Suddenly, impulse struck her. She is alone here, on a deserted street, late at night. No one is out there, so why don’t I just… As Leila’s hand slips under her skirt to press against her soft, lace panties, she groans. It seems like I've sacrificed a lot more than I thought , Leila ponders, and she recounts the many men that she turned down so that she could focus on her shop. The subconscious twitch of her finger against her clitoris pulls her out of her thoughts and demands attention.
Leila pulls her hand away, panting already, and moves toward the light switch, dimming the light for a little ambiance and slowly starts removing her clothes. She stands naked in the middle of her shop and grins sheepishly, feeling like a teenager at home alone. Once again, she moves her fingers down to her clitoris, though this time her touch is unhindered by the lace material of her lingerie. She rubs herself slowly, luxuriating in the sensations rippling through her body. When was the last time I did something for myself?she sighed.
She presses herself against a wall in the window display and slides down so that her buttocks touch the hardwood floor. Without her fingers leaving her clitoris, she spreads her legs wide and cries out as the previous tweak turns into an intensified jolt. She is so wet, now, that she is worried about leaving a mark on the floor. So what if I do, she thought defiantly, and continued to rub herself. Her two fingers pressing down harder, eliciting another cry from her lips. Her eyes become glazed and her vision starts blurring. Oh wow, she muses. That didn't take long, and she starts letting go of the tension and submits her body to the glorious orgasm that is begging to be released.
Her eyes widen slightly and suddenly her body freezes in fear. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the shape of a man. There’s someone here! She turns her head around cautiously, trying to make out the presence of her onlooker and finds herself looking at the mannequin in the window display instead. Leila laughs at herself and relaxes again, her clitoris throbbing as a gentle reminder that her orgasm was cut short.
Hold on, Leila thinks to herself, and focuses on the mannequin. She remembers buying it before her boutique had started. She was trying to save money and a local adult store was closing down. They offered to sell her the mannequin at a bargain price, and Leila couldn't believe her luck. The male mannequin she bought stood with his feet apart, arms akimbo and a proud protruding member declaring, strongly, that although he wasn't living, he was still a male. Leila remembers having to twist that member around so that she could dress him and display him, without adding a large bulge to the clothing. Leila giggles at the memory.