Penny Jordan - The Friendship Barrier

Somehow she got through the weekend, busying herself with unnecessary chores, and surveying her previous winter’s wardrobe. Her job called for her to be smartly and well-dressed, but as she looked at the sensible suits and severely cut blouses she had bought the previous winter, she knew a vague but definite dissatisfaction. Annette, who had nothing on for the weekend, came into her room to watch.

‘Heavens,’ she exclaimed breezily, examining the growing pile of garments, ‘these are almost like a uniform. If I had a figure like yours you’d never catch me wearing anything so dull. Why don’t you go mad for once and get yourself something really sexy? I would if I had your figure.’

‘Such as?’ Stephanie enquired drily. Annette favoured flamboyant, sometimes frankly gaudy clothes that Stephanie simply could not see herself in at all. Perhaps her clothes were a little on the dull side, but at least when she was wearing them no one could accuse her of trying to attract male attention. Her appearance never presented a sexual come-on or challenge.

‘Like this, for instance,’ Annette pounced triumphantly, flourishing a magazine she had been reading. ‘We’ve still got a couple of hours before the shops close. All the new season’s stock should be in by now, and don’t tell me you can’t afford it… with the salary I suspect Jake pays you…’

Stephanie wasn’t listening. She was staring transfixed at the photograph Annette was holding out to her. Numbly, she read the caption, ‘Susy Waldron, modelling the new Galman autumn range at the home of wealthy Florida businessman, Dale Mather. Another house guest was Susy’s escort, Jake Lorrimer. When asked about their romance, Susy refused to comment, but the couple were seen strolling arm in arm through Dale Mather’s justifiably famous gardens almost every evening of their visit.’

‘Stephanie, what’s wrong with you?’ Annette demanded. ‘What do you think of the dress? I can just see you in it.’

The dress in question was in soft, black angora, cut on deceptively demure lines, but Stephanie paid it scant attention. Jake and Susy together. Was that why he had kissed her ? Because he and Susy were apart… because he knew that Susy did not like her. Jake was a man in whom the sensual currents ran strong and deep, and if she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now. Deep enough for him to sacrifice their friendship to his desire for Susy? Had Susy perhaps demanded as the price of her love, Stephanie’s own eviction from Jake’s personal life?

They were questions that Stephanie could not answer. She felt as though life had suddenly cast her adrift on unfamiliar and treacherous waters with nothing to cling to for support.

More to keep her mind occupied with other thoughts than for any other reason, she allowed Annette to persuade her to go shopping. They visited the exclusive Knightsbridge store that stocked the clothes featured in the magazine and at Annette’s insistence Stephanie tried on the black angora dress.

‘Stunning,’ was her verdict once it was on. ‘It looks even better on you than it did on the model. The colour brings out the red lights in your hair,’ she said critically. ‘Black suits you. And what about this?’ she brandished a glove-soft leather skirt in a softly muted olive-cum-khaki colour with a toning mohair jumper.

Stephanie stared at her, aghast. ‘Annette, I never wear anything like that,’ she told her distastefully, ‘Leather…’

‘Leather skirts are “in” this year,’ Annette argued firmly. ‘Try it on, at least. This jumper is gorgeous. If we weren’t saving so hard to get married, I might indulge in one myself.’

The jumper was lovely, Stephanie admitted when she had it on. The soft mohair caressed her skin with a sensuous warmth that made her unexpectedly aware of her own body, and, for a few seconds, she wasn’t sure if she liked the sensation. Appreciation of her own sensuality wasn’t something she was familiar with—that side of her nature had been suppressed, partially during her teens when she had only had her grandmother as an example, and then completely following the attack, when she had developed a morbid fear of anyone reading any hint of sexual compliance in her attitude. The satin-winged dragon motif appliqued to the front of the sweater felt unfamiliar beneath her finger tips and she had a sudden and very disturbing notion that Jake’s skin would feel very much the same. Smooth, yet strong. She snatched her fingers away from the satin as though they had been stung, blushing in the privacy of her changing room at the intimacy of her thoughts. What was happening to her? She had never even thought about touching Jake before, even in the most casual of fashions, never mind imagining his nude body, and yet, now… It must be the small enclosed space she was in that was making her feel so hot, she decided, quickly unfastening the studded side fastening of the leather skirt.

Perhaps it was because she was trying to come to terms with her unfamiliar feelings that she allowed Annette to persuade her into buying not only the leather skirt and the sweater, but also a matching silk shirt and the black angora dress, plus an evening suit cut to reveal the soft curves of her body, with a tiny, nipped-in waist and a low, revealing back, although when she was going to wear such a potentially provocative garment she wasn’t quite sure. Even the colour—a rich sapphire blue—wasn’t one she would normally have chosen.

‘You’ll wear it when you go out on these business dinners with Jake, of course,’ Annette chastised her when she voiced her doubts as they headed for the escalator. ‘Come on,’ she added. ‘I’m really getting into the swing of this fairy godmother thing now. I’m not letting you go back to the flat until you’ve bought some new underwear and you’ll need new shoes…’

‘Underwear? But…’

‘You’ll need something to wear under that suit,’ Annette reminded her. ‘It’s practically backless, remember—unless, of course, you’re planning to dispense with your bra?’

There was a wicked twinkle in her eyes as she added this last. Although slightly above medium height with a narrow waist and slender hips, Stephanie had very rounded and full breasts—a fact which she abhorred and did all she could to disguise, always wearing formal blouses and neat jackets.

‘What on earth are you looking like that for?’ Annette grinned. ‘What I’d give to swop my 32A for your 34C! You don’t know how lucky you are. Pity slinky sweaters aren’t in fashion this year. I’d just love to see your Jake’s face if you turned up at the office in one.’ She laughed again at Stephanie’s expression, and took advantage of her momentary lack of concentration to herd her into the lingerie department.

As before, Annette took charge before Stephanie could open her mouth, quickly explaining what was needed.

‘How about this?’ A soft pale grey silk satin camiknicker with a very low-cut back was produced for their inspection.

‘Oh, it’s mouthwatering, Steph, isn’t it?’ Annette drooled. ‘And just look at this!’ She held up the garment so that Stephanie could see the delicate lacy panels that comprised the top of the camiknicker. ‘Go and try it on,’ she urged. ‘Take the suit with you to make sure the back’s low enough.’ The suit was produced for the saleslady’s inspection, who agreed that the stock of low-backed bras they had in would not be low enough to wear under it, and, as Stephanie walked past her, Annette murmured wickedly, ‘You’re going to cause quite a stir the next time you go to an official dinner with your boss. I can’t see much business getting done—the men will be too busy wondering whether you are or aren’t and if you, are, what—it would send their temperatures rocketing if they ever found out,’ she added mischievously.