"Here we are, my dear. In you go," she murmurs in warm honey, holding the door open, so Claire can go before. As they walk to the center of the small store, a diminutive woman with spiky gray hair and piercing black eyes comes out from the back room.
"Good morning, Ruth, how are you today?
"Very well, Kathryn. What are we in need of?
Kathryn takes Claire by the shoulders and moves her between them, facing Ruth. She runs her crisp red nails down the girl's arms, straightening them to her sides.
"This is Claire. She is spending her first spring break with me instead of her girlfriends on some dirty beach in Florida, clever girl. I thought we should begin the day with a bit of shopping, so here we are." Katherine reaches around her thin body and unbuttons the loose white blouse. Letting it fall open, she caresses the bottom curve of Claire's bare breasts with her fingertips. "34... B?"
Ruth arches an eye and savors a long stare. "Beautiful symmetry. A small C, I think, but a B might prove more interesting. What sort?"
"Let's start with a half cup, something lacy and worth looking at. A nice sky blue will look lovely against her white skin, don't you think?"
"Yes, very nice. Black or red would be obvious. Let me see what I have in the back."
As Ruth turns to go, the front door opens and a mother and daughter enter. They stop five steps in, staring at the scene, the large wall mirror giving them a full picture. Claire, her face reddening, begins to cross her arms over her breasts. Kathryn touches her back with a finger, drawing it slowly down.
"Stand straight, pet," she says softly. As the young girl drops her arms, Kathryn reaches out and slips the shirt off her shoulders. Claire moans softly and a tremble carries down her exposed body. Letting the blouse dangle from a finger, Kathryn turns aside and brushes her other hand lightly over Claire's neck, then draws her nails out to her shoulder, as she looks openly at the two women with an arched eyebrow and a wanton smile.
The mother stiffens, frowns, and mutters under her breathe, turning to the jumbled sale table beside her. The young girl, more junior college than Claire's Vassar, continues to stare, her eyes wide, and a blush spreading across her cheeks. She only breaks away when her mother yanks her hand with an angry, "Jane!" Kathryn smiles, thinking that mother might be in for a few surprises soon.
"Here we go," announces Ruth, returning with a silver tray of shimmering blue bras.
"No... no... oh my, oh definitely this," Kathryn says, holding up the lacy treat. Moving behind Claire again, she reaches over her and holds it out, letting it sway gently. She can hear Claire take in a sharp breath.
"Arms in, dear," then brings the cups to Claire's breasts, nestling them in with a good deal more care than necessary. Satisfied, she draws her hands back, bringing the thin sides around Claire's body, and sets the two hooks. Her thumbs slide out and then slowly up the silk straps to Claire's shoulders. She gently turns the young girl around, making sure that her rapt audience of one, who has been daring quick glances, has an unobstructed view.
"Perfection, Ruth, delicious perfection," drinking in the trembling blue-veined white breasts bulging in the lacy half-shells.
"We think alike, Kathryn. Your account?"
Kathryn nods her head absently, as she helps Claire on with her blouse. When Claire tries to button it, Kathryn taps her hands.
"No, pet, leave it open."
"But... everyone will see me," Claire says in a tiny choked voice, her eyes downcast.
"That, my darling," lifting her head between her hands, softly kissing her pouty red lips, "is exactly the point. Now it's lunchtime, pet, and I am quite famished."
Taking her hand, Kathryn turns and they walk to the door. As they pass, she pauses and draws a finger lightly down the curved spine of the young girl bent over the piles of work-a-day whites. A quiet, strangled mew answers her back - oh yes, very soon.
oOoOo
Their entrance into Pierre's sparks a small squirmish, as Jonathan, the Maitre d' table, and Jillian, the reservations maven, jostle to be the first to greet Kathryn.
"Madame! Welcome to you and your young guest!" Jonathan oils out in an accent of dubious origin, pushing forward and offering a limply held hand.
"Miss Kathryn, an honor to serve you, as always," murmurs Jillian from behind.
Stabbing Jonathan with an icy stare, Kathryn reaches past and takes Jillian's extended hand.
"A pleasure to see you again, darling. A booth in the back, please. Something discreet. And give my regards to chef Pauline."
"Of course, I will let her know you are here, Miss. I have just the table for you."
Watching the red spots darkening on Jonathan's blanched cheeks, Kathryn draws her hand from Jillian's, letting her fingernails draw lightly across her palm. Jillian answers with a shiver before escorting the two women into the restaurant to a generous booth set into the back wall, so they are sheltered on three sides.
"Anything from the bar? Or will you wait for now?"
"Nothing now, darling. I will order a bottle when we've selected. Is Angela available to serve?"
"I will make sure of it, Miss Kathryn."
"Excellent, Jillian, always so obliging," Kathryn smiles, her eyes and words coating the young woman with warm honey.
"Now, pet. what are you hungry for? The salmon here is perfection. Shall we both?" Kathryn asks Claire, without looking at the menu. Claire looks up with doe eyes and slowly nods, transfixed by Kathryn's gaze.
"Lovely, then," Kathryn murmurs. The fingers of her left hand find Claire's knee beneath the linen-draped table and begin a slow, wandering dance up her smooth bare leg.
Behind the wide swinging doors leading to the pickup station, Jillian searches out Angela, finding her waiting on a delinquent sous chef's saucing. She turns her by the shoulders to face her.
"What now? That bitch on three complaining? Again?" Angela spits out.
Jillian kisses a fingertip and holds it to Angela's lips.
"Miss Kathryn requests!"
"No shit? George! Take my 10 and 12! Yeah, and fuck you, too after last Thursday! Sally, take five, yes?"
"Sure, no problem, Angi, you lucky little bitch."
They both stick out their tongues at the same time, with a giggle.
As she scans out across the room, acknowledging some of the patrons and snubbing others, Kathryn's fingers continue their journey. They have made their lazy way beneath Claire's pleated skirt and are painting her inner thigh with curlicue caresses and soft pinches. Claire's moans are barely audible, but the flush on her cheeks and tremble of her shoulders would be obvious to the eye of anyone close enough to see. Angela makes her way across the room, ignoring the glares from other waiting diners.
"Miss Kathryn, always an honor," she says with a little bow of her head, crowned with a bouncing mass of dark red curls.
"So lovely to see you, my dear. The salmon for us both and a bottle of the '08 Cassandra Chardonnay."
"Certainly, excellent." She looks up from her iPad, and a small frown crosses her face.
"What is it?" Kathryn asks, "No salmon left? No Cassandra?"