Free Alice After Hours by Galia Ryan

your arms, please.”
    Alice stood perfectly still as the woman ran a critical eye over her. She didn’t even glance in Gabe’s direction when the girl returned, carrying a tray and his drink.
    Lifting the dressmaker’s tape from around her neck, the corsetière slipped it around Alice’s back and pulled it taut over the upper part of her breasts. Checking the measurement, she lowered the tape an inch or so and checked again, and then gestured that Alice should bend forward so that the underside measurement could be noted. Her waist and two further checks on her hips followed, and lastly the length from breast to pubic bone.
    â€œ Will she be wearing the garment every day?”
    â€œ Three times a week.”
    â€œ In that case, steel boning, I think. It will achieve the best results. I have something in mind.” She had already turned to the girl. “Bring me the black swan and the Marie Antoinette.”
    Biting her lip, Alice shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the corsetière continued to circle her.
    â€œ These.” Thin fingers tugged at the elastic of her panties. “Off.”
    A glance in Gabe’s direction yielded nothing more than a raised eyebrow, as if he were questioning her reluctance to comply. Slipping them off, she dropped them onto her discarded jeans.
    The corsetière was looking at Alice’s feet—no doubt at the vivid red nail polish.
    â€œ Your shoes?”
    Alice frowned. She was to put her ankle boots back on?
    â€œ Madame , I regret she has nothing suitable.” Gabe looked a trifle bemused.
    â€œ Her size?”
    â€œ Six,” Alice said quickly.
    â€œ Mathilde, shoes. Size six. And stockings.”
    â€œ Seamed, Madame?”
    â€œ What else.”
    Alice stole a glimpse at the two corsets Mathilde had returned with. One was black, as she had guessed, and the other was a beautiful ivory floral print. Which would he prefer, she wondered, already realising she had little choice in the matter.
    The corsetière was considering the black, holding it up as if determining the fit. Loosening the laces, she unhooked the front.
    â€œ This will reduce her waist immediately by some two to three inches.”
    Alice felt a wanton thrill.
    â€œ And if I want more?” Gabe asked.
    The corsetière nodded, as if the question was perfectly reasonable. “That can be achieved. Of course permanent reduction takes time.”
    Bent forward and easing her toes into the sheer stockings Mathilde had handed her, Alice was trying to control her breathing. She was nervous, yes, but she was also very, very turned on.
    â€œ The shoes. Quickly now.” The corsetière was waiting.
    Alice slipped on the patent leather court shoes and straightened. Her calf muscle stretched and tightened as she balanced on the five-inch heels, and when the corset was placed around her, the satin felt cold and unyielding against her skin.
    â€œ Your breasts.” The corsetière indicated she should hold them up, and with the front of the corset re-hooked, the entire garment was then repositioned higher and lodged in the crease.
    Alice found it strange to have her breasts uncovered and on display. They felt bigger, heavier. Perhaps it was because the corsetière was behind her, pulling the laces tight. She breathed in and felt her tummy flatten as her waist constricted. She stood taller, prouder even. Coming around to the front, the woman felt Alice’s waist, lifted her breasts and checked the top of the garment. Ran her hands over Alice’s bottom and tugged the garment down a little. Then she hooked the elastic and metal suspenders to the tops of the stockings.
    Finally she made one more adjustment to the laces. Pulling and tightening them even further.
    Alice could only image how she must look, and the heat rose in her face.
    â€œ Turn around,” the corsetière ordered. “You will see, monsieur , how the laces are