Stephanie's Revenge Read Online Free PDF

the early morning sun
and felt slightly chill in the dark shadows.
    After two
hours she had been to Valentino's, St Laurent Trussadi, Armani and
Ferre. She had tried on dresses for all occasions and not bothered
to look at the prices. She had bought silk, satin, and leather. And
then, with the colours of the clothes she had bought still fresh in
her mind, she had gone to Rossetti and Bally and Gucci for shoes
and handbags and gloves. All her purchases were to be sent to her
hotel.
    The hotel had
recommended a restaurant for lunch and she found that shopping had
made her ravenously hungry. Not wanting to go back to the hotel and
order the Rolls she decided to take a taxi, and regretted it
immediately. The driver was clearly under the impression that she
was a representative of Ferrari looking for a driver for their
Formula One team. He drove with such speed she could have sworn the
car was cornering on two wheels. As she did not know the Italian
for 'slow down', there was nothing that she could do but cling on.
They reached the restaurant in three minutes.
    The concierge
at the hotel had booked a table. Clearly, from the warmth of her
welcome, he had also added that she was considered to be a very
important client. She was ushered to a large window table
overlooking the Piazza Navona. The dining room was beautiful, a
black marble floor contrasting with the crisp white linen on the
tables. A huge display of fresh flowers on a circular table
dominated the room.
    Sipping a
glass of spumante to calm her nerves after the ordeal in the taxi,
Stephanie ordered Tagliatelle al Prosciutto followed by mixed
grilled seafood. It was all delicious. She had a salad of what
looked like grass - thin flat leaves of green - but which tasted
sweet, dressed with a virgin olive oil and Balsamic vinegar. She
declined the dessert trolley and ordered instead a Vino Santo with
almond biscotto and a large cappuccino. Following the tradition she
had learnt on her first visit, she dunked the biscuits into the
golden-coloured wine.
    The one area
she had not investigated that morning was lingerie and that, she
decided, would be her main objective this afternoon, before she
returned to the hotel for her siesta.
    She didn't ask
for the bill. She dropped on the table a thousand Swiss Franc note
which seemed to meet with the hearty approval of the restaurant
staff, and got into the Rolls. Not wanting to risk a taxi again she
had got the restaurant manager to call up the chauffeur. At a
dignified pace, she returned to the main shopping drag.
    She wandered
more aimlessly than she had in the morning. There were two shops
devoted entirely to lingerie, but after browsing in both of them
she had bought nothing. It was after an hour of haphazard
searching, and at the point at which she was almost giving up, that
she noticed a very old-fashioned shop tucked away in one of the
narrowest streets. A window on each side of a wood-framed, opaque
glass door displayed one item of lingerie only. On the left side
was a white waspie basque complete with suspenders, mounted on the
sort of cloth dummy dressmakers use. In the other window was a
camiknicker in black silk on an identical dummy. The frame of the
windows was dark brown, the paint chipped with age. The door was
painted in the same ageing colour, though its brass handle was
brightly polished - the only thing on the outside of the shop that
looked as though it had been cleaned for years.
    Stephanie was
intrigued. Both items of lingerie were beautifully designed and
made. She had not seen anything in the other shops to rival them.
She turned the door knob and the door shuddered as she pushed it
open. A bell rang somewhere deep inside the shop, triggered by the
frame of the door.
    The shop was
cool, not from air-conditioning but from the lack of direct
sunlight in the narrow street. A long, wooden counter ran the whole
length of the room behind which, from floor to ceiling, were
glass-fronted wooden drawers, each with a