Chapter 74

Following Esmerelda through the shop was like a blast from the past, to memories of being dragged around similar establishments by your mother as a child. Always damn near empty, since their 'exclusivity' and prices meant they only needed to sell one item a day to stay adrift. It had been a long time now, since you had felt part of that upper crust of society. Most of the clothes you wore these days came from the teenage sections of thrift markets or dodgy, ad-riddled websites of tacky chinese-made lingerie. Skeg never really felt the need to splash out on the costumes you all wore… they were only going to get torn off and covered in bodily fluids anyway.

The Mayor's daughter seemed right at home though, heading straight on past shelves upon shelves of luxurious nick-nacks that the average person could only dream of having the money to waste on. Up and up you were drawn, through section upon section and stores within stores. Various waif-like staff jumped out from their little booths to spray you with expensive fragrances… only to be left ignored and perplexed by what manner of trio had just passed them. Until you arrived at a section swathed in curtains of dark cloth, clearly separated from the rest of the store.

A nervous-looking figure in nondescript clothing was waiting for you there, baggy hoodie pulled up and ridiculously dark sunglasses covering her eyes. Her outfit couldn’t have screamed ‘please don’t notice me’ any louder, and still couldn’t hide the look of horror that crossed her face upon seeing the distinctly memorable entourage headed towards her. You were pretty certain the character was already at the point of turning away and scurrying off, when Esmerelda yelled out:

“Emily! You made it! How lovely to see you!” Rushing forward to wrap her friend in an overtly tight embrace, while dragging you and Terry along after.

The sunglasses came tumbling off and you quickly recognised the face of one of the other girls who had peered over the fence at you from the mansion next door. The one whose father was distinctly unhappy about the whole situation. You were fairly certain you had spied that same face peeking out from behind curtains and through gaps in the fence several times in the weeks since, a shyly determined curiosity perhaps… as compared to the Mayor’s daughter’s outright, blazé interest in using you for her own whims. Whatever the case, the other teen now had little chance for second thoughts; being swept immediately along into her classmate’s typhoon of self-confidence.

She shepherded you all on through the draped curtains, a barrier of privacy that certainly seemed needed, considering the visions that lay on its far side. For the section of the shop it concealed was a ridiculous display of fetishism and tastelessness, a circus dressing room of kinkiness and whorish couture. Entire walls were bedecked in BDSM accoutrements: paddles, gags and bindings in every shape and material imaginable. Intimately-detailed manikins were arranged in lurid positions in all manner of revealing outfits, all of them clearly made to the finest standards, not knocked together in some chinese sweatshop. There were even two actual people, one male and one female, hung up naked and gagged at either side of the till. They seemed to be physically modelling a variety of the piercings, vibrators and bindings on offer… though you caught just a hint of boredom leaving their faces as you arrived. You wondered how much they got paid, to simply humiliate themselves in this way each day? But then, it was probably a better deal than you lived under.

"Ah, Miss Greene… My most unhealthily enthusiastic customer!"

The voice that emerged from a door in the back was soft and teasingly camp, yet the man that followed was thin, middle-aged and balding. He looked distinctly like the sort of person you would expect to be behind a desk in a minor accountancy firm… not behind the counter in a sex shop. You had been in several such establishments over the years of course, as Skeg or one of your customers took you to pick out something new and uncomfortable to shove inside yourself for their entertainment. Most had been staffed by bored-looking teens held together almost entirely by piercings. This place was a whole different ball game.

"Hello Frank, you dirty old perv… been watching your secret cameras in the changing rooms downstairs?"

The exchange was antagonistic, but their smiles were not, the Mayor's daughter leaned in to kiss this strange clerk on both cheeks as if he was an old family friend from Paris.

"I assume we are looking for yet another new way to tempt, tease and tantalise a certain older gentleman? Testing the limits of the taboo…?” The overwrought emphasis on every other word made it very clear this shop clerk knew exactly who his loyal, young customer was trying to woo. He did not seem in any way discouraging about the idea, however.

Either way, Esmerelda’s answer was: “Not today, Frank. Today we’ve got to get my friend’s here ready for a party.”