Lost Luggage

“I am so sorry.” Titania said. She was standing at the door to Sophie and Andi’s Cabana wearing a very professional black blazer over a red blouse with one too many buttons undone. “I have been up all night on the phone with several airlines trying to track down your bag. My best information at the moment is that it’s somewhere in Belarus.”

Sophie had already needed to borrow sleepwear from Andi, and so was receiving the news wearing comically oversized pyjamas. Despite her obvious frustration, she treated the woman claiming to be the head of guest services with patience and politeness. “Thank you for your hard work. I know it’s not your fault.”

“We appreciate your understanding, we really do.” Titania expertly faked her role as powerless administrator. “Regardless, we would like to do something to help you enjoy your stay.”

She presented Sophie and Andi with Fitbit like bracelets. “These are our convenience bands, much better than keycards as they’re nearly indestructible and hard to lose. Every guest will receive one. They act as door keys and identification for reservation etcetera, but they’re also sort of an on-site credit card. They hold and transfer BP, our resort-specific currency, which you can use at the various souvenir and clothing shops. We’ve loaded a bit extra onto yours so you can replace your wardrobe. At least enough to enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you so much,” Sophie said. “That’s very kind of you.”

Titania offered a polite bow, and left the lovers in peace, but not before winking to the camera.

“How much is on yours?” asked Sophie as she examined her digital display.

“Three hundred,” replied Andi. “Not bad, I was checking out the shops on the way in. It’s pretty close to American dollars.”

Sophie gasped and clutched the device to her chest as though she was afraid of Andi stealing it.

“How much did they give you?” the buxom redhead asked.

“Ten thousand.”

Andi nearly spat out her morning tea. “So you’re going shopping today, huh?”

“Would you come with me?” asked Sophie.

“My dear, I would do anything you asked of me.” Andi was surprised by how deeply she meant that. It had been true the day before, but now, far away from social obligations and norms, the truth overwhelmed her. She wasn’t just willing to go along with Sophie’s whims, she was **** to bend to Sophie’s desires. She wanted to serve her, to please her, to earn her girlfriend’s praise.

Buying clothes was pretty instantly an ordeal.

Sophie had aspirations of simply replacing what she’d lost, but no shops at this high-end tropical resort sold cotton t-shirts or khaki capris. The first boutique she actually went into was one claiming to sell sleepwear. She lasted mere moments before she was outside again, blushing, and needing to steady her breathing from the embarrassment.

“Everything in there is see-though,” she said.

“Would that be so bad?” Andi gave a look of mischievous lust and bit her lip.

That did not reduce Sophie’s blush.

“I’m sure that’s just the display models. I can ask the clerk for help, if you’d like me to. I could even model a few to help you decide.”

Sophie took long enough to refuse the later offer to give Andi a little thrill. “I’m not sure that would be as helpful as I might like,” she said, staring at her girlfriend’s sizeable bust.

“Please,” said Andi, and batted her eyelashes while biting her lip.

Sophie’s mouth opened and shut several times while she tried and failed to process her feelings. In the end she could only return a small but rapid nod.

Both Sophie and the audience were then treated to Andi strutting out of changerooms in barely there sleepwear. A baby blue babydoll, a gossamer pink chemise with matching panties, a satin romper which displayed delightful sideboob and underbutt. Through a combination of expert teasing by Andi and diligent work by the production crew, the presentation stayed PG. It seemed the audience wasn’t going to see full nudity until the master did.

In the end, Sophie managed to find full body silk pyjamas which, while buttoned, provided full skin coverage. The fabric though, draped like running water over her form. When lying down, she might as well have been wearing sky blue paint.

Having successfully broken the ice, she was more prepared for the task of obtaining undergarments. She was also less concerned about how she’d be viewed in them, as by definition, they’d go underneath her clothes.

This kind of shopping was new to her. She’d never had anything which didn’t come in a six pack from target. The closest thing she owned to sexy lingerie was her concert blacks, which were just the same cotton as everything else, but black.

The shopkeeper of the resort lingerie store would have been insulted if even asked for such a thing. This store was a place for the luxurious and adventurous. A whole wall was dominated by things Sophie could only describe as fetish gear: all straps and buckles and very little coverage. She stuck to the luxurious section, which was more lace than leather.

Despite her attempts to politely refuse, the shop attendant imposed her help. She took measurements and stacked her client high with items to try on, all while speaking rapidly on matters both technical aesthetic.

Disoriented by the flurry of information, Sophie was flung into a changeroom to decide between a collection of undergarments she would normally be ashamed to even look at, let alone try on. Each costing more than an annual supply of her typical wear.

Andi failed to notice any of it, as her attention had been captivated by the darker side of the store. She gazed longingly at a harness masquerading as a bra. It looked tight, restrictive, like it would bight into her if she didn’t maintain perfect posture. Straps ran up to a sturdy collar with a metal ring, perfect for connecting a leash.

She found herself trapped in a fantasy of Sophie clipping that collar around her neck and pushing her to her knees.

Meanwhile, Sophie had become similarly ensorcelled by the view in front of her. It was a woman, sexy, confident, comfortable in her body. A woman she did not recognize was in the mirror in front of her.

She had essentially stopped growing at fourteen. She was told the body she’d ended up with was to be envied. It was that of a gymnast or cheerleader. She just felt childish, though. A feeling bolstered by wearing the same styles, and sometimes the same clothes, as she had in junior high, all designed to conceal the form beneath lest she inspire sin in the men around her. She had always felt a bit like she was cosplaying as an adult, like a kid wearing their parents’ clothes.

Wrapped in a properly sized lace bustier with matching panties, deep crimson and both cut to amplify and celebrate the swell of her breast and butt, she looked and felt phenomenal. The lace was so soft as to be sinful, and just densely woven enough to conceal her most intimate parts, but loose enough to tease exposure. When she moved, it held her like a lover: gentle, supportive, and intimate.

Sophie understood for the first time why women would spend a fortune on clothing which nobody would ever see.

Well, maybe she’d let one particular person see it, someday.

She found that particular person staring at fetish wear in the lobby. “I don’t understand this stuff,” she said, breaking the spell it had cast on her partner. “Where would you wear it.”

‘While on my knees with my face between your thighs’ is what Andi thought. However, what she said was “Mostly in private, I think. To add some spice to bedroom activities.”

Sophie seemed to consider that idea for a while, taking in the new information without judgement. That was already progress, Andi thought.

“Why are there dog toys?” Sophie asked.

Andi followed Sophie’s pointed finger to a collection of acorn shaped hunks of sturdy rubber with fox tails attached.

A brief silent exchange passed between her and the attendant, arguing over who would explain it. “I’ll tell you later,” Andi said at last.

The rest of the shopping trip passed in the promised montage. Andi modeled bathing suits and ball gowns intended to arouse and entertain. She pranced in micro-bikinis, ill-suited for her large breasts, and twirled in dresses with necklines so low they exposed her navel.

When Sophie wasn’t either laughing at or lusting over her girlfriend, she was shown wrestling with the staff. They seemed baffled by the idea of wanting to cover more skin. “It is hot, here,” they would argue, and then present her with even more scandalous possibilities.

She managed to end the day with bags full of clothes for all occasions, all of them more fitted or revealing than anything she’d ever worn. She had to look around at the other women at the resort constantly to convince herself it was okay. This was normal here, she thought. She wouldn’t be drawing eyes any more than anyone else.

Well, possibly more than one woman.

She was beautiful, positively radiant, like she’d just stepped out of a salon. However she was wearing slacks and a golf shirt, which didn’t seem to suit her statuesque grace at all.

Andi had also noticed the woman, however her thoughts drifted in a very different direction. “Fuck I want to sit on her face,” she thought.