Dorothy Was Different

by O.Y. Dalziel

 

Chapter Five

Tight Lacing

 

My smallest corseted waist measured twenty nine inches, and the next obvious question was:- By how much could it be safely reduced?

My imagination began to run freely as I visualised all the possibilities. One inch? Three inches? Perhaps even six inches! The shop that advertised the corsets with a twenty three inch waist was the obvious place for me to start making some polite enquiries. This was going to be my first assault on a corset shop, and it called for a considerable amount of reconnaissance and planning, because it was vital for everything to go smoothly with no chance of any last minute hitches. Numerous tentative scripts were drafted; only to be rejected because of some real or imagined flaw, and I carried out an extensive and external visual survey of the shop.

The final results of the survey were classified according to their degree of advantage or disadvantage, and the following conclusions were reached:-

1. The shop was in a busy shopping street.

This was a disadvantage, because it might impede my rapid escape; should this prove to be necessary.

2. In addition to the corsets, the shop window was tightly packed with a selection of male and female underwear; socks; stockings, and other assorted unidentifiable articles.

This was an advantage. If my courage should fail me at the eleventh hour, I could always buy myself a pair of socks!

3. The closely filled shop window, and the rather dark interior made it difficult to see inside the shop.

This was a major disadvantage. It was only possible to gain a confused impression of a narrow passage, lined on either side with miscellaneous articles, when the shop door was opened by customers. The passage was dimly lighted; with the counter apparently being set well back, at the rear of the shop.

These few details had to suffice, and I tried to improvise a sketch plan of the shop floor; together with details of the numbers of staff and their relative dispositions. Due allowance was made for the possibility of them showing any reluctance to serve a man; but this could be offset by their anticipated willingness to relieve me of my money!

My final script was perfect; and would have netted me a fortune in Royalties if it had been produced on the stage of any theatre in the West End of London.

 

It went like this:-

 

Plan of Campaign

 

1. Open the door.

2. Enter the shop.

3. Approach the counter.

 

CONVERSATION:

 

ME. (Politely) "Good Morning."

 

SHAPELY AND WELL CORSETED SHOP ASSISTANT. (Assuming a pleasant smile)

"Good Morning, Sir. How may I be of assistance to you?"

 

ME. (Firmly) "Please will you show me a selection of laced and well boned corsets, in small waist sizes."

 

S.A.W.C.S.A. (Still smiling) "Certainly, Sir. Will you kindly step this way."

(Enter the secluded corsetry department)

"Take a seat, please. Now, Sir. Did you have any particular model in mind?"

 

ME. (Nonchalantly) "I rather fancied myself in a back lacing garment. It would have to be heavily boned, and closely fitted to reduce the waist. Do you know the type I mean?"

 

S.A.W.C.S.A. (Overawed at the extent of my obvious knowledge and practical experience, but anxious to oblige)

"Of course, Sir. We carry an extensive selection of that type of garment. Would you permit me to show you a few examples from our stock?"

 

ME. "Yes. Please do."

 

She would then open several of the pink boxes and display the various models, sometimes holding them against herself to emphasise a feature, and my leisurely inspection would be accompanied by an amicable discussion of the various design points; after which I would select a garment and at her invitation try it on in the fitting room. She would be happy to assist me with the lacing, and, of course, the corset would fit perfectly.

I would pay for it and politely express my thanks while it was being wrapped. She would then show me out of the shop, and thank me for my custom.

It would be as simple as that!

 

**

Robert Burns (1759 - 1796) once wrote:-

"The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft a-gley."

He certainly knew what he was talking about - because my scheme went severely a-gley! The whole shop proved to be very dimly lighted, after the sunlit street, and it was full of numerous traps and hazards; such as lengths of thick cloth that had been suspended from the ceiling, which kept wrapping themselves around my head and obscuring my vision. There were also several top heavy and revolving metal racks carrying miscellaneous small items, set on either side of the narrow passageway, and these all helped to restrict my progress. I blundered blindly along; continually ricocheting off things, until finally; in accordance with my script, I "Approached the counter."

A "Dreadful Woman" stood behind the counter. She was watching me closely, as I walked towards her. She had obviously been designed to strike fear into the bravest of hearts, and she did it very well! Taller than me; and much, much broader. Black hair; in a bun on top of her head; small piggy eyes set in a fat face; heavy and pendulous sagging breasts, and a bulging stomach. She was standing with arms akimbo, glaring at me ferociously, and definitely NOT smiling! I could only classify her as being of an Extremely Outsized Roundness, and she was so large that I had to take a step backwards, to bring her into sharp focus. She reminded me strongly of a Japanese Sumo wrestler - in the super heavyweight class! It was not possible to tell whether she was wearing a corset, but if she was, then it must have been a most impressive garment.

Her facial expression became even more terrible, and my knees began to tremble; knocking together like a pair of muffled castanets. She spoke; and her voice sounded exactly the same as my old Regimental Sergeant Major:

"WELL?" she barked.

Instant Terror!

My safety valve suddenly ruptured,

and the noise I emitted sounded like a deflating balloon:-

"S-S-Squoish-h!"

"WHAT??" she roared.

Desperation.

I tried again, and in a very small voice stuttered:-

"c-c-c-corsets."

It was no use! I was doomed from the start, and to make matters worse I became aware that someone else had entered the shop, and was now standing right behind me and looking at me with great interest. I dare not turn and look, but whoever was there must have had X-Ray eyes! I could feel them; burning twin holes in the back of my head, and my hair was beginning to scorch!

A sudden wave of shame and embarrassment swept over me, and I turned away from the counter; running out of the shop; falling over numerous things on the way, and pursued by gales of raucous laughter from two women.

I wanted to hide!

That was the end of my first attempt at shopping for a corset; and it was very nearly the end of everything. The whole episode had been so unnerving that I started to have bad dreams, and once woke up screaming. It took a considerable time before my courage returned, and yet I still felt the need to try again. I kept on thinking desperately: "Surely someone - somewhere must understand my problem." I could not be the only man in the world who wanted to wear a tight corset. Or was I?

Was there something seriously wrong with me?

Words like - Odd; Different; Crazy - Mad, even; kept entering my thoughts. It was an obsession. It haunted me, and filled my mind; and I am sure that is what an obsession does to you, because I looked it up in the dictionary! But - Was it Wrong? That was what really worried me.

 

There was no answer to that question.

 

**

Corset Diary

 

My Gran, and Aunts all wore stiff and tight corsets, as did their friends. I must have been about ten years old when Gran mentioned that, as I was starting a new school next year, it was time I was put into proper corsets. Until then I had only worn the laced and buckled bodice, which had light bones and shoulder straps. The next year end, my aunts and Joan visited us, and stayed over the weekend. Aunt Lucy noticed my full and shapely body, and sternly said to me,

"Corsets for you; my girl."

Saturday afternoon saw me having my first real corset fitted on, and being slowly laced up. The corset had strong laces, belts, buckles, straps, suspenders, and a long busk. Joan, who was about eight years older than me, unwrapped some stockings and shoes. Joan was also very tightly corseted, and moved slowly. Aunt Lucy was rigid from below her seat right up to her shoulders, and was held firm by her tight and heavily boned corsets. She soon had me fitted with the stockings and high heels.....

 

*****

When life has reached its lowest ebb, things can only get better. After taking some time to regain my lost confidence and thinking of various ways to change my approach to shop assistants, I spent the next few weeks in search of a suitable corset shop. I had learnt most of the pitfalls by now, and knew what I had to avoid. Not a crowded shopping centre, because of the difficulty of making a rapid escape. Not one of the high class type of specialist corset shops, because the atmosphere was all wrong, and men were obviously not welcomed. And, of course, not a large department store, where there were too many all-seeing eyes.

After much searching and rejecting, I finally pinpointed a small corset shop that appeared to be ideal. It was a detached brick building, in a quieter part of the town; and I kept the place under observation for a few days - trying not to look too suspicious! Several women entered the shop; each staying for different lengths of time, so there was obviously no fixed duration for a visit. Business could not be described as brisk, and there were long periods when the shop was apparently empty.

I eventually decided that this was a suitable place, and, after some more heart searching, took a chance; walking past the shop several times to check that it was empty, and the street was quiet. Then; finally, before my courage drained away, I turned; picked up speed; strode towards the building; opened the door; stepped inside....and promptly jumped four feet into the air!

Just as the door opened, a gigantic bell gave a mind shattering "CLANG-G!!!" about six inches from my left ear. The sudden shock completely disorientated me; both knees gave under me, and I reached the point of total collapse!

Fortunately there was a short pause, and this enabled me to gather a few of my wits and take a look around the shop. I was holding on to a small display stand, containing several different types of corsets; all carefully draped and folded to show either the laces or fastenings, and my eyes popped out at the sight of so many interesting things.

The shop was lined on two sides with shelves, containing row upon row of boxes of corsets. Most of the boxes were pink; although a few were cream, or white. Just as I was looking at all these items, a door at the rear of the shop opened, and a woman entered. She was neatly dressed in a dark grey jacket and matching skirt, and had a very well shaped figure. I stood poised and ready for instant flight, waiting for her reaction; but she remained calm; standing and looking at me, with one eyebrow raised like a question mark as she waited for me to speak.

I tried!

I opened my mouth, only to find that a massive leather football had become immovably jammed in my throat. With a visibly physical effort, I swallowed it, and in a squeaky falsetto voice enquired:

"Excuse me. Do you mind serving me?"

"I don't mind at all." she answered. "I saw you standing in the road, and wondered if you would have the nerve to come in. There was no reason for you to worry, because quite a lot of men call in here. What did you want?"

My heart jumped!

Instant relief!

I was accepted!

This was it - SUCCESS, at last!

So - it was not just me! I might be rather odd, but at least I was not alone! I could not believe my good luck!

I explained my desire to reduce my waist measurement, and my wish to try a back lacing corset. Had she one of that type, and could she tell me what sizes were available? There was still no sign of adverse reaction, and it was all becoming too good to be true. I had half expected that she might start screaming for the Police at any moment, but she remained calm and attentive.

"I have the exact type you are looking for." she told me. "The smallest size I stock is twenty three inches; but I am sure the manufacturers make smaller sizes to order."

My words came out with a rush:

"Can I have one with a twenty three inch waist, please?"

She started to show signs of doubt, and I could see her looking me up and down, as if she was assessing my dimensions.

"Do you think that is really wise?" she enquired.

"You know it can be dangerous to lace yourself in too tightly; particularly if you are not used to wearing a corset."

I could not stop now, and was still far too keen.

"Oh; I wear one all the time! Every day! It will be quite all right - I know it will!"

I could see she still had doubts, but she eventually turned; selected a box, and placed it on the counter. It was cream coloured, and had no picture on the lid. She lifted the lid, to reveal several layers of tissue paper; keeping me in suspense, until finally unfolding the paper and giving me my first glimpse of the garment. Once again it was pink; with laces tied in their usual big bow. She took it out of the box; unfolded it, and laid it on the counter for my inspection.

Although the length from top to bottom was about the same as my present one; the shape was different, with the narrow waist on this one being placed centrally. I deduced that it would not reach as low down over my hips, but would rise much higher up my chest; making it the highest boned garment that I had yet worn. It had a similar busk to mine, and the lacing was much the same; but both items were of noticeably stronger construction. The front clasp had been reinforced and strengthened by the addition of a wide, strong and flat bone that lay closely behind the busk, and the chief characteristic of the whole corset was its obvious strength.

I decided that I must definitely have this one, and postponed any further study until I was able to take it home. I looked hopefully towards the room at the back of the shop, and enquired:

"Do you think I could try it on?"

"Not here, love." she replied, shaking her head.

"I don't think that would be right, do you? No; you take it home, and remember what I said. Do be careful."

The price was much higher than I had expected, and I only had just sufficient money on me. I paid her; she carefully wrapped it up, and I left the shop, shivering with reaction, and carrying a long and rigid tubular brown paper parcel in my hand. I was sure everyone would know what I had bought, and all the women I passed seemed to be looking at me and grinning in a knowing sort of way! To add to my troubles, there was also the problem of how to smuggle the parcel into the house without Mother seeing it.

I was late arriving home, and it was becoming dark, so I crept round to the back of the house and concealed the parcel inside an old wash boiler in the outhouse; praying that nobody would find it. Fortunately all went well, and I managed to retrieve the corset the following day, and transfer it to the safety of my hiding place. I was about to enter a new and most interesting phase of my corseted life, and I wanted to have everything perfect in every way, so that I could be sure of success.

**

I decided to have a short period of preliminary training by lacing my present corset as tightly as possible, and keeping it fully closed all day. It was very uncomfortable at first; but after almost two weeks I became aware that it was much easier to withstand the pressure, and, not to put too fine a point on it, it was most enjoyable; with my waist having been reduced to a fraction over twenty eight inches. My whole carriage and posture had improved, and I no longer slouched along, round shouldered, and with my hands in my pockets.

I had been considered quite smart in the Army, and they had given me many words of encouragement; such as:-

"Head Up!" "Shoulders Back!" "Stomach In!"

and once - from the Regimental Sergeant Major himself - I received the highest and most ultimate accolade:-

"YOU MARCH LIKE A RUPTURED CRAB!

YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE MAN!"

All this did wonders for my deportment, but I soon returned to my old ways, once I was free from military discipline. But now, my corset helped me to stand upright; holding my stomach in, and supporting my back. I could understand why Matron had been able to stand so erect all day - her corset did all the work! My mother soon noticed the difference, and remarked, drily, that at last I seemed to be taking some pride in my appearance.

I thought to myself: "She doesn't know the half of it! I wonder what she would say if she knew the real reason!"

It seemed an interminable wait before I was able to wear the new one. I yearned for the opportunity but had more sense than to take any stupid risks, and eventually I had my chance. Mother had recently joined the local Amateur Dramatic Society and was going to an evening rehearsal, and that meant I could count upon having about two hours alone, which should be ample for my purpose.

All that I had to do, was undress; clip the new corset on; lace it to a comfortable degree, and then spend the rest of the time in total enjoyment. My mental musings ranged freely over the many pleasures to come.

**

Corset Diary

 

All the Elders were very tightly corseted, and they found it easier to stand at either side of the bed, while I lay down; being firmly held by Gran and Joan. Then Lucy and Mum slowly tightened my laces. I had to be rolled on to my back when the first stage was completed, and Joan, who was a big strong girl, forced a second heavy steel busk down under the corset busk. After this painful process, I was left on the bed for about half an hour. Then they came back into the room, and took up their positions as before. I was laced even tighter, and could actually feel my body changing shape, as the laces were being tightened. Lucy said, "That's enough for now. Stand her up, and I'll seal everything."

The laces were wound round my waist, the same as I do now, and Lucy told Joan to bring "The Special Belt." This was a form of leather chastity belt, which buckled at the waist. It fitted tightly over the corset laces, and had a strap about one inch wide, which passed between my legs, and buckled just above the corset hem.

The corset itself reached from just below my armpits, to just below my seat. I was told to open my legs; hollow my back, and hold firm until Lucy and Joan had tightened the waist belt, Then, one at the front and the other at the back, they pulled up the under strap, until it was very tight. My suspenders were adjusted, and I was then properly dressed in the rest of my clothes. I was told that I must remain in this corset for the rest of the school holidays, to allow me to get used to it.

*****

I was doing my utmost to conceal my obvious eagerness, on the evening of the rehearsal, and wasted no time after Mother left the house. I ran up to my bedroom; and quickly stripped off all my clothing, except for my lisle stockings. I put my old corset on the bed; unwrapped the new one; laid the two garments side by side, and began a leisurely comparison of the design points.

There were several similarities. For instance: The front busks were almost identical, as was the method of securing all the bones within the long, machine stitched pockets. The general layout and the arrangement of the lacing was similar, and the main difference lay in the method of combining each of the component parts. Each corset had six suspenders, but the elastic on the new ones was much longer. I was just approaching the most interesting part of my in-depth study, when there was a sudden and quite unexpected interruption......

A key turned in the front door; the door opened, and Mother called:

"It's only me."

I was transfixed in horror! Caught In The Act! She had only to walk upstairs, and discover me - surrounded by corsets, and naked - except for a pair of ladies stockings - and I was going to be in all sorts of unimaginable trouble!

It was essential to divert her; so I ran down the passage and carefully poked my head around the corner of the stairs. Controlling my voice with a great deal of effort, I said:

"I was just going to have a bath."

Her face registered an unmistakable look of profound disbelief. I could practically see the word "NEVER!" flashing in bright Neon lights, above her head; and for one terrible moment I thought she was going to come upstairs and start asking awkward questions. Fortunately, all she said was:

"Fine; I forgot to take the book. Must rush. See you later."

I wasted many valuable minutes after she had gone; trying to recover from the shock and continue my comparison of the two corsets. It was impossible for me to go on, because my concentration had been broken, and I could not focus my mind on the task. What would happen if mother's suspicions had been aroused, and she decided to come back a second time to see what I was doing, in the hope of catching me doing it! The most immediately essential thing was for me to put on the new corset without delay; get dressed again; hide it beneath my outer clothing, and then it would not matter who saw me!

I opened the busk; untied the bow; manipulated the laces, and pulled the two halves almost fully apart. I left just enough length in the two loops at the waist to allow me to firmly grasp and pull them. This operation left the two halves of the corset about four or five inches apart, and some mental calculations told me that this should be ample.

I picked up the new garment; passed it around my body, and, taking a firm grip, tried unsuccessfully to fasten the front busk; only to find that the two edges would not meet and there was a disappointingly wide gap at the front! Surely it could not be too small! I took a fresh grip on the lower ends of the busk, and strained to make them meet. The laces moved a little, through the lace holes at the back, which just enabled me to engage the lowest stud in the lowest hole. I rested for a moment; grasped the edges again and struggled to fasten the next highest stud.

It would not come together!

With the strength borne of desperation I tried to pull the two top edges of the busk together, and once again the laces moved at the back; allowing me to locate the top stud into its hole. The top and bottom studs were quite secure, but the waistline at the front gaped widely open, with my stomach bulging out through the gap, and no matter how I heaved; strained, and struggled, it was impossible to fasten the rest of the studs.

I was determined not to be beaten, and with a great deal of hard work, managed to take the corset off again. I took a short breather; spent some time thinking things over, and then pulled the two halves fully apart. The waist loops were sacrificed, and the knot at the end of the laces was untied and re-tied at its furthest extremity; thereby gaining another two valuable inches of lace.

Holding my breath; until I was purple in the face; violently sucking in my stomach at the same time and gripping both edges of the corset firmly; I gave a titanic heave - and, to my delight, just managed to fasten the second and third studs together. I was then able to secure all the remaining studs without too much of a struggle.

Man - Oh, Man - It Was Tight!

It was also twisted and out of alignment, and had to be wrenched sideways at the top and bottom edges, to move it into the correct position. Even after this, the front still remained slightly out of line, and all the flesh at my waist was creased; but after some more manipulation it began to feel a little better.

I took a short breather; and then started to grope behind my back; searching for two opposite sections of the lace. My experience with front lacing garments had proved that it was better to start at the lowest edge, and work the slack upwards to the waist. This had the very pleasant effect of lifting and holding the loose flesh; and the "Lift" added to the general sense of well being. I had once tried pulling the waist in first, but found that this exerted a downward pressure on my internal organs and left me feeling heavy and tired.

My intention had been to insert both my index fingers into the laces about two or three inches above the lower corset edge; and then draw the two laces outwards. This should pull the lower edges together and leave me with a short length of lace; which could be taken higher; the process would be repeated; and some more length of lace would be gained until I reached the waist level and could tie a temporary knot.

But I am moving ahead of myself. In actual fact, I had to work very hard to move the laces at all; because they were already stretched tightly, and it called for much groping and fumbling before I did manage to find, and pull two of them. They each ran freely backwards and forwards; but did not do any adjusting, and I discovered that I was holding two sections of the same lace on one side - but nothing on the other side!

I made another attempt in a different place, and met with slightly more success. The corset started to close even more tightly around me, and I began to sense that lovely compact feeling around the lower edge. More careful groping and pulling higher up, resulted in some further gains; and my next effort took me to one of the waist loops. All the lace was very carefully pulled up to the waist on both sides; the laces were given a last good pull, and then tied into a temporary knot.

After another a short break, I turned to the section above my waist, which proved to be even more confusing and difficult; nearly forcing me to give up in despair. I had no previous experience with back lacing, and had certainly never worked on a laced garment that came as high up as this one. Having to reach behind and upwards made my arms ache terribly, and I was becoming afraid of another attack of cramp. It could all have been so much easier if I had a friendly and understanding woman who would help me.

It was no use; I could not see what I was doing on my own, so I walked to Mother's bedroom and stood in front of her big mirror, but even this proved to be of little help. I was determined not to be defeated, and brought in my own small mirror; standing it on Mother's dressing table, and moving it to various positions until finally, with the aid of the two mirrors, I was able to see all my front, and a small portion of my back.

The corset was stiff and rigid, and prevented me twisting and turning; but I did manage to master the technique of looking in the mirror, and making all my movements in reverse! Eventually, after a great deal of manipulation and pulling, I closed the top half considerably; drew the surplus lace down to about waist level; untied the temporary knot, and pulled on the two loops, until all four lace ends were at an equal degree of tension.

After another brief rest it was time for the final assault. Holding a loop in either hand; taking a deep breath; and clenching my teeth; I pulled on both loops with all my strength; felt a sudden violent crushing pressure at my waist; and watched myself in the mirror, being visibly reduced. This was a lot more encouraging, so I made another attempt; crossing the laces over and taking a fresh purchase. It was much more difficult now, but I still appeared to be gaining a little with each pull, so I wedged my elbows in between the taut laces, and gave another powerful heave.

My final attempt amounted to little more than a long, but unproductive straining, which ultimately made me realise that there was nothing more to be gained; so I carefully drew the two laces round to the front, and knotted them securely. After I had gathered up all the loose lace and wrapped it round my waist several times, I tied a final knot, and then held on to the door for support; gasping with the effort, and sweating profusely!

I had a good look at myself in the long mirror, and there was no doubt that my waist had been considerably reduced. It was much smaller than before; quite sharply indented; and, in fact, was something of disappointment. I had mentally pictured myself with a smoothly co-ordinated series of flowing curves; like the "Hour Glass" waist that had been mentioned in so many books; tapering down from my chest to my new and tiny waist; to elegantly and softly flow out over my hips.

I had several illustrations of Victorian ladies in my scrapbook; and they all had smooth and flowing lines, and a slender silhouette; but now, with my very sharply pinched in waist, against my straight chest and hips, I looked more like an "Egg-timer" than an "Hour Glass!"

Stooping, and trying to fasten my stockings to the suspenders proved to be impossible, because I could not bend at all; forced upright; totally rigid; and finding it to be far more unpleasant than I had imagined. I was expecting it to be enjoyable, but instead, it was pure torture! Several other tight lacers had written about their experiences, and some of them had warned of the possibility of pain, with the positive assurance that the pain would soon turn to pleasure. So, all I had to do was wait for a few more minutes, and then begin to enjoy it!

My immediate desire was to measure the extent of my achievement, by putting a tape measure around my waist and recording my new vital statistics. Of course I had forgotten to bring a tape measure upstairs with me; so I walked out of the room to go in search of one, and had just reached the top of the stairs when the pain hit me! It started as a stabbing sensation in my crushed middle regions; but I tried to ignore it, and walk down the stairs. It quickly became a serious griping, deep down, all-pervading agony; causing me to grab at the banister rail; crushing the wood to splinters beneath my fingers; teeth bared; lips drawn back in tortured and inflamed agony. Under normal circumstances I would have been doubled up with pain - but the stiffness of the corset denied me even that small amount of relief!

It was essential to do something immediately; so I untied the front knot, desperately tugged at the main knot, and plucked at the laces wherever I could get a hold. They slackened slightly, and allowed me fractional relief. More twitching and pulling helped ease the awful pain; but it had really frightened me this time. I wrenched at the top of the busk, and managed to undo some of the studs; but the bottom two locked and jammed immovably. Some further hard struggling with the laces eventually enabled me to disentangle the busk, and take the corset off.

I was trembling all over; and it took me a long time to recover; rubbing my body, and pressing my soft flesh with stiff fingers; because it felt as if my main blood circulation had been cut off. I put both the corsets and stockings back in my hiding place, and vowed to get rid of them, as soon as possible, once and for all! It had been a hard lesson; but I now knew that what I had done was both stupid and ridiculous; and there must be positively no repetition. Enough was enough. Never again! I had definitely and finally finished with corsets for ever.

 

This was the absolute end - I Promise!

 

**

Of course; my promise was worthless, and a few days later I knew that I would have to have one more try. It had too much of a hold on me. Without a corset I was unhappy and miserable; whereas with it, life was worth living. But - tight lacing was out! Or, at least, until I knew a little more about it. I reluctantly had to admit that I had overdone it; and I promised myself that, next time, I would be much more careful.

After some thought, I decided to take the new corset back to the shop, and exchange it for a larger size. In all innocence, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I retraced my steps; made sure that the shop was empty, and went inside. The same woman was standing behind the counter, so I explained my difficulty and asked for her advice.

She was unsympathetic.

"Well, I did warn you." she remarked.

"But I only tried to pull myself in about four or five inches." I protested. "Surely that's not too much!"

She looked at me, with a scornful expression, and said, as though reciting a lesson:

"This type of corset is very close fitting, and when first put on is designed to be worn with the laces about two inches open, to achieve the waist size that is stated upon the box. This is to compensate for the slight amount of stretching that will occur in the material of any new garment during the first month of wear. You must, somehow, have completely closed it at the waist right away; and believe me, if you did, then you definitely tried to reduce yourself too much! I wouldn't be surprised if you were in pain!"

"I was!" I said without thinking, and she jumped in:

"Well; there you are, you see!

Don't you know you could have done serious damage to yourself?"

"No." I admitted miserably. "I am beginning to realise that I still have a lot to learn."

I continued trying to explain how happy I was, when corseted; but it was quite obvious that she was wishing I would go away. I asked if she would exchange it, but she refused; saying:

"I'm sorry. I can't exchange it once you have worn it. It's all right trying it on in the shop; but - look at this. You have damaged the lace holes."

She pointed, and I had to admit that the lace holes at the waist were oval, rather than round; and the paint had chipped off some of them; exposing the brass underneath.

She said, with an air of finality:

"I could not hope to sell it in that condition."

So, sorrowfully, I wrapped it up, took it away, and when I arrived at home, concealed it in my hiding place.

There was a further period of frustration as I tried to think of other ways of reducing my waist, in the hope that this might enable me to put the corset on. Eating less had proved to be almost as painful as tight lacing; with the added problem of Mother noticing that I was not eating as heartily as usual, and thinking that I was sickening for something. There had to be a solution somewhere; and, as usual, there was!

Longer Lacing!

That had to be the answer! Longer lacing would allow me to open the corset wider; and I promptly conjured up a picture of myself, putting it on with ease; adjusting the laces with a few deft and well practised movements and solving all my problems.

The laces were removed from both my corsets, and tied together to form one very long lace. The new corset was then rebuilt, and when fully opened the two halves were about twelve inches apart; and there was still enough lace for two generous waist loops. I put it on again; fastened the busk easily, and centralised everything into its correct position.

I took a tight hold on the two central loops, and confidently started to pull; reeling in yards and yards of lace until I achieved a state of tension around my waist. By this time, the rest of the lace was hanging down at the back, and had formed itself into a positive confusion of loose loops of lace. It was a total "Cat's Cradle," at which I pulled blindly, and to no avail. If I gained a bit with one pull, I promptly lost it with the next. I walked towards Mother's mirror; tripped over a length of lace that was trailing on the floor; lost my balance and fell against her dressing table; almost sweeping it clear of glass ornaments in my efforts to prevent myself falling to the floor!

Hopeless! Absolutely hopeless! There had to be some other answer. But - no. The whole attempt had proved to be nothing more than an expensive mistake. My hopes had been dashed to the ground, and I was at my absolute nadir.

 

Oh! - Was there anybody; anywhere, in the whole world, quite as miserable as me?

 

*****

 

Chapter Six

 

The Turning Point

 

You may have already reached the conclusion that this story is going to be little more than a monotonous and rather boring catalogue of frustration; but I can assure you that it will soon become much more interesting! You are about to meet DOROTHY; a young woman - and so different from all other women - who should be given the highest praise and appreciation, because of the considerable debt of gratitude I owe her. From the very first moment we met, her sympathy and understanding began to re-shape my whole life - and my figure!

Perhaps it would save a lot of time and space if I took refuge in convention, and just wrote: "Our eyes met across the room; and for the two of us it was love at first sight." Unfortunately this would not strictly be accurate. In actual fact, our early meetings caused me to suffer an entirely new sequence of severe nervous reactions; with each one surpassing the previous one in a manner that would have tested the capabilities of even my strongest "Hero," far beyond anything that he could ever have foreseen in even his wildest of dreams.

 

And this is how it all began:-

 

I had to continue with my efforts, in spite of my early heartaches, disappointments and setbacks. I Wanted To Wear a Corset - it was ESSENTIAL. There was no logical reason for my obsession; in fact pure and simple common sense told me that the whole enterprise was undesirable; inadvisable; and just plain stupid! And yet, I still felt a strong urge to continue.

One fact, already becoming obvious was that: "Nobody will do something for nothing;" and, as a corollary to this: "The greater the desire - the greater the cost!"

I managed to save up some more money and then went window shopping again; this time breaking new ground and investigating a town on the edge of my regular area. It was a popular seaside resort; and I spent some time exploring and rejecting a number of shops in the main shopping district. There was one shop specialising in corsets; but it was the modern high-class and expensive type; with all the garments on display being the flimsy and decorative variety; totally unsuitable for my needs.

The shop I eventually selected was a small, general purpose, underwear and bed linen shop; in a street lined on both sides with small shops, and some distance away from the main shopping centre. The name board above the window included the words "Corset Specialists," and there were three conventional models displayed in the window. The display method was new to me; utilising cut-off sections of female bodies. The top terminated just above waist height; and the lower end was at about mid-thigh level. The models stood firmly on the stumps of their legs, and appeared to be about life size. Each was made of a hard substance; coloured green; with the makers name moulded into the top, and outlined in gold lettering. It was a very neat and effective display.

After I had made my usual careful reconnaissance I approached the shop, opened the door, and walked in. A bell rang; but this time I was prepared for it! There were two women in the shop. A dark haired and plump, middle aged lady; dressed in a green knitted jumper and black pleated skirt was standing behind the counter. She glanced towards the door and did not manifest any signs of alarm at the sight of me; so it looked quite promising. I mentally classified her as "Comfortable."

The other woman looked much younger, and was at that moment speaking on the telephone at the rear end of the shop. I immediately noticed that she had a remarkably deep voice, and sounded as if she was rather harassed. I heard her saying,

"All right. Yes - Yes. I will do what I can."

She replaced the telephone receiver; rejoined her companion behind the long counter, and composed her face to a look of polite enquiry. She had both her hands thrust into the pockets of a crisply ironed white dust coat; opened at the front; and beneath the coat she wore a round necked maroon coloured jumper and a grey skirt. The jumper fitted her closely; outlining her small breasts; and then I noticed that she had a small waist. Oh, Yes! She had an extremely small waist; and, immediately, my attention became riveted upon her. She was not quite as tall as me; but had fair hair, about the same colour as mine; and looked to be about my age.

I continued staring at her small waist to the point of rudeness, and had to make a determined endeavour to concentrate on what she was saying. No; she did not mind serving me; but unfortunately they were temporarily out of stock of the type of garment that I required. I was just about to put it down to experience and leave the shop, when she asked if I had ever considered having one "Made to Measure."

This was an interesting suggestion, and I asked her for some more information. She told me:

"You tell us what you want; do a sketch or drawing of the garment if you can. Give us all the measurements; and we will order it from the manufacturers. It's a much more positive method of ensuring that a garment will fit well; and a lot better than relying on a stock model."

She had a straightforward way of speaking; and her suggestion did not seem to be the least bit unusual. In fact, upon reflection, it was a very good idea! I had already spent a great deal of time worrying about how to achieve a good fit; especially around the waist. My Great Aunt's corset had been the nearest thing to perfection; but it still did not reduce my waist as much as I would have wished; and I had often thought the reduction could be improved. I thanked the woman for her suggestion, promised to let her have all the details as soon as possible and then went home.

At the earliest opportunity, I carried a chair into my bedroom; cleared the top of my dressing table; found a pencil and some paper; and began to design my first corset. I had a clear picture in my head, but it proved to be very hard to transfer it on to the paper. I was not much good at art-work, and several of my early attempts were screwed up and thrown away, until I had a good idea; something they had taught me at school and one of the few lessons that had remained stuck in my head.

I found some greaseproof paper in the kitchen; used it as tracing paper, and this technique enabled me to trace some of the best sections from several different corset advertisements in my scrapbook. I then joined them all together, to form a composite garment; rubbed a pencil thickly over the back of the tracing; drew round the various lines again; and succeeded in transferring the outline on to a sheet of white paper. I finally inked it all in with my pen; drawing both front and rear views, and including plenty of detail. I looked at my drawing again only recently, and it still seems quite professional.

I carefully measured myself; both standing and sitting; and inscribed all the dimensions on the drawing; specifying a desired waist measurement of twenty five inches; which I judged would go nicely with my natural chest and hip measurement of thirty eight inches. When the drawing had been completed to my satisfaction, I began to write down the detailed specification.

I told myself that this was going to be the best corset of all time, and it would be a revolutionary design! I first considered the material; and my desire for a change from the customary drab pink. Would it be possible to have a smooth and shiny material - Satin, perhaps. I had little knowledge of materials, but did remember Aunties black and shiny, waist defining one. I described the material, and hoped they would recognise it; specifying white; with pink as my second choice.

I had some definite views about the length, and wanted to avoid any further chance of the lower front bunching up and rubbing against my legs. The front was cut away, and then raised until it nicely cleared my private parts; which should enable me to perform my toilet functions with a greater degree of ease. The back still had to come down to the same point as the previous corset; which would mean that the back was much deeper than the front. The top edge was designed to rise to the middle of my chest; making it about the same height as my first tight lacing garment at the front, and it rose to a higher level at the back. I wanted the finished garment to confine me from the middle of my chest to low down on my hips. It would give strong support to my back muscles, and reduce my waist measurement significantly. It would fasten at the front, with the usual split front busk similar to my other two corsets, but the busk would have to be about an inch longer, and be a heavy duty version to cope with my desired degree of tight lacing.

I spent a long time thinking about the lacing. Experience had shown me that front lacing was easier to manage; but it could not be denied that the back lacing would be more preferable if significant waist reduction was desired. I finally decided upon back lacing; but with a difference. Mine would stop about three inches above the lower rear edge. This lower, section would be closed with a strong elastic panel. My final modification was for the lower front, below the busk, to be punched with two rows of eyelet holes, to give me a short section of front lacing, instead of the usual series of hooks and eyes

I reasoned that the back lacing would tighten round my waist and chest; holding and moulding the upper part of my body, and the elastic panel would stretch when the lower front laces were closed; giving me a matching degree of tightness around my hips and the top of my legs. The elastic panel would tuck beneath my seat, and be much more comfortable to sit on than bones and laces; as well as adding its own contribution to the general degree of lift. Two extra triangular elastic panels were included; one at either side of the lower edge; and I reasoned that these should help to give more freedom to my legs when I was walking.

Boning was the next subject for examination. I had learnt a great deal about the various different types of boning and would like to have tried genuine whalebone. Several learned articles had extolled the many properties of this excellent material; and its combined stiffness and flexibility. A short period of research revealed that whalebone had now been superseded by metal; so metal it would have to be. I opted for thin, flat bones at either side of the lacing; and four strong and flat bones, the full length of the back. All the other bones, without exception, would be of the flexible, spiral steel type. I considered stiffer boning, to reinforce the front; but later rejected this idea, because I felt that a stiffened front might be too restrictive for my bending movements. Some doubts still remained, and I eventually compromised by adding a wide and flat bone behind the front busk in the belief that this should give sufficient frontal rigidity.

Suspenders would obviously be required, because I was accustomed to and enjoyed wearing stockings. At the same time; there had been a few occasions when it was wiser not to wear them, particularly when Mother was in close proximity! I had recently seen an advertisement for detachable suspenders; and these seemed to provide the best of both worlds. They were fitted with small metal hooks, at the top of the elastic; the hooks being simply slipped into loops of material were sewn around the hem of the corset. The advertisement claimed that they were "Guaranteed safe and secure; even when subjected to rigorous use." By specifying these I would be able to wear the corset with, or without stockings, as circumstances dictated.

My finished corset should combine great strength with shape and style; and, once I had mastered the back lacing, it ought to be easy for me to put on and adjust to the required degree. I went through my scrapbook from end to end searching for any further improvements; but, at the time I could find none. I have gained considerable skill and experience over the intervening years and am sure that I could have found several ways to improve it, but for a first effort I thought, and still think, it was very good.

I went back to the shop; feeling rather proud of myself, and showed them my design. They looked at the drawing; they looked at each other....... and then they both looked at me!

"I haven't seen one like this before;" the young woman said, hesitantly. "Are you sure it is what you want?"

"I am quite sure." I said, firmly.

(Silently hoping that I was right!)

"All right, then. Leave it with us. We will send it to the manufacturers and then get in touch with you.

Are you on the 'phone?"

 

HORROR!

 

We had no telephone at home, and I did not want strange women telephoning me at the office and leaving peculiar messages about corsets! I said:

"No. Can I call in again?"

They told me to give them at least a fortnight; and that proved to be one of the longest fortnights of my life. I usually went to that town about twice a week in the normal course of events; and on each visit I wanted to rush to the shop in search of an answer. I possessed my soul in patience with great difficulty, and waited the full fortnight before making my next call; and; as usual, my luck followed its customary pattern. They had sent off my design, but had not yet received an answer. The young woman tried to console me by saying that it must be a good sign, because the order had not been rejected out of hand; as sometimes happened.

I called again, the following week, and met with a little more success. They had received a letter from the factory, saying that it could be made; but because of the "unusual complexities" of my design it would have to be treated as a "Special Order;" which would make it rather expensive.

"How much will it cost," I asked;

and when they told me, in absolute disbelief, I asked again:

 

"¿¿ HOW MUCH ??"

 

The price they quoted was astronomical! It amounted to more than two full weeks wages, when compared with my meagre earnings at that time. I became very worried about how I could find all that amount of money, and must have shown how worried I was, because the young woman dangled an inducement in front of me, saying:

"Of course; for that you will have a first class job, and Quality Workmanship. We do a lot of business with this firm, and, additionally, we will give you our own Personal Guarantee of Satisfaction."

She seemed to be doing her best to persuade me, and this must have influenced my judgement. I had always wanted satisfaction, and nothing had yet come up to my full expectations, so I made up my mind to have it - No; I was determined to have it and I asked her when it would be ready. She answered:

"I'm afraid it's six weeks delivery."

Six more weeks to wait! No! It was a lifetime! However; upon reflection, six weeks should give me time to save up the money. I confirmed my order, and she promptly asked me to leave a deposit, and stated an amount. I had only just enough money on me; so I handed it to her, and went home to begin the long wait.

That six weeks was pure misery. I was full of conflicting doubts and emotions:

I wanted it - but:

Was I foolish to spend all that money?

Was my design going to be any good?

Would they understand all my instructions?

When I got it, would I be able to wear it?

Could I put it on by myself?

Would they help me at the shop?

Would it be all right?

What had I done?

I counted the days, and I counted the weeks, thinking, "Will the time never pass?" My constant brooding silence at home made Mother worry about me, and my gross negligence at work caused the Branch Manger to express annoyance. He called me into his office, and lectured me at length. He finished by shouting: "Pull yourself together;" which could hardly have been termed a suitable choice of words - in all the circumstances!

The six weeks eventually passed and I rushed back to the shop; fervently hoping that, perhaps, this was going to be the turning point in my life.

IT WAS!!

It had arrived!!!

With a certain air of quiet satisfaction, they offered the garment for my inspection, and laid it, folded, upon the counter in all its shiny white splendour.

 

IT---WAS---A---MASTERPIECE!

 

The young lady unfolded it, and I could see that the material was a pristine and unsullied white. It had been pressed and ironed to a smooth; creaseless perfection. The polished metal fittings gleamed and winked at me. The detached suspenders lay on top in some disorder; and she began to arrange them in a neat row, with the wire clips pointing towards me. When she had finished, they looked exactly like a row of shiny medals. Every other detail that I had specified had been faithfully included; no single item had ever affected me quite so much; and it was the highest point of my life. I had to wear it; then and there; without any further delay.

My Adam's Apple felt like a huge abrasive chunk of volcanic pumice stone; grating harshly, as it rubbed up and down inside my dry throat; but words would not come. I was powerless to make my voice work; and it was only after several violent efforts that I eventually managed a harsh and froglike croak:

"Can I try it on?"

I waited; tensely; hoping for the best - but fearing the worst. This was usually the moment when I would receive a withering and scornful remark, designed to plunge me into the bottomless depths of shame and despair; and I kept all my defences poised; ready to snap into place.

Both women opened their mouths, and began to speak together. The older woman's voice was higher and louder; drowning the girl's softer tones. She said, reasonably: "We have a small fitting room; but it's not really private, and it might be rather embarrassing if a lady customer was to come into the shop while you were in there. I'm sorry, but I don't really think we could let you try it on in here."

This was no worse than I had anticipated; and I had a contingency plan ready and waiting. The nearby railway station had a large public toilet, equipped with several cubicles; each having strong doors with secure locks, and I had decided to use one of the cubicles as my changing room. The older woman handed me the neatly wrapped brown paper parcel; I paid her the balance of the money; thanked them both, and began to move towards the door.

 

**

I have to break off at this point, because my pen is poised over the paper as I try and find a suitable way to explain exactly what happened during the next few minutes. It merits the expenditure of a little time and effort; because the forthcoming sequence of events would change the entire course of my life. It remains crystal clear in my memory; and I can without any effort conjure up a vivid action replay, at will.

I can still see the brown painted and rather drab interior of the narrow shop; with its numerous boxes of corsets neatly arranged in rows on the shelves behind the long counter. The older woman; standing relaxed by the cash register; the younger woman, in her white coat; walking along behind the counter; keeping pace with me as I walked down the shop. We reached the door together. I turned the handle; opened the door; the bell rang, and she looked at me in an oddly - intense - way; almost as if she was trying to transmit a telepathic message.

I was just putting one foot out of the door, when she spoke; her voice barely audible above the lingering reverberations of the door bell:

"Can you come back tonight?"

I stood stock still; frozen to the likeness of a granite statue; balanced on one leg. All my vocal cords had finally and irrevocably seized up. I was stricken completely dumb. I could only stare at her and nod my head.

She mouthed: "Seven o'clock;" I nodded again; she closed the door, and I fell off the step.

I walked away; trembling uncontrollably; and feeling as though I was going to be sick at any moment! I had to force myself to carry on walking around the adjoining streets, to gain enough time to compose my mind and try to assimilate this new and totally unexpected development.

What should I do?

Was it a Trap?

Was she going to lock me in, and then:-

Do "Unmentionably Degrading Things" to me?

I remembered several of my schoolboy yarns where situations similar to this had been graphically described, and one in particular now came to mind:-

 

"........Captain "Mad Jack" Carruthers lounged in the deep leather armchair; studying her with the practised eye of a connoisseur as she prepared the drinks. Tall; slim; a woman of unmatched, flawless beauty; with hair as black as polished ebony. His arrogant eyes lazily travelled down her body; taking in the delicacy of her bone structure; with the high cheekbones; the graceful, swan-like, curve of her neck, and the small ridges of her spine, above the top of her low cut evening gown.

The careful draping of the full length skirt, and the way that the closely fitting bodice was hugging her perfect breasts, immediately told him that the gown was an exclusive model; and could only have come from a leading Parisian Fashion House; known worldwide for the quality and range of service that it offered to its Noble and Regal clientele.

He took the drink, with a brief word of thanks; sipping it experimentally and savouring the strange musky flavour upon his palate, as he planned his next move....

All too late, he recognised the taste! He had been drugged!! A little known Polynesian drug; distilled at the dark of the moon from the dried and powdered roots of the rare, wild S**** plant. One drop could paralyse a man; leaving him completely helpless, for hours!

The crystal goblet fell from his nerveless fingers, to shatter into a thousand fragments on the hearth as he made a superhuman effort to rise from the chair!

He was unable to move a muscle!!

She had him in her power!!!

He tried to cry out......... But only a strangled grunt escaped his lips.

And yet - he could still see and hear everything!

His eyes followed her as she touched a secret switch concealed within the body of a miniature jade figurine on the desk. A hidden door in the dark oak panelling slid silently back; revealing a collection of hideous instruments of torture; all glittering brightly, with their polished surfaces reflecting the firelight. She toyed with each one, lovingly; letting him look at it, and imagine its dreadful purpose; until, at last; she picked up THE MAGNEZIAN CLAW!!

He paled beneath his tan; his heart missed a beat, as he thought of the corrosive and vitriolic alkaloids concealed in each of the razor sharp tips. He steeled himself; fiercely determined to close his mind to the indescribably bestial, burning - tearing agony!

She slowly walked towards him; mouthing guttural incantations in an unknown tongue; flecks of white foam upon her lips, and the blazing light of pure madness in her rolling eyes! She drew herself to her full height; raised her right arm to its fullest extent, and......."

 

(continued next week)

 

After a great deal of deliberation, I eventually decided to go back to the shop at seven-o-clock, but if the young woman should try and force any kind of drink upon me I would most definitely refuse it!

 

**

I thought it would be as well to take a few precautions, because donning the new corset would require at least some partial undressing, and I could not in all decency expose myself to a strange woman. I used the cubicle in the railway station toilet as my temporary changing room; first removing my trousers, pants and corset, and then putting on my pants back to front, followed by my corset, and finally my trousers. This re-arrangement ought to allow me to remove and replace both corsets, without revealing anything of importance!

Once the exchange had been safely accomplished I moved on to the preparation of a suitable cover story; telephoning my next door neighbour with a request that he give my mother a message to the effect that I had decided to go and see a show on the pier, and I might be rather late home; adding that I would get something to eat and she was not to worry about me.

Eating was out of the question because I was becoming much too excited to eat anything, and all I could do was walk up and down - up and down, waiting for time to pass. I spent some time studying the billboards outside the theatre; and trying to memorise details of the acts that were appearing; in case Mother decided to cross-examine me. I also prepared what I hoped was a perfect script for this new adventure. It was essential for me to use the correct words; and be In Full Command Of The Situation. I HAD to avoid my usual habit of spoiling everything by saying something stupid.

Time moved slowly on; and shops began to close. There was a general exodus from the beach and the shopping area, as the holiday makers went in search of food and entertainment. I continued loitering around a corner not far away, until a clock struck seven, and then I hurried to the shop to discover that the sign on the door now read "Closed", and the place was in darkness. There was no response to my first tentative knock on the door, so I knocked harder; expecting annoyed and enquiring heads to appear from upstairs windows at any minute.

Nothing happened.

I had just decided that this was going to become yet another disappointment, when a light came on inside the shop. There was the sound of locks and bolts being withdrawn; the door opened; the young woman looked out, checked that it was me, and said: "Come in." She closed and locked the outer door, and led the way through another door and up a narrow flight of stairs; motioning me to follow her. In due course we entered a large and pleasantly furnished sitting room, with the curtains closed, and an electric fire glowing warmly.

There was a small armchair at one side of the fireplace, and an old fashioned, straight backed and upholstered rocking chair was set centrally; facing the fire. A tall standard lamp stood on the left side of the rocking chair, and a small table on the right. A tightly packed bookcase filled an alcove, and many of the books were the slim paper backed variety. Some bore the logo of a red flower; and others showed a small bird carrying an envelope in its beak. I deduced that someone in the house had a liking for light romantic fiction. A dining table and three chairs stood near the curtained window; and the whole room was neat and clean.

We stood in the centre of the room; looking at each other, defensively.

"Hello." she began. "I'm Dorothy."

"I'm Laurence." I answered, and suddenly found myself completely tongue-tied; not knowing whether to smile or shake hands. All I could do was stare, wide eyed at her. She had taken off her white coat, and was now dressed in a neat, shiny white blouse and a straight skirt, and this allowed me to confirm my first diagnosis. She had a very small waist, which was now emphasised by the waistband of her skirt. She had the smallest waist I had ever seen, and I became completely fascinated and unable to take my eyes off her. Like the absolute fool that I was; I forgot all my carefully prepared words and said the first thing that came into my head.

I opened my mouth; and in complete disbelief and horror, watched the idiotic speech issuing from my lips; enclosed within a balloon; like an illustrated strip cartoon:

 

"DO YOU WEAR

CORSETS, TOO?"

 

I could have bitten my tongue right off; shocked out of my mind, and absolutely horrified at the way that the words had slipped out. I kept all my defences poised and ready to snap into place as I waited for her furious reaction, but to my surprise and delight she took my question at its face value and replied quite frankly:

"Oh yes; I always have done.

Well - since the age of eleven, that is."

"Oh! How lovely for you!" I enthused. "I started being interested when I was ten; and you wouldn't believe how difficult it has been for me. I hope that, at long last, this is going to be what I have always wanted."

"Freda and I were very interested in your design," she went on. "I had some difficulty persuading the factory to make it just the way you wanted it."

I asked her: "Is Freda the proprietor?"

She replied: "No; the shop is mine now. Mummy and Daddy used to run it. Then, when he died, Mummy and I ran it; and when she died, I tried to carry on alone."

An odd note entered her voice and she started to speak hurriedly; almost frantically:

"I'm so worried! A lot of the regular customers have stopped coming; I'm losing far too much business, and I don't know if I can carry on much longer. Freda comes in part-time, but I haven't paid her wages; I can't afford to keep her on, and I don't know which way to turn." She checked herself suddenly; and then:

"I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're not a bit interested in my problems. I only invited you here because I felt sorry for you - you looked so lost, down in the shop. I just wanted to help you - if I could."

I let her unburden herself, and studied her in depth as she talked. She was tall, for a woman, but not quite as tall as me; and I estimated her height to be about five feet seven inches in her high heels. She had straight fair hair, about the same shade as mine, worn neatly in what I believe is called a "Page Boy" style. It was shaped around her face and curled under at the ends; with a straight and thin fringe over her forehead. Her face was round; she had blue eyes, and spoke with a quiet voice, pitched rather deeply, in a way that I found most attractive. I later discovered that she would make a habit of deepening her voice, and taking much more care with her diction when she was dealing with customers in the shop. I called it her "Professional Voice."

I liked the direct way she dealt with all matters of business, and, when I first saw her, I had mentally classified her as "Matter-of-Fact." On reflection; after all these pleasant years; I can find no cause to modify that classification. Her face bore all the marks of worry when we first met. It's hard to describe; but you can tell when someone is worried. There is an aura of tension - a guarded look; and even on that first occasion I could see that she had problems.

She had very good posture and held herself well; standing straight but relaxed, and not quite as stiff as Matron. My eyes kept returning to her waist, but it was to be quite some time before I was able to make a fully comprehensive assessment of her body, as a whole unit. I liked Dorothy; right from the beginning, and had been attracted by her calm, no-nonsense way of looking at things. I found most girls to be very unpredictable, and the few that I had spoken to had been vague; or were liable to fly off at a tangent and toss their heads, unless you were giving them your constant and undivided admiration at all times.

Dorothy was Different.

She always worked at her problems, until they had reached a satisfactory conclusion.

I could see that she was profoundly worried, and I wanted to find some way of helping her to overcome her problems with the shop; if only as a means of thanking her for the help that she was giving me. I ventured:

"Look. About the shop. I would like to help you; if you will let me. I don't know much about shops, and may not be able to do much good - but at least I shouldn't do much harm. Would it help you to talk about it?"

"Never mind about that, for the present." she replied. "I shouldn't have mentioned it, so please forget about it. Yes, it would be a relief to be able to talk to someone about it; but honestly I'd be glad to put it out of my mind for a while."

Quite abruptly she became all business-like:

"Let's see what we can do for you.

Are you wearing a corset now?"

Her sudden transition and direct approach was most disconcerting; making me jump, and go red in the face. That was usually the first sign of my losing all control of my bodily functions. My knees would go next; then I would probably go into severe convulsions, and anything could happen after that!

"Well - er - yes." I mumbled, self consciously.

"Let's have a look at it then," she ordered.

I looked blank; unable to believe my ears.

What was I supposed to do?

Undress in front of her - NO! - Never!

"Come on, now. We can't afford to waste any time." she insisted, sharply; so, with great reluctance, I loosened my belt; and dropped my trousers a little way.

"Drop 'em!" she said, grinning. "Go on; No need to be shy. I've seen many a corset on a man before now."

I carefully lowered my trousers a little more; but kept a firm grip on them; ready to pull them up instantly. My face was red with embarrassment as I stood facing her in a sort of semi-crouch; partially revealing the lower half of my corset, suspenders, and stocking tops. Before I had time to take evasive action she reached forward; grasped and raised the front of my shirt, and fully exposed my corset.

"Where on earth did you find That Old Fashioned Thing?" she cried. "It looks as if it came out of the Ark!"

She released my shirt, and it fell like a curtain.

This was Frightful! Appalling! Dreadful! Unbearable!

Nothing in my life had ever been quite as shocking as this, and the combined humiliation, degradation, and mortification made me want to positively squirm!

I admitted, wretchedly: "I-I-I; well - er - as a matter of fact; that is, I; sort of, Borrowed it off an old Aunt of mine."

"Didn't she object?" Was her next question.

 

I prayed that the ground would open and swallow me up!

I was afraid she was going to laugh at me -

and that would have been "Worse Than Death!"

  

  

  

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