![]() She changed back into her blouse and left the fitting room. The staff had done wise not to polish the latex to high gloss for some inappropriate in-your-face kinky effect. Maybe teasing, given its restrained shine. However, together with the plain dark skirt she was wearing it looked playful and almost casual. In certain combinations it might indeed send the wrong signal. The material made a distinctive sound at every move and showed a tendency to cling to her body. She turned this way and that in front of the mirror. It was reasonably tight, too, but by no means to the point of needing talcum like with the hard core stuff. The shirt was certainly unfamiliar, rather light and cool to the skin. In the fitting room Lorena readied herself for another wave of blushing as she tried the exotic item on. She explained that the article was a one-of-a-kind, fashioned by a designer who also manufactured his creations all by himself – but only on commission. Luckily the sales assistant turned away to take the shirt off the mannequin’s silvery body. “Sure, why not?” she answered in a deliberately nonchalant manner, very well aware of her ears becoming red. It was only consequent of her to offer this, yet caused Lorena to blush. She even pointed out that the caoutchouc used for the production had been fair-traded. The sales assistant quickly dismissed any reservations, informing conversationally about how designers were searching for new material and ways of tailoring. For crying out loud, she wasn’t buying a vibrator! She was a bit embarrassed, which in return made her feel silly. “I just noticed this unconventional piece of clothing,” Lorena recited the line she had made up in advance. The sales lady, finished with the other customer, closed in, and Lorena suddenly felt trapped. And its faint smell reminded her of gummi bears. It did feel a bit alien, but not unpleasant. Lorena reached out and let the back of her hand travel along the uncommon material. A quick glance confirmed the sales assistant being busy with a customer. Only after browsing through the shades she pretended to just having noticed the top. Upon entering the boutique, Lorena headed for a display with sunglasses nearby the window in question. Sporting six shiny press studs, it was kept in white, as were the collar and the ends of the sleeves. The black rubber was cut like a fitted T-shirt, yet owned faux breast pockets and a button placket that went halfway down. With numbers so decadent, the article itself was able to afford a more toned-down appearance. Plus, it came with an unerring indicator that this was officially haute couture: a 349 € price tag. But in this environment it automatically evolved into a hedonistic statement. Lorena would have never even considered buying the top if she had seen it in the window display of some fetish shop. ![]() But a rubber shirt was indeed a bit eccentric. Of course she owned a couple of tight-fitting leather clothes and even a pair of PVC jeans. But then her eyes wandered back, and it intrigued her due to its unusual material. At first glance the item didn’t awake her interest. ![]() Behind the glass façade, amidst LBD’s, designer clutches and outré court shoes Lorena discovered the short-sleeved top on one of the highly stylised mannequins. Bianchetti had always been her first port of call during window shopping, and on today’s spree the exclusive boutique near the city’s financial quarter was confirming its status once again. ![]()
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