A few weeks later, Maria was in the middle of another road trip to her favourite store, again on a Wednesday.
In her role as VP Marketing, she had been looking at the daily data store by store, and they looked encouraging. Last month she had banned changerooms throughout her chain, and declared Wednesdays clothing optional. Sales were up across the country, everywhere except Utah. (Not too many thong stores in Utah, anyway.)
There was lots of comment in the press, some of it negative, but you know the saying that there is no such thing as bad PR.
Some other retailers were starting to follow suit. One local hair salon joined the Global Warming Wednesday movement and that day would offer beginners’ discounts on their Brazilians. (The local strip bar tried to offer discounts on Wednesdays to stimulate business, but then just decided to close for the day.)
Our local store, next to campus, had a big increase in the number of transactions, but total sales growth was sluggish. Small purchases. It seemed that people in our town were in the store to shop, but they just didn’t need to buy that many clothes. Perhaps she needed something else to sell.
She had booked a meeting with a contractor, who arrived in his khakis and golf shirt. It was Keith, a recent grad of the local campus. Maria was, of course, in the buff. It was Wednesday, after all.
“I’d like to use this area for our new sunscreen lotion area – I just read on a campus blog about increasing demand for lotions. After all, if people aren’t going to wear clothes on Wednesdays, or much else the rest of the week, they need to protect themselves from sunburn. “ She was carrying a tube of a special lubricant-with-SPF combo. “All over,” she said looking up a bit devilishly.
“We need to get those changerooms taken out right away,” she said. “In some parts of the country, people are still asking for them, and it’s hard for staff to prevent people from using the rooms if they are still there. “ She walked into the entrance of the changerooms with Keith.
As they pulled aside one of the curtains, Maria glanced at Keith’s khakis. “ It’s Wednesday, and you either need to contribute a dollar or…” looking down…”more”.
Pulling down his pants, Keith said “a guy’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”
Maria put some of the lotion into her hand. “Before we sell this, we have to test it. Some lotions, when you’re pleasuring yourself, or taking part, they just don’t do the trick. When the cum or the juices mix, it doesn’t keep sliding. Some work, some don’t. And it’s not the sort of thing you can check out on the label, or ask the salesperson about. So there’s only one way to find out.”
So she started applying the lotion to Keith’s member and rubbing it in. As it seemed to be doing trick, she asked Keith to “do” her as well. And Keith, a sensitive sort, figured the best way might not be to start down below. First shoulders, then tits, and then the thighs led to the clitoris. Things were pretty moist, and Keith offered that the lotion seemed to be doing a good job.
“You call that a test?” Maria asked. Keith accepted the challenge and entered her vagina and thrust deeply for a minute or so. “But I wouldn’t have needed a lotion to get in here,” Keith said and ensured there was plenty of lotion around Maria’s anus. Then he pulled out, and shifted back and slowly entered her a second time, increasing frequency, and then thrusting quite freely and quickly, aided no doubt by the lotion. Before long there was a big load of cum to mix with the lotion, which passed the test.
“You know,” said Maria, “there were four changerooms in this store. Maybe you can rip out three of them and that will be enough new floorspace for the lotions. I’d like to keep one of them as my office – just in case there’s more testing to do.”
[to be continued]