My Only Talent Ch. 24

He rearranged the coats to one shoulder and offered his hand to shake, and said in a thick New York accent just like Kevin Kretzman's "Welcome aboard the jailbait express, Tex!" I suppose things were going to be very interesting for the next 24 hours or so.

* * * * *

Just about the time Suzanne got back to the house, Lettye took off to do some shopping and pick up the dry cleaning, which included her mother's dress for tonight. Suzanne took a hot shower and scrubbed herself thoroughly. She found it very stimulating, and sat down on her bed to check out the emails from her other three potential 'dates'. The first was a letdown -- just another 'maybe we should meet somewhere and talk' invitation. Maybe not. The next was more interesting -- and pretty amazing, all things considered. It was from a Federal judge, from the United States Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit, which if she remembered her Gov 357L coursework correctly, was a pretty big deal. Recently appointed, he knew he was a purely political pick and not really up to the job. He needed to confess to someone about how and why he got the appointment, and to be punished for it. He hadn't had an erection since he took the oath of office, and he was self aware enough to know that it was the guilt that was doing it to him. He had experimented with BDSM and was sure that a painful cleansing was what he needed. Perhaps Suzanne should do him as a public service.

But the final email was beyond any expectation she might have had. If irony could be delicious, this was the ultimate taste test. It was from Professor Auguste F.I. Haubenfelter, the great economist himself! He said he had been into the submissive side of BDSM since a very early and highly exciting introduction by a much older professor and dominant mistress. He said he had just moved to the DC area, taking a one year teaching assignment, and was thus separated from his mistress in Paris, who in any case over the last few months had been unable to go far enough to fully excite him. She really was not psychologically capable of dominating a man like him, he explained, because she was so much in awe of him. She had tried her best to do what he needed, but just could not. He needed someone strong and willful, someone masterful enough to make him believe he could actually be humiliated, and thus successfully dominated. Suzanne giggled. August, baby, I think I am just the Mistress for you! But perhaps I better warm up on the Judge! Then she realized she now had two upcoming 'dates' and she had absolutely nothing to wear.

She dressed quickly and headed out, now filled with purpose. She walked down the little neighborhood health food store, which also doubled as meditation and healing center, bulletin board, naturopathic pharmacy, and hangout for the hip and underemployed. It was also a distribution point for the Washington City Paper, which was a weekly with lots of 'esoteric' display advertising. She flipped through it and found a few places offering the kind of clothing she was looking for -- an 'erotic boutique', the 'queer store', a 'vintage fashion clothing outlet' and two 'dance apparel' spots, and Georgetown was the epicenter for it all. She found a decent pair of shiny black thigh boots in the first place she looked, but the offered 'sex suits' left her cold. She needed another kind of look -- unusual and distinctive. What she really wanted was something like her running tights that had such an effect on Robbie, but maybe even more daring for the 'private showings' she was contemplating. The first dance place had only standard Danskin style tights, which were nice, but much too vanilla for her purpose, and she had already rejected the cheap black fishnet body suits at the queer store. She was running out of time when she entered what might be her last chance today -- a small and classy dance store on her way back to her parent's house that seemed to feature stuff for real ballet dancers, plus all the popular modern dance stuff.

A little silver bell tinkled as she pushed open the door, and she could see she was the only customer in the store. A woman in her thirties looked up from a copy of Dance magazine and smiled perfunctorily, and looked surprised, then embarrassed. Finally she composed her face, stood up, and said "Welcome, what may I show you?" As she walked toward the front Suzanne noticed her graceful movements. She was tall -- at least 5' 9" -- maybe a little too tall to be in many ballet companies, and thin. She had the kind of figure that comes from lots of dancing and stretching and a severely restricted diet, not a normal diet with lots of exercise. Her face was very pale and very pretty, framed with brown hair done in a very short bobbed cut, with a minimum of makeup, but then she really didn't need any.

Suzanne smiled, at first trying to convey shyness and embarrassment that she then discovered she really didn't feel. "I'm looking for a very sheer leotard or body suit, much thinner than most dance tights. It's not really for dancing, more like for, uh, modeling, I guess you would say."

The woman smiled knowingly. "So it's purely for the visual effect. It won't have to withstand repetitive movement?"

Suzanne smiled in return. "That's it exactly. I'm trying to create a certain first impression, for the proper, ah, mood."

The woman looked thoughtfully at Suzanne. "Size four?"

"Yes."

"I have something to show you that I don't normally sell, but I bring in from Sweden for my own use. Wait here a moment."

The woman disappeared into the back of the store, and then Suzanne heard her footsteps on some stairs, apparently going up a level, then coming back down into the store. She returned and tentatively handed Suzanne a white cardboard box with an unusual green logo on the front. Suzanne opened it to find some very gauzy and thin fabric surrounded by tissue paper. The fabric appeared to be either fine linen that had been stone washed a thousand times or a lace doily that had been sandblasted. Technically, it was cloth, but practically speaking it was virtually transparent. Perfect!

"Size 4?" Suzanne asked excitedly.

"And a very tight size 4 at that." The woman smiled.

"I'll take them!"

The woman took the box back into her hands. "Call me Cindy. But these are not for sale. But I might make a gift of them, on one condition."

Suzanne raised one eyebrow, her expression silently asking Cindy for her terms.

"I want you to model them for me, to make sure they fit." Cindy smiled demurely, perhaps submissively? Her expression was hard for Suzanne to read, but she figured she would just interpret it the way she wanted things to be. She gave the store clerk her best dazzling smile, followed by her best dominatrix stare, the one that Lara said made her melt inside.

"I have a few conditions of my own!" Suzanne said in her lowest and most powerful tone. The woman shivered, and then hurried over to the door, turned the sign over from 'open' to 'closed', locked the door, turned out the lights and hurried up the stairs, beckoning Suzanne to follow. Suzanne wasn't bored anymore. But she was still horny, more so than ever. And she didn't have much time.