1. Scarlet


    Date: 9/7/2015, Categories: Historical, Author: Saucymh, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    gaze upon me. “Yes Miss.” “Well don’t just stand there gawping, Anne. Get me out of this costume.” Not a great start. She didn’t like me. I’d been warned that might be the case. Cautiously, I set about unfastening her tunic. “No, not like that, remove the collar first. You’ll never get anything else free until that’s done,” she sighed impatiently. “Careful. Don’t damage anything, this tunic’s my favourite.” Was it? A smile flickered at the corners of my mouth. Miss Scarlet was obviously unaware that her outfit was one of my own creations. My mother, a seamstress, had been making costumes for the theatre since I was small and I’d become her assistant. I was highly skilled and my imaginative creativity had recently been let loose on my own designs. I’d crafted Miss Scarlet’s costume especially for her. It thrilled me that she liked it. I admired my own workmanship as I undid the fastenings. The tight-fitting, velvet tunic hugged Miss Scarlet’s body in exactly the way I’d envisaged. It clung to her hourglass figure, enveloping her voluptuous breasts before tapering around her minuscule waistline. The material then flared out over her sensuously curvaceous hips. It was perfect and I couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride. ‘Breeches’ part costumes were my specialty and making them for Miss Scarlet was a joy. No-one else looked as devastatingly alluring in breeches and stockings, or wore the provocative garments with such unabashed poise. Miss Scarlet always looked scandalously ...
    stunning and many a gentleman paid to see her time and time again. I slipped the tunic off her shoulders and pulled the cuffs over her tiny hands with their slender, red-nailed fingers. As the garment came off, a whiff of lavender tickled my nostrils. The scent was emanating from Miss Scarlet’s milky white skin. How lovely. I breathed in deeply, luxuriating in the fragrance before stepping away to arrange the tunic on her hanging hooks. “Boots next,” Miss Scarlet instructed. “Yes Miss.” I waited for her to plonk herself down on the wooden chair in front of her dressing table, then I knelt at her feet. Each calf length boot had stout, black laces meshed around a bank of hooks and eyelets that ran down the boot like a spine. I paused, my fingertips grazing the shiny black leather. It was soft and clung to her like a second skin, flattering her narrow ankles and shapely legs. “This place is going to the dogs, Anne, ‘ave you noticed?” Miss Scarlet complained as she began removing her carefully curled hair pieces. She dropped the hair pins, one by one, into a ceramic pot. “I’ve told ‘em, I ‘ave, but they don’t bleedin’ listen. Burlesque’s ‘ad its day. We need to do something new or we’ll close.” “Close Miss?” “That’s right, close. We need to bring our show up to date or we’re done for.” “Yes Miss.” Closure? Miss Scarlet was astute, she could be right. My mind wandered…closure of the theatre was something I didn’t wish to contemplate. For Miss Scarlet, it would be no more than an ...
«1234...89»