Free Afternoons of a Woman of Leisure (9781101623565) by Elizabeth Bennett

conservative dresses she occasionally wears to dinner or parties with Curtis’ friends, but Pauline informs her that Clarissa will take care of that. “She’s an old hand at this,” Pauline laughs. “Just do as she tells you and you’ll be fine.”
    On the day of the party, Joanna takes the train to the city. The address she has been given is near the financial district, a low brick building nestled behind a street of depressed-looking shop fronts. There is no downstairs bell, so Joanna climbs to the top floor and knocks.
    Clarissa opens the door, dressed in a hastily tied terrycloth robe, wet from the bath. “Come in, Joanna,” she says in a high, singsong voice. “You caught me just as I was getting out.” Joanna steps inside.
    Clarissa is short but voluptuous, with flaming red hair hanging damply to her shoulders. “Come with me while I finish getting ready,” she beckons, turning back down the hall. “Then we’ll start on you.”
    Joanna follows her to the back of the apartment. There are no visible windows, and the overhead lighting is dim. They pass first through a large, comfortable living room, strewn with chairs. In the fireplace, a small gas fire dances and snaps. “Is this where the party will be?” Joanna asks, and Clarissa nods, yes.
    â€œAnd back there,” she points, indicating a closed door. “I’ll show you around before they arrive.”
    In the bathroom, Clarissa pulls the plug in the bathtub, and water begins to drain. “Do you want a bath?” she asks.
    â€œNo,” Joanna says, noticing a bidet in the corner. “I think I’ll just wash a bit. Pauline said you’d have something for me to wear.”
    â€œYeah,” Clarissa says, laughing. “But I doubt you’ll be wearing it for long.” She turns and looks intently at Joanna. “This is your first thing for ‘O,’ isn’t it?”
    â€œYes,” Joanna says.
    Clarissa smiles. “Don’t be nervous,” she says. “I get to do most of the work here. You’ll probably end up mostly watching.”
    â€œOkay,” Joanna says, feeling nervous anyway.
    While Joanna washes at the bidet, Clarissa slips out of her robe and begins to dry herself off with a towel. “Excuse me a minute,” she says, turning on an electric dryer. She bends slightly forward to rub her wet hair under it and Joanna notices, for the first time, the pale skin of Clarissa’s ass. It is puckered with welts, thin red lines of healing cuts, the shadows of old bruises. Involuntarily, she shudders, unable to take her eyes from them. She stands and dries her crotch with a towel, then takes off the rest of her clothes and sits on the toilet to wait.
    Clarissa takes a small pot of red lip gloss and darkens her lips, and then her nipples. “You too,” she says, passing it to Joanna and watching intently as she does the same. She unpins Joanna’s hair and smooths it up and back, over her head. “Pretty,” Clarissa smiles. “You have great hair.”
    â€œThanks,” Joanna mumbles.
    â€œThis is what you wear,” she says, holding up a piece of black lace with stiff cupping at one end and no discernible zipper. “I’ll show you how to get it on, it’s a bit confusing.” She helps Joanna step into it, pulling it carefully up her torso until the stiff end comes to rest beneath Joanna’s breasts. They aren’t cups, she now sees. Instead, a stiff ridge supports her breasts from beneath, pushing them up but not covering the nipples. Clarissa, appraising her, frowns and administers more lip gloss to the tips and Joanna shudders slightly at the brush of her fingers. She has never been touched this way by a woman.
    Beneath her breasts, the black lace hugs her torso, letting much of her skin show through. At Joanna’s hips, the fabric expands slightly in a kind of skirt, covering her