Saturday evening sat warm over the clothier's street.
Gold light came through the shop's front panes and lay across bolts of cotton, wool, house linen, and the little rack of dyed lace at the back.
Olivia pushed the door open with her shoulder.
Cool air hit the sweat at her neck.
Her light brown bob stuck a little at her temples.
She wore a tight light blue blouse that stretched across her breasts, the cloth pulling at the buttons when she breathed, and black pants that sat snug on her from waist to thigh.
Every crease showed.
The fabric clung over the full curve of her hips and tucked in under each cheek when she walked, her ass moving with each step, the faint line of her panties sitting under the cloth.
She tugged the blouse down once because it kept riding up off her stomach, and went for the academy uniform wall first.
Two replacement blouses.
Regulation slacks.
A casual house dress that would not look sloppy if someone knocked.
