Felicitations (2)

“You’re hiding again, ma petite salope…and I will find you…”

She jolted, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. She peered through the curtain that covered the dressing room at Felicitations. No one was there.

Yet she swore she’d heard a man’s voice. She shook her head. Lost in fanciful dreams again, she supposed. Yet in her head was a picture of a man, tall with jet-black hair and snapping eyes. Likely someone she’d seen at the club when she was there with William. But she hadn’t been to the club since the break up.

Actually, he kind of looked like the guy who was modeling those new jeans, now that she thought about it. She’d oogled that page in the magazine when she was getting her monthly pedicure. He was smokin’ hot, whoever he was.

Once more she brought her attention back to the mirror. She could hardly believe it was her standing there. Her dark red hair spilled over pale shoulders that were framed with gossamer strands of black silk cording. The bodice clung to her breasts like a lovers hand. The panels of lace and silk teased with enticing glimpses of pale flesh. She’d always had a good body but in this, she was stunning.

She turned and looked at her butt over her shoulder. OH, and didn’t she just look the coquette? She swore it looked as though she had crimson lipstick on her lips. Her hair waved like she’d spent hours working on it,  and there was blush on her cheeks.

She blinked, and once more she saw her ass, cupped and presented charmingly in the mirror. She glanced at her face peering over her shoulder once more, but all she saw was her own smoke-gray eyes, her own coral lips.

One hella illusion this lighting gave, she thought.

“You always looked fetching in that, ma petite putain.”

She whipped around, but as before there was no one there. She stepped out into the shop.

“Anthony? Excuse me?”

A rustle and bustle from the back curtain caught her attention.

“Oh darling, don’t you look divine in that? Why, it looks like it was just made for you!”

She knew flattery sold more products at the end of the day, but she felt that he was being sincere. And she felt divine in it.

“It’s gorgeous. I…I’m afraid to know how much it is. But I don’t think I want to leave here without it.”

He smiled that winning smile.

“I’m certain I have a bit of leeway. You know, there is no fun in owning a place like this if one doesn’t allow for a bit of creative cost juggling, sweetie!”

She smiled. He really was a dear little man.

He circled around her slowly, taking in every inch.

“I swear, if I wasn’t totally committed to Francois, I’d be drooling over you myself! And speaking as a gay man, let me just say…I still have a soft spot for titties, and yours, in that? A knockout. Yes,” he said, almost to himself, as he crossed over to the counter, lifted a bejeweled pen and began writing furiously. He muttered under his breath about costs and overhead, delivery, and other manner of incomprehensible things, before triumphantly ripping the page from the pad and whirling back to her.

“For the exclusive price of $50, it will be yours.”

She couldn’t believe it. Fifty dollars for this? That was so much less than the cost for an outfit at that trendy store in the mall…and nothing in the mall could compare to this. It really did fit like it was made for her.

For a moment, she thought she felt hands touching, stroking down her arms. She felt the heat of them, the brush of skin on hers, the scratch, even, from a fingernail across the back of her hand.

But there was no one there, and once more she was left standing in  a duskily lit room with a little gay man looking at her expectantly.

“You felt it, didn’t you. OH, don’t deny it. That is what the prior owner of the garment said. That the one the gown was made for would feel …something. It’s all over your face. For a moment it was like you were…”

She blushed. She did not want this little fantasy going any further.

“No, really, I was just thinking if I could take this from you for so little money. It…it seems unfair.”

He nodded, but wisely let her demur pass.

“My store, my rules. Besides, another customer will come in at some point, and I’m certain she’ll more than make up for my slim profit on this one item.”

Slim profit, her ass. The guy had to be losing his shirt on this one. But. She wasn’t going to say no.

“I’ll take it.”

With a final twirl, she headed back to the dressing room to change back into her own clothing. If she imagined she felt hands caressing her ass and between her thighs, it was only her overactive horny imagination at work.

She needed to get out of here, and she needed to get laid.