Roses For Erin

I ran my fingers over the lace border of the bra.

I loved the colour - a deep, luxurious wine-dark burgundy - but I wasn't entirely convinced that it would look good on me. After a moment's indecision I draped it over my arm with the two other items that I'd already selected.

Three would do. I shouldn't be greedy.

A more difficult task now awaited me - I needed to filter through this small set of the most likely candidates to select one and only one. Underwear like this was an expensive luxury and my budget was... constrained.

I sighed.

This boy had better be worth the lentils and rice I'd probably be reduced to for the rest of the month.

I dug in my handbag for my phone and scrolled through his profile pictures again.

He was cute. And he had a nice smile.

I hoped he was as interesting in real life as his messages seemed to hint he might be.

This would be the first time in... a while... that I'd be going on a date.

Part of me still had doubts about whether I was even ready yet. Or whether I'd ever be ready.

Oh well. I'd said yes. Nobody had forced me.

I put my phone away.

I'd have laughed long and loudly at any of my friends that I'd caught doing what I was doing now.

And yet... here I was.

Purchasing gift-wrapping on the strange duality of feared-but-desperately-longed-for human touch.

God, how pathetic.

I shook my head, frustrated with myself. But it was far too late to question things; I was committed to action.

It was time to be out there again.

So... burgundy, which I loved but wasn't sure would work, teal which I wasn't sure I liked anywhere near as much but which I knew worked for me... or the old tried and trusted black.

All with matching panties, of course - going patchwork would bug me all evening.

I stared down at the complex embroidered tracery that ran around the edge of the burgundy bra's cups. It really was a beautiful item...

A tall, sinuous brunette jostled me out of my thoughts as she tried to slip by.

"Sorry," she apologised in a warm contralto. "The aisles are a little tight here, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are," I agreed, smiling at her. "Oh! I'm hogging this rack - do you need to get to these?"

"No, I'm heading to the fun stuff down at the end," she said with a grin. "That burgundy's very nice, by the way."

"Oh. I'm not completely sure about it..."

She paused and turned back to me.

"Oh? Well, what are the options?"

"Just these three. I know the teal works for me but I'm... conflicted."

"The burgundy," she said. She tucked a waft of hair back behind her ear and gave me a bright smile. "It's a lovely colour for you. The teal is nice and I can see why you might choose it. But the burgundy is superior in every way - in my opinion you'd look great in it."

"Mm..." I answered, flushing and not entirely convinced.

"Let me know if you need a second opinion on how it looks on you," she said as she turned away. "I'll be over there."

"Um... thanks..."

She winked at me and sauntered off; I watched her for a moment or two, feeling a stab of brief, hot envy.

Her black jeans clung to her hips and thighs as if she'd painted them on that morning. Her waist and bum arced in and out in an elegantly-sculpted manner that the factory had skipped as too much effort when they were banging my skinny frame together at the end of the shift...

She would have no problem having anyone she wanted.

Especially not with those utterly unfair blue eyes, too.

I sighed.

I glanced down at the bra.

It suddenly felt like a stupid thing to buy for my third-rate rack.

But...

She'd sounded so sure...

Maybe the burgundy was the right choice after all.

And... maybe it was worth the effort to at least...

Try.

So I swallowed the familiar aftertaste of second-best and followed her to the end of the aisle. She glanced up at me as I reached her.

"I think that I'd like your opinion after all," I said.

I knew I was still flushing, and I silently cursed myself.

She eyed me for a moment. "Well... okay. But I'm going to ask you to help me in return, if you don't mind?"

"Um... I can try? "

"I'm trying to decide which of these corsets I like more," she said. "I need something for a fancy dress party and I decided to splurge on something eye-catching that's the actual item rather than some cheap knock-off prop."

"Oh. Corsets, is it? I really have no idea..."

"It's really easy. I'll hold them up against myself and you just need to tell me which one looks nicest."

"Oh. Right. Okay. I guess I can do that..."

"You first, though - go put that bra on and come grab me if you want me to take a peek. I'm going to poke through these for a bit longer."

"Um... okay..."

I discarded the black and teal underwear on a chair, and brushed through the curtain that screened off the fitting rooms from the hoi polloi.

I chose a cubicle and slowly stripped off my blouse and the tatty old white underwire that was all that had been clean this morning. I winced as I rubbed the ache out of my breasts. Then I pulled the new bra closed around my chest, fastened the clasp, and carefully rotated the cups around into position.

I slipped one then the other arm through the straps.

I adjusted my breasts so that they sat comfortably.

I straightened and forced myself to stop hunching my shoulders.

Then I paused and considered myself for a moment in the mirror.

I adjusted the shoulder straps, loosening one slightly, tightening the other.

"Hmm."

I twisted from side to side.

It really was a marvellously flattering piece of lingerie. It made my undersized afterthoughts a lot more shapely than they really were.

And it was very comfortable; that was a big plus. Nothing poked me, there were no odd and irritating scratchy bits, nothing was pinching or jabbing or squeezing...

A pity it was so expensive.

I sighed.

It would be nice if all my underwear could fit me this well.

I poked my head out through the fitting room curtain; my new accomplice had claimed a stool and was tapping away on her phone.

"Hey, excuse me?" I said.

She looked up. "Hi there. Need that second opinion, then?"

"Um... yes. Please?"

"So come on out here then so that I can see."

"Oh... okay..."

I slunk out, feeling exposed and extremely self-conscious in front of her.

She paused.

"Oh. Oh my word, that's nice," she said softly, after a moment. "That's really nice. The colour goes so well with your skin; I thought it would. And you're totally the right shade of blonde to pull that off. Wow. I'm so jealous. Spin around for me?"

So, flushing, I did.

"Oh, that's lovely," she continued. "You should totally take that one."

"Are you... sure?"

"Sure as eggs are eggs. What's the occasion? Because you're going to cause a riot," she added with a wide grin.

"A date," I admitted.

She laughed.

"Then yes. Totally sure. You're completely lovely in it."

I went all warm and tingly. Her praise was completely unexpected.

"Thanks," I managed.

"Go get dressed and then you can be my second opinion," she said. "I'm Hannah, by the way."

"I'm Erin."

"Nice to meet you, Erin, and thanks for being my victim."

"Um... you're welcome," I stammered.

I ducked back into the cubicle and stood there, staring at myself and the ridiculous pink flush on my cheeks.

"Why on Earth are you blushing like that?" I demanded of my mute reflection.

I had no idea why she made me react the way she did.

But...

She seemed... nice.

And the compliments had been so, so welcome.

Nobody

ever

complimented me.

And she'd sounded sincere...

I hoped that she wasn't just being... kind.

I shook my head to clear it, and stripped down and reverted to my old bra. I fumbled at my buttons, and let out a quiet, frustrated "oh for fuck sakes" as I finally finished fastening them.

I took a breath or two to calm myself and then slunk back out of the cubicle.

Hannah was turning one of her corsets over and over in her hands, scrutinising it under the bright glare of the halogens.

"Ready?" she said as I emerged.

"Um... yes."

"Right, come with me," she said as she stood up. "I need help with it, and I'm not in the mood to flash my tits at everyone out here. There's a bigger cubicle at the end."

"Er..."

She took my hand and pulled me after her.

"Here we are. I think the black one is the one I want," she said. She tugged the curtains closed behind us. "Can you hold it up against my back and see what you think?"

"Um... sure..."

She gathered her amazing hair and lifted it up and away from her neck and shoulders as I lifted the corset. I held it up, marvelling at the deep crimson brocade roses that twined and curled in an intricate and delightful pattern over the curve of the bust and the sweep of the jet black panels.

It was a work of art.

"God, this is gorgeous," I murmured.

"Can you turn it so I can see the laces? I'm going to twist a bit as well so I can see how it looks from behind. I'm going for a specific effect and I don't want it to rise too far over my shoulder blades..."

I did as she asked; she pursed her lips. "Not bad, not bad," she said. "I like the cut. Right then, the acid test."

She began to struggle out of her tight peach tee shirt.

"Er..." I said.

"I need to try it on," she explained. "This will only take a moment."

"But..."

A strange little crawling feeling travelled up and down my back as she put aside her shirt and unclipped her bra.

She had a wonderfully slender waist with only the most insignificant hint of padding on her hips.

She had lovely elegant shoulders and such graceful and muted collarbones...

And her breasts were stunning - rounded and pert, with little, pale pink nipples - perfectly matched to her frame and far nicer to my mind than my woeful little lumps.

She was absolutely, jaw-droppingly beautiful.

Men must

adore

her.

I tried not to stare as she reached over and took the corset from my unresisting hand. She wrapped it around herself, pulled the panels closed across her breasts and fiddled with the topmost of the... latches, I supposed they were. Or were they clasps? I wasn't sure what to call them, but.there were five of them - copper-patina mechanisms with curved arms in a neat little row down the front of the corset; she seemed fluent in their use.

I watched as she adjusted herself.

"Wow," I breathed as she straightened.

She glanced up at me. "What is it?"

"It's... it's beautiful on you. God. You're so... elegant. So posh. That fabric..."

"You've really never seen one of these?"

"No. Never. It's not the kind of thing... nobody I know would wear something like that. It's far too nice for us. Wow. Wow, it's so pretty..."

"You'd look fantastic in one, that's for sure," she said with a smile. "You've totally got the neck for one."

"Not bloody likely," I whispered, still awestruck.

She spun slowly. "It's not adjusted and tightened yet," she explained, "but it feels okay. Quite comfortable, actually. How do I look? I'm aiming for sexy but not slutty - do I hit the mark?"

"Oh my God, totally. The way it... cradles... your boobs but... but drops there in the middle so your cleavage shows... it's really pretty. Especially with those bare shoulders. You're really pretty," I added, stupidly.

She glanced abruptly up at me; her cheeks flushed pink and she seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Then she smiled, somewhat more... wistfully... this time.

"So... that's a thumbs up, then?"

"Two thumbs up - though I hope you're going to be wearing something with it," I said, teasing her in sudden strange levity.

"Of course, silly, I've got a long black lace ensemble that I was planning to mix with this. I haven't quite decided on the rest of my look but I've got something in mind. "

"I... think it will be great," I said.

She grinned. "Sold," she said. "So... are you going to take that bra?"

"Oh! Yeah. I am. It's really comfortable. Thanks for being my second pair of eyes."

"Good. It's a great match for you. Ugh. I can't believe I'm going to spend this much on this... but it is utterly lovely and I'll definitely be wearing it a lot. So, Erin..."

"Uh huh..."

"I've got some time to kill and you seem nice and interesting. How about we grab a coffee?"

The decision was easy to make.

"That... actually, that would be nice, yes," I said. "I... um, I have a bit of time..."

"Great. Let me go sell a kidney for this and then I'm your woman."

I couldn't suppress the grin at her infectious enthusiasm.

And at her peculiar turn of phrase.

.:.

"So tell me about this date you're buying new underwear for," she said. "I'm assuming it's for a boy."

"Um. Yes. A boy."

"Have you been out with him before?"

"No. I... haven't been out with anyone for... for a while, really."

"Oh, dear. So you've got dry-spell jitters?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "It's been a... protracted drought. My hands aren't all that steady any more."

I sipped my coffee, enjoying the way she laughed.

"Where'd you meet him?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Oh. I... I haven't yet. It's from a dating app."

"Oh, right. I love those; they can be a ton of fun. When are you seeing him?"

"Tonight. And... and yes, I'm stressed as all hell."

"Oh dear. Why though? You're sweet and you seem lovely, he'll be putty in your hands. Have you spoken to him at all?"

"Just... texts."

"Oh. I see. Well, that will be exciting."

"Exciting is also a synonym for monumentally catastrophic, you realise," I retorted.

She cackled; several people around us turned to stare.

"You'll be fine," she said. "Keep that sense of humour and you're done and dusted."

"I... just want a fun evening. And maybe some... you know... afterwards. It would be... nice to be wanted for a bit again. Even if it's only briefly."

"Hopefully he fulfils his part of the bargain. Are you going out to a nice restaurant?"

"No. A club. His suggestion. To be honest, I'm relieved. I don't want to risk a nice dinner on someone I haven't met before. Next thing he's a troll and I'm stuck there making small talk and eating cheap to soften the blow."

"Wise girl," she approved. "Save that for the second date."

"If there is one," I muttered.

"There won't be with that attitude," she teased me.

"Touché. When's your party?" I asked her.

"Tomorrow evening. It's a... networking and charity do, I guess you'd call it, but some mates organise them every so often and this time they had a spare ticket so I cracked a nod."

"It sounds... exclusive."

"Oh, it's not, it's just I don't feel like paying for my entrance if I can get it for free. Money doesn't grow on trees, does it?"

"Amen. So is it a theme? This party, I mean."

"Nah, just generic fancy dress. I'm sure we'll see some low effort costumes, though - there's apparently a prize for worst costume and my friends say people are competitive about trying to win it."

I laughed. "It sounds... fun."

"I'm hoping it will be. I love fancy dress and dressing up and... misbehaving; God knows there's little enough opportunity to do so normally."

"So who are you going as?"

She grinned.

"Titania, I think." she said. "But as Queen of the Night rather than her normal bright Fae aspect."

"Oh. Oh wow. That sounds awesome," I said. "Please tell me you have wings?"

"I do, amazingly enough."

"You've got to send me a photo," I begged her. "I'm desperate to see this outfit now."

"I'd love to, Erin, but you'd need to give me your number then," she said, eyes twinkling.

I blinked.

"Oh. Oh right. Yeah. That would help, wouldn't it. Sorry. I can be dense sometimes. Um. Ready for it?"

"Always," she said, somehow making the single word sound extremely... wicked.

I flushed.

"Oh. Um. Okay..."

And I rattled off the digits, and glanced down at my phone as her text arrived.

"And now you have mine," she said, softly. She leaned forward and captured me for a breath or two with her intense blue eyes. "I'll do a dress rehearsal and send you the glamour shots."

"Glamour shots... what... oh. Oh, right, now you're just fucking with me."

And she smiled a strange little smile and sipped her coffee.

.:.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror.

What a monumental waste of time this had proven to be.

I'd put a lot of effort into the evening. I'd plucked my eyebrows, shaven my legs and armpits, pruned myself a lovely little landing strip and shaven the rest of me bare, gone the whole shebang with mascara and blush and tint and eyeshadow...

I'd even gone to the lengths of straightening (somewhat) my straggly curls and choosing my carefully-husbanded carmine dress and my late Gran's little turquoise and silver ankh - the one I only ever wore to really special occasions.

The one that brought me luck.

And it had all been for nothing.

The club (his predictably regrettable choice in hindsight) was dark, crowded and way too noisy for any form of serious conversation.

Not that conversation appeared to be his strong point anyway.

Drinking certainly was, though - he was hitting shots hard and his shouted conversational gambits were already on the slurred side.

I felt no interest, no attraction to him in real life.

No zing whatsoever.

It wasn't even nine in the evening yet and I wanted out.

I'd rather be watching slugs humping than this.

So... I definitely wouldn't be going anywhere with him later.

And I definitely didn't feel like wasting my evening here watching him get drunker while the "music" stultified me and the precious hours rolled on.

I pulled out my phone and brought up Hannah's number.

I stared at it for a moment.

I wondered what she was doing.

And I pondered, too, why of all the members of the long list of friends who'd potentially answer a SOS... she was the one I wanted to reach out to.

Probably because she was new, I thought wryly. Too new to be bored with my drama...

Oh well...

I sent her a message - a simple

It's a catastrophe :P

.

Oh no. Details?

came her response after a breath or two.

I sighed, glad that she'd answered.

He's easy on the eyes but that's about it. Not exactly mesmerising conversation.

Is anything salvageable or is the Monsoon not coming this year?

Monsoon, was it? The cheek of it.

There's no spark at all. It's all gone tits up.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need a convenient emergency?

Relief flooded through me.

I was praying you'd offer.

Your lifeline will arrive in three minutes. Brace yourself :)

I laughed.

She was such a good egg.

I gave myself one more dismissive glance in the mirror, then turned away and made my way back into the club. I fought my way back to the tiny little nook we'd claimed for ourselves. As I reached it my phone began to vibrate. I shrugged apologetically at my date and lifted it to my ear.

"Help, help, I am in dire peril and need to be saved! Preferably by you!" Hannah shrieked, very theatrically.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" I shouted into my handset, playing my part.

"I have fallen and I can't get up!" she screeched. "I am being slowly licked to death by a horde of puppies! I have a missing sock! And, worst of all, I am out of wine!"

"Oh my God! Where are you? I'm in a club but I'll leave now and come find you!"

"I'm deep down the rabbit hole and digging for Australia! Please, hurry! There are slugs and bugs and big hairy spiders and I need you to hold me close!"

I blinked at the last one, but let it slide past.

"I'll be there as quick as I can!"

I hung up and smiled apologetically at my date. "I'm so sorry!" I shouted over the oppressive pulsing weight of the beat. "That's my cousin, she's hurt herself, I need to go make sure she gets to A&E. I'm sorry! I'll be in touch!"