Break of a Lifetime -Part Three

[orflash64]

Break of a lifetime Part 3
#1765
by Goodgulf
awatcher123Aug 16, 2015
Part 3 - Planning is over
Trish came over to Jane's on Friday afternoon, her luggage packed in a borrowed car. As they carried it up to Jane's apartment, Jane couldn't help but remark how much Trish had with her.
"Will your roommates think you needed all this for two weeks?" Jane asked.
"Two weeks and three days," Trish corrected. "And it's all my stuff. I didn't want to say anything, but I can't afford this month's rent. I told my roommates that I didn't know how much I needed for the trip and I'd pay them my share when we get back, but that might have been a little white lie."
"A white lie?"
"Okay, just a lie," Trish said with a grin. "But who can afford rent? I mean, they want it every month. Who has that money? I'm moving out, so screw them."
"You're not paying your share of the rent? Ever?" Jane asked.
"Well I was only there for a week, so why should I have to pay for a month?" Trish asked. "Don't worry, I'll line up a place when I get back. And when July's over I'll find a place for August. I don't know, I know this nerd who got a signing bonus for his new job. He's been drooling after me for years, so maybe I'll move him with him for August and maybe September. Teach him how to fuck and not just play with test tubes, or whatever he does."
"But they're depending on you for rent..."
"Chill, they have parents. They can get a loan or something. Fuck them; they gossiped and almost screwed things up."
"After you gossiped," Jane reminded her.
"Chill. We need to focus on our adventure," Trish said.
"You keep this up and they'll stop calling you Sweet Trish," Jane told her.

"Finally," Trish sighed. "I always hated that nickname. I mean it, every guy who ever sucked my tits or ate me out said something about how Sweet Trish Sweeting tasted so very sweet. I mean every single one. The sooner I lose that name the happier I'll be."
"Every single guy?"
"Yeah, and one time, during away game last year, when I got really drunk, a girl did too."
"What? Who? Wait, when was this?" Jane asked.
"I never got her name," Trish admitted. "What can I say, I could never hold my tequila."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, no, maybe, who knows?" Trish grinned. "Maybe we'll have weird prison experiences, like in those movies."
"Um, not with..."
"Not with each other! Ew! That would be gross! But maybe a random hookup? Maybe with a guard or something?"
"Anton said they call them COs," Jane corrected. "And we're not fucking around. We're going in, getting the interview, and keeping our noses clean. Did you forget about that law? If we fuck up we get the strap. For real."
"Whatever."
"I'm serious," Jane said. "And Anton says it's serious. This isn't some angry dad who might smack his daughter's friend, it's something judicial. I mean whoever is using the strap will get paid to do it."
"Kinky," Trish giggled. "And chill! I'm just messing with you. Don't worry, I'll be there when you talk to C.E.F., ready to backup everything you want her to say. And after, maybe I'll couch surf here for a week, right?"
"Wait, are you inviting yourself over?" Jane asked.
"Well, I mean I am going to jail to help you get a job," Trish pointed out. "You're getting a real job. I mean, what's a week on your couch compared to that?"
"Uh, well, I guess," Jane agreed. "But it would have been nice if you had asked."
"I guess I'm not that sweet after all," Trish joked. "Come on, we have to get going if we're going to sneak into that private store."
"You mean the uniform shop," Jane corrected.
"Whatever. I still have to get that car back before nine. I can borrow cars, but I'd never steal one," Trish said.
The store was in a brick building with minimal signage. They pulled to the back loading dock the way they were instructed to, walking to the third door from the right. They knocked and the door was opened by a woman in her mid to late 40s.
"Hi," Trish said with a smile. "I'm...."
"You're the people I'm supposed to meet," The woman said, holding up her hand to stop Trish. "This is legal, technically, mostly, but no names. Call me Mrs. Pink if you need something to call me. And get inside before anyone sees you."
The two girls scooted inside.
The lights were on, but no one else was there. The woman led past racks of uniforms to an open space near one end of the store.
The woman gave them a look.
"I shouldn't be doing this, but here we are."
Jane had a moment of fear. Was this the sort of favour that Anton would call in?
"Are you being blackmailed or something?" Jane asked.
Mrs. Pink laughed.
"No, but this is the last day of the sales cycle and I am that close to being the top seller for the third time this year. This place doesn't have commissions, but they do have awards. Anyone who tops sales for four cycles gets a week's paid vacation at an all inclusive place. It's off season, but it's still the best award they give. I've won it at least once a year since I started here, and this sale will put me over the top."
Jane nodded at the woman's explanation, her mood lifted at the news that Anton hadn't forced the woman into doing something she didn't want to do.
"And don't worry, we sell those uniforms all the time. Mostly around Halloween, but we sell a few each month. Now I don't know what you're planning to use it for but if it's another porno I don't want to know."
Trish giggled.
"A porno?" Trish asked.
"It's not that," Jane said. "It's, um..."
"It's something I don't need to know. Now get your clothes off and I'll pick out your uniforms."
"Get my clothes off?" Jane asked, checking for a changing room.
"Don't worry, it's just us girls."
Jane fought off a blush.
"I need your tops off, I mean I really need it, but you'd be better off stripping down to your panties so I pick out everything," Mrs. Pink told them.
Jane searched for something to say, but Trish was already undoing her blouse. With her friend stripping off Jane felt that she had no choice but to match her. Their tops went on a nearby table and Trish's bra quickly followed. Jane paused, but she finally put her bra on the table as well. Regretting that there wasn't a changing room or even a screen, Jane wished that the woman wasn't looking at her chest. It had never been her best feature, but there was nothing she could do to hide it now.
Mrs. Pink picked up Jane's bra, looking at the label.
"Um, if you need the size..."
"No, I was looking for the brand," Mrs. Pink said. "There's no padding so it must lift and separate like crazy."
Jane glanced away, uncomfortably folding her arms over her chest.
"Oh, don't be that way," Mrs. Pink laughed. "In another life I was a professional bra fitter. I saw more tits in a year than a porn addict sees in a lifetime, and I'm still straight as an arrow. There's a sales woman here with perky tits and a tight ass that gets most of the male customers, but every woman comes to me to make sure she's working all day in a comfortable bra. Now you're lucky you're here for the Carnacki uniform. The county jail, it has a total of three different bra sizes. If you ever end in there you'll serve your entire sentence in a bra that doesn't fit."

"That's terrible," Trish observed.

"What can I say? No one wants to coddle criminals. But the Carnacki place, it has 36 different styles. All of them sound like they were named by middle school students, but at least they fit. Speaking of the fit, put your wrists together at the small of your back. I know you wouldn't normally do that, but if you're going for the look then you should be ready to wear handcuff. Most girls are surprised by what that does to their chests, but you won't be. No, closer. Almost touch your elbows together. Arch your backs more. That's it. Now get those slacks down so I can get you the right skirt for your booties. Oh, and I'll need your shoe sizes."
Jane hated having show off her tits on command, and hated it even more to have to drop her slacks. She hated having to stand there in her panties, but at least she was wearing more than a thong, unlike Trish. Her bikini panties covered so much more than the small pouch of fabric covering Trish's crotch and the dental floss that ran between the girl's cheeks.
It covered more, but it didn't conceal the budge of Jane's bush or the fine hairs poking out from around that little triangle of fabric.
"I see some people still have to shave, at least they do if they're going for the full Carnacki look."
Jane blushed, knowing where the woman was looking, and needed to cover her nervousness with conversation.
"Um, so where did you work before?"
Mrs. Pink laughed bitterly.
"For a while I was working at one of the top boutiques in the state," Mrs. Pink revealed. "Then I caught the wrong girl shoplifting. That little minx was guilty as sin, but her mother dropped five figures a month at the store, so when it came down to me or that lying little bitch the store fired me. I took this job as a temp one, just until I could get another good job. That was more than 20 years ago, and it looks a lot less like a temp job every year. Now stay right there and I'll get your uniforms. No don't dress. You'll want to make they fit you before you buy them."
Jane saw the sense in that, but she turned her back slightly to so her tits were less visible.
Mrs. Pink returned carrying an armful of clothes.
"You're close enough to each other to swap clothes, except for the bras," Mrs. Pink said. "Yours is a junior miss 4 and yours is a streetwalker 7."
"What?"
"Excuse me?"

"I told you they were named by middle school students," Mrs. Pink said with a chuckle. "Smaller sizes are called junior miss, large sizes are streetwalker models, and the middle of the road one are called Plain Janes."
"What?" Jane asked, wondering how Mrs. Pink knew about the nickname brought on by her small (but round) breasts. But from the way the woman said it, it was clear that Mrs. Pink didn't know that she was talking to someone named Jane.
"Three basic designs, 12 different variants each, and everyone of them with an insulting name," Mrs. Pink informed them. "It sucks, but what can you do?"
Jane quickly slid her bra on, and was surprised by how well a "junior miss" bra fit her.
"Um, so a they took a shoplifter's word over yours?" Jane said, looking to cover her nerves.
Mrs. Pink laughed bitterly again.
"They did, for all the good it did her," Mrs. Pink told her. "The little fool tried it again, someplace where her mother didn't shop and the idiot ended up with three months."
"That much for shoplifting?" Trish asked in surprised.
"She stole from an expensive place, which made it theft over, and the judge didn't like her family," Mrs. Pink explained. "Word was her father was going run for the other party and the judge wanted to put an end to it. For all the good it did; that party found a better candidate and won the election."
"You kept track of her?" Trish asked in surprise.
"Back then, I made more in commission in one week, commission alone, not counting my base, than I take home here in a month," Mrs. Pink told them. "If I'd stayed there for three more years I'd have been halfway to retirement from that job alone. Yes, I kept track of that little bitch. Now put on the clothes, maybe putting the panties on over your own since you haven't bought them yet."
Jane was surprised that she could, that they were old fashion full bottom panties that more than covered her bikini briefs. Of course they completely concealed Trish's thong. Which was better than the skirt. There was no way it could pass the bend test. If Jane tried to pick something up she'd flash her panties to the room. She had never worn a skirt this short in her life.
"It seems a little short," Jane mentioned.

"You mean that you'll show your panties whenever you bend at a 78 degree angle?" Mrs. Pink asked.
"Um, I'm not sure of the angle, but..," Jane began.
"I am," Mrs. Pink told her. "That's the way they're designed. Personally I think they were designed by the same middle school student that named the bras, but what do I know?"
"How do you bend in them?" Trish asked, experimenting a bit.
"You don't," Mrs. Pink told them. "You bend your knees and squat, like this."
Mrs. Pink showed them both how pick up something from the floor without flashing their panties, a lesson they had learned as young girls but hadn't really put into practice.
The uniforms were simple ones. There was a short flared grey skirt, knee high socks, flat shoes, a white blouse, and even a tie. Jane noticed how short the blouse's shirttails were compared to a regular blouse. Most blouses would go down to her thighs, but this blouse only covered the top half of her backside.
Like 'Mrs. Pink' said, the uniform seemed to have been designed by a boy in middle school. An immature middle school student at that. Jane couldn't picture herself wearing it in public, except maybe at a costume party. Even then she might feel embarrassed if a guy started checking out her bottom. Or her legs. Her breasts were back to be being her worse feature, but Jane knew that most guys would checkout any girl with tits. She had learnt that in middle school, and while she hadn't grown as much as many of the other girls, she still had guys trying to stare down her top at times. Sure, it helped when she used one of those special bras, but those were just to make her feel better about her body.
The clothes weren't something that she would want to wear, but wearing them was better than changing out of them. Out of habit she turned her back to the others as she changed, but it still felt strange to take down panties that were covering her normal panties. She half snagged her bikini briefs as she did, accidentally flashing most of one cheek for half a second. Jane quickly corrected herself, but could only hope the others hadn't noticed.
Mrs. Pink smiled as she rang in their clothes, muttering something about putting little miss tits and ass in her place.
"One more cycle like this and I'm getting another trip," Mrs. Pink smiled. "Someone has got to learn that women's uniforms are more expensive than men's. Because until she does, she's never going on that trip."

Jane had to agree about the cost of women's clothes. It felt terrible, spending all that money on clothes that she was going to wear once then abandon in the Carnacki Correctional Institute for Women.