More Trouble for Tara and Rowan

Leah's years as a manager, and before that as an employee, had given her expert familiarity with her store. That was how she had known at once that the noise she heard came from the back wall, near the dressing rooms.

She didn't quite make it three-quarters of the way to the back before her attention was seized by something else.

Three women - two employees and one customer - were wrestling violently on the floor near the side wall. All three were moving so quickly it was almost dizzying, and at least a dozen more customers had gathered around in a semi-circle to watch, chattering softly back and forth.

"-dibs on the Indian-""-hope she gets that crucifix shoved up her own-""-love them with small tits-""-remember when she told me I'd go to hell for eating-""-should someone get a broom for the phone-?""-never liked her anyway-""-can't call dibs, Karen, remember the-"

Every violent-yet-bloodless act Leah could have named was being committed by one or more of the three even as she watched. Kicking, slapping, poking, kneeing, jabbing, ****, twisting... Shreds of clothing littered the floor around them where items had been torn off and away. Tara's long-sleeved shirt was gone, leaving her pale chest bare and letting her small breasts jiggle with each new movement. Rowan still had her shirt, but the native girl had been deprived of her torn jeans, leaving her large, heavy erection to poke out one side of her red briefs. A long skirt, presumably belonging to the customer, had been thrown high enough to land over a display, though the older woman still had an old-fashioned shift protecting her modesty. The same wasn't true for the woman's upper body, where her shirt, though technically still on, had been torn completely open in the front, sending buttons flying and exposing her white bra - though the sheer number of straps attached were serving to keep her chest as still as they possibly could under the circumstances.

As Leah watched, the customer managed to get something around Tara's neck and pull, **** the struggling goth girl on her jewelry. Rowan was trying to go after the woman's rear, but was having to dodge one wild kick after another, her black braids bouncing and her cock slipping further and further into the open.

Pulling herself together, Leah approached. She could feel herself hardening, and she reached down to undo her belt. Her nostrils flared, and the semicircle of chattering customers fell silent and parted to let her pass, a gratifying amount of nervousness visible on (at least some of) their faces.

A moment before she could pass between them, however, a new challenger appeared.

As though from thin air, one hand fell feather-lightly onto her shoulder in a friendly, familiar touch. Simultaneously, the new arrival's other hand darted downward. With speed and accuracy that seemed worthy of an Olympic athlete, a thin, strong hand pushed down the back of Leah's newly-loosened work pants, into her plain panties, and one long finger thrust straight to the limit up her virgin ass, striking a knot of muscle like an arrow hitting the bullseye.

Leah's stride forward stopped in its tracks, her knees buckling, and a humiliatingly high-pitched, almost childlike, squeal escaped her.

After an unknown number of moments, the manager clencher her body, hiked up her pants, and turned, plastering her most severe professional scowl on her face. (The hand had been withdrawn as instantaneously as it had been inserted, thank fuck.)

The person she saw...

Leah had never been bothered by her height. Five foot seven was perfectly respectable, far from short, even if she looked a little comical next to her six-two wife. She'd been long used to customers looking down on her well before becoming manager, and it'd been decades, if not longer, since she'd been intimidated simply by someone looking down on her.

She was intimidated now, no matter how well she tried to hide it.

The woman was tall - not as tall as Tracey, but a solid six feet. Her blonde hair was so pale it almost sparkled in the fluorescent light, and she wore a beautiful blue blouse and matching, coordinated sweatpants. Her face was lined with age, but in a way that only added to her presence - this was a veteran in her own right, of years of yard sales and expired coupons, of not-in-my-backyards and i-want-to-talk-to-your-managers. She was smiling, small and cold.

The noise of the fight seemed to fade into the background. Leah struggled for words, but the woman spoke first anyway. "Kneel."

The redhead's left leg twitched, and she did her best to hide it. "I- excuse me?"

"Karen Neil." The woman's smile was larger now, as was the chill down Leah's back. "It's my name. I find it usually appropriate to introduce myself to new..."

She paused deliberately, then finished her sentence. "...People."

Leah swallowed. "Leah O'Donnell. I'm the manager."

"Wonderful." Karen's voice was soft and light, almost but not quite to the point where Leah had to strain to hear it. "I need you to resolve an issue for me."

"I'll be happy to help, just as soon as I-"

Leah had started to turn back towards the fight as she spoke, but Karen's hand came up again as she was midway through the turn. Spiderlike, soft fingers took her by the chin and tilted her head back up, pointing her eyes straight into Karen's.

"I think you'll help me now. That is your job, after all."

There was no question in her voice, nor was there any anger. Only the same smooth, cold confidence.

Her hand fell away, and the woman turned and started walking, presumably to the site of whatever her issue was.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Leah followed.

Behind them, Rowan managed to tear away the customer's shift, leaving her in just her carefully strapped bra and her plain white panties. As the woman screeched in outrage, Tara managed to slip the chain of the crucifix off of her neck, gasping for air.

Around the trio, the semicircle of watching blondes slowly moved closer.

"-lucky bitch-""-she's so cool-""-see the look on the manager's-""-you guys think I should get a-""-can't wait for their reactions-""-would totally suck her off if she asked. Not that she ever has, but I would. Totally-""-sus Christ, Karen, we know-""-I'm gonna get a broom."