Chapter 4: Scold's Locksmiths

Waking early the next morning, Marie mused over her dreams the night before. The images and emotions seemed as real to her as they had been while she dreamt them. Stirring in her black satin sheets, she realized that she was hopelessly tangled.

"Did I tuck myself in so tightly as this?" she mused, working her way out of the snug wrapping with great effort, "It's like a cocoon ... and I guess that would make me a butterfly!" Marie finally worked her thighs out of the worst of it, and stood up, stretching before her closet mirror.

"Oh no, a black butterfly..." Marie's heart quickened as she realized she still wore the black rubber underwear, and nothing else. "No wonder I was so tangled in it! I didn't even put on a nightgown! What is wrong with me lately?"

Marie sighed and looked down at her dresser, forgetting her attire once again as she spotted the locksmith's card. Had Angelica really given it to her, or was that just part of the dream? Marie picked up the card and ran her hands over the fine calligraphy. Marie had never been to a locksmith before, as she always had her keys made at the hardware store.

Feeling nervous and more than a little frightened about the whole thing, Marie picked up the phone to ask Angie if she knew anything about it. She dressed quickly while it rang, and was idly tying her blouse closed when Angelica's answering machine kicked in. She left a quick hello and hung up.

"Well, I suppose I ought to just check out the place, and see if there are any answers." Marie sighed and threw on an overcoat, stepping out the door.

In the subway station, Marie realized she was getting a lot of long stares. Looking down, she saw that she had not chosen her wardrobe very wisely. Beneath the open overcoat she wore her old red and green checkered school girl mini-skirt, which had been barely decent when her legs were still a few inches shorter. Stacked-heel mary-janes accented shiny black stockings that ended just at the hem of her skirt, and she could feel the garter belt's straps beneath the skirt as she instinctively covered her thighs with her hands.

Finally, she saw that she had put on an old faded white blouse with gold buttons, which might have been all right if she hadn't popped off the top two buttons and tied the bottom ends into a knot above her pierced navel. She saw the glint of the silver ring in a window reflection, and that made her further aware of the black outline of her rubber brassiere.

"Whore!" spat out a smartly-dressed old lady across the aisle. She had muttered it only faintly, but Marie caught her gaze long enough to realize that the old hag was sizing her up and down.

"Miss Applebee!" Marie gasped, recognizing the governess and manners instructor from her old boarding school. She was a stickler for posture and presentation, and Marie noticed for the first time that her perfectly straight back looked to be the product of some very strict stays.

The scowl on Applebee's face softened slightly as she squinted to make out the face on the exhibitionist tart she had just insulted. Marie saw her stop approaching, and huddled in her coat as she turned away from the old woman. Memories of posture exercises and figure training and dietary plans surfaced with a shudder.

"Maria! What's become of you?" the question followed Marie out of the train just as the doors slammed shut. Marie felt her face burn, knowing her ears and cheeks were bright red. Flushed ... like an orgasm, she thought. And yes, her loins were responding to the humiliation, making her begin to crave another orgasm. She turned quickly to look at the seat where Applebee sat, and saw only an old lady knitting yarn quietly in a rapidly departing train.

Casting her eyes down, Marie tried to make sense of the vision as she walked to Merrywidow Lane. It was an old alleyway, built before trains and automobiles had entered the city. It still had cobblestones in the road, and many of the buildings facing it were made of brick and dirty stone. A single clover-leaf shaped key pointed the way down into the basement of building 7, leading to Scold's Locksmiths.

Scold was old-fashioned as well, but in a different way from Miss Applebee. A bushy white moustache made a good effort to compensate for his balding head, and it hid the corners of his ironic smile. He was tall and had muscular arms with bare pits. He wore a dark green shirt, with a dark brown leather apron hanging over his chest and belly, reaching down to his knees.

Marie shut the wooden-framed glass door, making a keychain hanging from its knob clink with an ominous steel sound.

"Yes my dear, and how can I help you?" Scold asked, seemingly taking no notice of Marie's outfit.