by Kara Bryn
Susan even had to admit that, in this outfit, the lipstick and eyeliner were as important as the shoes. She felt more attractive than she had ever felt before, albeit slightly slutty in the outfit. Still, it was fun to play the role in the privacy of a changing room. It didn't feel like it was going to be fun to do it in front of a strange man.
She turned around and walked out of changing room, realising that this was the first changing room of the day that she'd left wearing more clothes than she'd entered with.
Marian's smile widened again. "Well, well… let me just check the back… oh we can do another hook of this corset tighter here… " – pull – " …and here…" – pull – "…and you look good enough to eat, girl." Susan couldn't think of what to say, but Marian took her by the hand and led her out into the shop. The customer was seated by the counter, facing towards them.
"Here you go, sir," she said to the customer, "Now, what do you think?"
It didn't need words to tell what he thought. His eyes were wide, mouth open and trying to form words but unable to. He started to stammer.
"See…" Marian whispered to Susan. She spun her around by the waist. "Notice how the corset has really accentuated the waist and these delicious curves around the breasts and neck." She stood close behind Susan and ran her hands down Susan's sides and breasts as she described each part. Susan could feel her breath on her neck as she spoke and her nipples hardened again at the woman's touch.
The words probably went into the poor man's head, but they were never processed. Nodding was all that came back. Susan suddenly realised what power this was. This gentleman had a twenty-something wife, and she had just made him forget her, at least for a few moments. She turned side on and walked a couple of small steps, careful not to misstep in unfamiliar heels, before turning and walking back and then striking a pose with one leg cocked and hand on hip.
Marian's smile could not have been any wider, and were her nipples harder as well now?
"What do you think?" she asked her mark.
"Absolutely… stunning… that's it… that's it… Oh, I need to show Mary this… I really do."
With that he took out his phone and, before Susan knew what was happening, he snapped a couple of shots of her posing in the lingerie. That was not part of the plan and her face started to drop as fear rose. Marian moved in front of her and whispered in her ear "So what? He'll remember this day for a long time, and he has no idea who you are." As she passed their breasts brushed and they both felt hardened nipples touch. When Marian moved away the customer took another photo, wishing he could work out how to get a shot of them both together, which maybe he wouldn't be showing to Mary.
"Great!" Susan thought, "so now he has a photo of my hard nipples pushing against sheer corset material. And I dread to think the detail that's being shown down below…"
"I think he likes it!" Marian said, as the man in the chair leaned forward and put his arms across himself, trying to hide the bulge that had grown in his trousers.
"Yes… yes… let's do whatever… whatever we need to do next. Do I need to pay a deposit or something?"
Susan almost laughed again; he looked like he was about thirty seconds away from making a deposit.
"Yes, please," said Marian, "my colleague here will get changed as I think it's nearly the end of her shift, and if you can just stay there for a couple of minutes I'll sort some paperwork out." She winked at Susan again. There was no way the man's erection was going to let him stand up just yet, and Marian knew it.
Susan turned and walked back towards the changing room and pulled the curtain behind her again. It was over, and it had been amazing. A stranger had a photo of her dressed in heels, stockings and corset, with bright red lipstick and black eyeliner. What could he have seen through those panties? Certainly her nipples here hard in some of the photos, and she hoped she wasn't giving away too much more. Oh, screw it.
She savoured the undressing, pretending that the mirror was an audience as she slipped out of the shoes, rolled down the stockings, and slowly unbuttoned the corset. She heard the man's voice in the shop and then the front door opened and closed as he left. So that was it; a photo of Susan, the like of which she had never appeared in before, had gone out the door. And so be it.
Finally she stepped out of the panties and looked again at the mirror. Even without the corset her waist was thin and her breasts were firm, and even without the heels her legs where long, smooth and elegant. The red lipstick and eye makeup brought the glow to her face that the contrast with the bra and shorts had given. She felt good, and nothing like the Susan of only a few hours ago. That was not a Susan that would stand and admire herself naked in front of the mirror.
"Don't get carried away with yourself now," she muttered. That had never been necessary before, and perhaps one day of getting carried away was to be allowed.
"Are you okay in there?" Marian's voice asked.
"Oh yes… fine… just putting my things back on."
"No need to on my account!" she heard a laugh, "Just come out as you are". So Susan hadn't imagined the meaning behind the touches, the winks and the teasing smile. She was flattered, but that was not somewhere she wanted to go right now. Right now? Wait, no.
She looked at her clothes, or what was left of them. The knickers, bra, and coat sat piled on the stool. Back to beige it was, then, and back to being unsexy "nice" Susan. But perhaps she could wear her new bra and lace shorts for the rest of the day? That would feel so good, wearing that and nothing else beneath her long coat. That really would feel good. Maybe she could put them on now.
But no, she decided she would save them all for tomorrow night. Something this special should be saved and savoured, and, besides, it's not like anyone else would see them anyway.
Oh dear, Susan thought to herself, bad Susan. No Susan. And then she started chuckling. Because if no-one could see them… why wear them at all?
"Are you having fun in there? Dare I ask?..." Marian's voice came from outside.
"Just buttoning up!" Susan lied, standing still naked. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she picked up her old knickers and bra and shoved them into the flip-top bin in the corner of the changing room. She looked herself in the eye in the mirror. "You're really doing this," she whispered, and picked up the coat, put her arms in the sleeves, and carefully buttoned up all but the top two and the bottom two buttons. With the belt tied it was secure, and she looked down at her old shoes. Not long for you now, she thought as she slipped them on, wishing she could take Marian's stilettoes instead.
Susan examined herself briefly in the mirror. Nothing appeared different from the way she had looked when she came in. She could just as well be wearing underwear, a low-cut top and a short skirt… She could be, but she wasn't.
She picked up the bag with her new top and skirt, the strapless bra and lace shorts in one hand and the corset, stockings and panties in the other. Those she handed back to Marian who was waiting the other side of the curtain.
"Not quite my style," she said, "but the bra and shorts certainly are."
"Well girl, you looked gorgeous in all of it," she said as she smiled wistfully.
"Thanks", Susan smiled back, "I'll just pay for these and get out of your way."
"Oh, don't you worry about that," Marian said, "This afternoon has been well worth it, so you can have those for free."
"Thanks… for everything." Susan said. Marian wasn't exactly sure if she knew what she was being thanked for, but took it all the same.
"Well, girl, if you're around this way again then I hope you'll come by. We'll see if you can make someone else's day, as well as making mine."
Susan walked past her towards the door. As she walked, she could feel her coat rubbing against her bare thigh, the belt holding it tight against her stomach, and the fabric rubbed on her nipples with each step. Now was not the time to have second thoughts, but maybe she could retrieve her knickers from the bin? No, this process was in motion and there was
no going back. And anyway, no-one saw her knickers or bra before, so why should anyone see that she wasn't wearing any now? Nothing has outwardly changed, she told herself.
She opened the door, turned and exchanged a last smile with Marian, before stepping out onto the pavement and into the mass of normal, fully clothed people.
It was mid-afternoon now, and a relatively warm spring day. Most people would take their coats off on a day like this, she thought, but why not undress from the inside out like she had instead? It made perfect sense, or at least it seemed to at the moment.
A gentle wind blew. It was not enough to disturb the careful arrangement of Susan's coat, but she could feel it move between her legs, and if she stood just so the cool air would find its way into her coat and drift across her breasts. It felt marvellous.
Okay, time for shoes, she thought, looking down at her feet flat on the pavement. You're the last thing to go.
She knew there was a shoe shop next to her car so she headed back. "Well At Heel" was its name. She was starting to become immune to the shop names here.
Conscious of how much a wrong slip might expose, she walked in small steps down the street, with her arms by her side to hold her coat fast, only stretching out a leg to reveal more of her long, smooth thigh when there was no-one nearby.
She reached Well At Heel. Her car was parked right outside the door. Shoes, then back to the hotel, she said to herself. She made sure her coat was properly covering everything, and pushed open the door. As she walked in she noticed the coat had shifted sideways as it had done each time she had pushed a door open, but this time there was no bra strap to give her away. Skin. It's just skin. We've all got it, she told herself, but rearranged the collar and tightened the belt just the same.
Well At Heel was back in the world of teenage shop assistants, although rather than dispensing disparaging looks these ones seemed to be busy pretending to be actively occupied any part of the shop where a customer wasn't. They're obviously not paid on commission, she thought.
She started looking at the rows upon rows of shoes. What to choose? She'd never been one for footwear and she knew what she liked, but still not what to get for tomorrow. I have a dark grey skirt, and ruby red top, she thought. What will go well with that?
The answer was simple: Marian's shoes would go well with that. She looked up and down the display to see if there was anything close, and there they were. They weren't exactly the same as Marian's, but they were close enough. They were ruby red in colour, almost identical to the blouse in her bag, and had just over an inch of heel. She picked one up and looked at them; the shoes were the right style and colour, but the wrong size.
Susan waved over one of the teenage girls. "Do you have this in a size six?" she asked. The girl took the shoe and walked slowly off to the store room. A few minutes later she came back with a pair in the correct size and handed them over.
Susan bent at the waist to put the shoes on the floor in front of her, holding her collar close all the time to stop her coat falling forwards from her shoulders. Bending at the knee could also be very bad if her coat opened, especially with so many mirrors around. Susan moved very carefully.
She slipped her foot into the left shoe as the teenage girl stood and watched. It fit perfectly, and the right followed. She was now another inch taller. She turned and looked into the mirror; these were fabulous. More importantly, they made her legs look fabulous. She took a few steps from side to side and stopped side on, stretching a leg forward and revealing a little more of her shapely calf and thigh. These were the last piece for tomorrow night.
"I'll take them," she told the girl. Susan looked down at the flat, beige shoes that she'd been wearing all day, all month, all year, and seemingly her entire lifetime. She couldn't bear the thought of putting them back on. I've left every other changing room with one item less, she thought, but I'm not sure I want to go barefoot, even across the pavement to the car. However, she wasn't going to go back to those beige shoes again.
"I'll wear these home," she told the teenager, not removing the shoes, "and you can throw the old ones away."
Susan paid and then stood admiring herself in her new ruby stilettoes. Her shopping day was done and she had everything she needed for tomorrow night, and she'd had some fun too. She tittered inwardly at how easy it was to shop whilst almost completely naked.
She looked around the shop. The clientele were trying on shoes, pacing up and down in them, or were browsing racks, picking and examining semi-randomly. Why was no-one looking at her now? Could they not see how good she looked in her new shoes? Didn't they know there was a powerful, naked sexual creature underneath this coat?
Of course they didn't know. A flash of leg or a hint of cleavage might get a passing admiring look, but she wasn't showing any more skin than many of the other women, and certainly not as much as she had shown an hour ago in the lingerie shop, despite her nakedness beneath the coat.
She looked in the mirror again. Of course they weren't looking at her, because she was still beige. Her coat was beige, and next to it her skin looked beige. The bright red lipstick, the ruby red shoes and the dark eyeliner had too much to fight against, and they were defeated by the dull coat. If you looked closely you might be able to see a young, sexy woman inside, but you had to decide to look closely in the first place.
That was the solution: the coat had to go. But she didn't want to buy a new coat, not on a warm day in May. Her mind span again and the world started to feel like a dream. Am I thinking what I think I'm thinking? she asked herself. She was.
Susan was a hundred of miles from home and no-one in the town even knew her name. The old Susan had come out of the hotel this morning, but it was going to be the new Susan that went back this evening. The new Susan, with all traces of the old discarded.
She put down her bag containing her new skirt, her new top, her new bra and black lace shorts. She stood looking at the mirror, took her car keys out of her purse and put them both down on the seat next to her. She stared again at the mirror.
"I dare you," the reflection mouthed.
"I accept," she mouthed back at it.
Susan looked around again. There were a few women, alone, looking idly at racks of shoes probably identical to the ones they already owned. There were one or two men buying shoes that appeared identical to the pair they were wearing. There were one or two couples, with the woman trying to engage the man in the decision-making process, whilst the man calculated his responses in order to exit the shoe shop in the shortest possible time.
She untied the belt of her coat. The two ends hung down, and the coat slumped lower, no longer held up onto her hips. It revealed another inch of cleavage as it did so, but nothing more.
Staring at the mirror, she reached down and unfastened the bottom button of the coat. She unfastened another. No-one looked around to see what she was doing; it was just a woman unbuttoning her coat on a warm spring day. It was nothing noteworthy.
The buttons were undone nearly up to her crotch, but the coat was held closed by the three buttons fastened around the waist. Maybe she could walk out now, very carefully, without showing too much? They would see some leg but nothing more.
Susan didn't walk out. She stood still, looking at the mirror, idly, as if a spectator. She unfastened the top button, and then the second, and then the third and final one. With her hand pressed on her stomach the coat was still held closed. She felt the fabric move against her nipples and it sent a shiver down her spine. Susan could still walk out, holding the coat tightly closed, and no-one would notice anything unusual. But Susan didn't walk out.
In one smooth movement she released her hands and shrugged the coat from her shoulders and dropped it on the floor. She watched in the mirror as it slid onto the floor revealing the slim, firm naked body underneath. The shoes, the lipstick and the eyeliner made her skin glow. Her nipples were hard again and she felt giddy.
She turned to one side as she admired her left, and then he
r right calf in the mirror. The shoes had shaped them to perfection. She imagined a tongue running up the inside of her leg, from ankle, to knee, to thigh, and then teasing. She closed her eyes briefly as a wave pleasure washed over her at the thought.
She looked at her breasts silhouetted in the mirror. They held their shape well, the nipples pointing forwards. She imagined a touch of lips, circling each nipple, working their way up her chest and throat. Her hand lifted involuntarily to touch her neck and her eyes closed again for a moment.
Susan's attention was devoured by the figure in the mirror, imagining everything it had to offer, and imagining it being taken gratefully. Then, with a start, she heard a noise and her attention snapped back. She remembered what others were beginning to notice: that she was a naked woman, in stilettoes, standing in front of a mirror in a shoe shop.
She looked around at the faces that were looking back at her. She looked at the women, shopping alone, staring with a mixture of judgement and envy. How many of them wished they were her, here, right now, naked and proud of all they had to display? They may wish they were, but they never will be.
She looked at the men, shopping for their uniform shoes. Their looks were amazed, but coveting. Not one of them would say "no" to her at the moment, and not one of them thought of anything except his desire for her.
She looked at the couples. She looked at the husbands and boyfriends, pretending not to stare with desire, pretending not to admire, pretending not to compare the figure in front of them with the woman at their side. She looked at their partners and she saw jealousy and suspicion. She saw it was time to leave.
Susan picked up her bag full of new clothes, her purse and her car keys. She turned and walked towards the door. People moved back as passed, staring all the while. She stretched one leg in front of the other, taking short steps as if walking a thin white line. At each step the heel hit the ground with a satisfying click before the toe followed. She felt her hips sway as her legs crossed slightly in front of each other, and her breasts bounced with the rocking of each step.
