Marsh was a petite, black-haired, 35-years-old perfectly-proportioned beauty. She had been in the store several times over the summer, sometimes alone... other times with her husband or her daughter. This day, Mrs. Marsh wore a pale blue blouse and a navy skirt, and she was alone. She wanted some stiletto heels to match a new evening gown. She sat on a bench and I selected a pair of black four-inch heels for her to try. I pulled my stool to a position in front of her and sat.Her skirt was above. He had his armaround me, and after one particularly exciting fight sequence, heslipped his other hand into one of the gold-trimmed cups of my redbustier."Eeek!" I shrieked in surprise. He usually left my breasts alone -they were unimpressive, more moobs than boobs, and he seemed to be alegs and butt man. I wasn't wearing a bra under the bustier, so hediscovered my other secret right away."Lisa! What the hell? Falsies?"I was so embarrassed. I should have worn a strapless bra under thebustier.. More

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