You go into the back room

Your misgivings about this whole thing begin to mount when you enter the back room. It smells like a jockstrap the entire football team's been sharing throughout the season.

"Gross," you gag, looking around for the costumes. In the dim light - a single bulb - the room doesn't look any better than it smells. The floor seems lumpy and sticky and discolored all around, while the lone wooden bench looks more like someone knocked over a tree over chewed it to a barely horizontal mass of splinters.

Reeking lockers line the wall, and when you get up the nerve to try one you find that it's not only gooey but rusted and dented shut, like it had been dented by somebody hitting it - voluntarily or otherwise.

Trying another locker yields the same result and you decide the costumes must be in the darker area of the room. You hesitate for a moment, then decide to strip, removing your heels, skirt and top before realizing there wasn't anywhere to put them without them getting dirty.

Shrugging, you set them on the 'bench' and take a few steps away before stopping and looking down.

"Oh God, I should've left the shoes on," you mutter, each step feeling like your toes are sinking slightly into glue. "Too late now."

Squaring your shoulders you walk farther from the bench, spotting what looks like a make-up table with one feeble little bulb that could've come from a Christmas tree. On top of it it an open case, beside while is a small pile.

A grimace crosses your lips as you suspect you've found the costume, and you poke your fingers through the small collection. Hair bands, like you'd use for pig tails, a choker collar, a pair of wristlets with a ring on each for some reason, a pair of what appear to be clamps with a chain connecting them, a few more of the same but with only a clamp and a dangling chain. The only proper piece of clothing is a pair of fuck-me stilettos an inch higher than your own, though you have to admit that guys would probably get an instant erection from looking at them.

"Well there has to be more," you say aloud, looking away from the table. "Otherwise I'll just have to wear my own clothes."