The Shop on the Corner

I walked by the small shop every week returning from class. My eyes were always drawn to the windows, filled with delicate lace, satin, cotton and silk lingerie.

Exotic looking women would frequent the shop. Men would walk by, looking out of the corner of their eyes, with a guilty almost furtive glance. As if they were doing something bad, dirty or evil.

The women would walk in confident, assured. All the things I felt I wasn't.

Teaching aerobics at 'For Women Only' twice a week helped my credit balance while I finished college. Female executives, pampered wives, anyone who could afford the exclusive membership rates and wanted both the individualized training as well as the privacy afforded by the no-males rule were welcome.

The neighborhood was one I dreamed of someday being able to afford. For now, I settled for window shopping as I walked the several blocks to my bus stop.

As the November wind ripped across my face, my hair felt as brittle as ice, still wet from my shower. I slowed as I passed, my eyes drawn to a lavender and black teddy next to a Lycra and Motif chemise on the display figures.

I only wore practical cotton, but a woman can dream.

Then I noticed an antique Russian Samovar, with steam rising, I slowed, and then stopped to look in. Porcelain China tea sets were displayed, laid out on a small table, with several comfortable looking chairs.

I read a sign: 'Please accept a cup of Hot Tea.'

Another icy breeze surrounded me and slid down my back, chilling me. Before I realized exactly what I was doing, I had stepped into the shop. A small alcove with a stained-glass door closed off the entrance from the outside world.

Pushing open the inner door to a soft chime, I was struck by the warmth and the subtle scents that drew me forward.

The shop was infinitely feminine ...sensual. Soft exotic music played, fragrances danced through the air with each breath, fabric enticed me to touch. Colors attracted my eyes, the tea promised a warm delicious taste. Temptation, for all five senses.

My legs moved forward without conscious thought. I found my hand caressing a silk chemise, the light played across the wisp of fabric as my fingers tingled in sensual pleasure.

Perfume bottles in beautiful crystal decanters drew me. I lifted each, enjoying the beautiful design of the glass, some were lead crystal, others fragile winsome shapes. Picking up a diamond shape I saw myself reflected dozens- hundreds of times.

They tugged at my emotions, at my life and made me feel eminently female.

Unable to resist I lifted one stopper and inhaled. I could almost see dark, candle-lit movement seen through flowing silk. An ancient oriental feeling of damask and silk flowing against my skin.

Lifting another I closed my eyes and sampled the scent. Instantly visions of women dancing barefoot to distant drums filled my mind. A dark pulsing primal tempo. My heart tried to match that rhythm. African I thought.

Replacing the top, I lifted another in a dark swirled glass that looked like midnight clouds hiding a full moon. As my eyes closed, the scent swirled out to surround me. I could picture, sense, a woman lying nude in a bed. The wet scent of sex filed the air, even as her sweat dried in a light breeze from the window her secret lover had just slipped through as he left.

I felt a surge deep within me, as nerves and muscles clenched. I felt like I was in that bed, sated. I staggered back a step. What was happening to me? I had never felt this way before. I was sexually active as the mood or the man moved me. Although, truth be told, I hadn't been with a man in weeks ...months? But this!

The scents had filled my mind, my body with these intense scenes I had never experienced before, or imagined. Each had been more intense, specific, not a dream, more a solid memory. How?

I wanted more.

Replacing that bottle, I lifted another.

It was a tiny spiral of glass. Like golden taffy it twisted up to form what could only be a unicorn horn.

Opening the top I was filled with the scent of sun. Lying on a beach, the sun played across my naked body with a deep soothing warmth. A soft warm breeze brought the cooling sounds of the Mediterranean Sea as waves slapped rhythmically against distant rocks.

I shook my head, clearing the scene. I took another quick involuntary step back, shaken. Each of the bottles had created such a vivid scene. Each, one I could see, feel, smell, taste, hear, each alive, real.

I swallowed. I knew all of them resided, waiting, in my memory, contained within each vial.

Each alive as if I had experienced, lived each personally, but I had never been there, I had never been anywhere... so how? What sort of magic was this?

A soft chime from behind me, made me quickly set the bottle down, and spin, my hands held behind my back as if I had been snitching cookies without permission and had been caught. I felt guilty, like I had been seen doing something evil, bad, dirty.

A woman stood and watched me from that doorway. Tall, blonde, with thick, wavy hair that fell to caress her shoulders. A faint hint of a smile twitched ripe full lips, accented by blood-red lipstick.

I glanced higher. I was dragged into those eyes. A strange blue, almost dark violet that showed humor, welcome and something more ...dangerous, or perhaps a challenge that lurked deep inside those twinkling eyes.

I blinked and pulled away from her eyes to examined her. She was elegant, stunning!

A long grey cashmere coat hung open to reveal a tailored charcoal-grey suit. Clothing I knew from fashion magazines were name designer originals. A silk in her breast pocket perfectly matched the five-inch Italian spike heels that looked as soft a butter that just poked from the bottom of her loose pants. She was so damn beautiful. Enough to be a runway model or an actress, a countess, a classic beauty begging to be painted to photographed. Almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones ...but something about her felt more predatory.

Intelligence and power surrounded her.

Clearly she belonged on the top corner floor of a high rise, with glass walls so she could survey her empire, a powerful Corporate CEO.

I blinked and swallowed, suddenly embarrassed in my old jeans, wet tennis shoes and the old leather bomber jacket I had swiped from my older brother, years ago.

Ducking my head, I began to slide past her trying to flee. I stopped as her hand touched my shoulder.

"Surely, you're not going out into that awful weather."

Yes, I am- wanting, needing to flee even as my mind added that old tag line, but don't call me Shirley.

"At the least, before you ...flee-" her smile told me she knew, understood that I felt like a frightened mouse cornered by a hungry cat. "-But not without a hot cup of tea first." The soft warm voice carried a touch of accent, Eastern Europe or perhaps the Netherlands, Slavic? It made me lift my eyes. I felt a jolt as those dark eyes met mine. Somehow she had moved closer. Warm confidence flowed out to surround me, to draw me in. Her hand still touched my shoulder, as she held me in place. I felt like that hand burned right through my leather jacket to infuse my body with heat.

I felt those eyes examine me. Her eyes dropped to my feet, and then rose slowly, examining every inch of my body, my old worn clothing, until her eyes played across my face and then she met my eyes. Her lips moved into a deeper smile.

Those lips, especially the bottom looked so full, so delicious so ... I blushed deep as the thought of catching that lip between my teeth flashed through my mind.

"Come." She raised her hand from my shoulder to move across my cheek, as soft as a butterfly's wing. I shivered.

"Join me, for a bit of warmth." She moved forward to the Samovar, pulling me along behind her. I couldn't have left; I was a lump of iron drawn to her magnet.

She removed her coat in one swift movement to drape it on a coat rack, then turned back to me. Her eye brows and shoulders lifted in inquiry. I unzipped the jacket, suddenly she was behind me.

I felt her hands slide across the nape of my neck. I shivered again as she gently pulled the jacket off me before she hung it up. I had never even seen her move. How...?

She had me seated and poured tea before I realized I was seated. I looked around, I wondered where the employees had gone to. How were we so alone?

"What would you like in your tea?"

"Just the tea, thank you."

My fingers touched hers as she handed me the tea on the saucer. I quivered as a spark leapt between us; but she seemed not to notice as she turned away and stood to prepare her own cup.

I watched her from behind. The suit paints and jacket on anyone else would look masculine, it was almost a man's suit, but perfect, feminine for her.

Sitting, she faced me with her tea as she crossed her legs. Raising the cup, she closed her eyes as she inhaled the steam.

I followed her example and lifted the cup, I inhaled.

The sound of Russian music seemed to play in the distance as the sharp, yet sweet scent filled me. My eyes closed and I sipped.

Warmth filled my mouth with a dark rich bark-like flavor and just a hint of cinnamon. I could almost see colorful Gypsy wagons forming a backdrop to the shadows of a roaring campfire as wild violin music played. I felt myself relax. It was delightful.

Another sip, I let it swirl around on my tongue. Flavors, deep, rich, earthy played across my tongue. I opened my eyes. Hers met mine.

I felt ...unfinished?

I considered myself smart, self-sufficient, confident. Yet, as I met her eyes I felt like a little girl, no -- more like someone, head hung down, as she entered the principal's office. A very hot, sexy, confident female principal.

I looked down as I felt myself flush. I swallowed and then closed my eyes and took another sip of tea.

In a flash, I was being bent over a desk in that same principles office. I felt her lift my uniform skirt as she held a long thick ruler in her other hand. I was vibrating, anxious, as I waited for, no wanted that first blow. My breath caught, my heart raced, I became wet as she raised her hand and ...I shook my head. Shocked at that vision.

I blinked as my awareness to the shop returned. I jerked my eyes up to meet hers. I read amusement in those eyes. Almost, as if she had shared that thought, that vision with me, and understood my desire. I glanced quickly down at her right hand, but no. No long thick wooden ruler was raised to swing hard against my- instead her delicate long fingered hand caressed the porcelain saucer. She stroked it back and forth, back and forth.

"How is your tea?" The deep voice danced around me, it surrounded me with warmth, with heat.

"It's, um-" I cleared my throat, "It's very good." I could feel my heart pound. What the hell was wrong with me? I had never in my life had visions, was it drugs?

No, or not in the way I thought. And that woman? Never in my life had any women ever attracted me, I just wasn't into other women, or hadn't been. No man had ever drawn me so strongly to her -- him -me. Shit! I blinked as I squirmed in my seat.

"So." The word come out as a soft 'Z' sound, "Zo?"

"What are you searching for today?" She asked, her voice friendly, inviting. I must have looked confused as she quietly added, "shopping for?"

"Oh, um, ...I wasn't really shopping," I rushed to explain. "I just was, well, window shopping, you know, just looking, wet, in a hurry, and it was so cold, but then I saw that tea, and it was so inviting and I thought that I ..." I let my voice trail off, embarrassed. I sounded like an idiot. Like a little school girl. Again, in a flash I could feel a hand sliding my skirt up over my hips and...

"Ah, yes," She interrupted my thoughts. "The shop is, inviting, warm. I know the ...owner, and odd smile flashed for an instant and then was gone. "She created a place, a refuge if you will, for women from the cold outside world." She smiled. Smiling at me she continued. "A place to enjoy freedom. To be feminine. To relish uniquely our own individual sex." Her lips curved up into a smile. "I think she succeeded, don't you?" One eyebrow rose in question.

I swallowed. "Yes. That was exactly what I thought as I walked in," I agreed.

"Come, let us explore more." She stood, reached out to take my tea cup, set it down and held out her hand. Long slender fingers, with an expensive French manicure.

I couldn't help myself. I moved my own hand behind my back, embarrassed. I felt bad, my own nails were cut short, practical and occasionally chewed. I prayed they had no dirt under any of the nails.

She moved close, her tall body up tight against mine as she reached around me to take my wrist. She drew my hand out, and then placed her hand in mine.

Her hand felt warm, like a cup of hot chocolate cradled by numb fingers on a frigid winter day.

She drew me forward around a lace curtain, I was shocked at how the shop opened and stretched out. Obviously, it used almost the entire back portion of the block. Yet, it did not carry the sense of a large open space, but a series of private, intimate areas. A high wooden ceiling with fluted cornices, stained a rich redwood color with muted lighting felt welcoming. Then I walked across a forest, with tall majestic trees high above.

The displays looked like individualized vignettes, each designed around certain wares. Several almost matched my visions triggered by the perfume scents.

For just a moment, I was surprised no one else seemed to be in the store, then my eyes were caught by a series of busters' and corsets as we approached one display. I had always been fascinated by the covers of Romance novels where the women could wear such clothes. They looked both confining and infinitely thrilling.

A black vinyl bustier with red lace drew me closer. No, not vinyl, as my fingers stroked the material, rather, real leather. Buttery soft, but rigid with stays. I wondered how a woman could breathe? No wonder they always walked so slowly and had the vapors. Taking a deep breath seemed impossible.

"Try it on."

I jumped at the soft purr next to my ear. I had forgotten I wasn't alone in my musings.

"I couldn't," still my hands caressed the leather.

"It is for trying on. For the experience."

"But ...." Once more that hand closed on mine. I was drawn forward into a side room. I stopped.

This looked exactly like the dressing room of a fine Victorian Lady in one of my novels. Powders and combs rested on a Chippendale dressing table, the wood old yet perfectly preserved. The chair was more a comfortable padded stool. Three large mirrors game me a view of myself standing undecided while the woman stood next to me.

She held out the bustier.

"Um, ..."

A clear high laugh filled the room. "You are shy! How enchanting. I shall wait without." She glided out of the room through hanging silk curtains.

I gulped and looked down at what I held. The curtains parted again as she walked back in and placed my tea refilled on the desk next to me. "Courage," she whispered with a slight smile as she drifted out again.

What the hell would I wear with it? Hell, where in the world would I ever go or ever even have a reason to wear something like this? Confused I lifted the tea and sipped.

The room moved, not to spin, but somehow it shifted, and then refocused.

The light seemed more muted. I noticed the flickering of real flame in gas lamps providing light.

The curtain opened and my maid walked in, stopped and dropped a quick curtsy. Her high buttoned blue and white stripped gown, white cap and apron were clean and fresh pressed.

I turned to await her assistance. Oddly, instead of my clothing, I wore a strange dress. Why had I thought I was wearing thaws -pants, as men's style called them. I shrugged as my dress and clothes were quickly removed. I blinked as an odd white device with cups and straps were removed from my chest. I felt normal again at its removal. Quickly she slid off my ...panties?

"Mistress?" I shook my head, I sat and lifted one leg as she pulled the smooth hose up. The silk slid across my skin leaving a warm feeling of delight. I lifted my other leg as the second was added. A garter belt was attached. She knelt to clip it onto the silk.

Then she held the bustier low. I stepped into it. Slowly it was raised, we struggled it over my narrow hips, then higher. I took two deep breaths, then exhaled hard and held my breath. She tugged it higher until it touched and then lifted my breasts. Both nipples caught briefly, then it snapped up over them.

I quivered with the pleasure that contact caused. I could feel them lengthen as they became erect as my maid pulled and adjusted them, so they displayed just right.

I felt my maid move around behind me, I took a shallow breath, let it out, and she pulled hard, tightening the red strings to begin to chinch it tighter. A breath, exhale, tug. Each breath became more shallow it was tightened. Over and over. I could feel my insides squeezed even as my breasts were lifted. Then with a final pull which left me slightly light headed it was finished.

I glanced down at my perfect, socially acceptable waist, although both nipples had slipped out, hard and erect.

I lifted my tea to sip again, then my eyes rose to the mirrors. I was shaken at how wanton I looked, like a Fleet Street Whore, ready for a night full of customers and hard cocks.

Who was I, really, a young virginal girl or the whore, or -I looked up as the red silk curtains parted and a familiar elegant woman entered, and then simply watched me.

"I am Malika," she said, head cocked to one side. I've had men look at me like that, had their eyes play across my body, slowly her gaze moved up and then down my body. But never with such ...arrogance. I blushed as I realized my nipples and sex were exposed to her view.

My move to cover myself died under that gaze. Instead of embarrassment, I wished that I was wearing high spiked heels to better display myself. I smiled as I noticed what she carried. Six inch spikes exactly the color of the blood red ribbons that held me cinched tight.

I turned as she knelt next to me to gently touch behind one of my silk covered knees. She lifted my leg and then slid on one of the stiletto's. It fit perfectly. My leg was slowly lowered, her fingers seemed to burn the skin under the silk, almost as if the silk would simply melt under the heat of her touch.

I lifted my other leg even as she helped me balance, so she could slip on the other heel.

I now stood half a foot taller.

Her body rose, just a hair's breadth out of contact with mine. Even with my heels, I only came up to her chin.

She lifted her hands, sliding them up my arms until she touched my shoulders. I was turned.

"Look at yourself." The voice whispered through my soul.

My eyes moved to seek my reflection. I- I was no longer just a girl. Sexual. Sensual. I was a Woman.

It felt like I watched a stranger. My own reflection turned me on. I Felt myself become wet. The air seemed to fill with my aroused scent.

I watched in the reflection as she leaned forward so her head rested on my left shoulder, even as her hands kept their light grip on my shoulders.

"You look as you feel. Hot. Sexual, rampant. A woman of scents and power. With a mere glance, you shall stun any male, he will notice you and walk straight into a wall. And not even realize or care about his broken nose. Confused yet intoxicated by your attention, your slightest smile. For you are female, woman. You hold the Sacred Sexuality. Revel in your power."

My heart pounded. I licked my suddenly dry lips. Yet, that female in the mirror made it an act of pure carnal lust.

Malika pressed herself lightly against my bare butt. I turned my head towards hers on my shoulder, yet watched the mirror. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as my lips approached hers until only a whisper separated us. My mouth drew open in welcome, waiting, I wanted, I needed..