Sharon had been working in the little boutique, called The Fabric of Temptation (a name that Sharon secretly thought was just a little corny), for almost four weeks now. She'd applied for a number of jobs for the summer vacation, wanting to make some more money than the allowance her parents gave her. Being a minor at 16, Sharon didn't qualify for full pay, but what she made was still more money than she'd ever had before. Some of it she would save for later, like her parents wanted her to, but some she would use to spruce up her wardrobe for when school would start again in August. All through the previous year Sharon had been acutely aware of not being nearly so stylish as some of the other girls in her class, especially snooty Mallory Hampstead and her crowd. With some new clothes from the boutique, and maybe a little help from Monica, Sharon was looking forward to the coming school year with gloating anticipation.
Peeking over a rack of blouses, Sharon looked at Monica, who was busy seeing to a couple of customers on the other side of the room. At the sight of the owner of The Fabric of Temptation, Sharon couldn't help but sigh with envy.
Monica Leland was a tall, well-built brunette in what Sharon guessed to be her late twenties. She was everything Sharon, at an insecure 16 years of age, wanted to be. She had an absolutely unerring sense of style, and always dressed in not what was the latest fashion, but what was soon to become the latest fashion. Whatever she put on, it looked perfect on her. The woman moved with a grace Sharon only felt emphasised her own teenage coltishness, was never lost for words in any company, and radiated confidence and sophistication; in short, she was everything teenage girls aren't. Furthermore, she had a fantastic body, with long legs, large round breasts, a flat belly and a tight, round arse. When Sharon had asked her where she worked out, Monica had waved her hand self-depreciatingly and said that it was 'just some exercise routines I go through at home'.
Advertisment
Advertisment