Standard Disclaimer:  This is a work of erotic fiction.
It is intended for Adults Only, so if you're 
not--then go away.  It is not intended for sale, but if 
you'd like to pass it around, feel free.  Just keep the 
text and header as is and all will be well.  Enjoy!


Bountiful Plantation:  Part I of VI

   The teenager first noticed the small stand-alone store 
as she was driving along the boulevard.  She had never 
noticed it before and wondered if it had always been 
there, hidden away between a large jewelry store and an 
exclusive health spa.  The store had an expensive-looking 
black marble front, with the name "Bountiful Plantation" 
carved discreetly in gold lettering over the heavy glass 
door.  It aroused her interest. 
 
   Under the name was a bronze frieze of palm trees in 
the shape of a triangle, with a small stream leading down 
the center of the triangle's apex.

    She couldn't be sure exactly what kind of store it 
was, or even if it was a store at all, because there were 
no display windows.  Even the glass door was covered by a 
thick interior curtain.  "Well, it isn't as if I'm 
pressed for time or anything,"  she thought.
  
   Besides, going into places were she might not be 
allowed always proved irresistible to Cynthia.  With her 
looks and obvious breeding, she was usually able go just 
about anywhere and not get into trouble for doing so.  
"Having money is so much fun," she thought.

   She had cut school on this fine southern California 
May morning for a day of shopping with the same firm 
confidence with which she did everything.  Although only 
a freshman at the local private college, she was 
frequently mistaken for a highly professional 
businesswoman who happened to be surprisingly beautiful.  
Or at least so she liked to think, anyway.

   Convinced from an early age by living a life of 
privilege and wealth, as well as from her mother's 
careful teachings, Cynthia was assured of her natural 
superiority to those unfortunates around her.  Her 
voluptuous good looks coupled with her air of cool 
superiority, proved a challenge hard to resist for the 
males in her school, be they fellow students or even 
teachers.  But, regardless of the situation, she always 
remained firmly in control.  The world was in the palm of 
her hand, she knew, and that's just where it belonged, 
too!  There wasn't anything that she couldn't handle.  
Nothing too good that she didn't deserve.

   Yet, for all of her posturing and flirting, she was an 
innocent in the ways of the world.

   A sign reading "Parking for Bountiful Plantation Only" 
directed her to a narrow alley which ran alongside the 
building.  The alley took her behind the building where a 
small parking area was laid out.  The two cars already 
there were very expensive European imports.  The kind of 
cars her father's wealthy clients (the only kind he had, 
really) brought with them when they came for dinner.

   "Promising.  Very promising,"  she whispered to 
herself as she parked her car.
  
   Cynthia breezed into the front entrance of the 
"Bountiful Plantation" as if she owned it.  The heavy 
automatic door shut silently behind her as she stood just 
inside, her eyes adjusting to the very dim light of the 
building's interior.  From the racks of clothes, thick 
carpeting and otherwise lush interior, it appeared to be 
a very expensive if discrete clothing boutique.
  
   "I can't afford this place,"  she thought glumly.  
"But, it couldn't hurt to just look around, now could 
it?"

    At that point a small, ancient man wearing a black 
beret swished up to the tall, blonde teenager.   "I am 
George Papadakis", he said as her leered her up and down.  
"Owner and general manager of this establishment.  
Welcome to Bountiful Plantation".

   "Hi!" Cynthia responded.  "I'm Cynthia.  Mind if I 
look around?" she said as she started to walk towards the 
store's interior.

   "Yes, I do.  Now, stand still a moment.  I want to see 
something."

   "Excuse me?"  the startled teenager asked as she 
stopped.

   "I said, stand still.  This is not a common store 
where you can wander about as you please.  This 
establishment is for members only, and I alone get to 
select the membership.  Only those good enough and 
special enough may come here.  So stand still and let me 
see if you have what it takes."

   The surprised blonde did as she was told.  It wasn't 
often that someone told her she couldn't do something and 
meant it.  Plus, any chance to belong to an exclusive 
organization was just the thing Cynthia lived for.

   The little man walked slowly around her.  When he was 
out of her sight, he quietly coughed.  There was a 
discreet answering cough from the dark interior of the 
store, and that was all.
Moving in front of her once again, Papadakis said, 
"You'll do.  You'll do very nicely.  So, what kind of 
ensemble were you looking for?"

   Cynthia smiled at him.  She had passed the test!  She 
was quite gratified in impressing him with her looks, yet 
it wasn't really surprising to her.  It was just another 
validation to what she already knew, that she was quite 
superior to most people.

   Yet, Cynthia wasn't at all sure, superior though she 
might be, that her parents would appreciate the outfit or 
the bill that this strange little man could probably 
develop.  "Maybe I could just get an estimate," she 
thought.  "That's safe enough."

   She carefully considered her needs for a moment, then 
told Papadakis, "I need a dress for a formal dinner my 
parents are giving for my father's clients.  It will be 
at our home in Eastwood Estates, this Sunday evening.  
I'm sorry for the short notice, but I just found out 
about it myself this morning."

   "Never apologize, it's a sign of weakness.  And don't 
worry about the timing.  What must be done, shall be 
done."

   Cynthia felt things were starting to slide out of 
control here.  It was unfortunately time for a few 
admissions.

   "Sure.  But you see I'm not really sure that I can 
afford..."

   "Eastwood Estates," Papadakis mused.  "That's one of 
those exclusive developments north of the city, isn't 
it?"
      
   "Well, yes..."

   "Then you can afford this, take my word for it.  
Unless, of course, you're from one of those families that 
can't really afford to live there, but do anyway."

   Cynthia was indignant!  How dare he imply that they 
were poor!  "We... I mean I can afford anything you've 
got!" she rashly retorted.

   "OK, then," said the crafty Papadakis.  "Now, to 
business.  You're probably looking for something sexy and 
flamboyant."

   "Oh, no!, she replied, horrified.  "Nothing like that.  
This is for one of my father's business parties.  It must 
be very respectable."  Her father almost killed her the 
last time she wore something even remotely sexy.

   "At Bountiful Plantation, we're not just creating 
clothes, but actual art for you that you can wear. And we 
are doing this today, right now.  Believe me, honey, 
whatever we give you, you and everyone else around you 
will like.  I guarantee it." 
  
   "Well, okay.  How about just a trial fitting or 
something, and then I'll make my final decision about it 
after that."  That way she could make them jump through 
hoops if she wanted, and still wouldn't have to buy 
anything, Cynthia thought smugly.  She loved doing things 
like that to sales clerks.  It gave her such a feeling of 
superiority and power!

   Papadakis looked around her and said, "We can finally 
start now, Mickey."

   Cynthia spun around and, startled, saw two women 
standing directly behind her.  "How long have they been 
there?" she wondered.

   The taller of the two gave Cynthia a stemmed crystal 
glass filled with a pale, bubbling liquid.  "Here, honey.  
This is for you.  Welcome to Bountiful Plantation."

   "Thank you," Cynthia haughtily replied as she took the 
proffered glass.  She held up the glass to the dim 
lighting.  "Diet 7-Up?" she asked, hopefully.

   "Ah, no," the woman replied.  "We have only the finest 
champagnes here for our clients."

    Terribly embarrassed, Cynthia realized that she had 
broken her mother's primary rule: never to look the fool 
in front of others.  Cynthia thought madly of a way to 
make amends.  She did the only thing she could think of 
doing, which was to drink the contents of the glass.  She 
was surprised at how cold and relatively tasteless the 
liquid was on her tongue.  "So, this is champagne," she 
thought.  "What's the big deal?"  She had had soft drinks 
that had more kick to them than this!

   To the woman, Cynthia told her, "Not bad, but I've had 
better."

   "Right," muttered the woman as she refilled the girl's 
empty glass.

   The second woman left the group and went to the 
store's main entrance.  She locked the door and placed a 
"Closed" sign on the glass.
  
   When she returned Cynthia was finishing her second 
glass of champagne.  "How many of these silly things am I 
supposed to drink, anyway?" she complained to herself as 
the tall woman refilled her glass yet again.  She wasn't 
even thirsty, although she was starting to feel much less 
nervous about being here.

   "All right, take your clothes off," the shocked 
Cynthia thought she heard Papadakis say from behind her.

   "What?" she gasped.  Cynthia was so caught off guard, 
her mouth dropped open as she spun around to face the 
little man.  "What did you say?"

   "Oh, please," the disgusted Papadakis said.  "I knew I 
should have stayed in Greece," he quietly muttered.

   To Cynthia, he said, "Look, kid.  I've got to see what 
you look like, you know.  If you're really scared of me, 
there are two very respectable women present to hold your 
hand.  So cut the comedy and get undressed, will you?"

   Cynthia didn't know what to do!  She had never felt 
this confused in a clothing boutique before.  It's not 
that she had never taken her clothes off in such places 
before.  It's just that no one had ever been so blatant 
about it!

   Although she had no intention of buying anything (this 
place kept looking more and more expensive even for her), 
she felt it wouldn't hurt to try on a few dresses, just 
for future reference.  Cynthia looked around hesitantly.  
"Where are the changing rooms?"

   Papadakis, holding several bolts of expensive-looking 
material, looked at her in disgust.  

   "You must be joking!  We don't have changing rooms 
because we've never needed them.  We only take adults 
here.  Oh, all right.  Mickey, take the juvenile here to 
the toilet in the back.  And while you're at it, take 
away her glass and give her a diet soda!"

   Cynthia stiffened at the slight.  "No, no!  It's all 
right,"  she muttered through gritted teeth, as she 
reached with both hands behind her neck to unfasten the 
clasp to her pullover.  

   The shorter woman appeared magically beside Cynthia 
and murmured softly, "Let me help you with that, dear," 
as she lowered the zipper to Cynthia's top and started to 
pull the garment over the surprised teenager's head.

   When Cynthia's arms were completely entangled with the 
taking off of her top, she felt hands at her waist, 
unfastening the buttons on her short pleated skirt.  As 
her skirt was being loosened, Cynthia felt still other 
hands pulling her expensive walking shoes and socks off 
of her feet one at a time.

   In a extraordinarily short amount of time, Cynthia 
found herself stripped of her blouse, skirt, shoes, and 
socks.  She stood nervously in the center of the room, 
wearing only her matching blue low-cut bra and very brief 
bikini panties.  Her shoes had been replaced by a pair of 
very high heels which fit surprisingly well.  During the 
brief flurry of activity, even her watch and jewelry had 
been taken from her.  A terrible shadow of doubt overcame 
her as she watched the smaller woman take her possessions 
into another room in the back of the store.

   "You won't be needing these for a while, honey," the 
woman said over her shoulder to the astonished 18-year 
old as she walked away.

   Cynthia nodded doubtfully and looked down at her new 
shoes.  The toes were quite pointed and the heels were 
the highest she had ever worn.  She had to raise her arms 
for a moment to keep her equilibrium as she learned to 
maintain her balance on the stiletto heels.  She took a 
few practice steps, then looked questioningly at 
Papadakis; but, it was the other woman clerk who answered 
her unspoken question.
  
   "The creations you purchase here require heels,"  
Mickey said stiffly.

   "Oh.  Yes, of course,"  the abashed teenager muttered.
  
   "I can't do anything right here," she thought.  "I 
feel like I'm 10 or something.  They're treating me like 
some kid who just wandered in here by mistake.  Well, 
I'll show them.  I am just as much an adult as they are."

   Papadakis stopped sorting through the various bolts of 
material he had for a moment and rubbed his face.  He 
looked up and said, irritably.  "I said, get your clothes 
off!"

   "They are off!"  the innocent blonde wailed, all 
thoughts of being an adult momentarily forgotten.  Then a 
shocking idea came to her.  "You don't mean...?"  She 
protectively covered her bra and panties with her arms 
while she unconsciously shook her head.  "Oh, no!"

   "Oh, yes!  I want you naked.  My God, you mean you 
have never undressed in a store to try on clothes 
before?"

   Again, Cynthia felt humiliated!  "Oh my God!"  she 
thought.  "I've done it again!  I've acted like a 
complete tourist!"

   This must be a very exclusive shop indeed for them to 
require a customer to do something like that.  And she 
should have known, darn it!   Still, she hated to be told 
what to do.  Maybe it was time to show these guys just 
who really was the boss around here and just leave.
  
   She toasted Papadakis and emptied the glass down her 
throat.  However, before she could think of a crushing 
exit line, she felt a faint tug on her thin bra strap and 
suddenly her firm, full young breasts seemed to leap 
free, standing erect and proud in the store's cool air.
  
   "Oh!"  she said in surprise, as Mickey quickly pulled 
the bra from her shoulders and off her arms. 
 
   Cynthia watched with despair as her bra hung, 
forgotten, from Mickey's right hand.  She shifted her 
gaze to the woman's face and was stunned to discover 
Mickey was openly staring at her now exposed, pert 
breasts with something in her eyes she couldn't identify.  
Cynthia found herself captivated by those glittering 
eyes.
  
   "What is that strange emotion there?" Cynthia wondered 
with a chill.  Whatever it was, she didn't like it.  She 
didn't like it at all.

   Mickey finally said, in a low husky voice, "I thought 
you might need some help.  You know, you're very 
beautiful!"

   "Oh, that explains it," Cynthia thought.  "I've 
impressed her too, poor thing."  Cynthia had found that 
girls less fortunate than her were always impressed by 
her looks.

   "Well, it's gone this far," Cynthia thought.  "Might 
as well give them their money's worth!"  She handed her 
empty glass to Mickey. 
 
   With a courage  born of the knowledge of her superior 
station in life, plus three glasses of the unaccustomed 
champagne, Cynthia turned to one side and bent over at 
the waist.  She then peeled down her flimsy silk panties.  
She felt every eye in the room focused on her as she 
quickly pulled the waistband down her flaring hips and 
past her knees.  She soon stood in the center of the 
room, blushing to the roots of her hair, stark naked 
except for her new heels, her panties a colorful puddle 
at her feet.
  
   She started to cover her breasts with her left hand 
and her pubes with her right, but thought better of it.  
They certainly couldn't fit her like that, she knew.  And 
so she stood, almost at attention, legs together, back 
straight, shoulders back to thrust her proud breasts out 
even further than normal, and arms held stiffly down her 
sides.
  
   "My God!" she thought.  "I'm on display!"

   Although she thought she would feel a constant 
embarrassment or shame, to her surprise, she quickly got 
over her initial embarrassment.  Instead, she suddenly 
felt very naughty.  She knew that nudity happened like 
this in the movies all the time, and nothing ever 
happened to the girl.  That is, not unless she wanted it 
to, and Cynthia knew that she certainly did not want that 
to happen at all.  Especially with that old geezer.  Ugh!

   All she needed was someone to draw her portrait and it 
would be perfect.  Well, being fitted was practically the 
same thing, wasn't it?

   A strange, unknown sexual excitement ran through her 
as she stood there, waiting for things to finally get 
started.  She looked down and noticed her nipples were 
now taut and sticking out like two tiny pink-skinned 
bullets.  "Oh my," she worried.  "I hope they don't 
notice that.  How embarrassing!"

   Mickey held her refilled glass again and said, "Just a 
little more.  You might catch chill in here."

   "Thank you," Cynthia said nicely, feeling much more 
relaxed now about everything as she took it .   

   Mickey hadn't moved after she had given Cynthia her 
glass.  She was standing in front of the girl, taking in 
Cynthia's figure with greedy, half closed eyes.  Cynthia 
looked back at her, and watched her until their eyes met.  
Lowering her eyes in embarrassment, Cynthia  noticed that 
there was still something more than admiration in her 
look, but couldn't decide what it was.
  
   "It's time we began," Mickey finally said with a slow, 
heavy voice.
   

   As the teenager was preoccupied with Mickey, the 
second woman quickly collected her underwear lying on the 
carpet and took them into the same back room where she 
had previously taken the rest of Cynthia's clothes.  In 
the room she carefully sprinkled a thin layer of very 
fine powder onto the inner crotch band of the panties and 
inside the tips of the girl's bra cups.  
   
   "It is," the woman thought maliciously,  "going to be 
one hell of a "cumming out"  party that girl is going to 
attend today.  Ha, ha!"
   
   She carefully folded everything and placed them on top 
of the neat pile of Cynthia's clothes already there.  She 
then pulled a thin box from underneath the counter where 
she was working, and placed that on top of Cynthia's 
clothes as well.  The woman then looked through the 
girl's purse until she found Cynthia's student 
identification card, credit cards (there were several) 
and  her driver's license.  These the woman placed in her 
inner jacket pocket before rejoining the others in the 
front room.  


   Mickey said, "You must walk around now, so we can see 
how you move."

   Cynthia hadn't taken off her new high heels and as she 
walked slowly across the room, her breasts, in spite of 
her steady walk, quivered and her hips and pelvis moved 
in supple majesty.  Cynthia's firm skin glowed with 
health in the soft lighting with a golden tan.  Her flesh 
showed no swim suit marks. 
 
   Nude, Cynthia walked back and forth across the room.  
No one said anything.  It was so still in the room you 
could hear the soft murmur of the air conditioning and 
the soft step of her shoes on the deep, plush carpet.  
She looked at Papadakis and the two women and saw they 
were weirdly fascinated by her naked body.  

   "Strange," she mused.  "I would have thought that 
naked people were fairly common around here, after the 
way they carried on."
  
   As she walked, she felt she self become increasingly 
excited, much more then the simple act of walking should 
warrant.  It reminded her of that time on beach last 
summer.  Her suit that day had been particularly daring,  
and she had gotten such a response from it that she 
started to deliberately parade in front of the people at 
the beach, walking as she imagined a Queen would, proudly 
while disdaining the rabble.  It proved to be quite a 
turn-on for the teenager, to be almost naked in her tiny 
bikini bathing suit and have a whole beach full of people 
drink in her figure and applaud.  Men (and even some 
women) were falling over themselves snapping her picture.  
One man had even pointed a video camera at her.  It had 
been at that point, however, that she shamefully lost her 
nerve and, running back to her spot on the beach, had 
wrapped herself in her beach blanket.

   All that public attention had been very thrilling and 
she had loved it, until her nerve broke, anyway.  Even 
the excitement she always felt when she ran around the 
house completely nude during the day, when no one was 
around of course, was really something.  But this...!  
"Wow!" she thought.  "What a rush!"

   She had never really been so naked in front of anyone 
before, except her mother of course and that was when she 
had been much younger.  Yet there was something terribly 
appealing about being naked but safe in front of a group 
of underlings.

   "Enough!"  Papadakis cried in horror, covering his 
eyes.  "My God!  Let's get to work."

   Mickey came to her with another full glass of ice-cold 
champagne.  "Perhaps we could have lunch sometime?"  she 
cooed seductively with a smile as Cynthia took the glass 
and gave Mickey her empty one.

   For the first time, Cynthia looked both women closely.  
Both of them were middle-aged, thin, wore severe 
charcoal-gray tailored suits, and had surprisingly short, 
slicked-back hair.  They looked quite smart, yet 
conservative.  Both wore horn-rimmed glasses and both, as 
Cynthia surmised, were good at their job.  She smiled 
back at them, enjoying the pleasure of impressing people, 
even a pair of dried-up frumps like these. 
 
   "I'd like to but I'm afraid I haven't the time,"  she 
smirked at her most condescending.  As if she would ever 
consent to going out with 'the help.'

   The woman nodded, as if she understood something that 
Cynthia did not.  "If you should change your mind, I'm 
Mickey and that's June over there."

   Large amounts of cloth were measured and cut.  
Finally, the three of them, Papadakis, Mickey and June, 
were all around her, draping her with cloth, pinning the 
tucks and marking hems, all the while constantly talking 
and arguing with one another.  She had never felt more 
naked in her life and started at first whenever she was 
touched.
 
   But soon, she had never felt more ignored!   It was 
quickly obvious to the teenager that now they could have 
cared less about her physically, especially after 
Papadakis kept growling at her for jumping about.

   They ignored Cynthia, treating her as if she were 
nothing more than a store dummy.  For all of their 
earlier appreciation of her charms, at that moment she 
was just a mannequin to them.  So, she held back her 
protests at being touched and tried to be as 
accommodating as she could.

   They crouched and stood around her, smoothing out the 
fabric, touching and cupping her breasts from underneath, 
smoothing her thighs and patting the firmness of her 
buttocks.  Mickey kneeled directly in front of her and 
adjusted the fabric to fall and drape between her thighs 
in a certain way, the backs of her fingers touching and 
occasionally pressing against Cynthia's pouting pubic 
mound and vagina, in an impersonal way of course.  June 
would occasionally run a stiff woolen fabric over 
Cynthia's increasingly sensitive nipples from time to 
time as she worked on possible bodices the dress could 
have.  

   Cynthia had never felt more wicked and excited in her 
life, and was finding it increasingly difficult to keep 
her cool exterior.  It took all of her iron self-control 
to keep from jumping like a silly schoolgirl every time 
someone touched her.  She must be more grown-up about 
this.  The champagne really helped.  She took another 
drink and felt light headed and giddy.
  
   "My God," she thought.  "This champagne is really 
great!!"

   As the seemingly endless fitting session continued, 
Cynthia began to feel warn and dreamy inside.  She closed 
her eyes to savor the sensations better.  She was nude 
with a group of strangers, yet she felt good.  They were, 
after all, working for her.  She was the one in control 
here.  Increasingly, she was becoming pleased with their 
hands even inadvertently feeling her body.  She wished it 
would go on all day.  How nice it would be, she thought, 
to lie stark naked and have somebody massage you.  How 
pleasant it would be.  How protected.  She could finally 
let herself go, yet she wouldn't have to concern herself 
with anyone trying to take advantage of her body.  Isn't 
that what being a princess was all about?
   

   The stroking of her body continued.  When they noticed 
that Cynthia had closed her eyes, Papadakis stood off to 
one side and studied her face.  When he saw Cynthia begin 
to smile, he nodded to his assistants.  The two women set 
aside their bolts of fabric and concentrated fully on 
their subtle loving of the beautiful teenager. 
 
   They began working in earnest on the unsuspecting 
blonde.  For the moment leaving alone her nipples, 
vagina, and anus, the women subtlety began to caress 
every inch of the unprotected 18-year old's body with 
their highly-educated hands.  They saw the girl's nipples 
become stiffly erect, and noted with pleasure the 
moisture starting to leak past her vulnerable swollen 
pussy lips, the beads of sweat forming underneath her 
hairline, the increasingly rapid rise and fall of her 
high-set swelling breasts with their terribly erect 
nipples.  The women looked at each other in surprise.  
Didn't this spoiled brat know what was happening to her?  
They looked to Papadakis, each with the same unspoken 
question:  how much longer could this situation 
continue?!

   Papadakis shrugged his narrow shoulders.
  
   The women went back to the unsuspecting beauty. 
 
   Cynthia was day-dreaming of castles and royalty.  She 
was walking down a crowed  hall so tall the rafters were 
lost in the clouds.  Her devoted subjects were pelting 
her with rose petals, and her tunic was so fine she could 
feel the weight of the petals as they landed all over her 
sensitive body.

   Mickey knelt in front of the unaware Cynthia and began 
to softly blow on the vulnerable cunt lips, while her 
hands lightly traced the rounded curves of Cynthia's firm 
buttocks.  The flesh of her ass erupted in goose pimples 
as Cynthia occasionally shook her hips in unconscious 
protest of this dual assault.

   June meanwhile deliberately licked and tweaked 
Cynthia's vulnerable nipples, teasing  them into 
astonishing hardness as her hands moved lightly over the 
twin orbs.

   Sensing the teenager jerking more and more in response 
to their increasingly bold administrations, the two women 
joined Papadakis and waited for the girl to reach 
wakefulness.

   Cynthia awoke from her reverie with a start.  She was 
standing alone, Papadakis and the two women were standing 
off looking at a stack of dress patterns.  How much time 
had gone past?   What happened?  Why was she so 
breathless, her body so tingly?

   Papadakis's withered face beamed with satisfaction.  
"Got it.  I know exactly what to do for this one."  He 
moved right in front of the naked Cynthia.  "Tonight I 
shall make you a dress that will shake the world, or at 
least your parents.  Now, why don't you run on home or 
wherever and let us work?  Come back tomorrow, that's 
Saturday to you, at three o'clock for the final fitting."

   "Phew!  Thank God that's over with," the relieved 
Cynthia said to herself.  Cynthia was tired from standing 
in one place for so long.  Yet there was a strange 
nervousness about her that she didn't understand.  
"Probably from all that champagne I had to keep 
drinking," she thought.
  
   Her own clothes had (thankfully) been returned to her.  
But this time no one helped her with her clothes, and she 
was surprised to be having a lot of trouble with her 
fasteners and buttons.

   Mickey watched the dazed girl with interest as she 
tried to get dressed and shook her head.
  
   "On second thought, June, why don't you get a bathing 
suit from stock and we can take Cynthia over to my place.  
It's not too far from here and the kid could, I think, 
use a swim before driving home."

   To Cynthia she said, "How about a little swim before 
going back to Eastwood?  Okay, dear?"

   "Sure, Mickey.  Whatever you say,"  the teenager 
mumbled.  She smiled weakly at her.  "Oh my," she 
thought.  "I forgot to tell them that I'm not going to 
buy anything."  Perhaps she had better do what they were 
suggesting, and leave for home from Mickey's.
 
   She knew was risking something (she wasn't sure 
exactly what) by breaking the rules against going out 
with store-people but she doubted it.  She had been with 
them all day it seemed like and, with the help of the 
champagne, they were all really good friends now.
 
   Mickey took back off what few clothes the befuddled 
teenager had managed to put on, and Cynthia found herself 
naked once again.

   Cynthia stood drunk, naked and uncaring in the center 
of the room. 
 
   She loved the idea of flaunting herself in front of 
this people.  It was fun because it was so safe!  As for 
the effect she might be having on the women present, it 
occurred to her not at all.  To the proud Cynthia, the 
store's salespeople were just ciphers, and hardly 
warranted an acknowledgment of their presence.  They were 
only there to serve...her.

   June walked up to Cynthia and handed her a suit they 
had selected for the befuddled teenager.

   Cynthia looked in puzzlement at the bathing suit that 
June had given her.  "What funny looking underwear," she 
thought in her alcohol-induced haze.  "This must go 
underneath the suit," she thought, as they helped her 
into the strangest and absolutely the briefest garment 
she had ever seen.  After it was on, and she saw no one 
else bringing anything from the back of the store, did 
she realized that this was the suit.

    It consisted of a series of dark red elastic straps 
and very small patches of fabric which covered her body 
in thin vertical strips.  The very narrow crotch strap 
expanded into a small triangle of fabric which barely 
covered her pubic area and, thanks to the narrow thong in 
back, her firm buttocks were completely exposed.  Each 
breast was only covered in the center by a vertical one-
inch strap.  The elastic material of the crotch band 
running underneath the suit was very tight, putting a 
constant pressure on her strangely sensitive pubic area.  
In fact, the whole suit seemed to the dazed teenager to 
be about two sizes too small.  The only thing holding it 
all together was the unusual way the straps were all tied 
behind her neck.
  
   She noted vaguely that the suit had a surprising 
affect on her.  It made her feel very sexy!


End Part I