TAMARA’S NEW SUIT

[esercito sconfitto]

TAMARA’S NEW SUIT


“Oh, I’m sorry! Did I spoil your concentration?

Tamara’s question was not inspired by solicitation. On the contrary, she was relishing the obvious discomfort and bewilderment of her latest victim. After all, you expect to enjoy a measure of privacy in a cubicle and not be interrupted by the sound of scuffling and the sight of a grinning face peering down at you from the adjoining stall. As for the machine pistol being brandished by the owner of the grinning face…well, what can you say? Just be thankful you are fortunate enough to be sitting there with your undergarments around your knees, otherwise the shock of this intrusion may have led to embarrassing consequences.

“Nice suit: I like it.” Tamara complimented. “Try not to get it wet, won’t you”.

There was fresh scuffling and another face emerged over the top of the stall.

“Hello!” the fresh female face greeted the occupant. Then, turning to her fellow voyeur, she concurred: “I say: you’re right. That is a nice suit. Oh, don’t let us disturb you…” she assured the occupant of the cubicle “…you just carry right on with the paperwork: we’ll join you shortly.”

“Oh, My God…”


Tamara glanced across to the jewellers shop from her vantage point in the newsagents on the opposite side of the road. Tamara didn’t normally do early mornings, but it had been drummed into her by her mentor that doing a heist was like painting a door: 90% preparation and 10% perspiration. There should be some inspiration in there somewhere, as well, but Tamara was not too bothered with the finer points of mathematics. Planning was essential. Tamara had been thinking about the jewellers for a few weeks now and was out early again today to observe the arrival time of the staff. The manager had appeared about 08.45 as usual to open the premises. Tamara was even beginning to fancy him. “Rather dishy - and a very nice butt” Tamara concluded. “I wonder what he looks like without his pants on.”

Tamara chuckled to herself. She reached up to find another magazine. She took the first one she came to. Gripping Detective Tales confronted her with a lurid cover of a damsel in distress staring back at her. The model had obviously not attended acting school. Her facial expression suggested she had just stepped into something malodorous; one would have preferred to see a more authentic reaction from a damsel about to confront a death worse than fate at the hands of a villain. “Who buys this stuff?” she wondered. She flicked through the pages to glimpse articles entitled ‘Police Sniff out Dirty Panties Bandit’… ‘Rip and Strip: Urban Myth or Urban Fact?’… ‘Cross Dressing Bank Robber Exposed’…Tamara paused. “Rip and Strip? I heard about this from one of the girls. Who was it now? Melody, I think. We both concluded it was unlikely to be as prevalent as rumour would suggest. But you never know; these things can grow into a self fulfilling prophesy. As my grandmother used to say: ‘Be careful you don’t put ideas into people’s minds’.”

Tamara looked across the road again just in time to see the two female assistants arriving. Tamara warmed to the sight of their well cut formal suits. They knocked on the door of the store. There was a pause. The door was opened by Mr Nice Butt. Tamara checked her watch. 08.53. Usual time. Tamara returned to Gripping Detective Tales. One article in particular had fired her imagination. She was growing quite excited. “Urban Myth, eh? Wait until they meet the Urbane Miss…” she quipped. “Come to think of it, Melody gets out next week. I wonder if she would be interested in a new project.”

Tamara startled the newsagent by buying the magazine. He was obviously used to a different type of reader. She checked her watch again and, taking a final glance across the road at the jewellers which had opened promptly at nine o’clock, she set off back towards her apartment. Tamara’s began to contemplate the options: “I think Mr Nice Butt can wait a little longer,” Tamara concluded “I need to do more research and I need time to get the gang together in any event before we can pull this job. Melody comes out next week and her sister Harmony should be free of her Ex in a month’s time. Perhaps I could interest Bruce as well…I need a bit of excitement…Yes, I’ll discuss it with Melody to see if she is interested.”


“Size 12”
Tamara examined the label on the dress and held it up for inspection. It provided a useful cover for her real intention of glancing across the shop floor to the far corner where Melody was looking through a display of woollen garments. Beyond Melody was a narrow passageway leading to the ladies’ powder room. Melody glanced back and signalled with her eyes. A well dressed lady about 30 years old had just finished a transaction at the cash desk and was replacing her credit card in her bag. She looked like a business executive on her lunch break. She glanced at her watch, pulled a face and turned towards the exit. She hesitated, looked around for a familiar sign, saw the entrance to the narrow passage and made for the powder room. Melody’s eyes now signalled urgency. Size 12 was returned abruptly to the rack and Tamara moved as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible to join Melody who had disappeared after their prey…

As Tamara had anticipated, Melody was interested in a new venture. She had met Tamara soon after her release from prison. Melody had been very brave and took Tamara’s roasting on the chin like a woman.

“Being sent down for getting caught doing a heist is one thing: that’s an occupational hazard. Getting sent down for massaging a speed cop’s crown jewels with your size 6’s just because he gave you a ticket, is plain stupid.” Or words to that effect.

“Sorry, Tamara…won’t happen again…a momentary lapse…will do better next time...”

Her fortune told, Melody listened attentively to Tamara’s plan. Yes, she had remembered telling Tamara about Rip and Strip operations; why, she had actually met inmates who had been sentenced for doing just that – and for being caught, of course. In fact, they had given her some ideas about how not to get caught. Yes, Melody was keen. In fact, she was getting quite excited. When could they start?

So the planning began. Within two days they had located a department store with a rather discrete powder room. So discrete in fact, that it was seldom used. So on the plus side, they had location and opportunity; on the down side - they may not find a victim. They took trouble to check the escape routes and made sure that they had at least three available. On the third day they spent an hour doing a dummy run. Nobody was stripped, nor even ripped, although one junior executive, who had dropped in for post-coital micturition, had unwittingly put herself in dire peril and was on the verge of experiencing a really bad hair day before Tamara’s steadying hand curtailed an enthusiastic, hormone charged Melody, who had a thing about well-cut business suits on attractive young ladies.

“I suspect I know why she had to come in here” cautioned Tamara (who had a stronger instinct for these things than Melody), “her boy friend may be waiting for her outside the door” she warned.

He was.


“Well, what do you think?” Tamara asked.

“Let’s go for it” encouraged Melody.

“Good!”


Day four arrived and Tamara began looking at dresses.

“Size 12”…


The contents of a lady’s bag lay strewn across the bed in Tamara’s apartment. An expensive lady’s watch and various items of jewellery lay scattered alongside. Melody sat in an easy chair, playing with an instamatic camera. Shostakovich’s Op 97 calmed the room.

“How do I look: do you think it suits me?” Tamara asked.

Melody glanced up from her labours. Tamara stood in front of a full length mirror, turning this way and that to admire the suit she had recently acquired.

“Sure, it looks fine. You need to take it in a little around the hips, though. She was obviously better fed than you!” Melody replied.

“Wish I taken the blouse as well now” Tamara regretted.

“Oh, I don’t know, she looked quite cute wearing it:

‘Today, Samantha is wearing a warm satin blouse which sweeps down to blend with the soft curves of her well formed, white cotton panty covered butt. The whole ensemble is tastefully presented in a hog-tie of designer label cable-ties with a matching gag of chiffon scarf…’ ” Melody parodied. “Here, take a look…” Melody offered the instamatic print for inspection.

Tamara took the photograph and chuckled at the image of the former owner of the suit

“She almost freaked out when you produced that camera”

“Well, that’s understandable. I don’t suppose anyone welcomes being photographed in their underwear. Unless they are being paid for it of course”. Melody added as an afterthought. “Still, I suspect she was fortified by your parting invitation to ‘have a nice day’ ”

“Yes, she really does look cute” admired Tamara, returning to the photograph.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~