Are You Tiffani Caine? Ch. 02

Sara looked at the two piles of bras taking shape - there must have been at least two dozen. With a sinking feeling, she asked, "Do I need to buy all of these?"

"Oh no," Brenda told her. "I was told you need to buy at least ten. Of course you're always free to buy more if you want."

"Ten..." Sara muttered. "That's five thousand dollars in bras..."

Brenda looked surprised, then laughed. "No, these aren't the top of my line. These are between $175 and $225 each. But stay here, I'll get you an expensive one just so you can try it on."

"You don't need to do that," Sara said hastily.

"You've been wearing cheap, off-the-shelf underwear," Brenda said. "Now you're in a shop that sells the good stuff. Aren't you even curious how a five hundred dollar bra looks?"

"Well...I guess I could try one on, but I can't afford to buy it!" Even confessing that she wanted to sample it made Sara feel a little sinful, but after all she was already here, and how often did she get a chance to wear a bra that cost half a thousand dollars, even for a few moments? It would be a shame to turn down an opportunity that would never arise again.

Brenda bustled off and Sara began to check out the bras. They were just as bad as she'd feared. None of them were what she would consider proper bras for a Christian woman, and she blushed crimson at the thought of wearing one of these to church. The ones that covered the most skin were completely transparent like the one she had already tried on, but others were somehow more scandalous; the shelf bras would make her look like she was jabbing her 34DDs(!) into everyone's faces, the ouverts were overtly sexual in a way that even the transparent ones weren't, the balconettes would leave half her areolas exposed, the padded bras would make her chest draw even more attention, the plunge bras would make her feel like a hooker...

And she had to buy two thousand bucks of these things.

Sara was in the middle of swapping bras and so was naked except for her panties, socks and shoes when Brenda returned with the most beautiful bra ever made. It was a deep, rich admiral blue silk with delicate cream lace along the edges and straps. Sara stared at it for a span of heartbeats, then reached out and ran her fingers over the fabric. Queens didn't even wear bras like this. Brenda could barely hear her when she whispered, "Wow..."

Brenda grinned knowingly and held the bra out. Sara didn't realize how cautiously she moved when she stuck her arms through the straps. It was like she was touching a Faberge egg! The cups that settled around her breasts were cool and as sweet as a kiss from Isaac, and when Brenda fastened the band behind her back Sara couldn't even tell, so good was the fit. She stared at herself in the mirror as Brenda fiddled a bit with the straps. It was breathtaking on her - almost any woman would envy the lines the bra gave her.

"What do you think?" Brenda asked.

"I don't want to take it off, ever," Sara admitted in a whisper, as though a loud noise might damage the fabric. "I didn't know bras could be this beautiful."

"All the materials are top quality, the manufacturing process is handled by expert seamstresses right here in the Twin Cities, and it will give years of service without stretching or wearing out," Brenda said in an insinuative saleswoman's voice. "It's perfect for formal occasions, nights out, or any time you want to feel special."

Sara turned from side to side, her eyes focused on her own reflection. She knew her reflection, she'd seen it practically every day of her life, and never once had her reflection looked this good, this feminine. This sexy. Would it be so bad if -

Sara shook her head and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I can't afford it. I'd love it, but..."

"That's alright," Brenda nodded. "I didn't expect you to." Sara took the bra off and handed it back to Brenda, who put it back on its hanger and hung the hanger on the wall. She then gathered the other bras that Sara had ruled out and took them away...but left the expensive one there for the moment.

By the time Brenda returned from putting away the bras, Sara had further narrowed the selection to the ten she wanted. She had originally intended to pick the most modest and concealing items, but nothing she was given was either modest or concealing so she simply tried to match bras to the clothing she had and came up with a selection that was half white and half a variety of other colors, with an array of transparent full-cups, ouverts, a plunge bra, and even a balconette that covered her nipples and looked as decent as anything else here.

She had also tried on the expensive one again before hastily putting it off. No. She wasn't giving in to that temptation.

Brenda seemed pleased at her selection. She took the tape measure off from around her neck again and got measurements for Sara's panties - at least Sara had been right about those! - and hurried off to grab samples. Sara, left in the dressing room alone with her boobs hanging out and nothing to do, spent time looking at and feeling the expensive bra, marveling at the exquisite construction, the beauty of the fabric, the way it felt against her fingertips. The sin of lust took many forms, most of them nonsexual; anything that caused unhealthy desire was lust, and Sara lusted after that bra.

When Brenda came back she was bearing an armload of panties of all descriptions, as long as the description in question incorporated the word "scandalous." Sara began looking through them with a sinking feeling. She didn't even ask about the price - none of this was under her control, after all. They were matched to the bras Sara had selected in color and style, and she found that they matched the bras in immodesty as well: any panties that came close to covering her butt were completely see-through except for the gusset, there were a bunch of thongs that showed her whole backside, and the ouverts made her butt look even barer than the thongs did. Obviously she couldn't try any on, but Brenda had her hold them up to her body along with various bras so she could see how the sets looked until Sara waved her away with a weary hand. "Fine, they're fine. How many am I buying?"

"Twenty-five," Brenda said. Twenty-one to twenty-five panties was how many the lifestyle gurus always said so they wouldn't wear out from washing so quickly, so this didn't come as a surprise. "Say, do you shave or trim?"

In the seven years since she had been saved, Sara had almost forgotten about that feminine ritual common to women who exposed a lot more skin than she did. "No, neither. It just grows."

"You'll probably want to start," Brenda said. "These are briefer than what you're used to."

Of course they were, and of course she would. She used to trim when she was a teen and had even shaved a few times back then, but once she had become saved she had dispensed with all that immoral vanity. Now the immorality was being thrust upon her once again and she had nothing to say. She just dressed when Brenda told her it was OK and went off to tally all of her purchases.

Sara paused to take one last look at herself once she had gotten back into the underwear she had come in with (which felt oddly disappointing after all the fancy things she had worn over the past hour or so) and pulled her dress back on. There was a welter of emotions in her brain that she knew would resolve themselves into disappointment and self-reproach before bedtime, and it wasn't helped by the fact that she could see the $500 blue bra hanging on the wall and felt a sickening temptation to buy it. It took an act of will but she walked away without it.

Brenda was talking to Rachel as she rang up Sara's purchases, and it looked from the bag she was carrying that Rachel had picked up some things for herself. As Sara approached, Brenda gestured to some garter belts and stockings on the counter and said, "These were part of the orders - non-negotiable, I'm afraid. About half the stockings go with the garters, the rest are standard elastic thigh highs. "

More money. She had long ago lost track of the damage this would inflict on her finances, and she had yet to account for what it would do to her spirit, so she simply nodded and began to wander the store while Brenda finished tallying and bagging. The cash register beeped with distressing frequency as Sara drifted past camisoles, corsets, crotchless panties and cupless bras (fortunately she hadn't been expected to buy any of those), silk pajamas, and lingerie bearing an aggressive leopard print. There was even a section of bridal lingerie, and Sara burned with shame when she caught herself imagining coming back here to buy things for the honeymoon - Isaac would flip if she wore anything from a place like this, even if for his pleasure only.

Men don't specify that women buy this kind of lingerie unless they intend to show them off in it, enjoy them in it, or both...

"Tiffani, I have your total."

Sara turned and saw Brenda awaiting her at the register. It wasn't a large store and Sara only had to walk across half of it to get there, but the walk felt like one of those walks to the principal's office when you really screwed up in primary school, where every step feels like a hundred yards and there are a million steps that are somehow over way too soon. "How much?" she heard herself ask.

"Your total is $4,227," Brenda said.

"Four thousand..." Sara numbly repeated, then opened her purse, produced her wallet, and handed over a card that had over nine thousand free of a ten thousand limit. It was as though she was seeing herself at a remove, almost as though she were watching security camera footage of herself. She didn't pay four-and-a-quarter thousand dollars for some bras and panties. She would never, ever do that. It was insane.

Brenda handed her card back to her and began handing Sara an unsettling number of bags. Sara took everything like an automaton and turned toward the door without saying a word. Brenda gave reminders of her boutique's guarantees of quality and willingness to swap out anything that turned out not to fit when Sara got it home, but Sara barely heard a thing. She came to the door and stopped still, staring out of it, not even registering what she was seeing.

Four thousand, two hundred, twenty seven dollars.

A few moments later Rachel opened the door and followed her out, beeped her car open, and helped Sara load everything into the back seat. Two minutes later they were on the road, with Slipknot blessedly absent as musical accompaniment. They drove in silence for a while, until they crossed the Mississippi again on the way west, when Rachel finally gave a sympathetic, "Real sticker shock, huh?"

Sara said nothing for a while, and then finally, "I'm not even going to wear this stuff. I can't. I'd feel like a whore on top of everything else. I'll just stick to my old things."

"Oh, yeah, about that...I have to collect all your old underwear and take it away. Even what you've got on. Everything except sports bras and panties. I guess I forgot to mention that. And there's something else, let me see if I remember it right...any time you're checked for what you have on, you have to be wearing underwear as sexy or sexier than you bought tonight, or no underwear at all."

Another blow Sara barely felt through the numbness. "Oh. Yeah. That makes sense."

Rachel was quiet for a few more minutes, then said, "And you got no idea who's running you through these hoops?"

"Lingerie fetishists, I guess." The small part of Sara that still retained some perspective had intended that as a joke, but by the time she was finished saying it she couldn't remember why she'd thought it was funny.

Another few minutes later, Rachel offered, "I know you're reeling from the price and how weird this was for you, but Brenda's stuff is better and more comfortable than anything you've ever worn. It makes a difference, believe me, especially at the end of a long day. Or, like, when you're going into a big meeting or something. It sounds crazy but knowing you're wearing sexy, expensive underwear gives you a confidence boost. You'll see."

Sara inhaled deeply. The car smelled like it had recently been detailed, and Rachel smelled faintly of tobacco. "I guess I will see, one way or the other."

Sara said nothing, slipping into an increasingly gloomy reverie as the numbness wore off. By the time they pulled up to her house, all she wanted to do was take a long, hot bath and go to bed. Rachel helped her with her bags and followed her upstairs, complimenting her on her apartment even as she grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen and headed into the bedroom. Sara thought she was kind to ignore the unmitigated mess that was the perpetual state of her living space, but she didn't thank her for it. When Rachel had bagged all the underwear and nylons from her drawers, Sara excused herself into the bathroom for a moment and returned holding a cheap, crumpled bra and panties in her hand. Into the bag they went, and that was the end of Rachel; Sara was pretty sure they exchanged some sort of parting when Rachel left, but she couldn't recall a word that was said. She simply flopped back onto her bed amid bags of lingerie and noted how strange the fabric of her dress felt against her bare nipples.

Fifteen minutes later she remembered she had promised to let Emma know how the evening went and sent a text.

I'm back

What happened?

I went underwear shopping

...huh?

All my bras and panties were replaced I spent $4227

WHAT?

Yeah

What kind of underwear costs that much?

Expensive

Obscene

I hate it

Did you do anything else?

No

Just shopping?

Yes

You gonna be up for a while? Can I come over

Might as well I have to wash some for tomorrow anyway

See you in 20

Sara finally stirred and began looking for a set that wouldn't get her struck dead if she wore it to church on Easter. There was nothing that fit that description, but she couldn't imagine sitting in a pew in a thong or an ouverte with nothing between her ass and wood but her dress. In the end she picked a white transparent bra and panty set because at least they technically covered the things that underwear was supposed to keep covered and brought them to the kitchen sink for hand washing, but just as she got there, Emma rang and Sara buzzed her up.

Emma's greeting hug was long and tight, and Sara assured her again that she was fine. "You may as well come look at it all," Sara told her. "I could use a second opinion."

They went into the bedroom, and Emma's jaw dropped when she saw the sheer volume of naughtiness on Sara's bed. "That's a hell of a lot of underwear," Emma said. "It looks...expensive."

"It is expensive," Sara sighed, picking up the black balconette she had bought and tossing it to her friend. "Take a look at that. Just take a look."

Emma did, and Sara saw the ill-concealed delight on her face. "This is gorgeous. I'd love something like this."

"I'd offer it to you," Sara snorted. Of course it wouldn't fit, because Emma was long and lean and wore a 34B. "It turns out I've been wearing the wrong bra size since high school. I thought I was 32D. Turns out I'm 34DD. So naturally all these obscene, expensive bras fit better and are more comfortable than any I've ever worn. I can barely tell I'm wearing anything at all."

"So you hate them and love them?"

Sara sighed and plopped down on her bed hard enough that half the lingerie jumped. "Right now I hate them. I know I'll eventually love them and wonder how I could have lasted so long without them. And that's the worst part of all this, I'm going to end up being grateful for something these bas - these jerks did to me."

"That's the closest I've ever heard you come to swearing."

"I've never had all my underwear thrown away and then been forced to spend over four thousand dollars replacing it."

"They took your old stuff?"

"I have to wear this from now on. They did say I could wear sexier stuff or nothing at all if I'd rather."

"Assholes."

"You won't hear me arguing," Sara admitted.

Emma continued to work through the lingerie, and after a minute she said, "Are there any of these panties that don't show your whole ass?"

"There are some that put one thin strap across each cheek because having your whole butt hanging out isn't slutty enough."

"I mean...they're gorgeous. They're beautiful and soft and they look really well made."

"I think that pair you have in your hands cost me a hundred and ten dollars."

Emma paused, then asked, "Would you be pissed if I said it might be worth it?"

"Right now, yes. In a week I'll probably be the one saying it."

"I'll say it next week then. You bought garter belts?"

"Not my call."

"You haven't even opened these packages of stockings."

"Be my guest."

Emma was, and what she revealed was hosiery that looked as semi-pornographic as everything else. They came in white, black, and red, along with a neutral shade that would not color her legs so much as they would make them glisten. Worst of all, every pair had Cuban heels with a diamond that crawled up the Achilles and turned into an eye-catching seam that ran all the way up to the seductive frill at the top. "I gotta say, Sars, these look hot."

"They'd make me look like a call girl from 1955," Sara snorted.

"Not quite. None of these bras turn your tits into daggers."

"I guess I have to go back and pick some of those up."

"I mean...you've got the legs for these. Your thighs are so toned I bet these thigh highs wouldn't even make a dimple in your skin."

"You're not helping!" Sara said, covering her eyes with her hands.

"You wear stockings anyway."

"Yeah, calf-highs without the seam up the back!"

"So now you'll wear longer ones, so what? You aren't showing them to anybody. And I'm willing to bet these make your legs feel great."

"Oh, I'm sure they do, just like everything else I got tonight. Satan is trying to seduce me with silk."

"It'd work on me," Emma muttered, continuing to work her way through the pile.

"Ugh. Give me that pair of white thigh highs, I need to wear them to church tomorrow." Sara went quiet for a few moments, then asked, "Have you ever tried on a $500 bra?"

Emma froze and stared. "Five...hundred? For a bra? Was it made of gold?"

"Those are the top of the line that Brenda makes - Brenda is the woman who makes all this and who owns the shop. She said I had to try one on."

"God, how did it feel?"

Sara sighed. "It was the best thing I've ever felt next to my skin. And you should have seen how it made me look. It was a bra that cost half a thousand dollars and I never wanted to take it off. I came this close to buying the stupid thing."

"Wow...what was it like?" Sara sighed again and described the bra, and Emma's expression made her look like a child hearing about a magical toy. When Sara was done, Emma said, "A $500 bra would break my bank and I still think I would have gotten it. I just would have sold my plasma for a few months to pay for it."

"They have them in your size."

"Don't tempt me, bitch. I'll do it. Hey, is this a business card from the place?"

"Yeah."

"Mind if I keep it?"

"Tell them Tiffani sent you. Why did I have you come over again?"

"To make this huge pile of undies seem real?"

"And here I thought it was for support."

"If you wanted support you should have bought that $500 bra."

Sara was quiet for a while, but finally said, "Emma, I need to talk about something. Ask you something. I don't know."