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Rated: GC · Interactive · Supernatural · #2202398
A group of friends battle the supernatural and look good while doing it...
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Chapter #4

Clothes Make the Woman

    by: HikerAngel Author IconMail Icon
I love clothes.

I love feeling their fabric between my fingers, against my skin. I love their texture.

I love the new way each outfit paints a different part of my body in a different light. I love how each brings out a different curve, a different line of my body.

I love trying on something new for the first time. I love slipping into something warm and comfortable. I love the excitement and anticipation of dressing for a formal event. I love pushing my breasts into a tight sports bra and sliding yoga pants over my hips, knowing I look cute for my workout.

I’m not the prettiest girl in the world, but I keep my twenty-five-year-old body fit, and I’ve been called cute. I’ve had a boyfriend or two that called me beautiful, but that’s on the checklist of boyfriend job responsibilities, so it doesn’t really count. Besides, those boyfriends left me for someone prettier. Or sexier. Or blonde.

Which brings me back to why I’m thinking about clothes. I’m going to this singles event tomorrow night, and I need something to wear. I want to feel desired. I want to feel desirable. I need the perfect outfit. Something different. Something amazing!

I looked through rack after rack of clothes at one department store after another. Nothing was quite right.

Frustrated, I walked through the mall trying to think of another store to try, when a bright red dress in the window of a strange little consignment shop caught my eye.

I didn’t normally go for used clothes or vintage stuff. The thought of wearing something that others may have worn didn’t appeal to me. But this dress… there was something about it. It was a mini halter dress with a high hemline and open back. It was a solid red color, but it had intricate stitching that gave it an elegant and unique texture upon closer examination. The stitching was exquisite and in perfect condition. It was designed to show off my best features—toned arms, legs, and back--and cover my worst—small breasts and narrow hips. It was the perfect dress for my body. It was the dress that I wanted. I knew it from the moment I saw it.

I entered the store to find a hunched, dwarfish old woman minding the shop. She gave me an odd, overbroad, predatory smile as I entered that didn’t fit her grandmotherly appearance whatsoever. It totally gave me the creeps. Ordinarily, I probably would have hustled out of the shop at that moment… but I had to have that dress.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello,” she said expectantly, continuing to wear that disturbing, overly broad grin.

“Would you mind if I tried on that dress? The red one in the display?” I pointed it out.

“Not at all, dear,” she said, still grinning.

She shuffled slowly over to the display and removed the dress from the mannequin, bringing it to me.

I took it from her as she continued to smile her hideous smile. I walked to the back, the hair on the back of my neck sending warning shivers down my spine as I had absolutely no doubt she was continuing to watch me with that eerie grin on her face.

I tried to put the spooky old woman out of my mind while I tried the dress on. I walked out of the changing room and over to the floor-length mirror as I clasped the straps behind my neck. I swayed from side to side, turned slightly, then finally did a pirouette.

I loved it.

The dress fit as if it had been tailored to my body. I was reasonably sure that I had never looked so good in anything before.

I went back to the changing room and slipped my jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie back on. I brought the dress to the strange shopkeeper. She continued her smile—how I wanted to tell her to stop smiling!—but I was almost out of there anyway.

“You can have that one for free, dear,” she said. “You just have to do me a favor sometime if I call on you.”

“Thank you very much, but I would rather just pay for it, and…” I said, not wanting to ever see this freaky lady again.

“Nonsense, dear. Now have a nice day.”

With that, she shuffled to the back and was gone. She had never asked for my phone number, email, or even my name. It seemed unlikely that she was ever going to call in that favor. So I took the dress, walked out of the shop, thanked the Lord that I was rid of that creepy lady, and went home.
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