Something Practical.

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These chapters are a collection of four or so mini-moments, all posted together as a unit, hence their brevity.

The door to the dressing room opens up, Beatrice smoothly swaying into view and striking a model-like pose. Damn, she's enjoying this. You are too, feeding on her happy energy. Her cool, indifferent expression loses some of it's impact thanks to the giddily wagging tail behind her. She can't hide all of her excitement, which only makes her all the more endearing.

You have to agree with her tastes, this look does the job in a lovely, but still pragmatic way. A billowing black smock dress buttons all the way from top to bottom, completely enveloping her torso. The sleeves end just past the elbow in large ties, leaving most of her forearms and hands completely free. To avoid the circus tent look, she's added a small leather belt to cinch it all around her tiny waist, accentuating her robust hourglass in a way that tugs on your heartstrings. The bunching fabric below that folds and frills, adding some depth and class to an otherwise simple-looking garment.

Tiny, clasped ballet flats cup around and protect her footpaws, drawing the eye upward into some thick tights, keeping her from appearing bottomless. The view such a dress would give without bottoms would certainly draw the eye, but you can appreciate her touch of modesty. Some smart-looking slacks would probably fit the look as well, but you might have to get a tailor involved to get them to fit around her hips. All in all, she looks...

"Fantastic," you call out, grinning with pride. "Absolutely stunning, just the best. We're definitely getting that one."

Beatrice's cheeks turn wonderfully pink, the dog girl swaying bashfully. "Luke like dress..?"

"I don't like it, I love it. We should get you some duplicates in other colors, as well. For now, let's see what else you've got to try on."

"Okay! Luke wait, Beatrice show next dress!" And off she goes, practically skipping into the room to change. You very much enjoy the sight of so many buttons on Beatrice's clothing, finding them quite flattering on her sumptuous figure. You can't entirely shake away the mental image of un-buttoning her clothes, but that's not what you're trying to focus on. She needs clothes to work, to be a servant and companion. You're not dressing her up just for the sake of peeling her out of them later!

Not... right now, anyway. God, you're such a fucking pervert...not that anyone would blame you, you think.