Mall Cupid (MF exhib) 

MALL CUPID

John straightened out his tunic and adjusted his wings. As
he handed out flyers the harness kept shifting down and to
his right. It was just one of the annoying parts of being a
mall Cupid and greeting people before they entered the
shopping complex. This job wasn't working out at all. 

"I think it's straight now." 

John turned to see who had spoken. She was blonde and thin,
and stood smoking a cigarette just outside the door to the
mall. 

"Thanks," he said. He held up one of the flyers and asked,
"So am I dressed like this for your store?" 

She shook her head no and exhaled a stream of smoke. "I work
at Belle Boudoir. You know, the lingerie place?  We don't
exactly need to advertise this time of year." 

"Yeah, you must be really busy," John agreed. 

"You don't know the half of it. Most of the time it's not a
bad job. But now is like the worst. All of a sudden,
clueless men are wandering around the store. They all come
in with some fantasy in mind for Valentine's Day. I try to
help and then, somehow, I wind up in the fantasy." 

John laughed and she took another drag from her cigarette.
John could certainly imagine why she drew the extra
attention. "I see," he said. "So you get a lot of guys
saying, 'Actually she's about your size, Maybe you could try
it on?'" 

"Something like that," she said. She inhaled again, and let
out the smoke in a rush to speak. "You know, just once I'd
like the guy to offer to pose for me in some of the skimpy
men's stuff we have." 

"Really? Would you take him up on it?" 

"I don't know." She thought for a minute. "Probably not. But
they just don't think that way, you know? They just assume
I'm there for their amusement, but not the other way
around." 

John flicked the wings behind him. "So am I amusing?" 

"Highly," she said, putting out the cigarette. "But now your
wings are crooked again." 

John craned his neck to look back over his shoulder. When he
turned again she was on the way back inside. He cursed at
himself for failing to ask her name. Valentine's Day was not
far away and he was no closer to having a date than he was
to getting a decent job. At least he knew where she worked.
She also found him amusing, which was a good start. Maybe he
could offer to pose for her. 

Perhaps it was the desperation brought on by the pressures
of Valentine's Day. Maybe it was the lack of propriety
enforced by standing in sandals, white tunic and large
artificial wings, and handing out flyers to complete
strangers. Whatever the reason, John decided that posing for
this lingerie saleswoman wasn't such a bad idea. 

On his next work break he scrambled through the mall. First
to the drugstore for some adhesive tape, then to the toy
store, then to the passport photo booth. The jokes he
suffered in the stores were nothing compared to the strain
of contorting himself so that he could stand on the bench of
the photo booth and pose properly for the camera. He had to
take his wings off to fit inside the tight space, but the
loose fitting tunic turned out to be an asset in his hit and
run modeling effort. John considered dropping his briefs, as
well as lifting the tunic, but decided to preserve a little
modesty. 

While he waited for the pictures to develop John removed his
new toy from its packaging. It was a spring-loaded bow that
launched foam rubber arrows: the perfect accessory for
playing Cupid. With the short time he had before the photos
emerged, John stood in the hall and practiced with the toy,
learning its range. 

The machine beeped to announce that his photos were ready.
John examined them and was pleased. The tunic was out of
sight and his unit was front and center. He taped the strip
of photos to one of the rubber arrow shafts, and set out in
search of his quarry. 

John crept up to the entrance of Belle Boudoir and crouched
behind a security device. He spotted the blonde at the cash
register and took aim for a small display behind her.
Quickly, he pulled back the bow until the spring mechanism
locked. He rechecked his aim and prepared to launch a volley
in pursuit of romance. 

Just as he released the trigger, a petite, dark haired woman
holding a Belle Boudoir shopping bag stepped in front of the
arrow's path. The foam shaft hit her square in the chest. 

"What the hell!" Her shock was compounded by the image of
Cupid, complete with wings, bow and quiver in hand, jumping
in front of her in a failed effort to calm her. 

"Sorry, sorry," he stammered. He didn't want the saleswoman
to see him, and even more he wanted his arrow back. 

Too late for that. The brunette had it in hand and was
looking at John's unusual self portrait. Not that she could
tell he was the subject of the photos. "What is this?" she
demanded. "What are you, Cupid? Is this some kind of a
joke?" 

"No! No!" John said pointing with his thumb to the wings. He
still had a chance to wiggle out of the situation. "I'm
being paid for this." 

"Did that asshole Paul pay you to do this? That guy just
doesn't take no for an answer." She looked back at the arrow
and remarked. "I wouldn't have thought he would be this well
endowed, though." 

"No," John said. "I don't know anyone named Paul. See, I was
doing this arrow thing to try to find a date." He instantly
regretted that sentence. 

"A date?" 

"It's a long story. Could I just have the arrow back?" 

She looked at it again. "Not until you tell me this story,"
she teased. 

In the fewest possible words, John managed to explain his
job as a mall Cupid, his chance meeting with the saleswoman,
and his plan to win her over. "Now that I just said all
that, I realize it's probably the dumbest thing I've ever
done." 

She looked over his shoulder at the wings, then back into
his eyes. "Somehow I doubt that's true. Besides, it's a cute
idea. I would go out with this guy if I met him," she said,
indicating the photos on the arrow before flipping the foam
missile over to John. 

He caught it and stared at her in disbelief. "But that's
me!" 

"Get real!" she said. "Look at the six-pack on that guy! And
how could you take those pictures in one of those booths?
There's no way you could stand inside it. Especially with
those wings on." 

"I took them off," he said. 

"Whatever. I still don't think that's you." 

"But you would go out with the guy in this picture?" 

"Yeah," she said. "I would." 

"Well then let's prove it! We'll go down to the dressing
room and I'll show you that I'm the guy in the picture." 

"I don't think so," she said. 

"So you were lying," John said. 

"No, I just don't believe you." 

"Well could you at least give me a chance?" 

"Fine!" she agreed. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she
mumbled. 

On the way to the dressing room, John developed a suspicion
that he was being taken advantage of. "How do I know you'll
really go out with me?" 

"You'll have to trust me. But if it'll make you feel any
better my name is Rochelle." She also gave him her phone
number. "Can you remember that?" 

"Yes I can. My name is John, by the way." Something still
didn't feel right. "You could have made up that number," he
said. 

"That's true," Rochelle said. "You're just going to have to
trust me." 

For the remainder of the short walk, John contemplated his
position. They reached the door of the dressing room and he
spoke, having formulated a plan. "OK, so you get to see me
half naked, and then we go out. But if you think I'm not the
guy in the picture we don't." 

"That's right," Rochelle said. 

"That's not fair! Maybe you just want to see me in my
underwear." 

"Please! You're a mall Cupid; don't flatter yourself." 

"Well, I think I oughta get something out of this," John
protested. "Something guaranteed." 

"Like what? You want me to shove a dollar bill in your
jock?" 

"I was thinking more like you show me your underwear," he
said. 

"Pushing your luck a little bit, aren't you, John?" 

"It's only fair. I prove to you I'm the guy in the picture,
and you model for me whatever it was you bought in that
lingerie place." 

They were still outside the dressing room door. Rochelle
looked down at her bag and then at John. "Fine!" she
declared. He opened the door to the dressing room. "After
you," he said. 

Inside, Rochelle slipped behind a curtain to change. John
simply took off his wings and pulled the tunic over his
head. To John it seemed minutes before Rochelle called out,
"Ready or not here I come!" 

She stepped from behind the curtain. As she took in an
eyeful of John's nicely filled out briefs, she saw no sign
of the confusion on his face. 

"OK, let's see it," he said, with his arms outstretched to
her and his palms open. 

"See what?" she asked. 

"Your lingerie," he said. "Take off that robe, and let's see
it!" 

"But this is it," Rochelle smiled. "She pulled a tag out
from under the cuff of one arm and showed it to him. "You
asked to see what I bought in the shop. This is it, honey!" 

"But that's not fair!" 

"It's what we agreed to," Rochelle said. 

"That's not what I meant!" John argued. 

"Well, I'm a little disappointed, too," she said. "You must
be stuffing that thing. Where are your socks, anyway?" 

"I'm wearing sandals!" John protested. "And I am not
stuffing!" 

"Care to prove it," she said, batting her eyelids. 

"No, not again," John said. "You're like a con artist." 

"Oh, don't be a baby. Look, if it will make you feel any
better, I'll take off the robe." 

"No, you might have armor on underneath," John said. 

"Sorry, I'll rephrase that," she said. "I'll let you see me
in my underwear." 

John felt burned, but she was cute and she kept smiling at
him. He did want to see what she looked like under the robe.
"Oh, all right!" he said, exasperated. She flashed him the
smile again as he dropped his briefs. 

My, he wasn't stuffing, was he? Rochelle wondered if it got
much bigger. "I guess it's my turn," she purred. She
unfastened the robe, and let it slide off one shoulder at at
time. 

As the robe fell, John could the swell of her breasts before
any of her brassiere. For a moment, he wondered if she wore
one. Shortly, though, it was clear that she wore one, and it
pressed her breasts together in a wonderful display of
cleavage. The bra was white and of a simple material. Her
panties were also white, but sheer where the triangle in
front reached around to embrace her hips. 

"Want to see the back?" Rochelle asked. 

"Uh, yeah," John said. 

Rochelle turned halfway round, put her hands on her knees
and bent slightly at the waist. The underwear was sheer in
the back, right down to the solid white material of the
crotch. John could make out her full ass cheeks and it
quickened his pulse. She wiggled a bit before turning around
again. 

Rochelle was pleased to see that it did indeed grow bigger.
It was doing so at that very moment. "Maybe you should go
lock the door," she suggested. He complied. That gave them a
little more security, and it gave Rochelle a good view of
his ass. 

When he returned, Rochelle greeted him with a kiss. John
kissed back enthusiastically, and his hands roamed over her
back. He fumbled with her bra clasp for a moment, but
managed to unfasten it. Rochelle rolled her shoulders to let
the bra slide between them to the floor. John cupped her
tits in his hand and then bent slightly to take her nipples
in his mouth. They hardened at his gentle bites. His tongue
swept over her breasts in great arcs. His hands moved down
from her ribs to her hips, and then on to her ass. 

Rochelle let her hand move down to his cock. She rolled his
balls in the loose hairy flesh of his sack and felt it
contrast with the smooth hard shaft resting against her
wrist. Rochelle crouched down and brought her face closer to
his considerable manhood. 

"Now I think you're the same guy from the picture," she
said. 

"That's what I've been trying to tell--" John cut his
statement short when Rochelle sucked one of his balls into
her mouth and flicked at it with her tongue. He felt a surge
in his cock and it jerked in her grasp. 

Rochelle opened her mouth wide to take in his meaty sausage.
It was warm and throbbed against her lips as she sucked on
it and slid her tongue along its underside. John brushed the
hair away from her face and watched her work. 

Rochelle held his girth in her hand and pulled her mouth
away. "I feel so overdressed," she said as she stood from
the crouch position. 

John switched places with her. He pulled down her white
panties, and she stepped out of them. John poked his nose
into the dark wiry hairs above her slit, and pushed his
tongue down inside the thickest part of her thatch. The lips
parted and he tasted her. John held her ass in his hands and
pulled her cheeks apart. As he licked, he guided a lone
finger up and into that wet seam and pushed it inside her. 

Rochelle gave out a little whimper. She parted her legs a
bit to give John more room to work with his tongue. Rapidly
he swirled the tip of his tongue around her clit. He moved
his hand around to the front of her thigh so that he might
push more of his finger inside her. 

"I want you," he said. 

"Just a little more," Rochelle answered. "Please." 

John licked at her cunt. As fast as he could he flicked his
tongue back and forth to stimulate her. Rochelle gripped the
short hairs on his head and forced him closer. She bucked
her hips and slid her pussy against his face. Spasms rushed
through her body and tightened her thighs against John's
chin. 

"I want you," John said again when he pulled his mouth free. 

"Take me," she answered. There was a chair near her, and
Rochelle took a step towards it. She put a leg up on the
chair, and before she could make herself comfortable she
felt the head of his cock push against her soaking wet
bottom. 

The tip pushed her lips apart, and the spreading seemed to
go on as the full width of his shaft entered her slick hole.
It felt as if tiny fingers were spreading her skin. Her
muscles felt hot from her calves up to her sex. It was a
slow burn, and each thrust of his cock stoked the fire. 

"You feel so good," John said. He reached under her arms and
found her swaying breasts. He held them tight to her body
and started to fuck her faster. 

Maybe Rochelle never fully recovered from her first orgasm,
but the familiar sensation returned. She was building to
another climax. So was John, His strokes turned to harder
pounding, and his hips met her ass with a slapping sound. 

"I'm gonna come," John announced. 

"Oh, yeah, come," Rochelle said. 

Rochelle felt every spurt of his orgasm through the tight
contact of her skin with his shaft. The pulsing of his cock
pushed her over the edge and she quivered again with orgasm.
He stopped moving his legs but the throbbing of his cock
continued for a few seconds. 

"God damn," he mumbled. 

They dressed quickly. There was a renewed fear of discovery,
but they took time to exchange another kiss. Slower this
time, less urgent. The two left the room after Rochelle
adjusted John's wings. "Perfect!" she said. 

They kissed again before parting. John had to return to
work, and Rochelle now had a new reason to shop for
Valentine's Day. "You will call me," she said. "I know where
you work, and I have some incriminating photos of you." 

"Don't worry," John said. "I'll call you." 

He went back to his spot outside the mall, handing out
flyers. At some point the blond saleswoman returned to take
another cigarette break. "I saw you talking to that brunette
outside my store," she said. 

"Really?" 

"Your Cupid routine must have worked because she came back
to buy some more stuff." 

"Is that so?" John asked. 

"Yep," she said, blowing a plume of smoke into the air. "I
should have asked her to model it for me. I bet she would
look real hot in it." 

What was this, John thought, a lesbian lingerie saleswoman?
This mall Cupid thing was going to work out just fine.