Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Carla and Amy ambled the wide busy concrete walk, all the storefronts
dressed in their after Holiday specials.  Large displays of mechanical
objects and blinking colored lights, mannequins with moving arms and legs,
even a toy airplane in one, circling with a banner decrying "50% OFF".

   "Did Wendy say where she was going ,or for how long?" Amy was worried,
as was Carla.

   "She said she was taking that Charlotte to talk to `dat blueblood',
whatever that means.  I looked up Blueblood online and found a website. 
Amy, it looked like a goth clothing store, but when I looked further, it
had all these other businesses, online sex, lingerie sales, even a
marketing and business counseling department.  I called "411" and got this
brand new number- they have the corner store now."

   "Where Dark & Co.  used to be?  Oh crap, they had the best sales too."
Amy looked up, judging how far they were from the corner, near the river,
and the State Theater.  Across from them, a robotic dog was barking as a
mannequin boy shook his head, and a sign said, "Got Batteries?"

   Carla's new chunky heel shoes were not broken in, and her feet were
aching.  She wondered where some of the store merchandise had gone to, and
thought maybe someone had a key, and was breaking in and taking things. 
Amy had listened and consoled her friend, but Amy knew some of the strange
magical wards and glyphs that had been carved on the doorposts, and knew,
if anyone had intruded, they were probably deeply regretting that by now.

   Amy looked up, noticing how close she was to the State Theater.  She and
Wendy had danced there many times, before her ankle broke and she had
stopped pursuing dance and joined the writing club at school.

   She turned to say something, but noticed Carla was nearly pressed
against the glass of the storefront window, starting navel high and
reaching up ten or more feet.  In the display, was two mannequins, both
wearing lingerie.  Dark blue and red lighting gave the ten foot square
space an eerie glow.  Bright yellow and orange spotlights, placed not only
above the props, and models but below them, lit the box well enough to see
the products, but provide a sensual but gothic ambience.  The scene
displayed an attractive domme correcting a young woman, who stood, chained
at her legs and wrists to the ceiling.  Surrounding the two models against
the display wall, stood six others, alternating male and female.  They wore
fantastic latex and lace creations, sexually shocking, but compelling to
watch.  All the models including the two women centered, were living
models, not robots or mannequins.  They moved in slow fluid motions, their
facial expressions and hand gestures being a mix of awe, and arousal.  None
seemed to recognize the small crowd on the snowy street, outside the
window. The long dark-haired domme center left, was dressed in long pants
of tight, flat black leather.  Her midriff was bare, as laced up in front
was a thin, black suede camisole, which acted as her bra, and showed
cleavage between its laces.  She wore a shiny latex hood on her head which
pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and rimmed her face.  Her makeup was
stark with thin, pointed eyebrows and thin dark lips.  Her high cheekbones
were accentuated, and on her feet were small velvet pumps with chrome four
inch stiletto heels.  Held in her gloved right hand was a flogging whip,
with five suede tails about five feet long.  She moved slowly, almost
robotically, raising the whip behind her, locking her hip, then snapping
with her elbow and throwing the whip forward just hard enough to air its
tentacles into the bare back of the other model.  The woman on the right
wore a spiderweb of thin, latex straps, crossing her over her shoulders,
around her tummy, and breasts, and between her legs.  The straps acted as
both bra and panty, providing very little modesty for the model.  Her butt
was completely exposed, and Carla noticed her cheeks tense as she shifted
her weight from one hip to the other.  A garter around her hips connected
large-hole fishnet stockings at the thigh.  Her feet were clad in
apparently high heels, shiny black patent boots, ankle high.  Close
inspection by Amy revealed the boots had no heel!  The front of the foot
was flat to the ground, the angle quite steep, and would take a lot of
practice and muscle control.  The shiny chains, lowered from some dark spot
on the ceiling, allowed the slave girl's arms to hang at her waist but no
lower, and connected to her ankles by thick leather cuffs.  Another chain
was clipped to the thin, black collar around her neck, but was slack, and
provided nothing more than visual stimulation.  The "onlookers" made slow
motion reactions to the scene, some gaping in awe, others chatting together
and pointing, laughing.  One stood rubbing her long latex gloves about
herself, providing the image that the scene she viewed was driving herself
to pleasure's climactic conclusion.

   Carla had already wandered up the dark steely steps into the foyer of
the well lit store area, when Amy's right brain and left brain separated
the artistic image from data and facts.  She shouted after Carla, arresting
her in the doorway.  Carla craned her neck back outside, in the cold wind.

   "Come on!  I want to see what they have on sale, besides how they fit in
with Wendy and Charlotte and all that."

   "How they fit?" Amy was flailing her arms, nearly hitting some of the
gawkers gathered at the display window.  "Carla!  The slave girl!  It's
Charlotte!"