Seeing herself beaten, Adriel gave in. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, anyway. When Pam made up her mind, she was hard to dissuade. That didn’t mean Adriel was looking forward to the experience. Pam was, though. With a grin like she’d found a fourteenth donut in her bakers dozen, she dragged Adriel to the car and started reciting a laundry list of needed items. By the time they got to the mall, Adriel’s head was starting to pound. From the sounds of things, Pam was about to turn her into a real life Barbie doll. Adriel sensed Pam hadn’t had a lot of friends growing up, and was trying hard to make up for lost time.
Once in the mall, Pam was like a steamroller on a mission, and Adriel had to step lively to keep up with her.
“First stop, Underlings.” Pam appraised the body before her shrewdly. “We’ll get you a bra fitting.”
Had Adriel known what one would entail, she would have fought tooth and nail to keep from being pulled through the shop door. Two steps inside, she fell into the clutches of a woman named Rona, who reminded her of a dark-haired Marilyn Monroe. At first, Adriel made the mistake of underestimating Rona. A soft spoken order to follow her into the back, while she plucked a series of undergarments from various racks along the way had Adriel thinking this whole experience might not be so bad. Once parked in front of a three way mirror, though, everything changed. Rona went from sweet shop mistress to drill sergeant at roughly half the speed of light, and before Adriel could utter the first word of protest, she was buck naked to the waist. With no sense of propriety whatsoever, Rona reached around Adriel from the back and buckled her into what looked like a torture device of a bra. It had wires in it, for crying out loud.
“Bend over and shake the girls into place.” Rona ordered.
“Girls?” At first Adriel didn’t realize Rona meant her breasts. Once she had shimmied and jiggled to Rona’s satisfaction, she was mortified when the proprietor proceeded to further adjust the fit of the garment—by reaching right into the bra to handle the girls like she owned them. Shock silenced any rebuke Adriel could dredge up.
“There. It looks great.” A tweak to one of the straps. “How does it feel?”
It was the first time being allowed any input, and Adriel couldn’t form a single sentence. There she was, decked out in a lace-edged, tartan-print bra that felt surprisingly comfortable despite the garish colors and wires; mouth hanging open, and facing her wide-eyed reflection staring back from three different directions. Rona gave her a little nudge.
“Move around a little, tell me if it binds anywhere.” Scarlet-tipped hands guided Adriel through a series of movements designed to test the fit.
“I…it feels fine. Does it come in something less…vivid?” Adriel fingered the lace edge that was already starting to itch. “Maybe without the lace?”
“Of course. This whole line is on clearance with a BOGO. I’ll bring you some more options. Meantime, try this one,” she tossed a satin number at Adriel’s head and bustled out of the curtained enclosure. To keep the manhandling to a minimum, Adriel hurriedly shrugged into the second bra and adjusted everything before Rona returned.
“Those are nice, which one is clearance and which is BOGO?” To her credit, the buxom shop owner never cracked a smile when she explained Adriel could get two bras for the price of one, and at a reduced price. Adriel launched a short war of the wills over narrowing her choices to two, in subdued colors most suited to her sensibilities, then exited the changing room to find Pam brandishing a handful of something called thongs in the air.
“What do you think? Sexy, right?”
Adriel’s confusion must have been written clearly on her face, because Pam dropped the rest and held one up the way it was meant to be worn.
“That’s indecent. If I’m seeing this correctly, the strap is going to go right between…” a rush of blood stained Adriel’s cheeks with embarrassed red. She had already experienced the annoyance of the wedgie phenomenon, and had no intention of willingly subjecting herself to it again. Besides, she had no use for being sexy.
“You won’t feel a thing. They’re very comfortable.”
She treated Rona’s statement with the scorn it deserved, and put her foot firmly down on the whole topic of a handful of straps doubling as panties.
The next store Pam dragged her into had better be less traumatizing, or she was out of there. Moving along in Pam’s wake, Adriel caught the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. Instinctively, her nose turned toward the dark, rich miasma and the rest of her followed it right up to the counter where she got the chance to place an order for something called a Macchiato before Pam noticed her absence. Amused, Adriel watched Pam backtrack, her feet tapping out a staccato on the tile floors.
“Sorry, I needed sustenance.”
Pam arched an eyebrow. “It’ll take more than that to keep up with me. We’d better hit the food court first.”
“Food court? Is that where Burger King rules?”
“That’s not even a little bit funny.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re ridiculous.” Compliment or insult? At times, Adriel had trouble knowing the difference.
“No more underwear.” It was a warning and an order gloved in a smile.
Pam held up her hands in a gesture of surrender about as genuine as a silicone implant. It, combined with the gleam of amusement in her eye, inspired zero trust in the purity of her motives. Adriel decided to turn the tables.
“Maybe you could do with a wardrobe spruce. I’m sure Rona has time to give you
