Sunday, February 8, 2015

The Forensics of Spume

Whilst the decision to purchase the Seventh Goddess might have been on a whim, the thought behind the possibility of a fanciful store was not. Ms Guerin's previous life, for an extremely long time, relied entirely on the purchase and wearing of spandex and sparkle. Her contacts in the industry were solid. She had time to procure her stock. Had contacts in the city who would send samples and supplies on demand. She knew the ins and outs of running a business even though she'd never done so herself. The rest was cake. The only doubt, whether her choice of merchandise would be embraced by the townsfolk. She'd been 'spurned' in the past for risque behaviour and wondered if now, twenty years later, this hamlet was ready for some spice.

The balance of the weekend was spent wondering the streets of Wiseman's Cove, re-familiarising herself with the neighbourhood and it's new eclectic population. Chatting casually with shopkeepers and barkeeps and getting a true 'feel' for the quirky little town which had changed so much since she lived there as a girl.  People were friendly and obliging and as promised by her agent, no lingerie establishment other than the local Pharmacy which sold some baby wear and incontinence pad, and a couple of competitive Surf Shops who brandished what passed for swimwear these days outside their front doors.

She found that the name of her soon-to-be shop girl was Iris, apt for a seaside maiden. A 30 something year old wife of a dairy farmer who had lived in Wiseman's all her young life. A coffee and chat with Iris  proved fruitful with ideas-a-plenty.  Iris was a shapely woman, but lacking in confidence, with cascading blonde hair and an all-year tan. She had the sweetest face, boasting large brown eyes and sumptuous plump lips. Blessed with great boobs and an hourglass shape, perfect to advertise the wears of such an establishment, if not a little shy. Reya was confident, should Iris take the job seriously, she'd overcome her inhibitions.

"You know, Ms Guerin," Iris chattered while the cleanup commenced, "here there are 30% more women than men during the off season. The lads only come into town once a week from the farms, there's a few surfer types of course and the ancient blokes that sit outside the pub all day. But, generally, it's a girltown until holidaymakers arrive in Spring. That's gotta be good for business don't you think?"

"Good news for the knicker business then," quipped her new boss. "So what sort of product should we sell? We have six weeks until settlement to get our stock together, then a couple of weeks of painting and refurbishing . . and we're in business!"

The women planned and schemed. "Well obviously there's the teen market," began Marina. "Then there's the maternity market . . ."

Reya was deep in thought. "What about something a little more saucy?"

Iris drew back until her sweet face had a double chin, "What, like leather and sparkles?"

"Why not? We all like to feel a little sexy beneath. Maybe dance gear, there's a Jazz studio down the road. Hell there's a strip club at the crossroads, bet they get their gear in town, we could make it easy for them."

"Oh, I don't know" Ms Guerin, "This is a conservative little town. I'm not sure they'd go for g-strings and crotchless panties."

"Fine, then we'll include cotton tails and shape wear. How does that sound?"

Both laughed before going about their business, but the niggle of something a little sexier than Bridget Jones non VPL undies was burning in Reya's brain. 

The last day in idyllic Wisemans for a few weeks, and Reya took advantage of the beach. White sands and rocky coves, it really was a pretty place. A slow walk on a long stretch and foam bathing her toes. The sun beaming, children playing in the shallows. She found a nook between the rocks and a small patch of damp sand upon which to lay her towel. Pulled a book from her French market basket, positioned herself against a rock, knees bent to support its pages and began to read.  

She'd begun to snooze in the warmth of a late afternoon and was woken by the caress of sea foam reaching her toes. She sprang to her feet, flicking the towel upwards to avoid getting it wet. There in the sand as the sea withdrew, a g-string, a thong. Red and embellished with glistening diamantes. She bent to pick up the expensive flotsam.

"Yes!" She whispered to herself. "It's a sign. Thank you Fates. We're going to sell more than 'foundation garments', we're going to turn this little town on its head."

She wrung the tiny garment dry and packed it with the towel and book into the straw bag. Bid farewell to the sun as a cheeky smile engulfed her face. Tomorrow, it begins.

Muse 1 "The Seventh Goddess"Muse 2 "The Forensics of Spume"
Muse 3 "The Way of the North"  
Muse 4 "Virginal Zoophilia"   
Muse 5: "Stakes and Lies  
Muse 6: "A Meal of Her Loins"   
Muse 7: "Controlled Burn" 
Muse 8: "Ghastly Truths"  
Muse 9: "To Bury a Mountain"


  1. The dialog is extremely weak. I didn't believe that either of those characters would have that conversation, possibly because the setup is underdeveloped, and possibly because both characters sound like each other. I dunno. A lag after a fine start, I'm hoping.

    The use of the Muse is frivolous.

  2. Who is Marina? I liked the decision making process. You use sentence fragments too frequently. I liked the literal use of the muse.

  3. I am likng the genre - playing out process. Not a mystery, not a romance, not a murder .... yet?

  4. So, we're going for a Kinky Boots scenario?