The skirt- femme fatale

She walks in briskly into the cluttered room. The translucent windows muttering simple afternoon sunlight. She feels flustered and frustrated for her favourite flamenco skirt has already been taken.. She has no choice but to take, the last one hanging.
It use to be her favourite, it Had a flair to it, a brooding black as base, and burgundy floraled tousles at the edge. As she danced, the skirt swirled, like soft milk whirls in a hot cofee cup. It was aura-blessed. As the music played on the frequently jammed up stereo, the skirt would laugh in spirals... So here she was, alone in the costume room- the musty smell was getting the best of her. Why were all the other skirts gone. Why did this skirt have to remain in the room. It was too late for self-pity, so she picked it up - grudgingly.
It lugged on her legs, it was airless, stuffy and suffocating. It hauled on a heavy uneasy tenseness on her. Her waist felt tight..but she had to dance. After putting on her lovely pair of flamenco shoes, she made her way to the studio.
Normally, foot work came as a bit of a struggle to her, but today it felt even harder to move around. It seemed as if, the skirt was mocking her, challenging her to a dancing duel. It turned and twisted around her waist, in a sinister manner. She'd trip over its miserable layers, and lost her balance, lost her timing, lost her ryhthm. How could something so feminine and fragile, strike back on her like this. Lashing out every time, cruelly mocking her, making her mess up. It was humiliating, frustrating. No one but her realised this corrosive collision, eating the insides of her- consuming her confidence. It was overpowering her, she felt diluted and helpless. restless in her own garments and she couldn't wait to pull it off.
No one in the room noticed, because she was the only one who knew...
She was the only person who knew, that this skirt was worn by a whore.
One who tried to seduce her own father... She could feel the sparks of malice slash on to her overcast skin, and she tried so desperately to flow. She was caught in cascades of lucifer. She felt like she was a traitor, wearing something that belonged to the enemy and she promised herself never to wear such a thing again..