RetroXotique

Dorothy slammed the hotel door, dropped her suitcase, briefcase and handbag on the bed and collapsed down beside them. She was shattered. The journey from London to Chicago had been exhausting, she had caught the red eye last night which had had to put down at JFK for 4 hours with engine trouble and then when she got to Chicago Airport, her credit card had been refused in both the shop and at Hertz Rent A Car and she had been so embarrassed and ended up using all her travellers cheques and dollars just to get a car.  Now here she was in a hotel in downtown Indianapolis absolutely knackered with just 2 hours to go before she had to give ‘The Pitch’.  The pitch in question was to be to a large American ice cream producer, and it’s purpose was to secure her firm the UK distribution rights for their products. To be allowed to make this pitch on her own was a big step up for Dorothy, a step that she had worked towards for the last 5 years. In a mainly male dominated firm, she had worked damn hard and made sacrifices so as to be taken as an equal and had finally made it to a position which had influence.  But back to the matters in hand with influence came responsibility, and her current responsibility was to make sure the pitch was successful, and as such she better get dressed.

Dorothy had made the trip dressed in a baggy jogging suit and her old trainers so that she would be comfortable. In the suitcase was her smartest work attire. Over the years she had made sure that she was not treated as sex object by adopting a reserved attitude and wearing smart but conservative clothes, mostly consisting of high necked blouses, dark suits and low heeled shoes. The suits always had at least knee length straight skirts and a loose fitting jacket. To finish the effect she always wore a pair of steel framed glasses even though she did not really need them at all times.  She reached for the Samsonite suitcase and opened it, to find not her clothes, but a case full of latex, leather and PVC ‘fetish’ clothing. She picked up the top item which was a latex cat suit with finger and thumb, before dropping it back into the case with a look of distaste.  "Damn !", she screamed, "Now what am I going to do".

She quickly looked over the case looking for a luggage sticker, or some item that would give it’s owners identity and found absolutely nothing. Then she rang the Chicago O’Hare airport and asked if her luggage had been handed back. The airport official said that nothing had been reported, but took her telephone number and would get back to her if they had any information. 

"Damn !", she screamed again, "Now don’t panic Dorothy, you have got two hours, lets get out and buy some new clothes". 

She reached for the handbag and rushed to the door, where she remembered that her credit card would not work and she had no cash left". 

"Damn, Damn, Damn !", she screamed again, "Why does this have to happen to me". 

"That’s it", she thought "I will just have to cancel it!", then she thought again, "I can’t, we have already postponed it once because the presentation graphics were late. Today was her last chance, the ice cream people were going to make a decision straight after her pitch. I have got to do it today ". 

Dorothy then rang the desk explained the situation, and then asked if there were any female staff who might lend her a suit, the man who answered said that he was sure that the one of the desk managers would bring something from home, Dorothy’s hopes rose and he carried on saying that she was due on in two hours, Dorothy thanked him and rang off.  "That’s it, I am sunk", she thought, "Unless" and her eyes turned towards the suitcase "I can use something in there".  She opened the ‘other’ suitcase and pulled out the latex cat suit and held it up,  "Not suitable at all", she thought as it was covered in buckles and rings.  The next item was an orange latex jump-suit with holes in what she thought were the strangest places.  "Not a chance"  The next items were a black shiny PVC jacket and skirt.  "Well leather is in, why not PVC".

She held up the jacket to her body and studied herself in the mirror. It had very large gigot balloon shoulders and then sleeves that went tight from the elbow, a high collar and with a cut-out above the breasts and a peplum around the waist. "Possible", she thought but it did look a bit tight for her non to waif like figure. She then picked up the skirt, and held it up again, it was a calf length and a pencil style. 

"No, correct that", she thought, "it is a calf length, hobble skirt". 

Dorothy, seeing some light at the end of the tunnel, examined the items more closely, the skirt looked much to small at the hips, and the waist was minuscule, and now she looked at the jacket and held it buttoned she could see that it’s waist was very small as well. "If I leave the jacket open, and this PVC stuff must stretch a bit and breath in to make the skirt fit, I am sure I can get this lot on. 

Dorothy then returned to the case looking for some shoes, she had considered going in her trainers, but they were so old and scruffy she had decided she would look like a bag lady. 

In the suitcase she found two items of footwear one a pair of strappy sandals with six inch heels and the other a pair of lace up ankle boots with excessively pointed toes and six inch heels again. She decided on the boots as the sandals just looked to ‘slutty’. She sat down with a little trepidation as the highest heels she possessed were court shoes with two and half inch heel and she had only wore a few times with an evening dress. 

She pulled the boots on and felt her toes cramming into the points, and the rest of her feet taking up a very unnatural angle, by a lot of force which cramped her toes even more she managed to get her heel down, she repeated the operation with other boot and then laced them up tightly reasoning that she needed all the support she could get. With her feet feeling very strange and not her own she tried to stand and immediately she found herself pitched forward as her body took up its natural stance and the shoes took up there’s. Dorothy leaned back and bent her legs deeply to regain her balance, which turned out to be more difficult than she imagined as then her ankles started wobbling uncontrollably from side to side. Quickly she sat down and said to herself in amazement "How do women ever walk in these instruments of torture...... Well they do, I see them every day and night in London, striding a long without a care in the world, so it must be possible, but I am not sure how". 

She took a deep breath and slowly stood up, again this time holding her ankles muscles tight, and then trying to straighten her knee’s. Gradually she stood up straight, and was quite pleased as the shoes made her look and feel much taller. The downside was the tremendous strain on her calf muscles and her toes, being increased by her weight. 

"OK, I’ll manage", thought Dorothy ",That’s the footwear sorted now for the skirt." She took the boots off and remembered she would need some tights, so she dug through the case, but all she could find were some dark, silk like, seamed stockings, but no ‘G’ string, resourceful as ever she put them on and used some sellotape as garters, next came the skirt, she held it down in a ring, passed both feet and confidently started to pull upwards, the progress was steady until mid-thigh when after which the top of the skirt would not budge. 

"Why did she have to be so thin", thinking bad thoughts about the skirts owner, "I am not that big but the owner of this skirt must be a waif". Dorothy reached down and gripping the waist band as tight as she cold started to tug. The skirt started to move slowly millimetre by millimetre but as it approached her hips, however hard she pulled she could not get it to move any further. The PVC was now stretched as tight as her drum across her hips and thighs. 

Dorothy kept on tugging, but got no result except going very red in the face. Then she remembered her schooldays in the 80’s where it was fashionable for to wear jeans (non-stretch) two sizes too small and the only way she and her friends could get them up was to lay flat on the floor. Dorothy lay down and thinking herself small, raising her hips off the ground, and began to pull with all her might, slowly the skirt began to move they until eventually it slipped over hips and while it was still tight and still needed tugging, the skirt moved up until the waistband was in the right position. 

"Yes" said Dorothy in triumph, slowly and carefully she got up off the floor keeping her legs together, as she could feel that the skirt, which now past skin tight and felt more like sub-epidermal, would not take much more abuse. She could see and had heard during the tugging that the front, and two side seams was suffering under the strain. 

When she was standing she, reached behind her for the zip and pulled it resisted movement and however much she breathed in, the zip would only move half an inch under the maximum pressure Dorothy dared put on it. 

"What is going on, I am not that fat". 

She walked or it would more true to say minced due to the tight skirt over to the full length mirror, attached to the bedroom door, the skirt pinioned her thighs together so that she could feel that the fat squeezed out towards the front and back, it was still tight at her knees and she found that the only way she could achieve any forward motion was to rotate one leg in front of the other. At the mirror she turned round and peered over her shoulder and was mortified to find that the waistband of the skirt did not meet by at least six inches. 

"Oh come on", she thought "nobody is that slim" 

Thinking quickly she decide to try and hide the gap using the jacket, and remembering that she had seen some sort of thin top in the case, she went slowly over to find it. When she found the top which was made of a blackish sheer stretch material, she immediately knew that there was no way that she could wear her sensible pristine white Marks and Sparks bra underneath it. 

And she rapidly searched the case again for a bra, in a side pocket she found a minuscule black bra with balcony half cups. She quickly removed her own bra, and tried on the black one. The bra was to small and lifted her breasts up high and thrust them out so that they seemed to be presented on a plate and even worse, it only just covered her nipples. 

"I suppose it better than my white,... but only just". 

Dorothy, then put on the top, which fitted so tightly that it showed the little bit of fat around her midriff. Next the jacket, she picked it up and put her arms in the sleeves which were tremendously tight, she kept on pushing but could not get her hands past the lower sleeves. Rotating the sleeves round she noticed the black zip running up the rear of the sleeves. 

With some difficulty, she pulled her arms back up the sleeves (you try it) and then undid the zips, This time the upper sleeves were still tight, but with more pressure, her hands popped out into the flapping lower sleeves. 

"Why do these inner sleeves have to be so tight inside these gigantic puff shoulders.", she thought. 

Moving and mincing back to the mirror, she studied herself in the jacket, and immediately worked out that it was not meant to worn open, as it hung terribly at all different angles from her breast down to the peplum waist, but there was no way that Dorothy was going to close it as like the skirt, there was a six inch gap between the two sides. She turned round again and viewed her rear, the ‘other’ woman must be a bit smaller than as the peplum of the jacket only just covered the waist band of the skirt and a striking amount of flesh was visible between the gaps of the skirt zip. 

"Maybe I can cover it up with a belt or something", she minced back to the bed and the ‘other’ suitcase and started searching, feeling a bit flustered as she hurriedly searched all the side pockets and found nothing, she reached up to the lid pocket and felt something solid inside it. 

Undoing the catch she pulled out something rolled up, black, long and heavy with what looked like shoe laces hang from it. Dorothy slowly unrolled and found a what she recognised as a corset. She had never seen one in the ‘flesh’ before and was amazed at it heaviness and rigidity. 

"So this is how ‘she’ manages to get into this suit", she thought, "but I bet this thing hurts like hell when it laced up tight enough to fasten this jacket and skirt".