The customers in question were a diminutive and very attractive Chinese girl with bright pink hair, wearing a schoolgirl uniform of highly polished pink shoes with two-inch heels, bright white knee-high cotton socks, a dark blue skirt that scarcely covered her ass and a starched white shirt. Her tie was the same shade of blue as her tiny skirt. But this was no Lolita. Her lips were glossed bright red, her make-up laid on heavy, and she looked as young and innocent as I did.

Her companion was a forty-plus poseur in tight black leather jeans and a white silk shirt unbuttoned to his Harley Davidson belt buckle. He obviously spent as much time in the gym as he did in his delectable China doll. I could imagine what she saw in this stereotypical, hairy-chested macho man. His muscles weren't the only thing that bulged handsomely. I was familiar with his type, but he appeared not to notice me. Francesca had grabbed his full attention. That bitch was good at grabbing the hot guys.

I struck a pose. Hands on hips, head tilted slightly, left leg crossed casually over my right. China girl proceeded casually in my direction, trying not to appear too interested. Only when she was about two feet away did she finally look me straight in the eye.

"Hi," she said softly, showing a flicker of a smile.

"Hello," I replied.

She studied me for a period of time that is difficult to describe. It could have been a few seconds. For me, it felt like long enough to completely undress me and send me crawling naked and shamefaced from the store, on all-fours.

Finally turning away from me, she bent over to inspect the hem of a bright red dress that seemed particularly appealing. Her own hem rode high, exposing virgin white cotton panties that hugged her buttocks as tightly as they cupped those other assets that made her such a special girl. She looked over her shoulder, fluttered her eyelashes and gave me another of those coquettish smiles.

"You can touch if you like," she whispered.

I liked.

The instant my right hand touched her ass, she bolted upright and uttered a loud cry. Francesca and the macho man both looked in my direction. The latter then entered full knight in shining armour mode.

"What's the matter, my sweet?"

"He touched me," cried China girl, throwing me a horrified look. "That animal put his hand up my skirt and touched my ass."

I started to protest my innocence, but I already knew it was a lost cause. Macho man embraced his defiled Chinese delicacy and she played her role to perfection. Francesca wrapped a big hand around my throat and squeezed.

"What kind of sick fucking pervert are you?" she growled.

Her face was only inches from mine. I thought of a couple of appropriate replies to her question, but wisely declined to voice them. I suspected I was already in enough trouble.

"She said it was okay," I whimpered.

"Did I say it was okay?" Francesca barked. "Did I say it was okay for you to molest my customers?"

"I didn't molest her," I protested. "She was bending over and ...."

A stinging slap across the face shut me up.

"This is my fault," Francesca said. "I should have had this bitch arrested immediately. But it's not too late.

"There's no need for that," Macho man said. "Men tend to find Chantelle irresistible."

"But that isn't a man," the outraged girl protested, jabbing dangerously close to my face with a lethally long silver fingernail that gleamed like the point of a knife.

"No, darling, that sissy pervert is most certainly not a man," her lover agreed.

He thrust his right hand up under my dress and squeezed my panty bulge hard.

"Can you keep your hands to yourself now, you dirty bitch?" he growled.

"Yes," I whimpered.

He squeezed harder. "Wrong answer. I thought you might be the kind of sissy that would appreciate a real man. But you're just a pervert that gets off on molesting innocent girls like Chantelle. You wouldn't know what to do if a real man had you by the balls."

"That's not true," I pleaded, my voice sounding more high-pitched as his big fist squeezed even tighter.

"You need to make a choice," he growled menacingly. "If you're a man, you and me step outside right now and settle this - man to man. But if you're a fucking sissy, you won't want to do that."

I wasn't afraid of a fight. Macho man was in good shape and it wouldn't be painless, but I could have China silver Chantelle sobbing over her bruised and bloody boyfriend within the space of three minutes, should I choose to dramatically change roles. But I wasn't facing a skinhead in a bar and I wasn't dressed for a fight. Instead of employing my hands as fists, I used them to unbuckle his belt and unzip his leather jeans.

"That's quite a bulge you have there, big boy," I purred, thrusting my right hand between his thighs.

"Do you think you can handle it, slut?" he responded.

I smiled and licked my lips. "You know I can, babe. But I don't want Chantelle getting jealous and maybe stabbing me in the neck."

"Chantelle only gets jealous if I allow other men to suck my cock," he said. "You're not a man - are you?"

"Gosh, no, darling," I giggled nervously, slithering to my knees. "I might need a shave, but I'm a complete sissy slut."

I freed his cock from his underwear. Nine inches of throbbing meat reared against my face. I didn't look around for inspiration. I lapped up a tear-drop of pre-cum, before wrapping my lips around that handsome length of thick veined manhood.

"That bitch is hungry," Francesca purred. "She sucks like she can't remember the last time she had a cock in her mouth."

I remembered the last time, if not the name of the lucky man. Approximately forty-eight hours ago. A fifty-something, hairy chested and bald headed married guy. His wife was out. He dressed me in her stockings and lingerie, before lying back on the bed they shared and inviting me to do the thing that she refused to do unless she was drunk. I took the liberty of using her lipstick and perfume before going down on him and ensuring he would treasure my number.

Chantelle's macho man was bigger and even more tasty. I deep-throated that fat veined boner like the slut that I was. I would show that Chinese cunt how to satisfy her man. In fact, I might even make her man think that there were things more satisfying than cheap Chinese.

"Are you going to cum in her mouth?" she demanded.

"We seem to be going in that direction, babe," Macho Man replied, breathlessly.

His hands were cupping my head and he was fucking my throat hard.

Chantelle knelt behind me and wrapped her delicate hands around my neck.

"Suck him, you dirty whore bitch," she hissed. "Swallow his cum, like the slut that you are."