Flamingo Publications
Chapter Nine
It was a new life, not getting up in the morning at the crack of dawn, staying late at night pouring over work on her messy desk. There was no mad rush around her, no sparring conversations, no deadlines to keep her on track, and there was only the people she chose to deal with populating her life.
The novel was the first thought on her mind when she quit, thinking the time to finish the work would be like heaven. Though there was little excitement spending all her hours in front of a computer monitor. She was determined not to return to the newspaper in spite of Sam's weekly calls to offer her everything from her old job back, to editorial assignments. But she did need more stimulation. She needed people. With that fact obvious after just two weeks on her own, she decided to strike out on a far different kind of work. A few calls to her publishing contacts, and she had the backing she needed to begin a non-fiction piece on some titillating topic of her choice. It paid to have been a journalist all these years.
On all accounts, the topic she chose for an investigative inquiry met all the criteria she was looking for. A book on unique, bizarre and often over the edge sexual practices was a perfect means of meeting her need for income, and her desire for provocative thrills. Despite how her dance club investigation turned out, her interest in that area of life hadn't declined in the slightest. If anything, it had been stimulated.
To begin the work, Kelly began exploring the dozens of shops and boutiques in the city that catered to sexual finery. Everything from Frederick's of Hollywood and plush lingerie boutiques to leather stores, and those carrying sex toys, pornography, and offering their customers the opportunity to be tattooed or pierced with body jewelry. Kelly spoke with shop owners, customers and casual voyeurs for informal interviews. Her enthusiasm for the curious sub-culture grew with each place she visited; her fascination for the strange and macabre sparked her lust each time.
At one particularly interesting boutique, she was encouraged by the store owner to try on some leather and chain garments – just so she could get a personal appreciation of how such clothing might erotically arouse its wearer.
"You'll like the effect," the long-haired man told her, as he pulled a backless skirt, a leather halter bra, and various cuffs and collars from their displays. "The dressing room's quite private. Of course if you'd like to model them, no one would object."
"This," she said, holding up the skirt.
There was a twinkle in his eye. "As I said, no one's going to object."
Kelly discovered quickly, that being an observer and being a participant were two wholly different things. Once in the dressing room, she went beyond being a casual reporter of the facts to being one of the many who sometimes tiptoed, sometimes walked boldly into darker sexual territory. With just the thought of trying on the unusual attire, the same kind of sensations that she remembered from the topless bar were engaged. Words like naughty, sordid, obscene and lewd popped into her head. She'd been a whore once, now she was walking into a new level of depravity and loving it. It was too bad that the walk was such a lonely one. She couldn't imagine sharing this with any man she knew. Except with Tad perhaps. And she hadn't seen him in weeks.
The clothes she took into the dressing room required her to strip naked before putting them on. It was almost like being reborn into another world. An instant before she began trying on the outfit, the three way mirror reflected back three naked Kellys, wet pussys, jiggling breasts and blushing cheeks. Running her hands over her bare skin, she might have began masturbating before she even began trying on clothes. But she stopped. That wasn't the point. Kelly wondered how many lovers used the sex shop for sex. Tad would have fucked her here in a heartbeat.
Trying the
Chapter Nine
It was a new life, not getting up in the morning at the crack of dawn, staying late at night pouring over work on her messy desk. There was no mad rush around her, no sparring conversations, no deadlines to keep her on track, and there was only the people she chose to deal with populating her life.
The novel was the first thought on her mind when she quit, thinking the time to finish the work would be like heaven. Though there was little excitement spending all her hours in front of a computer monitor. She was determined not to return to the newspaper in spite of Sam's weekly calls to offer her everything from her old job back, to editorial assignments. But she did need more stimulation. She needed people. With that fact obvious after just two weeks on her own, she decided to strike out on a far different kind of work. A few calls to her publishing contacts, and she had the backing she needed to begin a non-fiction piece on some titillating topic of her choice. It paid to have been a journalist all these years.
On all accounts, the topic she chose for an investigative inquiry met all the criteria she was looking for. A book on unique, bizarre and often over the edge sexual practices was a perfect means of meeting her need for income, and her desire for provocative thrills. Despite how her dance club investigation turned out, her interest in that area of life hadn't declined in the slightest. If anything, it had been stimulated.
To begin the work, Kelly began exploring the dozens of shops and boutiques in the city that catered to sexual finery. Everything from Frederick's of Hollywood and plush lingerie boutiques to leather stores, and those carrying sex toys, pornography, and offering their customers the opportunity to be tattooed or pierced with body jewelry. Kelly spoke with shop owners, customers and casual voyeurs for informal interviews. Her enthusiasm for the curious sub-culture grew with each place she visited; her fascination for the strange and macabre sparked her lust each time.
At one particularly interesting boutique, she was encouraged by the store owner to try on some leather and chain garments – just so she could get a personal appreciation of how such clothing might erotically arouse its wearer.
"You'll like the effect," the long-haired man told her, as he pulled a backless skirt, a leather halter bra, and various cuffs and collars from their displays. "The dressing room's quite private. Of course if you'd like to model them, no one would object."
"This," she said, holding up the skirt.
There was a twinkle in his eye. "As I said, no one's going to object."
Kelly discovered quickly, that being an observer and being a participant were two wholly different things. Once in the dressing room, she went beyond being a casual reporter of the facts to being one of the many who sometimes tiptoed, sometimes walked boldly into darker sexual territory. With just the thought of trying on the unusual attire, the same kind of sensations that she remembered from the topless bar were engaged. Words like naughty, sordid, obscene and lewd popped into her head. She'd been a whore once, now she was walking into a new level of depravity and loving it. It was too bad that the walk was such a lonely one. She couldn't imagine sharing this with any man she knew. Except with Tad perhaps. And she hadn't seen him in weeks.
The clothes she took into the dressing room required her to strip naked before putting them on. It was almost like being reborn into another world. An instant before she began trying on the outfit, the three way mirror reflected back three naked Kellys, wet pussys, jiggling breasts and blushing cheeks. Running her hands over her bare skin, she might have began masturbating before she even began trying on clothes. But she stopped. That wasn't the point. Kelly wondered how many lovers used the sex shop for sex. Tad would have fucked her here in a heartbeat.
Trying the