Sinful Ella (Seven Ways to Sin 6)

I picked a direction at random and set off. This was a big city; surely I’d find something, if I tried hard enough. I peered into each shop as I passed, but nothing seemed suitable. I recalled the tight, short dresses Susanna and Liz had chosen for themselves. Was I going to be stuck in one of those? An image of myself, squeezed into a rubber dress, tottering around stage on impossibly high stripper heels like a baby giraffe popped, unbidden, into my mind’s eye, and I pushed it away with some effort. Surely not.

Finally, I stumbled across a shop that looked promising, a goth-punk store called Pumpkins. The window was full of bright, neon outfits, and I even spotted some latex. Hardly daring to hope, I opened the door, flinching a little as a little bell rang over my head.

I looked around. The shop appeared to be empty, except for a fat orange cat sleeping peacefully on the cash register. “Hello?” I called, voice thin and trembling.

“Just a second!” a disembodied voice called back from somewhere in the back of the store. A series of crashes and bangs erupted from the same area, followed by a string of cheerful swears. A moment later, a short, chubby Latina woman popped out from an aisle, beaming. “Hello!” she said, hurrying toward me. “My name is Demi. Can I help you find anything?” She caught sight of the cat on the register. “Merryweather, you’re not supposed to be up there,” she chided. The cat didn’t even stir, and she turned back to me, shrugging. “Cats! What are you going to do?”

I smiled. This was already going much better than yesterday. “I’m looking for something . . . latex,” I said, feeling a blush creeping up my neck.

Demi, to her credit, didn’t bat an eye. “Wonderful!” she said. “Is there a particular look you have in mind?” She was already bustling me toward a clothing rack.

“Nothing too . . . daring,” I said. “I don’t want to look like . . .” I hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Cheap?” Demi offered cheerfully. “I think we can find you something.” As she began to look through the clothing rack, considering and discarding options faster than my eye could even follow, two more cats, one black and one white, appeared from nowhere to wind around her ankles. “Flora and Fauna,” she said. I bent toward them, hand extended.

“Hello there,” I said, smiling as they butted their little heads against my hand.

“They’re friendly,” Demi said. “So is Merryweather. Or he would be, if he weren’t so damn lazy.” I was beginning to really like Demi. “Aha!” she said finally, pulling out a dress with a flourish. “Why don’t you give this one a try?” She pushed the dress into my hands and ushered me into a dressing room.

The dress was certainly easier to put on than the catsuit had been. I gazed at my reflection, amazed. The dress was latex, but beyond that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the dresses Susanna and Liz had chosen. It was less revealing, for one, more . . . classy. It was black, with a corset-style top, off the shoulder sleeves, and a full, knee-length skirt. The waist was cinched with a bright red bow. I gave an experimental twirl in the mirror, delighting in the way the heavy material lifted away from my body.

“Everything okay in there, dear?” Demi asked.

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “It’s . . . well.” I opened the door and stepped out tentatively, looking to Demi for her reaction. Susanna and Liz’s jeering faces were still fresh in my memory, but somehow I knew Demi would never mock me like that.

Demi looked at me, and her face lit up. “You look wonderful,” she said, bustling toward me to make a few minor adjustments. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“My band has a gig tonight,” I explained. “The dress code at the club is latex.”

“You must be performing at the Ball!” Demi exclaimed. “I love that venue. You must be excited!” I bit my lip. Was I excited? Mostly, I just felt anxious. Demi examined my face. “Is something wrong?”

My chin began to tremble, and almost before I knew what I was doing, I spilled the whole story to Demi: Barry Temple and his seedy demands, the van breaking down, the gig, the gimp suit, Susanna and Liz’s laughter. Demi listened sympathetically, drawing a sharp intake of breath when I told her how Susanna and Liz had dragged me into the middle of the sex shop to make fun of me.

“And I don’t know anything about this venue, or what to expect, and I’m starting to think that I’m not really cut out for this,” I finished. To my horror, I realized I was on the verge of tears.