Free A Talent for Surrender by Madeline Bastinado

fashion designer and she lived above her showroom in the King’s Road.
    Jo looked fantastic and she knew it. She was wearing a dress that Sam had made for her. It had a flouncy knee-length skirt and a sweetheart neckline. The waist was formed of a broad horizontal piece of leather that reached from the top of her hips to underneath her bust. It had been gathered into soft pleats, emphasising her curves and the soft swell of her belly. Underneath she wore a waspie corset that nipped in her waist.
    Sam’s assistant Victor had made a pair of shoes and a matching handbag and hat for her. She felt sexy and powerful and alive. She’d painted her lips in the same shade of scarlet as her outfit. The soft leather of her dress had grown warm in response to her body heat and lay against her skin like a soft caress. The corset gripped her body like a lover’s tight embrace. She crossed her legs, conscious of the driver’s eyes on her. Her stockings sighed softly as they slid against each other.
    ‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?’ She met the driver’s eyes in the mirror.
    He shrugged. ‘She did, but she’d obviously never met you. I just can’t help myself.’
    ‘I see . . . so you’re blaming me? The sin of Eve and all that.’
    ‘Let’s just say that if Eve had looked like you I’d have eaten every apple on that tree.’ The lights changed and the taxi began to move. At the corner, he turned into the King’s Road
    At Sam’s showroom Jo was greeted at the door by one of Sam’s models who reminded Jo of a human Barbie doll, tall, slender and impossibly big-breasted. She was dressed from head to toe in body-hugging rubber. On her head were a pair of pussy ears and she was wearing a long stiff tail.
    ‘You’ve got a long climb ahead of you, I’m afraid. Third floor.’ She handed Jo a glass of champagne. ‘Fuel for the journey . . .’
    Sam was Jo’s oldest friend. She was half French and half Scottish and owed her gamine features and effortless elegance to her French mother, and her heavy Glasgow accent to her father. She was a fashion designer, producing exotic sexy creations which were equally at home on the catwalk as at a fetish club.
    Sam was a creature of contrasts. She dressed to reflect her ever-changing moods. One day it might be retro chic, the next it could be goth or punk. She changed her hair colour every few weeks, often dying it a vivid unnatural shade to match her current outfit.
    Jo loved Sam’s many contradictions; her stylish clothes made her seem doll-like and untouchable but she was earthy and foul-mouthed. She knew good wine but preferred a pint of heavy. She made clothes out of leather and yet she didn’t eat meat.
    To the outside world the two women could not have been more different. Jo had a respectable job and a status within the community whereas Sam made kinky clothing for people society preferred to ignore. But they shared a love of clothes and an utter disrespect for society’s rules and roles.
    The only difference between them, Jo often reflected, was that her work forced her to live a kind of double life. At school she was the respectable headmistress but on her own time she was every bit as rebellious, individual and dangerous as Sam.
    Jo could hear a hubbub of voices and loud soul music as she climbed the stairs. On the first floor she bumped into Victor and his boyfriend J queuing for the loo.
    ‘Jo. You look fab.’ He air-kissed her.
    ‘Hi, Victor. Hi, J. So do you two.’
    Victor was dressed in a tiny pair of red leather shorts and an upper-body harness. J seemed to have been poured into a clinging black rubber garment that reached from his mid-thighs to his neck. His impressive muscles were emphasised by the outfit and, in the dim light, it seemed to be the same colour as his dark skin, giving the illusion that he was naked. It was so tight that Jo couldn’t help wondering how, when he got to the front of the queue, he could possibly