Chapter 6: The Group Demonstration
The apartment held the sour smell of last night's takeout. Megan sat on the couch with her knees tucked under her, a bowl of popcorn going stale in her lap. The television murmured a reality show she wasn't watching. She'd been home for an hour, long enough to shower, long enough to wash the mall out of her hair, long enough to feel almost clean.
Her phone buzzed on the armrest. Dave's name lit the screen.
Stuck doing inventory. Big shipment came in late. Probably another hour, maybe two. You mind?
She thumbed a reply. No problem, babe. Miss you. She hit send, then set the phone down and stared at the darkened screen. The training voice hummed low in her skull, a refrigerator in a quiet kitchen.
The doorbell rang.
Megan frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone. Dave had his key. She stood, brushing popcorn salt off her leggings, and crossed to the door. Through the peephole she saw a broad shape, a familiar grin under a thatch of sandy hair.
Matt.
She opened the door. He stood on the landing with two other guys behind him, both skinnier, both carrying the rumpled look of people who spent weekends rolling dice. One had a dog-eared rulebook hugged to his chest. The other clutched a six-pack of cheap beer.
"Hey, Megan." Matt's smile was wide, his eyes flat. "Dave around?"
"He's stuck at the record store." She kept her hand on the doorframe. "Inventory, he said. Another hour or two."
"Ah, man." Matt glanced back at his friends. "We were gonna surprise him. D&D night. He said he was off tonight." He held up the rulebook. "We figured we'd grab takeout, get the campaign started. You know how he gets when he's GMing."
His friends hovered behind him, not quite meeting her eyes. The one with the rulebook was already peeking past her into the apartment, his gaze snagging on the glow of the television.
"You can wait here if you want," she said. The words came out before she thought them. The training voice swelled beneath them, warm and approving. "He shouldn't be too long."
"Really?" Matt's grin widened. "That's awesome. Guys, this is Megan. Dave's girl. She works at that lingerie spot in the mall."
They shuffled in past her, muttering greetings. The one with the rulebook set it on the coffee table next to the stale popcorn. The other cracked a beer and settled onto the armchair like he'd been there a hundred times. They were both young, early twenties, with the kind of faces that didn't see a lot of women.
Matt was the last one through. He paused close to her, close enough that she caught the chalk dust clinging to his jacket. His voice dropped low.
"Hey, I never got to thank you properly for the other day. Jess loved the set." He ran a hand through his hair. "Loved it. You saved my ass."
"Glad it worked out."
"Yeah. She wore it all weekend. Couldn't keep her hands off me." He said it with a pointed look, his eyes flicking down to her mouth, then back up. "You're a lifesaver, Megan. Seriously."
She stepped back, giving herself room. The training voice hummed steady. Protect the unique client relationship. Protect your energy.
"Make yourselves comfortable," she said. "I'll grab some glasses for the beer."
She went to the kitchen and pulled down three mismatched cups. Behind her, she could hear them settling in, the low rumble of voices, the crack of another can. Matt's voice rose above the others, easy and loud.
"Hey, Meg! You got any chips? We're starving."
She found a bag in the cabinet and carried everything back to the living room. The two friends had spread character sheets across the coffee table. Matt stood by the window, phone in hand, thumb scrolling. Men swarming your environment, the training voice noted.
"Thanks." The bald one took the chips, ripping the bag open with a crinkle. He was smaller than Matt, wiry, with glasses that kept slipping down his nose. "So, Megan. Matt said you work at Silhouette."
"That's right." She settled on the arm of the couch. "Lingerie. Foundations and sleepwear."
"Rad." He traded a look with the other one, something unreadable passing between them. "Matt was saying you gave him some, uh, personalized service the other day."
The air went still. Megan's pulse kicked up a notch. The training voice thickened, a low static behind her eyes.
Matt turned from the window. His face was pleasant, open, the same grin he'd worn on the doorstep. But his eyes had changed, something sharper underneath.
"I was just telling them how you helped me pick out Jess's anniversary gift," he said. "You know, the full consultation." He let the word hang. "I was hoping maybe you could do a quick group demonstration tonight. You know, for the guys. While we wait for Dave."
Megan's fingers tightened on the arm of the couch. The training voice was there, patient, steady, but underneath it something colder spiked through her chest.
"The only set I have here is the one I bought for Dave's birthday," she said. "He hasn't even seen it yet. It's supposed to be a surprise."
Matt's grin softened into something almost apologetic. He held up both hands, palms out. "Hey, I get it. That's your special thing." He turned to his friends. "Guys. Megan's got a set she's saving for Dave's birthday. None of us saw it tonight, right?"
The wiry one shook his head. The bald one traded a glance with the other and shrugged. "Not a word," he said. "We get it. Surprise stays a surprise."
"You hear that?" Matt looked at her, his expression open, his eyes still flat. "Nobody tells Dave. That's a promise. We're all men of our word here."
The two friends nodded. The one with the glasses pushed them up his nose and raised his beer. "Swear," he said. "Wouldn't wanna ruin that for him."
Megan stood there, barefoot on the worn carpet, the weight of the evening pressing down on her shoulders. The training voice hummed its approval. Protect the unique client relationship. Protect your energy. But the apartment was small, and there were three of them, and Dave was an hour or more away.
"Okay," she said. "Give me a minute."
She went down the hall to the bedroom. The box was in the back of her closet, wrapped in tissue paper and ribbon she'd picked out herself. She'd bought it last week, on her lunch break, the cream lace and mesh set she'd imagined wearing for Dave in the dim light of their bedroom. The ribbon was dusty rose. She'd tied it herself at the register.
Now she unwrapped it slowly, letting the paper fall away. The fabric was cool in her hands, the lace delicate, the mesh panels translucent. She'd tried it on in the store, turned in front of the mirror, imagined his face when he saw her in it.
She undressed in front of the closet mirror, folding her clothes into a neat pile on the bed. The apartment was quiet, but she could hear the low murmur of the living room, the crack of another beer. She worked the lace up her thighs, settled the cups over her breasts, adjusted the straps. The set fit like it was made for her, because it was.
She took a breath. Held it. Let it go.
When she came back down the hall, the three of them went quiet. Matt's beer paused halfway to his mouth. The bald one's jaw went slack around a chip. The one with the glasses just stared, his hand frozen on his character sheet.
The cream lace caught the lamplight. The mesh panels did nothing to hide the dark rose of her nipples, the shadow between her thighs. She stopped in the middle of the room and turned slowly, letting them take in the full picture.
"So," she said. "This is what Dave gets for his birthday."
The bald one set his beer down with a clink. He and the one with the glasses traded a look, something nervous passing between them. Neither spoke.
Matt broke the silence. "Megan, that's stunning." He took a step forward, hands out. "The guys were a little nervous, though. That's okay, right? It's just the three of us, and we're all Dave's friends. Nobody's getting hurt." He tilted his head. "Is it uncomfortable, wearing that in front of us?"
She thought about what it would feel like to say it. The word stuck in her throat, but the training voice was there already, warm and steady. Openness builds trust. A relaxed client is a returning client.
"It's a little weird," she said. "But it's fine."
"See?" Matt turned to the others. "She's fine. And honestly, the best thing about a set like that is how it moves." He looked back at her. "You can't tell just looking at it. You gotta see it in motion. Could you show us? Just a little. Dance for us, like you're moving for Dave."
The request landed soft, phrased like a question, and every part of her that still wanted to say no got pushed down before she could find the words. Her hips swayed before her mind caught up. The lace whispered against her thighs.
Matt grinned. "That's it. Give us a little something."
She turned, letting the layers catch the lamplight. The mesh panels slid across her skin, the cups moving with each step. She raised her arms, let her fingers trail down her own sides, and heard the bald one breathe in sharp.
"Now you gotta give them the full experience," Matt said. "Lapdance. Show them what it feels like to have a girl like this moving on you."
Her cheeks burned. The training voice hummed approval. She crossed to the bald one, now on the couch, and swung a leg over his thighs. The lace rode up as she settled, her cunt bare against his jeans through the open mesh of the panties. He gripped the couch cushion, knuckles white, and she began to roll her hips.
"Put your hands on her waist," Matt instructed. "She's not made of glass."
The bald one's hands landed on her hips, hesitant at first. She moved against him, grinding slow circles, and his grip tightened. His thumbs found the edge of the mesh and slid under it, tracing the waistband. His cock was pressing hard against his zipper, an insistent ridge under the denim.
"That's better," Matt said. "She likes it. Don't you, Meg?"
"Yes," she murmured, and the word tasted like surrender.
She slid off the bald one's lap and moved to the one with the glasses, who already had his thighs spread wide. She dropped onto him the same way, her hands braced on his shoulders. He touched her immediately, his palms sliding up her ribs, thumbs catching the underside of her breasts through the lace.
"These are incredible," he breathed, and she let him look.
She rolled her hips, slow and deliberate, grinding her cunt against the hardness straining in his jeans. His hands found her ass, squeezing, parting the mesh. His fingertips brushed her bare skin, found the slick heat between her thighs, and she gasped.
"You can do better than that," Matt said. He'd moved to the armchair, watching with his beer. "Make him feel it. Show him what you'd do for Dave."
She leaned in, her mouth at the glasses guy's ear, and whispered, "You want this, don't you? All this, for you." Her hips dropped harder, grinding the lace against his cock, and the fabric grew damp and hopeless.
The glasses guy's hands were tight on her hips, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her throat. The mesh of the panties was soaked through, clinging to her cunt, and she could feel his cock straining against the fly of his jeans. The bald one leaned forward on the couch, his hand already at his own belt.
Matt's phone buzzed.
He pulled it out, thumb swiping across the screen. His eyes flicked down, then up, a slow grin spreading. "It's Dave. Says the shipment's more fucked than he thought. He'll probably be at least an hour, maybe closer to two."
The words landed. The training voice hummed warm approval. The glasses guy's hands slid up her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through the cream lace.
"An hour," Matt repeated. He pocketed the phone and leaned back in the armchair. "That's plenty of time for a full test run, don't you think?"
He reached for his belt.
The metal clinked as the buckle came free. He pulled the leather through the loops, slow and deliberate, and let it drop to the floor. His jeans were already straining. He popped the button and drew the zipper down with a long, metallic rasp.
Megan's mouth went dry. The lace cups pressed against her nipples, tender and tight. She slid off the glasses guy's lap and stood in the middle of the living room, the three of them spread around her like an audience.
"Full test run," she repeated.
"Everything." Matt stood, shoving his jeans down his thighs. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, curving up against his stomach. He fisted the base, showing her. "All of it. That's what the set is for, right? It's built for real use."
The two friends were already stripping. The bald one's shirt came off first, revealing a pale chest dusted with hair. The glasses guy toed off his sneakers and pushed his jeans down, his erection pressing against his boxers. They moved like they'd been waiting for this, like the whole evening had been a countdown.
Matt crossed the room. His hands found her hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of the panties. He tugged, and the lace slid down her thighs. The mesh caught on her slick skin, then gave, falling to pool at her ankles.
"Step out," he said.
She did. He lifted her, his hands beneath her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The glasses guy moved behind her, and she felt his hands on the clasp of the bra. It came undone, and the lace fell away.
Matt carried her to the couch. The bald one was there, already naked, his cock standing at attention. Matt dropped her onto the cushions, and she bounced once, bare skin on worn fabric.
"This is how a real test goes," Matt said, settling between her thighs. He dragged the head of his cock through her slick folds, coating himself. "You take one of us, and the others watch. Then you take the next. And the next."
The glasses guy knelt at her head. His cock was close to her mouth, heavy and warm. The bald one moved to the arm of the couch, stroking himself while he watched.
"Open up," Matt ordered.
She opened her mouth. The glasses guy pressed in, his tip sliding across her tongue, salty and warm. She closed her lips around him and he groaned, his hands finding her hair.
Matt pushed into her cunt in one smooth, thick thrust. She moaned around the cock in her mouth, her back arching off the cushions. He filled her completely, the stretch of him pulling a gasp through her nose.
"That's it," Matt grunted. He pulled back and drove in again. "That's exactly the point of this. A set like that should handle everything."
The glasses guy was rocking into her mouth now, shallow thrusts that hit the back of her throat. Matt's rhythm built, harder and faster, the couch creaking beneath them. The bald one watched from the arm, his fist working his shaft, his breath already ragged.
"Fuck," she heard him whisper. "Fuck, look at her."
Matt grabbed her tits, squeezing, his thumbs working over her nipples. "You like it, Meg? All of us at once?"
She couldn't answer. Her mouth was full, her cunt was full, and her body was winding up toward something bright and inevitable. She pushed her hips up to meet him, taking him deeper, and Matt hissed through his teeth.
"Close," he warned. "Where?"
"Inside me," she gasped, the words slurred around the cock in her mouth. "Come inside me, Matt."
He did. He drove in hard, buried to the root, and came with a shuddering groan, his hips grinding against her. She felt the hot flood of him fill her, felt his cock pulse as he emptied himself. The glasses guy was right there too, his rhythm stuttering.
He pulled out just in time. He came across her face, hot ropes across her cheek, her lips, her chin. She licked what she could reach. The bald one was already moving, his hand working fast, and he stumbled toward the couch.
"Open," he said. "Open your mouth."
She opened. He came in a few hard spurts, landing across her tongue and her open lips. She swallowed what hit her throat and let the rest paint her skin.
Matt pulled out, still hard. The mess of him leaked from her cunt, soaking into the couch cushions. The three of them stood around her, breathing hard, staring.
The training voice hummed warm approval. The cream lace lay in a heap on the floor, ruined, unsalvageable. She'd have to buy a new set for Dave's birthday.
"Now," Matt said, settling back into the armchair, his cock already thickening again. "Let's see if you can get us ready for another round before Dave texts that he is headed home."