In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

apron.
"This is Inez, she will show you to your room," he said. The
tiny housekeeper bowed and offered to take Penny's knapsacks.
Penny politely refused, following her down the hall past a
collection of framed photos, careful not to bump into any of the white
chairs with her wet things.
After dumping her knapsacks on her room's white bed, she
wrenched her boots from her swollen feet and padded across the sisal
carpet to a marble bathroom and was instantly struck by the only jolt of
color in the pale room, a tiny painting of a nude be-jeweled girl dancing
with a glowing, floating head that dripped long streams of taffy like
blood from its severed neck. The painting was set inside a baroque gilt
frame placed above the toilet bowl and just opposite the carved marble
tub, a deep trough, more sarcophagus than bathtub with intertwined
snakes or eels and fantastic spiky fish carved into the sides. Except for
the tub and the painting, the room was elegantly spare and impersonal.
A Plexiglas cube held an assortment of perfumed soaps, and fluffy
towels were draped over a heated rod. Penny washed her face and
hands in the sink, smoothed her crop, and washed her plane swollen
feet in the bidet.
She came out to find a stack of folded dark clothing on the bed.
Inez got out a terry robe from the armoire that dominated the room,
and pointed to the black leather zip boots on the floor by the bed and
motioned for Penny to try them on. A miniature pair of ballet type
slippers sat primly next to these. She hesitated, but remembering the
man's order to take off her hiking boots, she slipped on the new boots
that were light as air, even lighter than her high-tops, that she now
regretted not having brought.
"Try, yes, yes," Inez patted the pile of clothing next to the
cotton nightgown neatly folded on the pillow.
Penny hesitated a moment before putting on the new things
from neat black stack, but in the end got out of her rumpled jeans and
sweatshirt. This was one of the weirder things she'd ever done. Don't
take candy or rides from strangers, did that include transatlantic
voyages on supersonic planes? That Dick character wiggling his scrappy
ass around in those white pants was an eyeful, she could see him with
lipstick, eye shadow, a pink tutu, but she doubted he could have
guessed her size. Chuckling to herself, she unfolded the clothes, all her
size, zero. Slinky zip turtle neck, slim form fitting slacks. Well, they all
looked great in the mirror but it wasn't her. The pants made her legs
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