Page 42 of Welker

Why did it have to be birds?

She was drawn in, despite herself, and before Moira could stop herself, her hands went to the hanger and she drew the dress out, holding it up against her body. She spread it out across her hips…

It was so lovely, and she’d never owned anything like it before.

Walking as if in a trance to the nearest mirror, Moira dared have a look. String ties at the shoulders were obviously what held the square-cut bodice up, while the skirt that flowed down from the high waist wasn’t so full it would disguise her figure, yet it was loose enough that it would swirl delicately around her legs. Moira made a couple of tentative hip-swings, and liked the way the material moved.

But…

Of course it wouldn’t do. What was she thinking? She’d probably look ridiculous in it. Moira spun to put the dress back on the rack when a voice from her left interrupted the motion.

“Oh no, dear. Don’t put it back.”

Moira turned to see who had spoken, and spied a tiny little woman, no more than five feet tall, who looked to be ancient, staring her down. Her blue-permed hair curled around her cheerful but wrinkled face, and the bright red lipstick she’d obviously applied much earlier had smudged onto her white teeth when she smiled widely.

“Don’t…?” Moira repeated.

The woman nodded enthusiastically. “The dress, dear. It’s perfect for you.”

“It is?” Moira didn’t know whether she should be listening to or taking advice from a stranger; an old one at that. But despite the woman’s age, she was dressed-up pretty darned sharply.

“Oh, my, yes,” the lady emoted with unbridled enthusiasm. “You need to try it on so you can see what I mean.”

Moira hadn’t been headed to the dressing rooms. She’d already decided to put the item back, and buy everything she’d picked before. She’d try the stuff on at Welker’s house, then return the things that didn’t fit.

“I do?” Moira swallowed dryly.

“Of course,” the woman said. “And to tell you the truth,” she fanned herself, “I could use a sit-down.”

Moira had seen the woman’s mental, manipulative wheels spinning, and knew it for a calculated excuse.

The lady continued. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a chair right outside the fitting rooms so you can show it to me once you have it on,” she urged adroitly.

“Uh, okay.” Moira gave an internal chuckle. She didn’t know exactly why she was agreeing, but indulging the older lady wouldn’t kill her. She bit back a grin, put the dress in her cart, and nodded.

The woman strode off, walking more briskly than seemed possible for anyone her age—especially one who had said she needed to sit down—and it made Moira snort amusedly, until she thought of something important.

“Wait,” she called out to her new companion before they got too far from the department.

“Yes dear?” The woman turned and smiled again.

“Uh… What do I…put underneath it.” Moira eyeballed the top, where bra-straps of any kind would certainly show.

“Oh. Most girls these days would wear nothing, but,” she eyed Moira thoughtfully, “you’ve got a little more on top than most, so I recommend a bandeau bra.” She practically pranced toward the lingerie section, and once there, expertly selected a scrap of material in yellow that matched the dress’s background. “This one should be perfect.”

She perused Moira again. “Panties?”

“I’ll, uh, need those, too,” Moira answered.

“I think something shear. In flesh-tone.”

Moira had to laugh out loud, now. She couldn’t help herself. “Are you a professional shopper?” she asked. “I’m right. Aren’t I? You work for the store, and earn commissions if you get people to buy things.”

The woman lit up as she handed the pair of tiny panties to Moira. “I don’t, but I think it’s a stellar idea.”

Moira gazed, wide eyed at what she’d just been given. She wasn’t a granny-panty kind of girl, but cotton briefs were her go-to, and these babies were tinier than anything she’d ever worn to cover her lady-parts. She eyed them speculatively.

“Don’t you think?—?”

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