Sunday, July 6, 2008

Expect the unexpected

A Fitting Reminder
by KM


“Well, well. Look what the pussy cat dragged in.”

The bell on the door to my shop jingled happily, but there was nothing happy about this customer. As fine boned and slender as a sparrow and soaking wet from a surprise spring shower, a streak of mascara smudged beneath one eye, she was a picture of frailty and frump. She looked to be such a sweet little thing, but so sorrowful, like a cold, thin Dorothy lost beyond finding on her way to Oz. The thin wet fabric of her girlish yellow print dress clung to her small breasts, obviously left to their own devices beneath it. Goodness! Her nipples looking like they were running away from home, striking a stiff pose against the rest of her wispy form.

I felt a purring rise silently in my throat and the familiar and lovely sensation of anticipation tickling my toes when I looked her over. And then I saw her feet, which literally made me woozy. Old scuffed brown Mary Jane flats where there certainly should have been sparkling ruby slippers, were roughly shoved onto slim feet held up by the most perfect set of creamy white ankles I had ever seen. Mmmm. Prrrr. Tingle. Tangle. There’s nothing I love more than the challenge of a lost cause.

She walked toward the front counter with a whoosh of cool air and a chilly frown. I clicked my way across the glossy wood floor to greet her.

“Good afternoon my dear,” I chirped with all the cheer and brightness of a summer day, “What can I do for you?”

“Yes, thank you Madame,” lost Dorothy began softly, pulling a loose strand of wet hair behind an ear, a drop of rain dangling from the rosy earlobe. My thighs melted at her voice, as richly toned as a cello and obviously British. “I’m in need of some underthings. I’ve just arrived in the city for a few weeks – a cultural exchange with the ballet. It seems a thief lifted my panties and brassieres from the launderette. My flat mates said you could help -- with some nice underthings that is, though I had no idea you had such finery. And, um….,” she paused, blushing ever so slightly at the base of her pale neck. “I’m an odd size. I’m afraid I’ll need a fitting.”

Underthings! Who says ‘underthings’ these days? Oh! The loveliness!

“But of course darling,” I said, undressing and redressing the ballerina in my mind. I pictured her with her hair loosely done up, long red curls framing her ivory complexion, turning slowly in a peacock green corset and skirt of black toile.

My pussy shivered with delight and I shivered back, regaining composure.

“Well that’s a fine welcome to the city. We’ll have you fixed up in no time. My name’s Josephine – of course you probably knew that from the window sign. Most people call me Josie. First things first. Let me get you a cup of tea and a dry robe for the fitting. You must be freezing.” I could hardly look at her when I said it, lest my eyes land on those charging nipples.

“That’s so kind! I’m called Amelia,” she said, brightening a little. “I wasn’t expecting the rain. The cloudburst just came out of nowhere.”

“In this city,” I said, taking her hand. “Always expect the unexpected.”
I led her to a vintage ochre velvet chaise and retrieved a silk Japanese print robe. She would swim in it, but at least it would be better than the clinging wet cotton. I directed her to the curtained fitting area to change while I heated tea water in the kitchenette tucked in the back of the shop. I glanced over my shoulder down the hall and could see a crescent moon sliver of ass through the curtain in the mirror as she pulled off her dress.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Just a bit of cream please.”

She emerged from the dressing room looking like a fairy queen. I handed her the steaming orange clove tea in a dainty French patterned China cup.

“Mmm that smells so good. I’m feeling much better already. What a relief!” I could hardly take my eyes off of her as she stood there wrapped in silk. She closed her eyes as she sipped at the tea, the exotic silk pooled at her feet, her damp hair wound up and fastened loosely atop her head.

“Just relax there on the couch for a moment Amelia, while I get my measuring things and few items I have in stock to get you started.”

When I returned, my arms filled with lace and silk underthings, tape measure, and fitting kit, my little queen was sitting comfortably on the couch and daintily sipping the tea, a small but satisfied smile on her face.

“What is that spice? It’s delightful, but I can’t quite….”

“Perhaps that’s the cardamom…or star anise?”

“Mmmm, yes, star anise. Lovely! It simply warms me from the inside out and reminds me of someplace I may never have been.”

“There’s a tea room down the street where I special order it from India….perhaps you’ve never been to India.”

“Yes, that’s it. It reminds me of never having been to India.”

My breasts tingled beneath the lace of my corset every time she spoke – that smooth, sweet mahogany stringed voice. I smoothed my skirt and slid my fingers down the slippery length of the tape measure slung around my neck.

“Well, let’s get started.”

To be continued...

2 comments:

Jeremy Edwards said...

Get started? You've already got me started, my friend. ; )

Or, to put it in the idiom of my spamword du jour: aooqhn.

KM said...

I'll do my best to keep you going! I'm pretty sure I know what happens next, and it's looking pretty hot. aooqhn? Hmmmm....