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Chapter 8 by zankoo zankoo

What's Clark's request?

Take her bra off

Clark laughed. "Well, Lady Santa Claus," he said, "the thing I'd like for Christmas is to see you add your bra to the collection on the ceiling."

Abbie looked up again. Nate said, "Yeah, so over the years, if women got up here and felt the courage enough to take off their bras, we'd hang them on the ceiling. Sometimes they'd just stay there, sometimes folks'd come back to get them the next day. Some other customers claimed them as souvenirs."

Abbie looked back at Clark. "Interesting."

"So what do you say, Lady Santa Claus?" said Clark. "Would you like to give me that gift?"

"Sure thing, baby." Without missing a beat, Abbie reached her hands behind her and underneath her shirt. Pulling the material back this way caused the bottom of her shirt to ride up, revealing her bare stomach. She undid the clasp behind her, and brought her hands forward again.

She reached under her short sleeve and pulled out one of the shoulder straps of her bra. She pulled it fully over her arm. She did the same on the other side. Her bra was now unclasped and the shoulder straps off, so it merely rested on the front of her breasts, held there only because she had a shirt on over it.

She bent down in front of Clark and decided to tease him a little. Biting her lip, she said, "would you like to reach in and get it?"

He smiled, and stretched his arm out. She swatted it back. "I didn't say you could, I only asked if you wanted to." She smirked at him.

"I want to," he said. Looking back at her. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes," whispered Abbie. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him. Clark slid his right hand under her shirt, his palm running along her soft skin. She was warm to his touch, which brought both of them great pleasure.

His fingers reached the undersides of her breasts, which he rubbed gently, turning his hand so the back of it was against her chest. He grasped the material of one of the bra cups in his fingers, but pressed the back of his hand into her breast. As he withdrew his hand, he stroked the skin of her stomach again, and his fingers lingered at the top of her skirt.

He pulled his hand out, holding the bra.

"Looks like you got a souvenir," Abbie said.

What's next?

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