Look at Me!. Felix Baron

want to see the sexiest outfits that you have in stock, please,’ Constance blurted.

      An exotic-looking girl stepped from behind the counter and grinned. ‘Right on, sister! Sounds like fun.’ Her hair was blue-black, obviously dyed. Her features were oriental, Chinese or Korean, Constance thought, but she had enormous luminous eyes and a red dot painted in the middle of her forehead. More, she was wearing a glittering metallic green and gold sari, but a very short one – just above mid-thigh – and four-inch heels. Just to complete Connie’s confusion, her accent was flat New York with no affect – the vocal equivalent of dead-pan.

      ‘You wanna stand out in the crowd, right? I can dig it.’

      ‘Can you help me?’

      ‘You see the problem there, right?’

      ‘Problem?’

      ‘You’re cute, very cute, and you’ve got yourself a killer little bod there. Anywhere else all you’d need do is flash some skin to get mobbed by suitors of a variety of sexual persuasions. Here, though, the main competition is a lot of pretty girls and handsome women. Their outfits range from tiny to nil. You might get noticed if you dressed up like a Las Vegas showgirl and hired your own band, but that’d seem a bit needy, doncha think? And wearing all those feathers would be a bit of a drag, if you’ll forgive the pun.’

      Constance grinned agreement.

      The girl continued, ‘You been down to the beach yet?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Lots of naked girls and women there?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Were they being stared at?’

      ‘Not particularly.’

      ‘Y’know why?’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Being nude is like “all done”. They’ve arrived where they were going. After a girl’s naked, there’s nothing more to look forward to. Strippers undress on stage. They don’t come out already bare, right? It’s the peeling that’s sexy.’

      ‘You think I should put on a strip-show?’

      ‘Nah. That’d be over sooner or later. What you want is to look like you’re doing a strip, or you’re just about to.’

      ‘Tease them?’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘I still don’t get it.’

      ‘You wanted to know what the sexiest thing I got for sale is?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘It’s this.’ She reached down a glass vial full of a clear liquid.

      ‘Spray-on paint?’

      ‘No. It’s called “Strip-Tack”. Exotic dancers use it.’ She picked up a length of fabric that looked as if it’d been sewn out of pale green fog. ‘Watch.’ Deft fingers dabbed a tiny droplet onto one corner of the scarf. She touched that corner to her wrist and let go. The scarf hung. ‘Pull it off.’

      Constance tugged. The fabric pulled on the girl’s skin but it didn’t come free.

      ‘Now peel it.’

      Constance got a nail under a corner and peeled the fabric away easily. ‘I see the possibilities!’

      ‘Good for you! I’m Tina, by the way.’

      ‘Constance – Connie.’

      ‘So you see the possibilities, huh, Connie? Now try this on.’ She took a little black dress from a rack. ‘That should fit you.’

      There was a changing room, which, considering how casual everyone was about nudity, seemed quite strange, but Connie used it. From the waist down the dress was flouncy layers of fine black net. Above the waist, it had no back or sides at all, just a black satin ‘M’ that had points that reached just high enough to barely cover Connie’s nipples. It was held up by a spaghetti strap that looped behind her neck. From the front it was provocative. From the side it was very close to indecent – sexier, Connie realised, than topless would have been.

      ‘You like the look?’ Tina asked her.

      ‘Daring.’

      ‘That’s what you wanted, right. Now try it like this.’

      The spaghetti strap was fastened to the bodice by a pair of tiny hooks and fabric loops. Tina inserted two fingers between the dress and Connie’s left nipple.