Unless Pearl randomly consents to you checking Zoey out

You fumble. “Uh. You’re okay with me looking at Zoey. You consent.”

Pearl’s anger dissipates, and she blinks in confusion. “Wow that doesn’t seem like me, but sure, I guess. That’s not the real problem though - somebody’s gonna see her, besides you and me, and we’ll have to start this whole mess over from square one.”

Zoey clears her throat to get your attention. “Excuse me. Don’t know if you forgot, but this is still a bookstore.” She plants her hands on her slender hips. “I’m not the one out of place here.

Pearl gives an amused snort. “That’s not how anybody else is gonna see it. You’re buck naked.”

Zoey gives you both a blank look. “Naked? What’s that?”

Wow. She really did forget everything about clothes.

“You’re not wearing anything,” you explain.

She lifts a leg and points vindictively at her foot. “The hell I’m not, I’m wearing shoes. No shoes, no service.”

Pearl rolls her eyes. “Your tits are out and I can see your butt, lady.”

Zoey twists around to peer over her shoulder at her ass. “What’s wrong with my butt?”

“Nothing that I can see,” you say, appreciating the view.

Zoey nods your way. “Thanks.” Then she glares at Pearl. “A second ago your tits were out and I saw your butt. And that wasn’t that wasn’t a problem?”

Pearl rolls her eyes. “We were having sex. It’s different.”

“There you go again. Throwing out made up words. I don’t know what that is.”

You see this might be a problem, but Pearl keeps a level head. “Oh yeah? If you hate clothes so much, why didn’t you take off your shoes too, huh?” Pearl accuses, pointing out Zoey’s footwear.

“All right. I may not know much about clothes, but I do know a lot about shoes,” Zoey fires back. “Shoes aren’t clothes.”

Pearl folds her arms expectantly. “Then what are they?”

She shrugs. “Shoes are shoes.”

So because Zoey doesn’t normally think about shoes as clothes, she didn’t forget about them when Pearl ordered her to? Strange how your claims work differently on different people.

“Either way,” you say, pointing at the pile the clerk kicked aside, “you’ll want to put those back on.”

Zoey frowns and folds her arms (in no way that actually hides her breasts or nipples). “No way. If you’re trying to sell me something, that’s my job.”

Judging there’s no way to reason with Zoey the way she is, you throw up your hands in defeat, and turn to Pearl. “Look, let’s just let her remember what clothes are, before I have to claim somebody else’s common sense when they walk by.”

Pearl regards you with immense displeasure. “If Zoey remembers anything about clothes, she’ll report us to the police, with our descriptions, and you’ll wind up claiming the whole city government before the day’s out. Can’t you just claim the store rules and change those?”