When the clock radio came on, Toni was deep in an erotic dream. The sound of the radio playing the waltz from Carrousel blended with her dream as she felt herself rise to a climax and fall into a sleepy orgasm. Part of her mind moaned in pleasure, part cried out, �Not again!�. After a few moments, the music ended and the wave of unbidden pleasure passed. She roused, listening sleepily to the first news items, then swung her feet out of bed.
She checked to be sure the blinds were down before she turned on the light. She had, of course, closed them last night when she came into the room to go to bed; it was habit to check them in the morning. Her feet fell readily into the slippers on the floor where she had left them.
The early light crept through the slats, and Toni sat for a moment looking at the cool glow before she got up. She went to the window and closed it, peeking through the blinds at the sky, and went toward the door. She unlocked it and crossed the hall to her bathroom, reached in to turn on the light, entered and locked the door behind her.
The mirror showed her strong, regular features and warm, perfect skin tones. Her dark, short hair, tousled from the night, haloed her face. She looked at herself briefly, then turned her back and started the shower, using the toilet while the hot water came up.
Toni pulled off her plain flannel nightgown, hung it on the hook behind the door. She stepped into the spray and washed her body and her hair. When she had finished, she opened the curtain and dried herself with a towel from the bar.
In front of the mirror, she looked at her body, generous but trim. She brushed her half-dry hair, black and curly. She examined her face for a moment, ran her hands down her flanks and back up to cup her breasts. �It�s a really good body�, she thought, with a wry smile. �It really doesn�t need a thing � just a different resident.�
She wrapped herself in her towel and, unlocking the bathroom door, hastily returned to her bedroom � again locking the door behind her. She looked in her dresser for a pair of concealing briefs, a bra that concealed and flattened her breasts and an opaque slip with no decoration.
Her closet was full of clothes, all well cut, colors that looked well on her, most of which she had made by hand. The dress she chose was a lovely print that fell to her ankles. The color and the pattern both complemented her good looks, but showed only the minimum of skin, de-emphasized her narrow waist and full breasts and covered her with long sleeves and a high neck. She put on earrings and half-stockings, then a pair of low shoes. Unlocking the bedroom door, she raised the blinds, made the bed. She hung the towel in the bathroom and went out through her living room and into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast.
Toni lived alone. She made good money, but she had always lived alone, even when she could hardly afford it. The idea of sharing an apartment with anyone filled her with dread, and though she had endured it when she had had no choice, she did not plan to do it again if she could avoid it. When she had room-mates they had rarely commented on her habits of concealment, but she always felt they, somehow, were looking at her body � or would if they could. And the real trouble was that they frequently would appear hardly dressed at all; their young bodies revealed as flesh and hair and supple skin. Toni tried never to think � consciously � about those occasions.
The living room was well furnished, with taste. She had made all the curtains and coverings herself, as she had done for the accessories in her bedroom. Next to the bedroom was her workroom � her sewing machine, a dress form that was true to the shape of her body, racks and drawers of tools and notions and fabrics.
Her breakfast finished, she brushed her teeth, tidied the house and scampered down the stairs, walking along Pearl Street a few blocks toward the Mall. On the Mall, she noticed a truck with a cherry-picker in front of Melanie�s store, hoisting a new sign into place. She walked over to look. The first half was already over the right side of the facade: Lacy Lingerie. The men were busy bolting on the left-hand section: Dirty Duds. An ampersand lay in the back of the truck, ready to fit between the two halves. Toni giggled, and walked past the display, waving at Melanie, who was bustling around the front of the store.
Melanie stuck her head out the door. �Hey!� she called. �Come by at lunch time.�
�Okay,� Toni replied. �Twelve-thirty,� and swung back down the street, her long legs making her skirt sway and swirl, and around the corner toward her office. It was small, two rooms on the second floor of a modernized Victorian building at the corner of Broadway. The telephone showed messages, and when she turned on her computer, there was e-mail. She set to work, responding to mail, making phone calls.
Francisco Industrial Fashions was the title on the door. Toni designed uniforms and working clothes for a variety of industrial clients, often sending the accepted designs out to be manufactured by others � sometimes by large US manufacturers, more often to people she knew who sourced clothing from the Far East. She had a good list of customers and a good reputation for wearable, sensible work clothes that were still, somehow, fashionable. Her clients were mostly medium-sized companies, although she had had nibbles from large customers like Federal Express and one or two of the smaller airlines. Toni was happy with her work, comfortable with her income.
And lonely.
When lunch-time arrived, she set things aside, leaving a design to print on the plotter, and headed downstairs to the street. On the Mall, she pushed into Melanie�s shop.
�Hi,� Melanie called from the back of the store. �I�ll be ready in a sec.� Soon, she came forward and the two went back outside.
�Got a new sign, huh?� Toni said, gesturing to the store front.
�Yeah. Like it?�
�Sure doesn�t pull any punches. I can see you�ve carried the idea out in the windows.�
The store�s left-hand window, under the �Dirty Duds� part of the sign, featured racy and revealing fashions. The other side, under �Lacy Lingerie�, was filled with beautifully displayed undergarments, mainly of lace in a variety of colors and styles. The effect was attractive and mildly exciting.
�Thanks,� Melanie said. �I figure you have to make a statement. Most of my customers nowadays know what I sell, but anyone who doesn�t will figure it out pretty fast from the displays.�
�I take it you�re doing all right?� Toni asked.
�Really, yes. Sales are up fairly strongly, but of course some of that is novelty. The old stuff I had in stock when I bought the place was pretty dull, and so was the clientele. That�s changing now. I�m getting a lot of the younger crowd and girls from the University. Those are my real markets... How about you? How�s business?�
They went into a sandwich shop and ordered, eating at a table in the window. They talked about friends and such, and Toni indicated that business was good. She had several new commissions and had entered competitions for some large orders.
Melanie said, �Toni, you�ve shown me some of your stuff, and it�s good. Solid design, quality fit and finish. And, I like what you do with fabrics. You make your own clothes, too, I think. Have you ever thought about other kinds of fashion?�
Toni grinned. �Well, I�m not really interested in the fashion world, you know. I mean, I keep up with what�s �in� � we all do that. But, I�m not really interested in the fashion rat race. It�s too... well, of course, it�s too silly; that�s one thing. And another, I can�t buy the clothes I like, so I have to make them. I think that�s true for a lot of women, only they can�t, or don�t want to make their own. But the real thing is, I don�t want to be a part of that world. I like clothes, but I don�t want to have to run around the way those people do. They take themselves too seriously.�
�That�s for sure,� Melanie responded. �My problem, though, is finding good stuff for my store. The regular lines of lingerie, they�re all right, I guess, and I can find a few things that are out of the ordinary in the underwear business. What I don�t have is a good source for sexy clothes � my Dirty Duds.�
�Really? I wouldn�t have thought so. You sure have plenty in the window.� Toni grinned.
�Trouble is, I don�t have a wide range. I need stuff that�s imaginative, that�s quality. Well made, but sexy, too. That�s the trouble. Most of the stuff that�s sexy is trashy, too. Not well made, cheap fabrics, bad construction. I sure wish I had someone like you who�d design me some good stuff.�
�Me?� Toni blushed. A shiver ran through her. �Oh, no. I really don�t think so.�
�Why not?� Melanie noted her friend�s reaction. �You�ve got the talent, you can do the work. Why not you?�
�I don�t know anything about sexy clothes,� Toni began, looking at her plate to hide her red face. Then she looked up at Melanie, a look of professionalism replacing her embarrassment. �Real problem is getting the stuff made. You can�t afford to sell stuff that�s one-off � you know, hand made. I�d have to find a source for you � in the Far East, probably. And you can�t get really small quantities that way. They talk about hundreds � thousands � of dozens out there.�
�Well, I can�t be the only shop that wants that stuff,� Melanie looked thoughtful. �I ought to see if there�s some way to get people like me together. Sort of a co-op.� She looked at Toni sharply. �If I could get some people together, would you design some stuff?�
Toni�s face went pale this time. �Oh, golly, I don�t know, Mel. I told you I�d never done any of that.�
�Hey, sorry,� Melanie reached to take Toni�s hand. The reaction startled her, as Toni jerked back from her touch. �Hon, what�s the matter? I�m really half fooling, you know, but you�re really upset, and turning colors like a rainbow. What did I do wrong?�
Sheepish, Toni looked down at the table, then back at Melanie. �I�m not really the person to ask about sexy clothes, Melanie. I�m not really into that sort of thing.�
�Well, I didn�t mean...� Melanie sat back, looking at Toni. Not one to be easily put off, she continued, �Toni, I didn�t mean to hit a hot button. You all right?�
Toni looked down at her plate. When she looked back at Melanie, her eyes were glistening, but she had herself under control again. �I�m sorry Melanie. I didn�t mean to be short with you. I have this thing about being touched. I�m sorry I snapped at you.�
Melanie almost reached out to pat Toni�s hand again, caught herself and waved her hand in the air instead. �Hey, it�s okay. But, look, you know a lot about this stuff. Would you really mind if I pick your brains now and then? Maybe show me how you might design something � I mean if I tell you exactly what I want?�
Toni, looked back at her with a grateful smile. �No. I don�t mind giving you advice, Mel. And I�ll help you, if I can, with designs. It�s just... well, I just really don�t know much about that. About what�s sexy.�
�Not to worry, kid. I do.� Melanie said, gathering up her purse. They headed for the door, paying at the counter. �I�ll let you know when I get some good ideas.�