Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Except I’m not exactly sure what I want. Some of the women at the club were wearing pretty normal clothes. Others…not so much.
“I think I’ll just look for a while,” I say.
“Absolutely,” she says. “If you need any help, my name is Mary.”
Mary. I can’t help a subtle smile. Mary is working in a lingerie and leather store. Mary—the most innocent and sweet name on the planet.
Mary, however, is dressed in leather pants and an emerald-green lace corset that has her boobs squeezed nearly up to her neck. She totally does not look like a Mary. Felicia, maybe. Samantha or Jessica. Definitely not Mary.
I wander through the store and stop at the lingerie section. Boy, this stuff is beautiful. And not even remotely inexpensive.
Still, wouldn’t it be lovely to have a bra and panties that actually match? I’m drawn to a lacy set. It comes in all colors, and they have my bra size.
I grab a bra and boy shorts in both black and light pink.
I’m not sure why those two colors appeal to me. Maybe it’s the contrariness of them. Pink for sweet and innocent. Black for naughty and not so innocent.
Naughty and nice. I feel like I’m making a list for Santa Claus.
Felicia—er, Mary—is right on my heels. “Can I take those up to the counter for you?”
“Sure.” I hand the items to her. “I’m still looking.”
“Absolutely no hurry. Let me know if you need any assistance.”
I wander toward the back of the store—where the leather items reside.
Not only do they have garments, they have toys as well. Fur-lined handcuffs, floggers. None of the instruments look like they could do any real damage. They seem to be for show. Maybe for costuming.
I look over my shoulder, fearful that Mary has followed me here and will try to sell me some of these things. The warmth of my blush creeps up to my cheeks again at the mere thought of talking about these things.
And then…
Something I’m not expecting.
The warmth of a blush…down there.
I like the idea of this stuff.
Just like I like the idea of the club.
Was it Jackson? Or was it the club? The leather? The fucking?
A black-and-blue lace corset catches my eye. Or is it a bustier? I don’t really know the difference. I’ve never worn a corset. I always figured they’d be very uncomfortable. I think of the Victorian women who were forced to wear them to make their waists look smaller, their boobs look bigger.
How restrictive…and how misogynistic.
So why am I thinking about putting this on my body?
I have no idea what size I would take.
But…Mary to the rescue.
“Do you know your size?” she asks as she thumbs through the corsets.
“I’m afraid I don’t. I guess I’m a novice when it comes to these things.” I let out a nervous laugh. I’m a novice at practically everything this store represents.
“You’re far from the first one. Are you looking for a corset that cinches the waist only or one that also covers the bust?”
“Uh…definitely want to cover the bust. I guess.”
“Perfect. Corsets are based on your actual measurements.” She whips out a tape measure. “Here, let me show you. First we need to measure right under your bust.”
Mary wraps the tape measure in a circle right under where my boobs fall and writes down some numbers. “Then your natural waist.” She moves the tape measure, writes again. “Then your upper hip, and then we need to measure the length of your torso. You have a great hourglass figure.”
Yep, the warmth of that blush again.
“This is your first corset, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go four inches smaller than your natural waist. That should give you some comfort. Once you get used to wearing a corset, you can go a little smaller.” Mary searches through the rack and grabs a corset. “I’ll help you. But this corset has its closures and laces in the front, so you will eventually be able to put it on yourself.”
“Eventually?”
“Originally, back in the day, all corsets had their laces in the back, so the lady needed her maid to help her get into it every day.”
I don’t reply.
“Of course today, very few ladies actually have maids to do this.” She giggles and rolls her eyes.
A maid. Right. In my tiny rent-controlled apartment.
Maybe I could dash past Mary and reach the exit quickly.
Instead, I follow her like a lemming back to the changing area.
“Take off your shirt and bra, and don’t be embarrassed. I do this all the time. I’ve seen all shapes and sizes of women, and I’ve helped them all get into corsets.”
Interesting that she says that before I make it known that I’m kind of shy. Except then I realize…she can tell. She does this for a living.
I disrobe quickly and Mary positions the corset, snapping it in place. “Okay. Now for the laces. I want you to breathe in and hold your breath for a minute.”