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Normally, the outfits Cindy wears throughout the story are plucked directly from the imagination--I'm not always convinced they'd work in reality, but they seem to do fine as snippets of descriptve prose existing purely in fantasy. However, sometimes I go digging around online for inspiration or something pops up on a social feed that catches my eye.

For example, the LBD Cindy wear on that first date with Dan I found online--in the first draft, I forgot to delete the URL reference to the shipping site where I'd found it! The Paris lingerie Julia gifts David after returning from her European holiday was inspired by Bordelle, which keeps appearing on my Facebook feed for some reason. And this specific outfit came from Pinterets. I started a 'Cindy' Pinterest board a while back to collect possible inspirations, though I stopped as the deluge of emails became a bit much

In any case, I think Fraylim has once again caught the spirit of the outfit and the moment wonderfully!

Here's the relevant extract from Constant 3, Chapter 3:

Three: Magic Mirror

Julia wanted to wipe out the remaining traces of masculinity she saw in me. Lurking behind those c-cup mounds jiggling on my chest, the curve of my hips or flowing hair, she detected traces of the man I used to be. And that man, she wanted to punish. That man, she wanted to make suffer. And what better agony, she thought, than trapping him in a humiliating prison of lace and satin, frills and bows, in public view? Tight and slinky or flowing and flouncy—lingerie and dresses to rehabilitate the reprobate, in her mind, one prong of a multi-fronted assault on those final remnants of David Saunder.

            And so, to the mall.

            I felt a little guilty, to be honest. From the very start, she tried so hard—like, really, really hard to be this tough, hard-as-nails bitch, stiff-backed, stern-voiced, thin-lipped and frigid, ordering me about and taking control of my life. No doubt she picked that pink-and-black jumpsuit, a relic from the Clinic hanging in my closet, and paired it with pink pumps and black knee-high socks, to embarrass me. And, like sure—it just screamed ‘girly’, the way it hugged my ass and flashed my thighs. Ostentatious as well, at least compared to her casual jeans and t-shirt, a sort of prissy prep-school vibe.

            But I fucking rocked that little outfit, with a toss of my mane and a swipe of dramatic winged eyeliner in the style Emma taught me. Heads turned to follow my prancing walk and I was fine with that, I was used to it by this point and frankly, if I’d been out with Mel, Emma and Willow they probably would’ve picked something worse. That’s the thing Julia didn’t understand; she was already behind the curve. I’d already had a month’s self-flagellating mortification by this point. I’d had a boy’s cock in my mouth—three times! A trip to mall? For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t punishment—this was fun.

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