raced out of the room and returned within moments with a steaming mug of
joe.

   "Oh my goodness, thank you.  You are a goddess." I said with utter
sincerity.  I sat up and sipped the beverage, and noted that Lissa was
failing to leave the room.  I was very conscious of my nakedness below the
covers.

   Lissa sat in the computer chair and spun it around.  It occurred to me
that if she was pantiless, as the rules required, with her legs out like
that, all she'd have to do is spin another quarter turn in my direction and
I'd see something truly wonderful.  But she didn't.  A tease, indeed, I
reflected, sipping my coffee.  Lissa pretended to be preoccupied with
something on the desk.

   "Can I help you with something?" I finally said, in mock seriousness.

   She laughed.  "Mom told me to make sure that you actually get out of
bed. She said you are notorious for going back to sleep." This was,
perhaps, historically accurate.

   I grinned, and decided on the direct approach.  "Unfortunately, my dear,
that might be true.  But I also regret to inform you that I sleep naked,
and you probably REALLY don't want to be here when I 'actually get out of
bed' as you put it."

   She made a funny face then.  Hard to tell what it meant.  "Oh dear," she
giggled.  Then she leaped up, grabbed my kimono from where it draped over
another chair, and flung it at me.  I flinched as I almost spilled my
coffee.  Might have been interesting if I actually had - all the leaping
and shouting and such would have been fun, in retrospect.  But I didn't. 
Instead, I caught the kimono.

   Then, she said, "Ok I'll shut my eyes - you have 5 seconds." She
immediately shut her eyes and began to intone "one...  two..."

   I blurrily reached the conclusion this was fun.  I set down my coffee in
a careful, quick motion, and as rapidly as possible, I rose and had just
brought the kimono closed when she reached 'five' and popped her eyes open
again.

   "Ah, you're up.  Good," she grinned.  And at that, she raced from the
room.

   Really, a very effective way to get me up, I reflected.  In more ways
than one, too - glancing down at the ill-concealed cylinder attached at an
awkward angle to my pelvis.  Re-collecting my coffee, I padded out to the
dining area and sat down at the table, one hand in a pocket to dissumlate
aforementioned object.

   Lissa had already disappeared into the bathroom, but Denise was there in
her robe, sipping her coffee and eating some toast.

   We discussed the plan for the day.  We would be leaving at 7.  No
mention made of the night before.  As soon as Lissa emerged in her towel
and turban combo, I fetched my bathroom kit and took my own shower.  The
urgency of the morning's plan had me sufficiently distracted that I didn't
have to put up a protracted struggle with Mr.  Woody, so in a few minutes I
emerged and went into the den and shut the door to get dressed.

   All very orderly - we were out the door by 5 till seven.  My sister was
very good at making schedules happen, I'd always known, and Lissa was
clearly a chip off the old block in that respect.  I was just along for the
ride, I decided - at least for the day.  This wasn't really a variation
from the day-after-Thanksgiving pattern that had prevailed in my family for
many years.

   Denise was wearing a nice green medium-length skirt, kind of billowy and
flirtatious, along with a cream silk blouse and a denim jacket, with some
comfortable looking flats on her feet.

   Lissa was more casual, with a pair of overalls, some kind of tube top
underneath, and some slip-on canvas shoes, Vans maybe.  She had her hair in
a pony tail, and was looking very little-girl today.

   I realized that although it didn't look particularly sexy, the
loose-fitting overalls were probably great for what you might call
"access." They had those big buttons with wire loops on the side that meant
that anytime she sat or twisted a certain way, you realized you were
looking right at her naked hip bone.  And although one couldn't quite tell
from a cursory examination, I of course KNEW she wore nothing underneath -
no panties!  And no bra under that little tube top that was basically just
a thin pink strip of cloth from her armpit to a few inches below the bottom
of her breast line.  If she leaned forward, and one was sitting at the
right angle, one could probably look in from the side and see her belly
button, the overalls were loose enough.  And that meant, if she leaned
forward more...

   I was wearing some jeans, with boxers underneath, comfortable sandals,
and a t-shirt with a jacket.  It was unseasonably warm for the end of
November, so we really didn't need to worry about dealing with the cold
before getting into the mall we were going to.

   We parked at the mall and the "girls," as I was thinking of them,
immediately set off with me in tow.  Oh, they clearly had a program - but,
at least for the first several hours, that program was evidently more
related to material acquisition than to the sexual escapades that were near
and dear to my own heart.  Although they seemed to spend an awful lot of
time in dressing rooms.

   Finally, we stopped and had a snack at a coffee joint (some kind of
Starbucks clone) around 11 o'clock.

   Surprisingly, Lissa announced that, having seen all the good sales, she
was starting to feel "all shopped out."

   "There's a few more things I'd like to check out," Denise said.  "How'd
you like to wait here while I go do that?"

   Lissa nodded, and Denise turned to me.  "I expect you'd rather stay with
Lissa than come with me, Jason?"

   I wasn't sure what the "plan" was, though I was certain there was one. I
figured the correct choice was being presented.  And it was what I
preferred, anyway.

   "I'd definitely rather sit here with Lissa than keep walking around."
And added, with humor, "I'm a male, after all - males prefer sitting to
shopping."

   Lissa laughed at this, and Denise grinned, and without a backward look,
she was off, waving a distracted, one-handed goodbye behind her lovely,
retreating, swaying behind.

   I looked over at Lissa, who was nursing one of those over-sweetened
frozen coffee concoctions.  She grinned around her straw, but we were both
quiet for a while, and I turned away to do some people watching.  Trying to
avoid the obsession I was developing with my niece.

   After about 5 minutes, she'd noisily slurped away the bottom of her
drink (in a way that for some barely conscious, and completely inexplicable
reason, had me riffing, in my mind, on Nabokov's character Ada, from his
novel of the same name - if you're curious, look it up - I much prefer it
to his more well-known "Lolita").

   She tossed the plastic cup into the trashcan behind her, and turned to
me, "there is one thing I'd like to shop for, but I need your help."

   "What's that?" I asked.

   With her chin, she gestured at the Victoria's Secret store across the
way.  "I want to go in there."

   "Maybe you should go with your mom in there," I suggested, but very
half-heartedly, as I was remembering both my conversation with Denise last
night, and was also feeling some certainty that this was part of a
developing plan both women had already worked out between them.

   "I can't.  Because it's FOR mom."

   I was confused.  "You want to buy something for your mom at Victoria's
Secret?" I asked.

   She nodded.  "She was complaining to me a few weeks back that one thing
she misses since, uh, dad died, is...  no one buys her nice frilly things
anymore."

   "I see," I volunteered, non-committally.

   "So I think we should get her something frilly.  A Thanksgiving present,
kinda."

   "...  OK," I said, slowly.  "We?" Long pause.  Finally, I gave in, as
she just sort of stared me down like a self-satisfied housecat.  "Ok.  What
did you have in mind?"

   She regained her animation, and I realized she'd been uncertain of
victory in that silent debate we'd just had, although it had seemed
foreordained, to me.

   "Hmm, like a nice baby-doll thing.  But here's the thing...  you have to
pretend you're, like, her boyfriend...  they'd think you were, like,
extremely weird if you said you were her brother."

   "I think you're probably right, there," I admitted, grinning with her. I
decided to just "go with the flow," as Denise had urged, last night, and so
I stood up, collecting the bags of already-purchased items which I was "in
charge of," per Denise.

   Lissa jumped up beside me and helpfully grabbed one of the bags I wasn't
carrying very gracefully, and we strolled across the way.  Before we got
inside, she leaned up to my ear, and said softly, "They're going to think
you're a weirdo, anyway, coming in here with a girl my age." And giggled.

   I only had time to nod before we got inside the store.  Lissa seemed to
know where to go, and we weren't there long before a clerk came over to
help.  A college-age girl, slightly plump but not at all unattractive.  A
bit of a goth vibe, going.  I'd have quickly obsessed on her, had I not
been with my nymphetic niece.

   Lissa took charge, explaining immediately that we were shopping for a
baby-doll for her mom and that she was along because I would get the wrong
thing otherwise - leaving unsaid but implying I was "mom's" significant
other.

   The girl smirked a little but didn't seem disgusted by what appeared to
be a father-daughter team shopping for mom's anniversary present or some
such.  So Lissa held some things up, examining them.  "I hope you know her
size," I said, quietly.  Lissa just nodded.

   The clerk left us alone once it was clear Lissa knew what she was after,
and drifted off to stalk more conventional customers.  I was still puzzling
out what was going on.  This wasn't, conceivably, part of any task I'd
given them (though it was giving me ideas!) and I wondered if it was
something they'd come up with on their own.  Or even that Lissa had come up
with on her own.  In my role as "Jason," obviously, my only plausible tack
was sincere cluelessness.

   Finally, Lissa appeared to have settled on something.  She held it up
for me on its hanger.  "What do you think?"

   I shrugged, and, aware the clerk was still smirking at us from afar,
added, "Looks awesome." Using a contrived tone of male wolfishness.

   Lissa slapped me playfully on the chest but began walking resolutely
toward the counter.  I readied the credit card - that, at least, was
entirely predictable - I wasn't exactly naive about female psychology,
after all.

   That's when the expected curve ball flew.  We were about halfway to the
counter, when she paused at a rack, and turned back to me, "hey...  can I
get something too?"

   In as paternal a tone as I could muster, in the circumstances, I said
something like, "what did you have in mind?" A bit hoarse, with
awkwardness.

   "Um...  maybe something like this?" She lifted a pair of lacy, pale blue
panties from the rack, with a fair amount of real estate put over to sheer
transparency.

   This was a little play she was acting out, I realized.  Combining my
insights as "Finn" with the content of last night's conversation with
Denise, I reached my conclusions: A fantasy - having "daddy" buy her some
frilly panties at Victoria's Secret.

   Boy, was that store crowded, the day after Thanksgiving!  I felt myself
breaking out in a sweat.  Online dares and fun and games were one thing,
but this was intense.

   So far, no one except the smirking clerk seemed particularly aware of
us. I met the woman's gaze, ever so briefly, and felt like she just KNEW
the whole damn story.  Silly.

   I wondered if Lissa was going to go through the pantomime of trying the
goodies on.  What part of this game was "doing it" for her?  The
daddy-daughter thing?  The embarrassment I was displaying?  The gaze I
would fix on her if she tried something on?  Denise's voice from last night
echoed in my mind - "go with the flow."

   For the first time since this whole thing had started, I sensed that
neither of my alter-egos - neither the real-world Jason nor the fictional
"Finn," were in any way in control, here.  Denise and Lissa had their own
program, despite their information deficit, and they were going to run with
it.  And I found I reveled in it.

   My voice cracking slightly, and with as low a tone as I could muster
without seeming to whisper, which ironically would have probably drawn a
great deal more attention, I said, "do you, ah, know what size you need?"

   Lissa looked up at me quizzically.  With that simple line, I'd managed
to let her know I understood the game and was willing to play.  I watched
the wheels turning in her head.  Speculatively, her thoughts: not, do I
know my size?  but rather, does this game require that I know my size? 
Foregone conclusion: definitely, I don't know my size.  Hah.  Or maybe she
had it all planned out.

   Shaking her head shyly, she said, softly, "I probably should try them on
- just to make sure."

   "Well, let's go," I said, with what I hoped was the right mix of
paternal-sounding resignation and exasperation.  We worked our way to the
changing rooms, to find the perceptive, smirking clerk waiting for us.

   "Can I try these on?" Lissa asked the woman, all innocence.  The clerk
quickly directed me to a sitting area, somewhat removed, and led Lissa into
a changing area around a barrier.  I realized the place was set up so that
voyeur males of my class couldn't really spy around the female dressing
rooms - some store designer understood the perverted mind pretty well.

   So Lissa was around the corner.  I wondered if she'd have the gumption
to come around the corner in those panties - I rather doubted it.  Way too
many people around.  A step too far....

   Sure enough, a long five or so minutes later, she reappeared in her
overalls, not the panties.  The panties back on a hanger.  With a shiver, I
recalled the "free masturbation" clause of the Friday tasks I'd given the
two of them.

   Hmm, did she appear a little flushed?  Maybe that was her only game. 
And...  oh, one strap undone on the overalls.  Both side buttons undone. 
Perhaps, too, an excuse for a bit of dishabille, then?  As if she'd
forgotten, or was too lazy, or expected to have to go back in.

   Lissa grinned and said, still shyly (the clerk still in earshot)
"They're fine."

   So again we worked our way to the counter, where she slouched against
the counter beside me, as I paid for the items.  Although I was studiously
avoiding looking at her, myself, I was acutely conscious of the clerk
gazing, with slightly widening eyes, at the crack in the side of Lissa's
overalls.  So.

   The items paid for, we returned to our perch at the cafe across the way
- surprisingly, the same table we'd been at before was untaken.  Lissa
occupied herself with hiding the contents of the Victoria's Secret bag
inside one of the others, so her mom wouldn't "see her present."

   Meanwhile, I now felt more free to study Lissa's coverings, rendered
slightly more casual.  As she leaned forward over the bag, the side of the
overalls crumpled open, and I swear you could see right to the top of her
thigh.  A slightly different angle....  And with the one shoulder strap
undone, the braless condition of her breasts (well, the right one, anyhow)
under the tube top was more evident.

   I managed to be looking somewhere else by the time she finished
rearranging the purchases and had folded the VS bag and put it into the
trash, handing me the receipt conscientiously.  Then she leaned close and
whispered, "I gotta run to the restroom." And was gone.

   Once again, I reflected on the free pass I'd given the girls, and
realized they'd likely been exploiting it all morning, and would be doing
so as long as we were here.  Certainly, Lissa appeared to be doing so. 
About 5 minutes later she reappeared.  She done up both straps on her
overalls, but I noted the sides were still carelessly undone.

   She came over and leaned against my shoulder.  Hip to shoulder...  I
could feel the actual heat of her bare skin through the thinness of the
shoulder of my t-shirt.  "Still no mom?" she queried.

   I shook my head.  Suddenly I detected a musky scent...  wow, was that
what I thought it was?  I grinned up at her, "having fun, Lissa?"

   A weird play of emotions across her face: uh oh he knows no he can't
possibly know oh how embarrassing oh this is wild.  All in a flash. 
Probably me, projecting - not even remotely possible it was that
transparent.  I had TOO MUCH knowledge.

   She smiled back and nodded quickly, moved around and sat down.  Jumped
right back up again.  Clearly restless.  She announced she was going to
order another drink.  "Want something?" she asked.

   I shook my head.  She disappeared, returned another 5 minutes later with
a Jones soda.  A sickeningly blue shade.  She pursed her lips between
swigs. I've got to stop staring at this girl, I thought.  I'm like an
infatuated teenager.  I should have told them my name was Humbert, not
Finn, I reflected, wryly.  I'd never have dreamed it would develop this
way.

   As we waited, and I watched her constant state of slight agitation -
this sort of oblivious hyperawareness she was projecting around her - I had
two thoughts.  First, it was glaringly obvious how aroused she was. 
Second, she was struggling with something more than that.

   Some kind of indecision or frustration...  ah, of course - it struck me.
She'd had some kind of plan, relative to her task today, for inside the
Victoria's Secret, and maybe it hadn't gone as expected.  She was puzzling
how to accomplish her task, and she was stumped.  Something hadn't gone as
expected, in the Victoria's Secret store.  She'd either lost her nerve or
missed an opportunity.

   I'm not sure why I felt so certain of this, but I was.  I wondered which
of the two options she had been intending to accomplish - her groping me,
or my groping her?  And, I wondered how I might facilitate a resolution. 
Think, Jason.

   The cafe was crowded.  There was only one free table.  Lissa and I were
at a table with three chairs.  When a party of four attempted to occupy the
last table in the cafe, in a moment of inspiration I donated the third
chair to them.

   "Now where's mom gonna sit, when she gets back?" asked Lissa, a bit
petulant.  But, I saw the wheels begin turning, as I shrugged at her.

   "Don't worry about it," I said.

   "Oh well.  I'll sit on your lap." She stuck out her slightly blue tongue
at me.  You go, girl.  Quick on the draw, as always.

   A few more minutes passed, we were pretty quiet.  She studied some
catalog that had come along with some purchase or other.  I watched the
crowds.  "There she is," I finally said.  Denise was coming back, shopping
bags suspended from both hands, green skirt swishing sexily on her hips -
at least I thought so.

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