Cleaner: Chapter Two - Part One

Again?

DAHLIA

Tower Gates Shopping Centre wasn’t a place I tended to shop very often.

Because of my particular tastes and my preference for tailor-made clothes, it was generally a waste of time. When I first moved back to Nockton my fame had been another good reason. Being picked out by other shoppers was flattering... to an extent, but it was also fairly irritating. That wasn’t so much of an issue nowadays – it had been three years since my last fashion shoot – but I wore my sunglasses as a matter of course. Better to be safe than sorry and my particular errand this afternoon was one I really didn’t want to get caught on.

I felt guilty enough as it was. My role exchange with Melissa earlier had been alarmingly weird. I couldn’t believe I’d gone through with it, let alone considered it in the first place.

I liked sex but it bored me a little. Perhaps I’d never found a really compatible partner – someone to energise my spirit and my passion enough to make the grunting and straining worthwhile. But it was disconcerting to find myself getting tingles every time I thought about swapping places with Melissa for the day.

I’d never heard of anyone else having such strange thoughts. Was it perverse? Was I some kind of weirdo? Or did lots of people have this kind of fantasy? Maybe it was common but everyone was so worried about what people might think that they didn’t share their urges. Or maybe I just had too much money and time on my hands. I’d heard that rich people tended to be into really kinky stuff. Maybe it was just down to cash and boredom.

I was in danger of talking myself out of this shopping expedition so I changed the subject of my thoughts to the lunch that I'd eaten. It had been more than I usually ate but I'd enjoyed the excess. The desserts especially. There had been some guilt-fuelled resistance to letting go and relaxing into it, but after I made myself ignore that I’d loved chomping my way through them. I never ate for pleasure like that, to an extent that would be over my normal calorific intake

And the fact I knew that had lent an extra buzz of dozy pleasure, knowing that it might add to my weight, even by a tiny amount.

Once past the lips, forever on the hips. That was what my mother had always said. I smiled to imagine those desserts making me ever so slightly fatter for the rest of my life then shook my head in bemusement that I could think such a thing.

I walked on, looking for the kind of shop I was wanting. My musing on food and fat had eliminated my reservations for a while and I enjoyed myself, imagining the kind of outfit I could wear as my next Melissa disguise.

Did I want to temporarily become a cleaner? Or was I actually interested in becoming Melissa herself?

On the face of it, it was a subtle distinction, but the depth and layers of the latter proposition gave me a sufficient tingle to know that it was the one I was thinking of.

I shook my head again in bemusement but put the thought aside when I saw the kind of shop I was looking for.

It was a medium sized discount clothes store called Trend For Ladies. The word “Trend” was in bold typeface while “for ladies” was in elegant script. It gave the impression there was another store called Trend for Men, but there wasn’t as far as I knew. The other impression it gave was that the owner’s ambition outstripped his potential by a country mile. It was a store that was doing its best but the clothes weren’t top of the range, nor were they all that cheap. And the designers they used had a flair for drabness and functionality rather than fashion and panache.

It was just the kind of shop I was looking for.

I loitered in the doorway, unsure of myself, looking round to see if anyone would recognise me, then popped inside.

It was a completely different establishment than I was used to. The boutiques in Farley I went to were small and exclusive and the ladies who worked there could smell money from fifty paces. No one sprang forward to greet me here, already assessing my size and the most likely style of outfit I would go for. I was just another shopper. It felt anonymous and that felt nice. There was only one visible shop assistant in the store and she was at the till, sorting clothes into two piles.

I moved between the clothes stands, feeling oddly ill-at-ease, almost like... I guessed it was almost like a man might feel, going into a women’s clothes shop to buy a dress: like I might be recognised for what I was at any moment and be branded and exposed.

But no one knew me here. They didn’t know about anything sordid regarding my intentions. It wasn’t sordid. It was just something I was doing for... pleasure.

Melissa’s dress had been far too big but the style had been just about what I wanted: dark material, short sleeves, coming to the knee. There was plenty of choice along those lines. The shop was designed for frumpy women.

I narrowed it down to two possibles and decided on the dark blue one that was closest to Melissa’s outfit from today, then I checked the sizes. What size to get was something of a quandary for me. I couldn’t get one anywhere near as big as Melissa’s, but it felt like that was a shame. I wished I could put on some kind of fat suit, like they used in films sometimes, but that wouldn’t be easy to procure and then I really would feel like an idiot.

I wondered if... What if I used padding or something? Would that be too weird?

I dropped out of the moment again, blushing; questioning myself. I almost walked out then and there. But I was determined to stick this out. Even if I never asked Melissa to swap again I could still enjoy it in the evening by myself.

I ended up choosing one that was a size too big for me to leave my options open and as I walked to the till I imagined what it would be like to fill it properly. I imagined eating too much; putting on weight until it became snug, or even too tight. I was almost grinning by the time I reached the till.

My fear that the cashier would question me was unfounded. I paid without incident and left the shop, feeling naughty and brazen and maybe a little ashamed.

Outside, the mall was busy. I stood there for a minute, my mind wandering over what I’d done; what I might still do. Then I noticed that there was a shop called Sweet City opposite.

I thought of the chocolate desserts and about the dress that was a bit too big for me and I went on looking at the shop.

Then I walked across the corridor and went inside.