We were at the mall killing time on a Saturday afternoon. She and I were hunting for a birthday gift for her mother and not having much luck finding anything. As we looked over the jewelry counter in Dillard’s one of the make-up girls asked Sandy if she wanted to be made up. Sandy was eighteen but forbidden by our religion and her strict parents to wear make-up. Even though we had known each other since kindergarten we were only friends, bonded by the church and the fact that we didn’t have other close friends. Neither of us were allowed to date and dressing up and wearing make-up was strictly taboo. Just talking about boys or girls in a familiar way was an easy way to get smacked. Sandy shook her head sadly and refused the offer. As we moved away from the make up stand I asked her “That might be fun, why don’t you?”

She looked up at me “I can’t do that, mom would crack my head open with her Bible.”

I felt the devilment stirring and I wanted to see how she looked made up like a Jezebel. “I bet you can be real pretty, why don’t you let her fix you? We have time.”

She protested “You know I can’t wear make-up” but her eyes betrayed her, she was intrigued.

I grabbed Sandy’s arm and pulled her back to the young woman “Can you take off the stuff after you put it on?”

She looked at me puzzled “Well, yeah, but why would she want to do that?”

Without answering her I turned to Sandy “If you take it off before we leave they won’t know” she knew I was talking about her parents.

She hesitated again looked at me, searched around furtively for witnesses then back to the woman and took a deep breath, “Okay, but you have to take it off after you’re done.”

Sandy sat on the high stool and the make-up artist started on her. First was the eyes; liner, shadow, brows and lashes. I watched as a foundation was rubbed into her cheeks and brow then covered with blush. The last application was a subtle red lip gloss that turned her mouth into the prominent feature of her face complimented by the artistry done to her eyes.

I had talked her into being so brazen and she was flaunting our upbringing by getting made up and the sinful actions were having an effect on me. As she sat still for the make up girl her eyes would drift to mine and I would look back at hers, I felt a closer bond, an intimacy with Sandy that I’d never experienced before. The last thing the girl did before she handed Sandy a mirror was to rub something in her hair then she fluffed and teased it, making it look thicker and fuller. When she was done I was shocked at the transformation. Sandy looked like one of those floozies in school that always had a troop of boys following her. For the first time in my life I felt a rush in my nuts from looking at a girl. I knew Satan’s imp was in me but I thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of my eggs getting warm, my pecker filling my underwear. Sandy looked at me with a faint tremor in her voice, “Sweet God I feel decadent! How do I look?”

“You look like one of those girls dad is always telling me I shouldn’t talk too, he thinks they’re all harlots”

“I look like a harlot?” A worried frown creased her brow.

“No, you’re very pretty but if you had different clothes on you might.”

Sandy hopped of the stool and turned to the young woman who was staring at us as if she wasn’t hearing right. “How long will you be here?”

She shook her head and answered “Till six. It will take a few minutes to get that off so come back before 5:30.”

Sandy grabbed my arm and led me away from the make-up stand then glanced around surreptitiously and said quietly, “I want to try on some different clothes, help me.”

She led me to the Petite section of Young Woman’s’ clothing and started prowling through racks of dresses, pants and blouses. She spent 20 minutes pawing different stuff, handing me things to carry while she browsed. Jeans with cuts in the legs, short harmless dresses, and a blouse so thin I could see my hand through the material were some of the articles I was carrying. After leaving her fingerprints on almost everything in the department she headed for the changing rooms. “Stay here and I’ll come out and show you what I try on.” She gathered her booty from my arms and disappeared into a booth.

I’d been sitting in a hard plastic chair for about five minutes when Sandy stepped timidly out of the little room. She was wearing snug fitting jeans that rode low on her hips, each thigh was revealed behind two cuts in the denim showing patches of the smooth creamy skin of her legs. She had put on the see-through blouse which revealed her body under the material; and a red bra. The hem of the blouse wasn’t low enough to meet the jeans so a couple of inches of her midriff was bared.

My heart lurched against my ribs as a vibration shook my body. I’d never seen Sandy dressed like that and the sight of her made my knees weak. She could have been one of those girls the Church was always warning me about. “How do I look?” she asked as she turned in a circle. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the bra. My eyes locked on to her breasts and I forgot to breathe. “Uh, hello? I asked you something.”

“Uh -- you look -- uh --awesome, like you could be a model or something.” I looked into her made up eyes then stepped back to look at her from a distance. The make-up, the hair and the clothes disguised the real Sandy, the girl in front of me was almost a stranger, a very appealing stranger. She beamed her pleasure at my stuttering assessment then spun toward the changing room. I watched her back as she left, the bare skin between the jeans and the hem of the shirt only enhanced the way her butt rocked under the tight jeans as she padded away on bare feet. My sinful thoughts blackened my heart and filled my cock even more so I took a deep breath and silently prayed for forgiveness.

I had just enough time to calm down before she came back. The second outfit was a short sleeveless print summer dress. Again she wore no shoes so her legs were bare from toes to mid-thigh. The top of the sun yellow dress was open wide across the shoulders and I noticed immediately that there were no bra straps where bra straps should have been. I moved my eyes to her bust and saw small peaks in the material covering her breasts. More confident than the first time, she posed for me by cocking her right hip higher than the left then rested her hand on it. Her eyes were glittering, daring me to appraise her. My body started shaking again, my peter was rising fast, pressing against my pants. If Sandy was to look at my crotch she would see my reaction to her so I turned around and pretended to look over the big room.

“Hey,” I heard behind me, “don’t act like you don’t want to look at me.” I twisted my head and looked into a devilish smile and wickedly pretty blue eyes. “You like it?”

Just as I started to answer Sandy’s eyes flew open in shock. Her mouth formed an O and she paled under the make-up. As she looked past me into the store she started to burn red then dropped to her knees. “Get down!! They’re here!” Before I could react she scuttled on hands and knees toward the dressing rooms waving frantically at me “Come on, they can’t see us!”

Instinctively I ducked low and followed her to the little changing booth. Only when she pushed the door shut locking us in did I ask “What’s the matter, who did you see?”

“My mother and yours, they are out there! God if they see me like this I’ll get strapped for sure!”

She was trembling, visibly upset so I touched her arm to reassure her, “You’ll be fine, you want me to go out there and pretend I’m looking for you and lead them away?”

Sandy looked at me with angst, seeking support “No, stay here, I don’t want them to ask any questions, especially why you had to go looking for me.” I sat on the narrow changing room seat and looked at our reflections in the three full length mirrors. Her clothes were piled into a corner, I noticed the red lacy bra lying on top. She looked into a mirror at my image and started to giggle, her hand covered her lips as she snickered. “What’s so funny?”

“Look at me, I wanted to look and feel sinful, well I certainly did that. Do you think prayer will bring me back to the fold?”