GothPunk Purple

Renna tosses you a tube of lipstick.

“Want to try our newest shade? It’s GothPunk purple.”

You catch it. You suppose you can try it and change your mind. “Sure, why not.”

You gently apply the dark purple lipstick to you lips. You finish and give a little pucker. You look in the mirror.

“Fuck, I look fucking hot! This outfit won’t do.”

“But you’re going to work, mom.”

“So, even if I am, I’m not wearing this conservative shit.”

“Well if you want to be like that mom, why don’t you try our new fragrance too.”

She hands you a perfume bottle. You don’t even read the label. Like you should fucking care. You spray a cloud around you.

“Thanks Renna. Now I’m off to ‘work’”

You head out the door before your bitchy little spawn can say anything.

You stop at a Goodwill store on the way to work. There’s no fucking way you’re wearing a dress.

You walk down the aisles. Jackpot! In the shoe area you find black combat boots, just your size. You manage to pair it with some fishnet stockings, a black vinyl micro-skirt, and a black embroidered corset.

You admire your goth self in the mirror, not believing you’ve never had the balls to get a tat or piercing.

You stuff the junk you were wearing in a bag and saunter up to register.

A bearded twenty something guy works the register. You admire his muscular form and tats.

“Miss, we don’t allow people to wear clothes out of the store.”

“What the fuck? I’m not disrobing in front of you, you prick.”

“Miss, I er wasn’t...”

“Tell you what you’re going to do. You’re just going to let me walk out with these and you can pay for them.”

“Yes, Mistress!”

That wasn’t quite the answer you were expecting. While the GothicPurple seems to have lowered your impulse control, it hasn’t lowered your IQ.

“Well now, since you’re in such an accommodating mood, my boots need cleaning.”

“Of course, Mistress, we shouldn’t sell them all dirty like that.”

He reaches for a cloth.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning your boots...”

“With your tongue, prick.”

He kneels before you and starts licking your combat boots. You are more than a little wet. You can’t wait to see if this works on Curtiss.

“I think that’s enough.”

You strut out the door and speed off to work. You shove two fingers in your sex, eager to see Curtiss