Fiona pushed open the door of the charity shop and headed straight towards the rail of dresses midway back on the right hand side. She needed something to wear on Saturday, and her requirements were quite specific.
There is an ancient Taoist saying to the effect it is better to travel in hope than to arrive. Fiona smiled, she certainly knew where she wanted Saturday's journey to end, but the ancient saying was right - the journey itself, a process during which she could plan and fantasise about her eventual arrival, was the most exciting part. In fact, today's shopping was all part of that planning and fantasising, in which case she was already on the journey. She felt a little flutter in her belly.
She stopped still in front of the dress rail and looked around her. There were two other people in the shop, both quietly engrossed rummaging among the rails of clothes. Maybe, like her, they were looking for something in particular to wear for a special occasion. She chewed her lip. She doubted either of them intended their chosen garment to be quite such an integral part of the special occasion as she did.
The dresses on offer were arranged in size order. At one end, tiny wasp-waisted things that looked fantastic on the hanger; but surely no
real
woman could actually get inside any of them? She shook her head. Maybe that's why so many of them were here? At the opposite end of the rail, much fewer in number, elasticated floral tents for larger ladies. Fiona looked down at herself, she may have put on a pound or two over the last few years but at least she didn't need one of
those
yet.
She put her hand out to the middle of the rail where her own dress size belonged, and looked from side to side to eye up one size larger and one size smaller. Obviously she needed to be able to wear the dress, but an absolutely perfect fit wasn't the most important consideration, and she knew marked sizes varied a little between brands anyway. Between the three sizes here today there were several dresses with potential. She licked her lips and moved closer.
Part of the fun of rummaging in charity shops was you had no idea what you'd find - it depended entirely on what others had donated. You might find a real gem, but often there was nothing you wanted at all. She knew some people went every day, afraid of missing the elusive bargain. She sniffed. She didn't have time for visits every day, but whenever she was on the hunt for something she always did a tour of all the charity shops to make sure she got the best of the day.
Sometimes, as she walked up to the rail, something would catch her eye. She liked the way a full skirt swung from her hips as she walked, and she enjoyed bright colours, so she always made a bee-line for anything that looked promising.
She knew she didn't want black, and she didn't want synthetic fabrics either as they tended to be rather indestructible. She chuckled. How many people bought clothes
because
they would come apart easily?
The ideal find today would be a thin cotton summer dress already showing signs of age. The fabric not only faded and perished with exposure to sunlight, but also soft and thinned from repeated washing.
She'd come across one or two in the past with a tangible fragility. Perhaps somebody's old favourite, worn and washed all summer long, year after year until the poor garment could hardly keep itself together. Such a find today would be perfection itself, but she suspected such deliciously well-worn dresses normally got torn up for rags rather than donated to a charity shop. But she lived in hope.
Sometimes the design of the dress lent itself to her purpose. Her eyes shifted into soft focus as one such garment currently hanging in her wardrobe sprang to mind.
She looked down at the dress she was wearing. Her eyes hardly registered the soft white cotton fabric with its pattern of big turquoise and blue flowers; or the snug fitting bodice flowing into a wonderfully full gored skirt which swung from her hips as she walked. But her gaze lingered on the deep vee neck and the roundness of her boobs nestled inside. She felt the familiar twinge in her groin. Would today be the day?
She looked round at the dappled shadows on the woodland floor; the fresh green leaves waving in the gentle breeze above her and bluebells carpeting the ground between the trees as far as she could see. The sun warmed her shoulders. She closed her eyes and listened to the happy birdsong all around her.
When she opened her eyes a tall dark haired man stood a little way in front of her. He smiled, and his almond eyes twinkled at her. She bowed her head a little and looked up at him from under her eyelashes. He held out his arms, and as if in a trance she tip-toed towards him until they were no more than half an arm's length apart. Never once breaking eye contact with her, he lifted his hands and took hold of the neck of her dress, one hand each side.
They stood in silence, their breathing synchronised so their chests rose and fell in unison. Time stopped still. For that moment there was nothing else in the world but the two of them standing eye to eye.
Her knees turned to jelly as her groin clenched. She opened her eyes wide and nodded to him. "Yes," she said, her voice a little too loud.
