“Well, I hope you don't mind, but I'm very familiar with Gallery Serpentine, and on past occasions, I've sent women there to be dressed. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable.”
“Not at all. We've both had people in our past.”
Peter cringed a little when he looked at the mark that her past had made on her face, but he allowed the comment to pass unnoticed. He wanted to focus on the moment.
“I'll call them and make an appointment for you. I know exactly what I want them to give you. I'll dress you, and I'll pay for it, and then that's what I want you to wear when I come and collect you tonight. Is that okay with you?” He reached out and caressed her naked breasts with his hands. “Of course, I think this outfit you have on now is the best that you have, but I don't want everyone else at the party enjoying it too.”
She smiled and placed her hands over his and guided him over her breasts. Peter decided that he'd better be out of there soon if he'd make it to work at all.
“I need to get going. I must be at work soon, and I still have to go home and change. As much as I don't want to leave you, even for a second, I'm going to have to acknowledge that the day has more in it than just us.”
She smiled and seemed to understand. Peter leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth and then made his good-bye and walked out the door.
Marianne had no idea what time Peter wanted her to be at Gallery Serpentine, but she assumed that he'd send her a text on her phone at the right time. She decided to shower and get ready right away.
In the shower, she played over the previous night and the morning in her mind, loving the way that Peter stood out in her memory as well as in her life. One of the wonderful things about him was the feeling of complete security whether he held her or had left the room.
While in the shower, she received a text message, still ringing on her phone when she got out. Peter told her (in no uncertain terms) that she had to be at Gallery Serpentine at eleven that morning. By the time she'd gotten out of the shower, it was quarter to ten. She wouldn't have to leave home for another forty-five minutes. Where would she end up that night?
Thank God, I have this time off. That turned out to be a good thing
.
Because she had time to kill, Marianne decided that she'd stop in at The Pleasure Chest on her way and catch up with her two friends. Locking the door of her apartment, she felt relaxed and comfortable in a pair of blue jeans and a singlet top. Glancing nervously in the direction of the doctor's apartment door, she wondered why she felt guilty as she passed it by. They had no scheduled meeting today, but for some reason, it always felt like a betrayal when she saw Peter, ever since the conversation the other day, when he'd almost convinced her that the affair that she had with Peter ran contrary to her interests. It didn't make any sense to be feeling guilty, but for some reason she did.
Walking past the door, it opened, making Marianne jump although she'd had her eye on it the whole time.
“Hello, Marianne. You seem troubled to see me. Is everything all right?”
Marianne was troubled to see him, but she wasn't sure what to do about it, or why she felt that way.
“No. I'm okay. I thought we weren't going to see each other today,” she lied.
“I can tell that I'm making you uncomfortable, and I am sorry about that. Remember that my presence is a strange one, and that it's a condition of my illness to occur as strange other.”
Marianne flooded with relief. She kept forgetting about the oddness of this illness.
“I am sorry. I do forget. I get jittery and forget that I've done this to you and that you're aware of it. My apologies.”
“Do you mean it would be acceptable if I were not aware of it?”
He made fun of her again. She looked into his pale blue, unresponsive eyes. Something in her decided to take some courage.
“I guess that's what I said. Does that constitute a Freudian slip?”
“Enough of that. I'm teasing you. Let me ease the tension for both of us and focus on something else.” His eyes traveled to the wound on her head. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. It doesn't hurt so much, and I expect it's healing. I'm on my way out just now, but would you be able to come and take a look at it later?”
“Not today, my friend. I am busy with other things, and I can tell by your face and by the spirit in which Peter left this morning that you're doing well.”
Marianne blushed all over. Was he making fun of her? Was he chastising her?
“Teasing me again, Doctor?”
“It looks like it. Now I am going to let you get to your appointment. Have a good day and remember that I'm coming over to check on you tomorrow. Take care, Marianne Ferguson.”
With that, he closed the door to his apartment, gone for a while.
Marianne walked down the corridor to the elevator, aware he probably watched her still. It seemed creepy. She wasn't so sure about the strange relationship she'd created for herself. Maybe she should take some distance? Once back at work, it would be easier to see less of him, and he might not be so interesting if the action around her died down. She shuddered. Something inside told her this wasn't going to happen. She glanced at her watch and saw she had thirty minutes before her appointment at Gallery Serpentine. Riding down in the elevator, she decided she'd take ten minutes in the Pleasure Chest.
Soon, she walked up toward the counter at The Pleasure Chest. Jen read a magazine called
Claw
that had an image on the front cover of a woman completely naked and tattooed head to toe. Jen hadn't seen Marianne approach.
“And what exactly are today's headlines?” Marianne asked the face hidden by the magazine.
Jen tossed it aside as soon as Marianne started to speak.
“Darling! Fabulous to see you! How did you recover from the other day?” Jen put on a wry smile and turned her head to one side with a coy tilt. “Now, tell me you had a great time.”
“I had a great time! I just loved it. Sorry that I haven't been in here sooner, but….well…I've been busy.”
Jen's eyes lit up. “We loved having you there yesterday, and loads of people asked about you when you left. Please tell me that this yummy man of yours is going to be bringing you to lots more POS, and perhaps, even some of our other games? Now that you're part of the package, Bill and I are keen to get to know him.”
“Well, he's taking me somewhere tonight. I'm on my way to Gallery Serpentine to get myself an outfit.” Marianne glanced at her watch and began to move away. “Actually, I have to get going. I have an appointment. I'll drop in here on the way back and show you what I have!”
Jen gave a knowing smile, and it occurred to Marianne she may know what special party might be on tonight. She added, “Are you going anywhere special tonight?”
“No. I have an idea where you may be off to, but I'm leaving the surprise for your master.”
Marianne smiled. “Don't spoil it for me. But I will come back with my new outfit so you can tell me if you think it'll work for wherever I may be going tonight.”
“Oh, sounds fabulous. I'm on all day, so please let me be distracted by you and your gorgeous clothes for a while this afternoon. And I am a huge Gallery Serpentine addict.”
Marianne waved behind her and walked out of the store.
The walk to Gallery Serpentine proved uneventful and brisk. By the time she actually got there, she'd arrived five minutes early, but she decided that being early might be a good idea rather than a problem. They could make her wait, and besides, waiting in that shop would be wonderful.
Out in front, the shop had two large bay windows with mannequins in them. The mannequins were dressed in beautiful latex suits from head to toe, their hair bundled high upon their heads. On the street, quite a crowd looked at them. The figures entwined each other, and with their suits in black, silver, and gold latex, the effect was striking.
The effect also revealed itself as temporary. Just as she approached, Marianne heard the crowd gasp as the figures in the window stunned everyone by revealing they were human and capable of movement. The crowd had been there for quite a while, it seemed, with people staring and pointing at the two women and one man changing their poses all the time.
The other window had mannequins in purple corsets in similar poses to the ones the actors were using. Marianne could have sworn the models in the first window were plastic and not people, but the effect, combined with the movement in the second window, mesmerized. As she took a little time to watch, Marianne noticed people walking in and out of the shop. The display attracted heavy traffic. This little advertising campaign must be working.
Marianne walked into the velveteen-dark shop. Two large chandeliers lit the room from overhead while low, shadowy lamps with red fringe scattered around adding to the atmosphere. The plush, heavy black curtain blocked out the natural light, and behind it, in the windows, the models acted like mannequins. Walls sported thick-patterned gold and maroon velvet wallpaper, with plush maroon carpet underfoot. Large, gold rococo framed mirrors graced the walls, and chunky gold-colored racks hung low from the ceiling with the clothing hanging off them. Corsets, lace body suits, latex tops, and tiny skirts… Every imaginable style of decadent clothing lay beckoning, luring the shopper into her own dark depths. Fat gold shelves sat against the walls with feathers, sequins, and leather gracing hats gloves, bracelets, and of course, collars. The room screamed opulence—opulence and sophisticated brothel.
“Madame, can I help you?”
Marianne turned to see a woman decked out in a beautiful purple corset that held her breasts very high, and a long purple and black lace skirt. The voluptuous skin of her décolletage and upper neck revealed the purest porcelain white, a stark contrast to her striking red curly hair that sat in thick waves down her back. The world would call her tall frame heavily overweight, but her pale skin molded to the corset so perfectly that the curves of her body were essential to the outfit. Marianne was so struck by her beauty that she couldn't imagine her any thinner.
“Wow! You're so pretty,” Marianne gushed foolishly.
The saleswoman smiled a little self-consciously. “You're a little too thin for an outfit like this one, but there are lots of things here for thinner women. Is there something you wanted in particular?”
Marianne jumped when she realized she needed to tell this woman her business there. She looked so beautiful one felt completely distracted.
“Sorry. I'm staring. Um, yes, I believe Peter made the appointment for me, for eleven.”
Her attendant stood back a little and looked Marianne up and down. Except for the fact that the woman seemed to have a small smile on her lips, Marianne would have felt very self-conscious.
“So you're the new lady in Peter's life. Well, well, well. You've landed yourself quite a catch there, darling. Yes. He did ring. He's been very specific, and I must say, now that I've seen you, he's on the money again. He knows exactly what he's doing. No one dresses the women better than Peter does. Let me introduce myself. My name is Hazel.”
Marianne glanced around the room at the racks of clothes. Opulence dominated everything. It looked like the wardrobe of a high-class mistress or a dramatic actress. She wondered what Peter had in store for her that Hazel decided would work so well the minute she laid eyes on Marianne. Hazel, having put the puzzle together, took over immediately.
“But come now. We have a special room where we've separated out Peter's clothing selections for you.” She glanced rather awkwardly at Marianne. “I know you're special to Peter, but I hope that you understand. He has been here before, and he is a great favorite among our staff. I hope that doesn't embarrass you.”
Marianne shook her head as if to say no and followed Hazel along a small corridor that appeared from behind a curtain. The corridor smelt of vanilla incense. The smoky smell reached up into Marianne's brain and tickled at her mind. They walked past several locked doors with “busy” signs done in gold lettering on individual cards. What they could possibly be busy with behind those doors? Soon they came to a door that had “Booked for private session” written on its card. Hazel turned the brass knob, pushing at the heavy wooden door, but stood back to let Marianne walk through first.
Inside, the room wasn't what she expected. Lots of white furniture, with gold and silver trinkets on display around the room. Matte white wallpaper was splashed all over with lavish gold and silver designs. A large screen in the middle of the room in gold silk, the edges an opulent, heavyset silver, took Marianne's breath away. In contrast to the other rooms, this room sported bright, light energy supplied by a silver-edged window open to the street. Marianne sat in front of the screen on a small gold loveseat. Next to her, a bottle of champagne that chilled in a sterling silver ice bucket sat welcoming. Hazel sat in a deep, white velvet chair to Marianne's left and clapped her hands. The drama of the moment captured Marianne, and she almost felt like a celebrity. After clapping her hands, Hazel leaned in to pour champagne into the two long flutes that were sitting on the small table between them.
In response to the hand clapping, a woman appeared before them, from a door behind the screen, dressed completely in white. She had a stunning white satin corset that laced up at the back and forced her breasts out the top. The trim detail was white satin ribbon, and the lacing at the back, in the same ribbon, created the final innocent touch. Grommets all the way up the back meant that the busk in the front of the corset was held firmly in position. Any woman who wore this beautiful piece of clothing would have all her curves in the right places, emphasized and obvious. She wore a small tulle skirt under the white corset, with a satin G-string. The tulle had windows of lace detail, and the G-string sank deep into the model's ass all the way up the back to a small satin V that sat at the top of her delectable crevice. Just below the end of the tulle stood the thick white lace of the top of fishnet, stay-up stockings. Silver high heels completed the outfit.