You pull your textbook out and sit in the chair, pretending to flip slowly through the book as though you’re looking for information in it. Meanwhile, you delve deeper into this girl’s head.
Beneath the grim happiness is a kind of sharp determination, something that bites deep and hurts her as much as it helps. Resting around that is a desire for— you’re not sure. You’ve felt something like this in Emma, and in Madison, but you’ve never been able to put a name to it. A yearning for attention, maybe? A desire to be noticed? That doesn’t feel quite right, but it’s not far off. Good enough for now.
Over at the table, there’s a sudden burst of laughter. You flinch, looking over as the girl’s voice rises— “bet you’d like to stick it up there, John!”— and the table laughs even louder for a moment before quieting back down.
It takes a fair bit of digging around, to the tune of two minutes, before you’re able to finally find the faint threads of her loyalty. Surprisingly, for a girl with such a trashy appearance, you hadn’t been able to find any strong traces of lust in her. Maybe later.
You keep an eye on your watch, trying to guess when you might have the right balance down. Five minutes pass as you tug gently on her loyalty, then ten. At the fifteen minute mark, you stop, drawing your power back into you, then quickly let it spread out in a blanket— and, yes. Okay.
It’s weak, but you can feel her presence through the haze of emotions hanging heavy over the school. She feels like Charlotte does, weaker than Madison or even Emma, but with enough of your hooks in her that you can… not quite feel her emotions without deliberately touching them, but you can at least place her in the school.
Really, that’s all you can expect for now. Later, when you have more time, you might be able to influence her to the point she’ll give you the information you need, but for now this will have to do.
You’ll have to think of a way to get closer to her. If she comes here every day, then maybe you can find a place to have lunch with Madison around here. Or… well, you’re sure there’s a way.
Either way, you stand and tuck your textbook back in your bag, then hurry off. Madison’s been waiting for nearly half an hour now.
It’s hard to focus on trying to read through your books through fifth and sixth period, you soon find. Your thoughts keep drifting off to your upcoming shopping trip, and imagining how Madison is going to look in her new lingerie. A little shudder runs through your body. Hm, maybe Madison’s parents are going to be out this weekend. Or maybe you should more seriously consider asking Dad about that basement.
You watch the clock tick down to half past three with growing impatience. When the bell finally rings, you get up as fast as you can without drawing attention to yourself, and hurriedly throw your books in your bag.
Despite your rushing, Madison still beats you outside, greeting you near the school’s parking lot with a small but eager smile and a larger but no less eager hug. You return it for a moment, but hastily drop it when you see people passing you by and giving you annoyed looks. She pouts, but after looking around for a moment, doesn’t seem any more eager than you are to start again.
Rick takes a few minutes to arrive. In the meantime, you and Madison engross yourselves in talking about her family. “Terry’s been playing this same racing game for two weeks now,” she tells you with wide eyes, “he’s obsessed with it.”
You chuckle fondly, remembering how enthusiastic the energetic kid had been about his games the last time you’d been over to Madison’s house. “He’s pretty good at those games, huh,” you reply.
She nods, her enthusiasm dampening a little. “Yeah,” she says. “He’s actually grounded from his PlayStation because he wouldn’t do his homework last night. I feel a little bad for him, but he keeps coming into my room and talking about these dumb comics of his. It’s really frustrating.”
“Can’t get enough alone time?” You give her a lecherous grin as you speak. She blushes lightly and bumps your hip with hers, but after a moment, looks down at the ground and nods. “Aw, poor Madison,” you coo. “You’ll have to get a lock for your door, then.”
“That sounds like— wait, there’s Dad.” She points towards the parking lot, where you can see Rick just pulling in to the entrance. He’s stymied momentarily by the three cars in front of him, so the two of you hurry over, pulling the back doors of the car open and piling in with loud giggles before the car has even stopped. Rick turns his head back to look at the two of you, giving you an unimpressed look.
“I’m not a chauffeur,” he complains. His complaint doesn’t last long when Madison pouts at him, though, clutching forlornly at your hand. A heavy sigh escapes him, and he turns back just in time to witness the cars in front of him driving forwards. “Fine, stay back there, but you’re doing the dishes tonight.”
“Okay!” Madison exclaims brightly. She shifts over to the middle seat and does up the buckle there so she can rest her head on your shoulder as he drives. “Did you bring my purse?”
“Yeah, it’s just here.” He pats the console of the car, just next to the handbrake. Madison reaches over and grabs it, then opens it and quickly counts what’s in there as she lays her head back on your shoulder.
You roll your eyes and pat her affectionately. “Thanks for driving us,” you say loudly. Madison gives you a guilty glance, then echoes your thanks. Rick just chuckles.
Once you actually get out of the car lot, it’s a quick drive to the mall, much quicker than you’ve become accustomed to on the bus. You spend the idle time of the trip giving Madison some quick instructions as to what pages of her textbooks she should go through tonight. You don’t need to actually tell her that there’s a reward in it for her if she does— by the smile she gives you, she understands.
Rick pulls up in the mall’s car lot less than fifteen minutes after picking the two of you up. Before the two of you can clamber out, however, he turns back and gives the two of you a dry look. “Do you need anything?” he asks his daughter. Madison shakes her head, and he nods, as though expecting that. “Okay. Do you need me to drive you home, Taylor?”
Shaking your head, you reply, “No. Dad’s going to pick me up around five thirty, so I should be good.”
“And that answers my second question,” he says, smiling. “Is there anything else you’re going to do in town, Madison, or do you want me to pick you up at five thirty too?”
“Five thirty is fine,” she says. “Thank you, Dad.”
He shakes his head fondly. “That’s alright,” he replies. “I’ll see you then, then.”
The two of you climb out of the car and wave at him as he peels off, giving the two of you a jaunty salute. Then, finally freed of parental supervision, you take Madison’s hand and lead her into the mall.
Just before you make it in, though, Madison tugs at your hand, bringing you to a stop. “Um,” she says hesitantly, “I, um, have some extra money saved up from my birthday. Would it be okay if we went and bought some other clothes while we're here, too?”
“Like what?” you ask casually. You don’t have any intentions to deny her, but you’re going to need to rearrange your plans if she wants to spend much time elsewhere.
She just shrugs and slips her purse into her pocket. “Whatever you want,” she says. Her gaze is focused on your face, and she’s not even concerned that other people are within earshot when she continues, “I just want you to pick out clothes for me to wear.”
The request doesn’t come completely as a surprise. “Okay,” you reply. “We’ll head out after we visit the lingerie store and see what the clothing stores around have.”
A smile spreads across her face. “Thank you,” she says contentedly. Now that she’s said her piece, she allows you to lead her into the mall and towards the little boutique you’d wanted to take her to a while.
The boutique itself is a small and demure little storefront. Two glass windows dominate the storefront to each side of the door, each showcasing a mannequin wearing some rather comfortable-looking lingerie. Above the store is a sign bearing a name you can’t actually read, as loopy and curving as it is— you can pick out the word ‘Parian’ in the name, but it seems like whoever made the sign focused a little too much on being artistic and not quite enough on making it readable.
It’s a lot larger inside than it seems from the outside, though. It widens up some as you head inside, and it’s a good distance long. There’s a desk off to the side with a bored-looking woman standing behind it, her skin dark— Middle Eastern, if you had to guess. Beyond that stretches several comfortable-looking chairs, and then, set against the walls, displays of lingerie.
Madison’s eyes are wide when you turn to look at her. You can’t help but smirk a little.
“It’s going to take forever to look through all this,” she whispers.
You squeeze her hand gently. “It’s fine,” you tell her gently. “We’ll ask one of the store clerks to help us out. Do you have your measurements?”
“Yes,” she says after a moment’s thought. “I got measured when I bought that lingerie on Friday.”
Nodding, you assess the store. You begin to step forwards to the clerk behind the desk, but before you can, a heavyset woman with graying hair steps past from behind you and begins to head towards her. Even from here, you can feel the flash of boredom and irritation that emanates from the clerk when she sees the woman approaching. Wow, she must really hate her job.
Looking deeper into the store, you can see another clerk standing in front of a shelf, carefully attaching something to a mannequin. You pull Madison down towards her, then quickly push her so she’s standing slightly in front of you, wide-eyed in front of the clerk.
“Uh, hi,” she squeaks. “I’m, uh.” She stalls, looking back for guidance. You give her an encouraging grin, and she swallows slightly. “I… want to buy some lingerie?”
The clerk— a thin woman with long, blonde hair— looks back at her with an obviously fake smile. Well, actually, it’s a pretty good fake smile— you’re just cheating by using your power to feel how little she cares. “Okay!” she says brightly. “I’m sure we can help you find whatever you need. Do you need to be measured, or do you have your measurements already?”
The process of actually buying lingerie is a lot less exciting than you’d vaguely imagined it to be. There’s a lot of questions about style, colour, and size— and Madison can’t even try the lingerie on in the store. Which makes sense— you shudder a little imagining trying on underwear that half a dozen other people have already worn— but it’s disappointing nonetheless.
Still, Madison does keep looking to you for guidance on what to buy. As she says confidently at one point, right in front of the store clerk, she’s not buying this for herself— she’s buying this for you.
In the end, she ends up with three new sets of lingerie. Two of them are simple black sets of lacy lingerie, bras that the store clerk assure her should fit snugly over her breasts and panties that cover the sex of the mannequins nicely, not too low-cut. The third set is a little different, a dark blue set of lingerie with white ribbons that tie the bra together at the front and the panties together at the side.
It’s all tasteful lingerie, drawing your eye over it and hinting at what’s beneath it, rather than outright revealing her body. You prefer it that way, honestly. It feels… respectful, somehow. Wholesome, despite the whole idea of it being to enhance her sex appeal for you. You’ve never very much liked it when girls tried to look slutty.
You’re prepared to leave the store at quarter past four when Madison walks over from where she’s been talking to the store clerk and hands you a small bag with a shy smile. “This one is for you,” she says, flushing slightly. “I can get it in a different colour if you want.”
You stare at her. What’s the point of getting you any lingerie? You have nothing for it to enhance.
Still, you draw it out of the bag, looking curiously at it. It’s… okay, you recognize the garter belt; you’ve got off on enough pictures of women wearing them to recognize them. And the long, silky stockings look scrumptious. But the bra— is that even a bra? It kind of reminds you of a sport bra, in that it looks almost completely flat. You reach up and touch the material lightly, enjoying the soft sensation of silk against your hand.
“It’s for flat-chested women.” Madison gives you an apologetic smile, but you can see the flush to her cheeks, and you’re pretty sure it’s not from embarrassment this time. “It’s not designed to flatter your breasts, but, um.” She swallows, looking down at the ground to hide her rising blush. “You look pretty all the time, but I think you’ll look even prettier in this.”
Your first instinct is to shove it back in the bag and tell her to get rid of it. A bra for flat-chested women. What a joke. You still have time! You’re only fifteen, they might still grow in!
You can’t explain why you pause, why you don’t just do it, tell her you’re not interested immediately. You can’t help but brush your fingers over it again.
… It does feel really nice. Soft and smooth.
In the end, you drop it back in the bag with a curious mix of depression, resignation, curiosity and arousal flooding through you. You’re surprised at how strong the curiosity and arousal is, and how little depression you’re feeling. It probably has something to do with how hopeful your girl looks as she watches you examining it— and the memory of her playing with your chest, running her tongue over it despite your lack of curves.
