Late that afternoon, Carla announced that they had an errand to run.
Annabel started to undo her collar but Carla waved her off. “Leave it
on,” she said. “We’re only going one place, and I know everybody there.
Nothing to worry about.”
Nonetheless, Annabel was nervous as they headed down Highway 1. What
if someone she knew saw her? Fortunately she didn’t know that many
people. And anyway, how could anyone know what the collar meant? It
could be just a fashion statement. Fortunately Carla hadn’t made her
wear some slutty outfit this time; she was still in her regular jeans
and T-shirt.
They got onto Santa Monica Boulevard and headed toward Hollywood,
finally pulling up behind a cavernous building with a sign that said “Johnson’s House of Costumes.” Inside Carla led Annabel through a sort
of labyrinth that threaded its way among a chaotic tangle of racks and mannequins displaying
costumes of every kind, from monsters and military uniforms to
superheroes, pirates, and aliens.
In a sort of clearing amidst the chaos they found a young woman
sitting behind a desk, thoughtfully tapping a pencil on the desktop. She
was really quite striking-looking, Annabel thought: smooth, dark-brown
skin; high, regal cheekbones; and big, luminous brown eyes. When she
stood up to greet them, she was several inches taller than Carla, and
towered a full head above Annabel. She was wearing a tight halter top
and short skirt that showed off her generous bosom, narrow waist, and
ample, rounded butt.
“Hi Monica,” said Carla, and they embraced. Carla and Monica had a
history. They’d gone to high school together and, during senior year,
had a passionate affair that lasted for several months. Carla still
considered Monica the most beautiful girl she’d ever dated. Monica’s
father was black and Native American and her mother was from India, and she’d gotten the
most fortuitous selection of genes from each side.
But they were both dominant personalities and in the end, they just
hadn’t been a good match. They still kept in touch, though, and Carla
knew that Monica spent every summer working for the family business,
this shop.
“Hi Carla,” responded Monica sweetly. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” answered Carla, and they spent a minute catching up.
Finally Monica inquired what brought her in to the shop today, and Carla
gestured toward Annabel. “I’m looking for a French maid costume for
her. Something sexy.”
Monica nodded, looking Annabel up and down, eyes lingering only
briefly on the collar around her neck. “I know just the thing. Back in a
flash.” With that, she disappeared into the warehouse, leaving Carla
and Annabel alone. Carla pulled Annabel close and kissed her on the
lips, long and hard, making Annabel’s nipples start to stiffen and her
pussy start to dampen. They separated just as Monica returned carrying a
frilly black-and-white lace costume.
Carla helped Annabel off with her T-shirt and jeans, leaving her in
just bra and panties. Annabel felt a bit embarrassed being exposed this
way in front of a stranger, especially since a customer could walk in on
them at any time. (Unbeknownst to her Monica had just locked the front
door, as it was closing time anyway, and she felt like some privacy
might be good.)
“No need for the bra,” said Monica. “The costume has a framework
built in.” Carla unhooked Annabel’s bra and pulled it off, leaving her
jutting nipples uncovered. Being exposed this way only made her more
excited, making her condition that much worse. There was a definite
sexual tension in the air, and Annabel wondered what these two strong,
lovely young women might have in mind for her.
Monica and Carla worked together to get Annabel into the costume,
which was very tight and constricting, with an extremely short skirt
that ended just below her butt. Her breasts were shaped and lifted by
the bodice, displaying a substantial amount of cleavage.
Carla emitted a low whistle. “Very nice. You have stockings and a garter to go with it?”
“Naturally,” replied Monica, plunging into the stacks one again.
Carla took the opportunity to fondle Annabel’s rear end, which was highly
accessible in this outfit. Monica returned a minute later, and soon long
black stockings and a matching garter belt were added to Annabel's
ensemble. She could see herself in a mirror in the corner, and she had
to admit that she looked smoking hot, if a little depraved.
“Perfect,” said Carla, “we’ll take it.”
“Cool,” responded Monica. “You want it packed up, or will she wear it out?”
Carla considered. “Better pack it up. We don’t want to start a riot.” She and Monica both laughed, and Annabel began to change as Monica and
Carla whispered to each other.
“So that’s...” began Monica.
“My father’s wife, yeah,” nodded Carla.
Monica shook her head. “You're incorrigible.”
Annabel had just stripped back down to her panties and was about to
start dressing again when Carla spotted a blue-and-white cheerleader
outfit on a mannequin to the left of where they were standing. Suddenly a
light bulb went on in her head.
“Hey Annabel,” she said, looking over at her stepmother. “I bet you were a cheerleader, weren’t you?”
Somewhat reluctantly, Annabel nodded. She had in fact been a
cheerleader in high school, dated a football player, the whole nine
yards.
“Why don’t you try that on?” said Carla. Turning to Monica, she asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Certainly not,” answered Monica, walking over to the mannequin to
get the costume for Annabel. It fit like a glove, and Carla smiled
wickedly at her stepmother, handing her the pom-poms that the mannequin
had been holding. “Do a cheer for us,” she instructed.
Annabel blushed. “I guess I remember... something,” she said hesitantly.
“Wait, wait,” said Monica. She pulled her chair out from behind the
desk and sat it down next to another chair that faced where Annabel was
standing. “Here’s the scene. We’re the, like, captains of the
cheerleading team,” she said to Carla. “And she’s the new girl
auditioning.”
“Ooh, good one,” said Carla, and she and Monica sat down and looked over at Annabel expectantly.
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