Fashionista - Chapter 01

By Steve and Hklaw

Why won’t it go in?” she said in frustration.

She tried to wiggle, then stab, then finally in frustration jam the thing in. 

“Ahh, this never happens to me! Why now?” she demanded and brought her free hand into play to help steady the other and guide the tool home. 

Instead, it had the opposite effect and her hands shook even more after several more futile attempts to secure a connection.  Exasperation boiled over and it slipped from her hands and fell out of reach.  An infuriated gasp escaped from her mouth as she scrunched down and reached for the packet, a hand closing over it just before hers. 

“You seem to be having trouble with this operation.  Here, let me help, I have many years of experience in this area.  First and foremost is positioning.  You have to line things up straight and square, then with just a gentle push in it goes a little bit, pushing up the catches so they grip it just by the tip and holding it.  See even though just the tip is inserted, it hangs there steady and secure; it won’t come out unless it’s pulled.  Then it’s just a simple matter, in one fluid motion, to slide it in and turn and your door is open,” she said with a smile and a sweeping arm gesture as the apartment door swung back.

“Thanks so much, Carrie. I feel like such an idiot getting so worked up over something so simple,” Jessica Collins said as she stepped inside and Carrie followed her.

Carrie Barnes had been living the in Upper West Side apartment building for about six months, Jessica had seen her, here and there.  They’d met in the hallways, passed each other, Carrie always saying hello and having that great smile she had.  She’d invited Jessica in for a drink and “girl talk,” as she called it, and they had formed an instant bond.  Then Carrie would disappear for weeks on end ,only to pop up again and renew the friendship.  Jessica had found out she was a consulting art broker, a kind of appraiser for people who wanted to purchase paintings and sculptures and needed and expert’s opinion on whether they were real or a fake and what the price should be.  Consequently, as Carrie had said, “I go where the work is, and those places are all over world.”

The way Carrie described it, her life was full of exotic places and people and constant action.  She loved it and would not change a thing.  Her vivid accounts of people and places always kept Jessica on the edge of her seat.

Jessica liked to be more of a home body.  Born and raised in New York, she’d been other places, Milan, Rome, Paris and a few others.  But that was always for business, her business – fashion design.  Travel to her was just a means to acquire knowledge or make a sale.  She loved to get home and, truth be told, she did not explore much of her own city.  Work consumed her.  Part of her envied Carrie, but a bigger part of her envied her wardrobe, the thought of which brought her back to the moment.

“Another new outfit, I see, or is that one I just didn’t notice in your closet before?” Jessica asked.

“No, it’s new.  I picked it up in Shanghai, last week, and nearly had to kill to get it,” Carrie said, then added after a pause, “Women are the same all over, you know.  A good buy or a hot item and every one of us becomes dangerous.  I barely escaped with my life,” she added and laughed as she poured each of them a glass of wine.

Carrie had been in Jessica’s place before and just made herself at home, as Jessica did in Carrie’s apartment, even borrowing some of her clothes, which was either ironic or insane.  Jessica had never tried to define it further, for someone who owned a clothing design company.  But the simple truth was Carrie owned more clothes than anyone she’d ever met, and all of them stunning – on the hangers and on Carrie.  She remembered the first time she’d seen the inner sanctum, as Carrie called it.  Two massive walk-in closets in her bedroom with everything perfectly ordered and put away.  To Jessica, it was heaven.. She remembered having to be jostled back to the present by Carrie as she got lost inside the spaces, like a kid overwhelmed by the choices on a wall of candy.

Then came the shoes, hundreds and hundreds, again all colours and styles arranged.  Jessica nearly slipped into a coma as her hands fingered one pair of stilettos and platforms after another.  She was too heavily intoxicated by the fashion drug to remember much more except the outlines of the separate dressers for intimate apparel -- one for panties, one for bras and one for hosiery.  It was insane!  Then came the jewelry boxes.  She could not remember how many.  Then finally the vanity and the makeup and something she could never and would never forget.

“Oh, my God!  Is that Clive Christian No. 1?” Jessica exclaimed. 

“Yes, here take it,” Carrie said.  “A client gave it to me as a present for saving him 40 million Euros on a fake Renoir.”

“But its $2,150 an ounce!”  Jessica remembered saying.

She watched as Carrie opened a drawer and revealed three more unopened bottles.

“Men apparently think this impresses a girl,” she smiled and laughed.  “Go on, it’s yours.  I’ll never use all this in my life. Why shouldn’t someone else enjoy it?  That’s what it’s meant for.”

“Forgive me, but your reaction is a little muted.  You’re upset, aren’t you?  Anything I can help with?” Carrie asked.

“No, I don’t think so.  Just work.  I’m having an issue with a local businessman who is pressuring me to sell to him,” Jessica answered, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Don’t you mean offering to buy your business?” Carrie asked as she leaned in closer and looked at Jessica.

Jessica took a long drink, emptied it and put the glass down in front of the bottle, gave Carrie the look that she wanted more, then answered.  “He’s not that kind of businessman,” she said ominously.

“Oh” was all Carrie said as she poured her friend another glass.

“What about the police?” she asked after Jessica had taken another long pull on the wine.

“What about them?  People like that have those angles all covered.  It’s a blind alley.  I really have no choice, and tomorrow he’s back and you don’t say no to these people,” Jessica stated, then reached for the stem of the glass.

“I think you need to go a little easy on that.  You don’t want to get drunk and be hung over for tomorrow’s meeting. You need to be at your best,” Carrie said with a smile as she pulled the glass away.

“You don’t need to be at your best to say yes and sign where you’ll told to sign! Now, give me back that glass!” she demanded.

“I have something better than what is inside this glass, although this is a very good wine,” Carrie said.

“Nothing could be better than that right now,” Jessica retorted with a huff.

“How about you let me show you,” Carrie mused as she took Jessica’s hand in hers and led her to the bedroom. 

“If you’re trying to seduce me, then you’ll definitely need to give me back the bottle,” Jessica stated, her voice more than a trifle uneasy.

“Nothing like that, and please give me more credit than that,” Carrie said. “I’m much more subtle if I wanted that.  No, this is for your benefit alone.”

Carrie towed the woman into the bedroom, a massive room adorned with a mahogany wood floor, a deep rice reddy brown coloured, the walls painted a slate grey with a slight hint of black.  One entire side was windowed and two doors opened to the balcony.

“Mmm, the morning sun must just floods this room with light and warmth,” Carrie smiled as she pulled Jessica along to the bathroom, passing by the perfectly made bed with sheets that matched the walls and a light grey duvet that contrasted the walls perfectly, by several leather lounge chairs, a fine Nordic-style armoire and matching dressing table.

Jessica only had the one closet for clothes and shoes.  Carrie always found this odd, given her career, but she just put it down to the usual maxim of the doctor having the sickest kids or the landscaper having the worst-looking yard.  By the end of the day you were sick and tired of what you did and didn’t want to be reminded of it.

Carrie flicked the light switch on and moved inside with her charge.

 

“Now this is a bathroom,” she said with a satisfied smile.  “‘And by that I mean a ladie’s bathroom.  And tonight a lady will make full use of it, which means no shower, no matter how nice it is,’ Carrie said, her head nodding in approval at the marble- and glass-walled shower complete with surround spray and dual rainforest heads above.

“This, Jessica,” Carrie said with the sweep of one arm is called a bathtub.  “You add water by first putting in the plug here and then turning on the water to let it fill, adjusting the temperature until it is perfect.  I’ll do that for you since it’s your first time.”

“I’ve had baths before,” Jessica retorted weakly.

“Yes, I’m sure you have.  Just never in this tub, and don’t try to deny it,” Carrie said. “I can tell.”

“And how can you deduce that, Sherlock?” Jessica asked, trying to mount a defense.

“One, no soap in the dish.  Two, the soap dish shows not even the slightest trace of residue in it. Three, no wear on the plug drain from constant use.  Four, no peripherals about -- puff, face cloth, candles, soap bead, fragrances – which reminds me,” Carrie said turning to the floor-to-wall cabinet at the head of the tub.

“My god!’”she exclaimed.  “Just look at all these and not one of them opened.  I suspect all gifts from clients.  If we weren’t friends, I’d demand you turn in your girly girl card.  Tubs and oils and scents and women are made for each other, and here you are trying to destroy one of the cornerstones of femininity.  It’s a good thing I moved in.  I may have just saved your life in more ways than one,” Carrie smiled.

“Some of them might have been from admirers,’ Jessica said feebly as Carrie, having examined the bottles, was busy pouring measured doses into the running water.

Carrie let the statement go.  It was too loaded to touch, and in any case this was not the right moment for that conversation.

“There.  The water and the bubbles are filling up fast, so off with your clothes and in you go.  I will be back in a few moments with a personal touch, so your modesty can stay intact,” Carrie said before leaving the room.

Jessica could think of nothing better to say, and the water and smells did looking very inviting.  Before she knew it she was reclining in the water with her eyes closed and a smile on her lips.

“There.  One final touch,” Carrie said as she placed votive candles around the edge of the tub and on the sink.  Jessica startled just a little, surprised that in such a short time she’d drifted off so far from consciousness.

“Now when this timer goes off – no, I’m not showing you the time and you’re not to look – get out and dry yourself off with this.  But do it like this,” Carrie said as she demonstrated by padding herself in a rolling motion with her hand.  “Don’t scrub or rub like a man.  Gentle and delicate.  This helps keep the pores open and lets the surface oils seep in.  Once done, wrap yourself in the towel and come into the bedroom, where I have a second surprise for you,” Carrie said warmly.

“You are trying to seduce me,” Jessica said as she leaned back and closed her eyes and Carrie left the bathroom.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

Carrie heard the alarm go off and began mentally counting in her head.  She knew how long it should take to dry off.  She smiled and looked up at the appropriate time to see Jessica come into the doorway.

“Right on time.  Excellent!  I’m all prepared.  Come on over and lie down on your stomach and we’ll begin,” Carrie said.

Jessica looked about the darkened room; illuminated only by candles, some of which she could tell were scented.   The rug at the foot of her bed was rimmed with tea candles of various colours and, as she could tell as she drew forward, scents as well.

Something was drawing her to this woman, but Jessica could not tell what.  Carrie certainly was attractive, but Jessica had never been drawn to women before.  She was unsure if this was sexual or just a mysterious curiosity of where all this was going.. Her steps betrayed her as she hesitated.

“Come on, Jessica, I don’t bite.  Relax, that’s what you need to do and I have just the tonic for that,” 

Carrie smiled and then waited just a second before she pulled something from behind her back.  “Exotic massage oils.  Come smell,” she said with a friendly hand motion.

Stepping into the circle Jessica knelt, looked at Carrie, took in the vapours from the bottles, smiled, and at that moment decided to let things go where they may.  She lowered herself, opening her towel as she went, and lay naked on the mat.

“We’ll start with this one, Jasmine and Sandalwood, from Japan, not the crap you get here.  This is exclusive.  Made in a small teahouse, owned by a friend,” Carrie said as she dribbled some of the warm liquid onto the back and shoulders of Jessica. 

“What this does,” Carrie said as her hands glided onto Jessica’s shoulders then slowly swirled about her neck, spreading the oil as she swept down her spine, then up again outward to her shoulders, 

then out further and down her sides, her fingers opening to cover more of the woman’s back and sides and sluice the oil onto her yielding skin. “Is to relax the pores, open and clean them, release the tense held during the day.  You give up all that you’ve held in today and let it pass to the surface and escape through my touch into the open world, where it dissipates because it cannot grab onto anything physical anymore.”

Jessica could feel the oil, the smooth flow of Carrie’s hands skating over her skin, the quick relaxation she felt.  But most of all she felt Carrie’s words and her fingers, both calming and exciting at the same time; the words went deep into her mind even as she hoped the fingers would go deeper than that. She thought about pushing up and exposing her breasts or tilting up her pelvis to experience what a woman’s touch might be like, but she held back –unsure of her own desires as much as those of Carrie.  The risk of ruining the moment seemed too great, and she wanted this moment even as she willed Carrie’s hands to just slither a tiny bit lower on her sides.

“You have a lot of tension,” Carrie said as her hands worked and worked about Jessica’s neck and back.  Jessica could feel the pressure, but a nice pressure.  She was slipping into the half-awake, half-asleep state.

Jessica thought she said something, but couldn’t be sure.

“A very nice back and shoulders.  A little toning and it would be outstanding,” Carrie continued as her hands left the neck and worked down Jessica’s back, kneading and manipulating as she went.

“Now for these,” she added as her hands passed over Jessica’s firm buttocks and on to her legs. 

 “Mustn’t forget your pins.”

Carrie rubbed and swirled slowly, her fingers working deep into the muscles of the woman, soothing out the tension and making Jessica feel her legs getting lighter and lighter as if they weren’t there at all after several minutes.

“Umm, you’re so good at this.  Did you study?” Jessica asked in a slow, sleepy voice.

“I’ve had several excellent teachers over the years,” Carrie added as she moved from Jessica’s thighs to her claves by bending one of Jessica’s legs up at the knee.  “There. Let’s drain the tension out of these and shape the muscles.”

Carrie added a few more drops of the oil to the soft pads of the soles and clasped her hands on the tops and bottoms of Jessica’s feet.  She let the oil heat up before leisurely cascading her palms down the woman’s calves, her fingers splayed and her nails making contact with the skin as she proceeded to the knee.  After 10 minutes, Carrie repeated the operation on the other leg, it falling from her hands with no resistance to the mat.  She smiled, then bent her head over Jessica’s to see if Jessica was still awake.  She was not. 

Carrie smiled and rose from her knees in one fluid serpent-like motion.

“I’ll just let you rest a moment whilst I prepare,” she thought.

Carrie knelt over the comatose Jessica before extending her middle fingers and placing it against the base of Jessica’s neck and pushing in just enough to elicit the effect she desired.  Jessica surfaced wearily and became aware of Carrie’s nail tracing down her spine to its base, then repetition to each leg down to the heel.

“Welcome back,” Carrie smiled as she wrapped the ends of the towel around the back of Jessica and tucked them together.

“What happened?  Was I asleep?” she asked.

“Only for a short time, but long enough for me to finish my surprise,” Carrie said with a smile.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Jessica got lightly and quickly to her feet, surprised at how deftly she did it.

“That’s not like any massage I’ve ever had before,” she said.  “Sure, I’ve felt great after, but a tired, relaxed great.  This time I feel invigorated and like I’m floating.”

“Glad I could be of service, and please don’t ask how.  That’s a trade secret,” Carrie smiled and took her hand leading her over to her closet.  “My surprise.”

“You picked my clothes for me?” Jessica asked.

“Yes. You know, for a fashion diva you lack a certain joie de vivre or flair,” Carrie said straight out, knowing it would sting but also knowing she had to say it.

“I prefer the term ‘classically tailored,’ ” Jessica retorted, not letting on the direct hit of Carrie’s comment.

“I’m sorry, but I had to say it and the reasons are not to be harsh or cruel.  If that were the case I wouldn’t be here at all.  No, the reason is I care and I despise when a woman does not show her true potential.

“Ah, I see that has you aroused,” Carrie said, seeing the brow of Jessica’s left eye raise at the last statement.  “Like I said, you have a very nice body, and as I also said, with a little work it could be excellent.  But that requires commitment from you, and more importantly it requires that you value yourself enough to do it.  Yes, I know you believe in yourself.  After all, how could you have built so fantastic a business if you hadn’t.  But what I’m talking about is a value just to you.  Internal, not what other people or groups think about you.  That is reflected in your work.  This is Jessica looking at Jessica and putting down the pen and paper or getting off the computer and doing that yoga or going for that run all alone and all you get out of it is that you did it.  No one else knows, but you do.  You praise yourself.  You push yourself.  And the silent congratulations you get or that noiseless applause you hear at the end of it is better than anything else anyone ever says or writes about you.”

Jessica wanted to say something in her defense, but Carrie’s upheld hand stopped her.  There was a power about this younger woman.  She was strong and determined and a leader. Jessica wanted to hear more, even if it was something that might be hard to take.

“This is for work tomorrow.  It’s mostly your clothes with just a few touches from me,” Carrie said. 

“Don’t change a thing. Promise?”

“I haven’t worn this in … maybe five years,” Jessica said, holding up the skirt.

“Like I said, you have a good body.  I wish I could get a hold of the idiot who convinced you otherwise.  You have smashing legs, your best displayable asset, and yet you hide them in those pantsuits you wear or those ridiculously long dresses. You’re not Hillary Clinton.  I live by the creed of maximization of assets, and those legs of yours are terrific.  You never know when they may be your saving grace.

“You’ll look dynamite in this,” Carrie said, gesturing toward the garments she had picked out. “I added a few jewelry pieces, necklace and earrings, just for panache.”

“What about these?  They’re not mine,” Jessica said reaching for a pair of pantyhose.

“No, they’re not.  And careful with those.  They’re very special.  That’s why there rolled up like that,” Carrie said as she stopped Jessica’s hand from taking hold of them. “Sorry to be so abrupt, but these are very delicate.  They are made in Srinagar and have to be handled just so or they’ll run instantly. 

When you put them on, put your hands inside the rolled up legs right to the toes, then slowly pull your hands up your legs.  The hose will follow.  No need to pull them up from the outside.  The fabric will do it for you as you drag them up.  Don’t ask me how.  It’s their secret, and believe me I’ve asked, but no go.”

“They’re so sheer.  Hard to believe they can actually last the day,” Jessica said as she looked at them

“Much stronger than they look, trust me, and they’ll make your legs unbeatable and sparkle like diamonds,” Carrie said.  “I laid out your makeup and set up for breakfast, as well; your smoothie’s in the fridge.  Now it’s time for bed.  You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Speaking of that, what am I going to do?” Jessica asked, her voice falling.

“Hey, none of that.  Do what your heart tells you and draw strength from within,” Carrie said.  “That’s all I can offer.  The rest has to come from you, and I think you have more to give than you think.  You just have to trust in Jessica.  Now to bed.  You have a big day ahead and sleep is always good.”

Carrie gave her a hug and a final prepping up before she left for her own place.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           

Jessica nearly bounced to work and all day.  The clothes made her feel great!

Shapely black-hosed legs seemed to sparkle in the morning light, while her stiletto-heeled ankle-strap pumps, in a midnight black satin, barely felt like they were touching the ground as she strutted her stuff as never before.  Her legs felt wonderful, as did the rest of her.

Carrie had chosen a black wool pencil skirt with a hint of Lycra that allowed it to stretch over the utterly feminine curves of Jessica’s hips, and a matching jacket with leather sleeves was overlaid atop a fine beige silk top.  Carrie had added an Egyptian-styled necklace, wide at the base of the throat, it gracefully tapered upward into a thick rope chain interspersed with black onyx beads that perfectly offset her Mediterranean skin tone.  Carrie had included a matching set of gold and onyx button earrings that only emerged when the stylish wavy bob in which her black hair was cut flipped about.  Two final touches completed the ensemble, a square gold ring and the makeup that Carrie had laid out for her the night before.  Jessica had forgotten all about the outfit, burying it in the back of her closet with her memories when she thought she no longer had the body to justify the clothes.  All the compliments, not to mention the looks she got, made her feel much younger than her 37 years, dispelling that foolish rationalizing. Her soft brown eyes had a youthful, almost flirty brightness about them that hadn’t been there in years.

Her meeting, if you could call it that, was scheduled for 7 p.m. Not her choice but his, and she was sure a few of his associates that he never went anywhere without.  Still, she wasn’t worried, she had taken Carrie’s advice to heart and even if it meant certain peril and maybe even something more permanent she was going to see it all the way to the end whatever the outcome held for her and somehow she felt empowered and even excited by that.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *    

      

Vince Casselli was a despicable man in ways too numerous to list, but you would never know that just from looking at him while he remained still.  No, he had to move.  And once he did, all the tumblers of revulsion began to slip into place.  One click after another the sequence built until finally the last value clicked into place and the door opened, and that was when he spoke. 

They had been discussing – well, he had, with Jessica listening, increasingly to more pointed and forceful conversation – the matter of selling her company to him.  Vince had two of his goons with him. They stood behind him and on either side of the door to Jessica’s small office, unmoving and, it seemed, unmovable until their boss got his way.

 

“The way I see it you have no choice,” Casselli said smugly.  “I want this place, and what I want I get.  I’m sure you’ve done your homework on me or at least know my reputation, so you know I’m going to get your company one way or another.  For your sake, I think you should take the one way and not the other,” he said, the reptilian smile forming even before the final words came out of his mouth.

“I have no interest in selling my small part of this world to you, Mr. Casselli, and even if I did the price would be much higher than you’re offering at present,” Jessica said coolly and to her surprise somewhat sexily from behind her desk as she re-crossed her shapely legs in a strikingly fluid motion that only she could see – unfortunately for her guests.

“You seem to have grown more of a spine since the last time we talked, Ms. Collins. Maybe we need to take care of that,” Casselli said, leaning forward.

Jessica didn’t flinch, because that was he wanted her to do.  Somehow showing fear was no longer part of her DNA.

“Tell you what,” Jessica said, reaching for a piece of paper and writing something on it before sliding it across her desk, careful to let go of it before Casselli could touch her hand.  “This is what it will cost you to buy me out.”

He looked at it and gave her one of his smiles before slithering up out of his seat.

“You’ve changed, Ms. Collins, and I can respect that,” Casselli said as he headed toward the office door.  “Let me go over this and get back to you, say in a couple of days.”

As Casselli walked toward the door, which one of his goons opened, Jessica followed closely behind – more out of a desire to get them out of her business than the usual politeness.  As she did, a sense a relief and elation spread over her with each step of her stiletto heels until the cloth came over her face and she struggled, twisted and writhed in the grip of one goon before in the fading light of consciousness she heard a voice.

“I thought it over, and I think I’ll just take the business for nothing, you stupid woman,” Casselli said. 

“You had a chance, a slim one, but you had to play it tough.  Whoever or whatever came over you, too bad they won’t be here to save you.”

Jessica Collins’ world faded to black.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

“Glad to see you’re back with us,” Casselli said with a grin. “You know, I had no idea the clothing industry contained so many machines – and so many potentially dangerous ones.  It was a hard choice, but I think this fabric-stretching device will more than do the trick.  Hope it cleans up well after it’s finished with you.  Looks like it could be worth something.

“I know it’s in good working order, as you can feel,” he added as Jessica stared up at him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded as she tried to move.

“Obviously, killing you,” Casselli said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Now, I admit I could have done that quickly and painlessly after you were knocked out, but that is not my style, and I think I owe you a bit of pain for all the same you’ve caused me. And besides, could there be a more ironic way for a fashion designer to die than this?”

For Jessica, while unconscious, had been transported to the basement of her company, where the machines that prepared her fabrics were located.  She’d woken up tied to the bed of the fabric stretcher, a machine used to tension and then treat leather before it was cut into patterns.

A bar of giant, razor-sharp sewing needles ran the length of one side of the machine.  Those needles would be pressed down into the leather with their threads attached, while on the underside of the material another thread would be looped into it and held in place.  The needle arm would then slide across to the other side of the material and repeat the process.  Once the thread was in place, powered pulleys on either side of the material would very slowly turn, contracting the threads and pulling the material taut, which it would remain for several hours. The process would then be repeated for several contractions.  Then a special resin would be sprayed onto the leather to protect it before the material was left to dry overnight.

The stretching force exerted was tremendous, and the threads had to be very strong to hold the fabric.  The machine had already made one pass over Jessica while she was unconscious, as the threads dangled semi-loose across her entire body, not painfully tight but more than tight enough to fix her in place. 

Jessica looked at Casselli, brown eyes defiant and blazing as she lay spread-eagle across the bed of the machine. “I’ll get you for this,” she hissed while straining in vain against her bonds.

“No, I’m sure you won’t, because by morning the many pieces that this machine will slice you into will be fish food in the ocean.  And you won't be making any more idle threats – or saying anything else for the rest of your life, for that matter," he said motioning to his goons.

With that, one of them lifted Jessica's head slightly off the bed of the fabric stretcher while the other tied a long strip of black silk fabric tightly between her teeth to gag her securely as she twisted and butted uselessly against them and Casselli smiled approvingly.

"So go ahead and scream all you want," which Jessica proceeded to do, although only a high-pitched mmmppphhh escaped her mouth. "We’re two floors underground, so no one was going to hear you anyway, but a man in my business likes to make sure of these things,” Casselli added. “Now, in spite of my richly deserved reputation, I have an aversion to blood, so this will be our goodbye.  But don’t worry, I’ll have the whole place spic and span by morning.”

He hit the power button and the machine began to hum to life, and Jessica could see hers ending as she mmmppphhhed through the cleave-gag.  Casselli closed the door on the way out just as the row of needles inserted into one side deposited their threads, then swung over the top of her prone form, Jessica’s wide, frightened eyes tracking the arm as it went.  The needles plunged down, their sharp probes releasing more strands of death as they pulled lightly against her helpless form.

Jessica watched and held her breath as the threads, the slim gossamer fibers that held her fast and would soon do much more, began to entwine her body.  She felt as if she was being woven into a giant spider web.  As much as Jessica begged her body to move as she strained and bit down hard on the gag between her teeth, she was pinned in place.  And soon that pin would get much tighter as the machine completed a final pass over her prostrate form.

The noise of the machine died away and the room was silent as Jessica held her breath again.  She knew what came next.  She had seen this done to the finest leather, and now it was going to be done to her.

The white overhead lights switched off and, for the blink of an eye, the room was dark before a soft blue light illuminated only the bed of the fabric stretcher.  Its purpose was to expose any flaws that would be circled and cut out as rejected pieces after the stretching.  This time it appeared she would be the rejected piece.  Just as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she heard the sound she had dreaded.  A series of small motors beneath her began to hum.

Jessica tilted her head up and looked down her torso just in time to see the threads moving across her body like tiny waves on the sea. 

“The spider is cinching her web about the fly, only this fly will not go down without a fight,” she vowed silently.

The wheels turned a little more, causing Jessica to gasp at their tautness.  Then they stopped to leave her pinned and still, for the moment.  She calmed herself during the respite, surprising even herself at her self-control in this perilous situation.  Then the wheels started again.

A soft hum filled the room once more as the twine stretched, this time creating indentations in Jessica’s amazing outfit and forcing more gasps from her rigid figure.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned through the gag, trying desperately to alleviate the stressing action on her 5-foot, 7-inch body.  “Ahh!”

Another round of tightening would cut into her clothes and then her flesh. Jessica knew she could not escape after that.

Jessica forced her mind to focus on escape and block out the pain that wracked her entwined body.  She tried to move her fingers to keep blood flowing to her arms in a desperate attempt to give them strength, but she was unsure if her attempts were in vain.  Jessica forced her head to the side to check, her eyes blinking rapidly to focus them on her hands.  She saw she was moving them, just, but she also thought she noticed something else: her legs.  They seemed to sparkle, dancing like stars in a winter sky as the light bounced off them.  She checked again and it was true.  They looked like diamonds in the blue light.  Jessica dropped her back, knowing she only had a few minutes left before the machine began pulling her to an excruciating death. 

(“Much stronger than they look, trust me, and they’ll make your legs unbeatable and sparkle like diamonds.”  Jessica suddenly recalled those words, blocking out the pain to let Carrie’s description of her pantyhose filter in.

Jessica tried to make sense of why that had come to her and what it could mean when another statement from Carrie crashed into her consciousness.

(“I live by the creed of maximization of assets, and those legs of yours are terrific.  You never know when they may be your saving grace.”)

“This is insane,” Jessica thought.  “‘But what if it’s not?  And what do I have to lose by trying?  But no, it’s not possible!  How could she know?”

The desperate fashionista decided that anything was better than nothing.  The whole situation was crazy, so why not just try something crazy as well.  With all her might, her mind and body merging to work together as she bit down hard on the silk tied between her teeth, Jessica managed to rotate her 5-inch stiletto heels just a fraction, and that was all she needed to do.  Several strands of thread popped, cut cleanly, easily and simply.  She heard the pops, but scarcely believed her ears.  Still, it gave her the strength and – more importantly – the freedom to move her luscious gams again, her thigh and calf muscles defiant against the twine as she turned and pulled her legs up and back just a fraction.  That was all that was required.  More strands snapped easily, as if a sharp knife was effortlessly working. 

Within a minute, Jessica had managed to pare the twine to just above mid-thigh, the place where her short, curve-hugging pencil skirt ended.  She knew she only had at most a few minutes to escape.

Jessica worked quickly as her left leg snaked sideways up and across her body, bent in as the knee came up to her chest.  Then her calf swung in and up across her torso.  She was extremely careful and focused not to let it touch any part of her.  The black snake slithered and bit as it went, cutting a path of sinuous strands as it slinked ever higher.

Freedom filled Jessica’s lungs as she worked, and finally the deadly web cut and the fly quickly rolled off the platform.  She even managed to keep her stylish heels on before pulling out the cleave gag and leaving the damp fabric hanging around her neck, where it looked like a scarf but felt more like a badge of honor.

Jessica smoothed her slim pencil skirt and touched her hair, untied the fabric that had silenced her, then came back to the reality of what had just happened and how improbable it all seemed.  But it was true. The hose had cut like diamonds. She bent to touch them.

“No, not useless you want a very nasty cut,” came a familiar voice from the shadows across the workroom floor.

“Carrie?  What on earth are you doing here?!” Jessica questioned and then demanded.

“Watching you escape, of course,” Carrie said. “And magnificent it was, just as I expected.”

“I don’t understand at all,” Jessica said. “You mean you watched me placed in peril and did nothing?”

“I would have saved you if you’d required it, if that’s any comfort,” Carrie said, “but I was more than confident in your talents. That’s why I picked you.”

“Picked me?  Picked me for what?  I demand to know!” Jessica screamed, advancing on Carrie with intent.

“Of course you do, and I’ll explain everything when we get back to your place,” Carrie added.  “What?  Don’t you trust me?  Who gave you those hose and the clues?”

Jessica had to admit she was right, but see was still uncertain about the motives of this beautiful woman.  Was she stuck in some kind of endless peril game for her or other people’s pleasure or did Carrie really mean to explain?  Either way, she wanted answers.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           

So you’re a spy, a James Bond!” Jessica said in a half-exasperated half-unbelieving voice as she threw herself onto Carrie’s sofa

“I prefer Jane Bond and, well, my world’s a tad bit different from his,” Carrie answered.

“And yet, somehow I managed to end up in the middle of it all or did you arrange that part as well?” Jessica questioned, her eyes narrowing as they bored into Carrie.  “If so, did I pass your little test? And what’s my reward?  Where’s my tube of poison lipstick?”

Carrie laughed. “Not so fast Mata Hari, we’ll work up to that, start you off in the junior department.  Perhaps a drugged lip gloss.”

“I was kidding,” Jessica said somewhat incredulously.

“You make a joke like that, yet tonight you watched a pair of pantyhose that can cut industrial fishing line like scissors cut paper,” Carrie said with a smile.

Jessica had no retort.  Maybe this woman was honest, but that still did not explain two things: Why her?  And was Carrie behind all that had happened to her?  She posed both the questions in rapid succession.

“As to the why behind what happened to you tonight, I had nothing to do with that,” Carrie said. “That was outside forces, that simply because we were – and I hope still are – friends, you confided in me about it and, well, I was able to aid you in some small way.  And before you add a codicil, I’ll tell you straight out I was there the whole time and never would I have let it go to a bad end.  “I never abandon my friends.  Besides, you did fine, excellent as a matter of fact, as good as any experienced agent we have.”

“What happens when he returns and finds me gone?” Jessica asked, referring to Casselli.  “I’ll be right back at square one, and you can’t be there always to come to my aid, what with your international spy career,” she added, her tone imploring and yet with just a touch of sarcasm.

“He won’t be coming back, and neither will anyone else,” Carrie said coldly.

“So what is it then with me?” Jessica asked, still not getting the answers she wanted.  “Do you want me to become a spy?”

“Only if you want to,” Carrie answered. “I think you’d make a good one, but no, I want you to be our couturier.”

Jessica seemed a little bit relieved, but also strangely letdown by the request.  Was she not good enough?  She needed an answer and, more importantly, she needed to know what this request entailed.

“And what if I say yes, what do I get out of it?” Jessica asked bluntly.  “This seems like out of the frying pan into the fire, the Vince scenario all over, only with you.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Carrie said. “The business is yours, has been and always will be.  What we need is that fantastic design flair of yours.  All those clippings from fashion magazines from the age of 12 even till today, all those designs you did as a kid, then in school.  You saved them all, never made them for various reasons, most of all money and market sales.  But that is not an issue with us.  We need them, we pay for them and whatever it takes to grow your business we are there for you.

“I’ll be clear: You own it and run it; you decide what clothes the agents look super in. I have the women.  They pop all by themselves, but when they make an entrance, by the pool, at the cocktail party, the event, whatever, I want them to really pop, wearing something nobody else in the world has or can buy.  One-off, designer outfits that are killer on them,” Carrie said.

“And if I say no?” Jessica replied.

“Nothing.  I have the satisfaction of helping out a new friend, and you have your business back,” Carrie explained.

“But I know all about what you do, your name, even where you live,” Jessica said.  “I mean, not that I’d tell, but it is a link,” the fashion designer added, worried about what the response might be.

“Really?  Pantyhose that can cut like razors?  A group of female spies and such?  Yes, totally believable!  Tell me more, crazy lady,” Carrie answered with a mocking playful smile.

Jessica knew she was right, and her face showed it.

“Let me ask you something:  When you were working your way out of that peril, after you figured it out, how did that feel?” Carrie said leaning in.

Jessica wanted to answer quickly, terrified, but then she gave it further examination, taking all the compass points from the last 24 hours.  Then she answered.

“Exciting, empowering, dangerous, exhilarating and sexy,” Jessica said, surprising herself a little bit. “Actually, thinking back, I kind of want more of it and want to know more about how to know more about it, if you follow that.”

Then Jessica said something the cemented it for Carrie.

“Thanks for trusting that I had the ability.”

“Well, now it’s my turn for true confessions,” her friend said.  “My name is not Carrie Barnes and I’m not an international art appraiser, although I do have a master’s in Fine Art.  My name is Claire Baxter and I’m head of an Agency called FORCE.  The reason I didn’t tell you my true name is this,’ Claire said reaching for the hem of Jessica’s pencil skirt and turning it over, her finger pressed to the stitching.

“What?  It’s just a seam stitch I learned when I was an intern at Millicent’s,” Jessica offered.

“I know Millicent, and I just could not take the chance that if I gave you my real name you may have mentioned it to her and it would have triggered a memory.  You do have lunch with her twice a week as you‘ve told me,” Claire explained softly.

“I don’t understand why that was such a concern,” Jessica said.

Claire ignored the question.  She had one final one, and its answer would set others in motion.

“So are you in or out?  In means taking a trip with me to London tonight.  My private jet is waiting at the airport.  Out means, well, you carry on as before.  I want you in, but it’s up to you.”

It seemed as if a million possibilities rushed through Jessica’s mind at once.  What she thought was a very long delay in answering was actually right on the heels of the question.

“In!”

“Excellent!” Claire said enthusiastically.  “You need to change.  You can make whatever calls you need to from my car.  Don’t worry about clothes.  We’ll shop in London, and I know just where to go.

“As for your question about Millicent, it’s a long story.  But it’s a long flight, and it’s a good story.”