Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2000 11:38:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rita Opal <rita@molard.vancouver.bc.ca>
Subject: TG: Rita The Girdlequeen
This story has a TRANSGENDER theme, though that may not be apparent on
casual reading. It is written by a male, and an essential feature is that
the Rita character, who writes in the first person, is a transsexual woman;
that aspect of her persona is described in two previous stories.
This story explores my fetish interests, in some particular items of female
clothing, and they are shared by Rita, who is an extension of myself in my
fantasy world.
Rita Opal.
This story has a TRANSGENDER theme, and is a sequel to "Rita's
Transition" and "Rita's TV friend"; the TS Rita is now happy as
a woman, in a lesbian relationship with her partner Jan, but
she is still affected by the powerful fetish interests of her
previous male existance.
She explores this interest, with the assistance of a friendly
photographer, and she and Jan discover that he is very much
turned on by the subjects of his pictures.
RITA THE GIRDLEQUEEN
Jan and I were snuggled together one evening in our big bed.
Neither of us seemed to be sleepy, though we were pleasantly
relaxed, and we got into conversation. As was often the case we
found it interesting to talk about the way we related, the way
our relationship had changed over the years, and the particular
aspects of femininity that were such a delight to us both.
"I'm still fascinated by the way you have settled into your role
as a woman," Jan said. "It's so natural that I often have
difficulty thinking of your former self, but there are also some
aspects of it that remain, and they add interest and spice to the
way we relate." "I still delight in the role," I responded, "and
I can't imagine that someone who had not transitioned would
really be continually conscious of gender in the same way. Many
things that still give me particular pleasure would have to be
taken as given; they would be normal everyday things, not given
any special attention." "Maybe that's it," she said; "the grass
still appears greener, even though you climbed over the fence."
She smiled. "I note that you carefully used the term 'gender';
what about sex? Are you satisfied with things the way they are?
What about the classic question of a woman's desire for a male?"
"You're getting serious," I said. "To be perfectly candid, sex is
very important to me, and I have to say that I enjoy it
immensely. Sex with you, as woman to woman, is an absolute
delight. I don't think I could handle being without it." Jan was
insistent: "But you don't really hanker after the male of the
species? Don't you ever think how good it would be to be
penetrated by an ardent and virile admirer?" "Sometimes I think
about it," I admitted. "I'm not really turned on by the thought
of a relationship with a male, but there's no doubt that the sex
would be very exciting. Thanks to your efforts, I'm not without
experience, and the physical side of it was fantastic; but that
episode with Peter wasn't exactly 'normal', and in a sense I was
running the show. There was also Len, which happened as a result
of chance; one could hardly describe that as a typical
heterosexual affair." I paused to think for a while. "I think I
really am ambivalent about it," I said finally. "The idea is
intriguing, and the physical experience is something very
enjoyable, but I am not enthused at all about a conventional
relationship with a male; I'm put off by the whole macho thing
and the rules of the game as they seem to be laid down in the
classic stereotypes of society."
"It sounds to me as though you really would like it," Jan teased.
"Why don't you try having a boyfriend on the side?" "I don't
think so," I said. "Apart from my natural objections, I can't see
it happening without there being a negative effect on our
relationship, and I would never want to mess with that." She
smiled happily, and caressed me lovingly. "I don't see why it
would have to be bad for us," she said; "I think that physical
pleasure, and the way two people in love interact can be
separated." "I'm not convinced," I said. "Well," she said, "if
the day comes when you think you might enjoy it, then please feel
free to follow your desires. I don't think it would impact on
what we have going for us together."
"I take that as a very positive statement of faith in our
relationship," I said. "But the whole question of what
constitutes a desirable sexual partner can't be separated from
other factors in the way the two people relate. I'm not even sure
that gender is really a significant factor; our relationship
certainly survived some serious gender bending." Jan smiled her
agreement. "Just think about how we relate sexually," I
continued; you are a woman, and a very feminine one by any
conventional standard. But I delight in playing the femme role,
and the way you handle that, and take obvious pleasure in my
attitude and my special accoutrements, is almost the way a male
would relate to it. My specific feminine interests, which I have
always had, and which are pure fetish to be blunt about it, fit
into the equation just the way the same items would in a male-
female relationship. The items in particular have a very feminine
connotation, though they are not appealing to most women these
days -- you included. But there is no doubt you find them
tantalising, fascinating and even attractive when I use them."
"You're back on topic," she teased; "but you're right. The
'femme' lingerie definitely does play a role in the way you
attract me." "That's an almost 'normal' aspect of our
relationship," I said, "although in a sense the roles are
reversed, but we also have something which I cherish more and
more -- the closeness that two women can have, which results from
the things they have in common."
"You are definitely stretching the term 'normal'," she grinned.
"But apart from the effect on our relationship, I think the whole
matter of your 'interests' and how they persist is a fascinating
aspect of the human condition." "I suppose it is," I said.
"Somehow, at some point in the past, I was imprinted strongly,
and some specific items acquired a powerful feminine connotation.
As a male I was turned on by the idea of feminisation, so those
things were a powerful stimulus because of the association; as a
female, who delights in femininity, the association with the same
symbols persists, and they are as powerful as ever." "As powerful
as ever?" she asked. "You don't find them starting to become
mundane and normal and just a natural part of daily life as a
woman?" "I suppose to some extent I must do," I answered; "one
can't spend one's life continually stimulated by things which
have erotic associations, and obviously the effect must recede
into the background when other interests come to the fore. But
the fact remains that the effect of certain images is very
powerful, and for me it is augmented by the physical sensations
experienced in emulating the image. It's probably that effect on
me that you pick up on, rather than finding the specific things
attractive in themselves." She nodded agreement.
"It's so powerful," I said, following my train of thought. "There
is a large number of girdle sites on the web; I look at them from
time to time, and the images have the same effect on me they
would have had thirty years ago. They are fascinating visually,
and they do have something of an erotic component for me, but it
doesn't translate into a sexual attraction for the subject of the
image -- what it does is create an intense desire in me to adorn
myself in the same way." "Interesting," said Jan. "I don't
suppose you are typical of their visitors; I wonder what the real
market is." "I've wondered about that, too," I said. "They seem
to cater to males who find images of women in girdles and
stockings attractive, even erotic -- there are still a fair
number of men like that, most likely older rather than younger.
But the other question is what motivates the relatively large
number of women that pose for the pictures? In some cases it's
obvious: they provide links to pay sites, where the pictures are
much more hard core porn; they are simply advertising a money
making business, and the girdle pictures are just a smart
strategy -- cover all the bases to maximise impact. But a fair
number of amateurs (in the true sense of the word!) obviously
enjoy themselves posing. Maybe I am not unique after all."
Jan seemed quite interested in this turn of the conversation.
"I'm always fascinated by what things turn people on," she said.
"Tell me more." "Well, the pictures cover a fair range," I said,
"and some are obviously pornography, with exposed genitalia, or
fetish in the extreme sense, with the lingerie simply used as an
accompaniment to bondage. But a lot of them simply feature
attractive women wearing girdles and stockings. They don't pose
provocatively; they are good quality pictures, not particularly
suggestive or vulgar in the least. Many of the sites comment
specifically that they feature no nudity. Some of the pictures
could be done by fashion photographers -- they could have
appeared in Vogue ads thirty years ago. That's an interesting
aspect, too; apart from the inherent interest I have in the
subject matter, some of the images are really pleasing
esthetically. That relates to something that I've only picked up
on recently -- the fact that a large number of the images that
appear in fashion magazines are superbly done. I often don't care
for the poses, or even the clothes, but one can certainly see the
care that has gone into creating precisely the desired effect."
"That's true," Jan said; "I've seen pictures that just grab me,
and I find myself thinking how attractive the whole effect is,
even though it might even be a dress that I don't particularly
care for. But to get back on track, you seem to have discovered
another fascinating subculture on the web." "I suppose so," I
said. "I must say that the web does seem to cater to the whole
vast spectrum of human interests; just about every conceivable
specialisation is represented. I see that as positive; it means
that people in their own strange little corner don't have to be
quite so lonely. And of course they can even make real contacts
by email, so they can identify with a group." I had obviously
given Jan something to think about, and she snuggled close to me
in silence for a while. Eventually she asked: "Has it ever
occurred to you to join one of those groups?" "No. My 'just
looking' is interesting as a pastime for idle moments, but I'm
very happy with things the way they are here; I'm fully satisfied
with what my present life has to offer." "But what about taking a
more active role," persisted Jan. "Not my style," I grinned. "I
don't mean that," she said; "have you thought about being an
exhibitor, rather than just a viewer?"
I had a horrible feeling that she was on to another of her
projects. "You mean pose for titillation of the masses?" I asked.
"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but yes," she said. "There's
an area of interest you have, which appears to be shared by
others. You could provide them with some pleasure by letting them
share yours, vicariously. I would imagine the posing and
photography would add a whole new dimension to your interest; you
would be involved very explicitly with things that give you
enjoyment, with the added stimulus of selecting poses, and
presenting your image in precisely the right way." "Are you
suggesting I start a website of my own 'Rita, the newest
girdlequeen'?" "Why not?" Not for the first time, her happy
acceptance of things surprised me. And of course there were some
interesting aspects of the idea, though I did not react with
immediate enthusiasm. "If I really got into it," I said, "I would
definitely want to do it properly. That would mean high quality,
and it would obviously involve someone else with the skills of a
professional photographer, as well as an interest in the subject
matter." "I agree," said Jan. "We should try and find the person
-- I am beginning to think it would be quite a fun project." "No
doubt the 'person' would be male," I said; "I don't know how I
would deal with that." "It could be just the thing to bring out
your true self, as your femininity is reinforced by the natural
interest of a male," Jan said, and winked at me. "Why don't you
do a little research, and find out who takes these pictures that
impress you so much?"
Feeling intrigued, but at the same time somewhat uneasy, I
drifted off to sleep.
In her characteristic way, Jan had planted a seed, and the next
morning I found I could not get the idea out of my mind. It also
had rekindled my interest in looking at some of my favourite
images on the web, and so I sat down at the computer. As always,
I looked at the pictures avidly, finding some of them had a much
more powerful effect than others. That was usually what happened,
but this time I found myself trying to analyse what it was
specifically that affected me, and I found myself reading some of
the associated text in an attempt to find out who had taken the
pictures. In some cases there was lengthy and even erudite
discussion, and I discovered that some of the most effective
pictures were done by husband and wife teams. She enjoyed
dressing up in her finery and showing it off to turn him on, and
they both seemed to think it was a fine public gesture to share
their pleasure and delight with others. Some of the sites were
run by connoisseurs and devotees, others by those who were
interested in visual images per se, as an art form, though their
choice of subject matter made it clear what specifically
attracted them. In most cases the sites featured an email
address, and invited correspondence in the form of comments and
discussions, and asked visitors to send pictures.
At lunch time I told Jan what I had been up to, and gave her a
summary of my findings such as they were. "Why don't you follow
up some of the email addresses?" She suggested. "It is an
anonymous form of communication, and you don't identify yourself,
or make any kind of commitment." I was not too enthusiastic about
the idea, though my curiosity had been aroused somewhat. "I
suppose I could," I said. "What would be the approach to take?"
"Direct," said Jan; "Why beat about the bush? They make no secret
of their interests, and if you're visiting the web site, you
obviously share them. Simply identify yourself as a woman
interested in the topic; say you have thought it might be
interesting to get some pictures of yourself wearing items from
your collection, and see what the response is."
I decided to bite the bullet and follow Jan's suggestion. She was
correct in saying that sending email, which can be quite
anonymous, would not be making very much of a commitment to
anything. That would come later, presumably, if real names,
addresses and phone numbers were exchanged. In fact the worst
that could happen would be that a few people would know my email
address, and supposed interests, and might take to harassing me
with unwanted messages. The next question was precisely what to
say, and again Jan had the right idea: the people running the web
sites made no secret of their passionate interests, and would
make the obvious assumption that anyone visiting, for more than a
brief glance, would share them. The only complication, as I saw
it, was that the sites were clearly directed to males with an
interest in a particular form of feminine pulchritude, and it
wasn't obvious how the recipients of my messages would respond to
a woman. They would obviously be interested in pictures that I
might have, and might be prepared to help me produce some. I sent
a few messages out later that afternoon; they were short and took
the direct approach. I said I was a woman, that I enjoyed wearing
girdles and stockings, and that I was interested in getting some
nice pictures made of myself, so attired; I also made it clear
that I would be very happy to allow the pictures to be used on
websites. I chose the recipients by making a judgement call based
on the writeups on the host sites -- selecting those where it
appeared that someone involved was not just interested in the
pictures, but in actually making them.
The next morning, when I got to the computer, I found several
responses. They were all encouraging, but most of them simply
wanted me to send them pictures. A couple of them said they were
photographers, and would like to have me pose for them. One was
particularly encouraging, and identified himself as a
professional fashion photographer; he said that he found girdle
images fascinating, and that he had in fact made it something of
a hobby to take pictures of women wearing all varieties of
foundation garments. He expressed great interest in meeting me
for that purpose, and to demonstrate his credentials, gave me
links to various pictures of his. I couldn't resist taking a look
at them, and found they were particularly good -- they had that
indefinable quality that grabbed the viewer, and more to the
point, they were delicious examples of precisely the kind of
image that did things for me.
I told Jan about the messages, and my conclusions. "One of them
does seem promising," I said. "A professional photographer, who
admits to being particularly interested in the subject matter in
question. He gave some links to pictures he had done, and they
are ones close to the top of my list. He was also interested in
meeting me in order to take pictures." "That certainly sounds
like the one to follow up," said Jan. "So what's the next step?"
I asked. "It's probably prudent to do a bit more skirmishing
around before identifying myself and making any kind of specific
arrangement." "Yes, definitely," Jan said. "And it might be a
good idea to arrange a meeting in some cafe, to sound one another
out, before giving him your home address." "OK. I'll respond
positively to his email, without making any specific proposal,
and see if he makes any kind of move in response."
That's what I did: I sent a message to Bill, as he signed himself
and as he identified himself in his email address. I told him
that I had looked at the pictures he referred me to, and that I
thought they were very well done. I told him that the subject
matter was exactly the kind of thing that I had great pleasure
with, and that I really would be pleased to have pictures that
good of myself wearing some of my favourite garments. I even said
provocatively that it would be very interesting to meet a man who
found such things attractive. There was no response that day, and
I went to bed that evening still wondering what I might be
getting myself into. Jan picked up on my mood, and told me not to
worry about it. "It's no big deal," she said. "You happen to have
a particular area of interest, and you happen to have found
someone else who shares it; what could be more reasonable than to
meet with them." "It's not quite that simple," I objected; "the
interest isn't flower arranging, or quilts, or bone china. The
interest is a specific category of feminine underwear, and I
don't think anyone has an interest in such a topic for simple
esthetic reasons. The items in question have very strong sexual
connotations, and for some people they acquire the power of a
fetish. They certainly relate significantly to my sense of gender
and sexuality, and that whole effect is enhanced by my personal
history." "Granted," said Jan, "but that simply accounts for the
strength of your interest. Many things either have, or are given,
sexual connotations, and much of the interaction between men and
women in our society involves innocent flirting based on an
awareness of that."
"No. 'Innocent' isn't the appropriate word. If people share an
interest in something that has sexual connotations, possibly
strong sexual connotations, there are necessarily sexual
overtones to their interaction. That might start out being
innocent, but most likely the sexual nature of the interest will
intrude, and there will be a strong incentive to make the
relationship explicitly sexual. That's not necessarily a bad
thing, but I see it as a possible problem. Some people can deal
with sex as an innocent pastime, but there is a potential for
damaging existing relationships. I happen to have one, which I
cherish, and sex plays an important part in it. I wouldn't want
to risk any side effects." Jan hugged me tight, and said "You are
a darling, Rita my love." She thought for a moment and continued:
"But I don't see that happening to us. Your sexual escapades with
males enhanced and strengthened our relationship. I think that
experiencing sex as a woman with a male helped to enhance your
feminine identification in a way that strengthened the way we
relate as women. The scenario under discussion now is somewhat
similar; you are attracted by certain things which you associate
strongly with femininity. Some males make the same association,
and find women who employ those items particularly attractive;
your sense of femininity would be enhanced by such masculine
adulation, and the end result would be positive for us."
"Well, this unknown girdle fancier hasn't made any untoward
suggestions so far," I admitted, grudgingly; "maybe his motives
are purely esthetic. But you certainly want me to live
dangerously." Jan chuckled, and snuggled close to me. I gradually
relaxed, and we both drifted off into sleep.
The next morning there was a response from Bill. He reiterated
his interest in photographing women wearing foundation garments,
and pointedly said that his interest was esthetic and non-
prurient; he even likened it to the interest of legitimate
artists in depicting nude subjects, simply for their esthetic
appeal. He said that he was always interested to meet women who
shared his interest, and were prepared to model for him; he
remarked that he would be very keen to meet me to discuss the
matter. He also identified himself by giving a full name and
telephone number, and told me where he lived. To my amazement, it
was in the city and not too far away. That must have struck me as
a sign of some sort, and I replied impulsively; I suggested that
it might be a good idea for us to meet somewhere quiet over a cup
of coffee and discuss things.
Bill responded quickly, and suggested that we meet just for a
chat the following evening after dinner, and he suggested a small
coffee bar that I happened to know. He said that I would be able
to identify him by his small lapel pin, featuring a geometric
design. I agreed, and told him that I would be wearing a floral
print dress, basically blue in colour. I told Jan about the way
things were moving, and she seemed pleased, making some
encouraging comments; she also suggested that it would be an
interesting discussion, and that she didn't see any reason to be
fearful about the outcome.
I was not unduly disturbed now, but for the rest of the day and
through the following one, I felt a vague sense of unease about
what I might be getting myself into. I gave a lot of thought to
my outfit for the evening's rendezvous, though I had already
chosen the dress, and most of the rest of it would not be
apparent to anyone else. It did matter to me, as always, and I
thought wryly that in these circumstances it would have some
significance over and above my pleasure in it, as it would relate
very much to the purpose of the meeting. In fact if all went
well, much of it might well be revealed to Bill eventually, along
with all those who looked at his pictures. I decided to wear a
black corselette, one of my favourites, which was pleasantly
form-fitting and made me continually aware of its gentle
constraint. I wore dark charcoal nylons, and carefully smoothed
them over my legs and attached them to the six suspenders. I
chose black lacy panties too, and wore a dark blue slip with a
marvellous silky feel to it, that matched the dress. I thought
that fairly high heels would be appropriate, and chose a light
brown pair to provide a contrast with my dark coloured legs. When
I had completed the whole effect with careful makeup and nice
dangly earrings, I felt ready to take Bill on. Jan smiled
encouragement as she kissed me goodbye, and said she couldn't
wait to hear how things would turn out.
I drove to the coffee bar, and parked nearby on the street. I
walked inside, looked around, and saw a man sitting
inconspicuously in a quiet corner. He looked up at me with a
query in his eyes, and I noticed his lapel pin. He was fairly
tall, athletic looking, and wore a dark suit. He was quite
handsome, though I am not really a judge of male attributes, and
he appeared to be at the young end of middle age. We both signed
recognition with our eyes, and I walked over to his corner; he
stood up politely to meet me. The phrase "undressing her with his
eyes" is often used to describe the way men size up women, and in
my previous existence as a male, I frequently speculated about
what women who attracted me might be wearing under their exterior
clothes. I can't say I was aware of him doing that, but I felt as
if he was because of the purpose of our meeting. I was very aware
of what I was wearing underneath my dress, more so than usual,
and of course I was aware that the man meeting me was very much
interested too; the realisation gave me a pleasant sense of
excitement.
Bill shook my hand lightly, and said "I'm Bill; obviously you
must be Rita." We sat down, and he watched me smooth my skirt,
looking at my dark nylon clad legs with some appreciation. "Would
you care to join me in a cup of coffee?" "Yes," I said. "Thank
you," and smiled at him. When the waitress had brought our
coffee, he decided to break the ice. "It's a little difficult to
know how to begin," he said. "I think I should make it clear to
start off with that I don't have any sinister purpose at all. It
just happens that certain items of female clothing are appealing
to me, and I particularly appreciate pictures of attractive women
wearing them. It's an esthetic appreciation, and goes no further
than that. I happen to be a photographer, and I have worked
fairly extensively in the fashion business; when I'm lucky I get
jobs that involve lingerie. I find it particularly satisfying to
make pictures working on my own, simply because I can be
creative, and express my appreciation of the subject matter in a
way that satisfies my own specific tastes." "I can understand
that," I said; "I find that certain kinds of image have a
particular appeal to me, too. It must be very rewarding to be
able to create images that satisfy one's own sense of esthetics.
I suppose your choice of subject matter does not have universal
appeal, but photographers' interests must cover a vast range of
special tastes." "True," he said, "but there are many people who
are interested in looking at my pictures. Now to get to the
point, I would conclude from your email that you share these
interests to some extent?" I nodded, and he continued: "I would
assume that the interest doesn't have the same focus,
necessarily, but that we might be able to explore it, quite
innocently, in a way that we would both enjoy." I found myself
thinking with some amusement that he might be surprised at the
extent of my interest, and the fact that I had played both sides
of the street. I decided to encourage him: "That's quite
possible," I said; "I am certainly interested to find out just
what you have in mind." "It's quite simple," he replied. "You are
an attractive woman, and I believe that you experience some
pleasure in wearing certain items of underwear. I, in turn, would
get pleasure from an opportunity to take some shots of you,
enjoying yourself. I definitely want to do justice to you, and a
suitable setting with good lighting is needed. It also is
important that the poses be attractive, and some care is required
to get an appropriate background."
I decided to be more forthcoming. "I do experience great pleasure
from my clothing," I said. "The fact is that I am very fond of
certain items of lingerie; to be more specific, I enjoy wearing
girdles and corselettes especially, and I am particularly fond of
stockings. I like suspenders; they have always seemed to me to be
a quintessential symbol of femininity, and I enjoy the feminine."
I watched him very closely as I spoke; his lips didn't exactly
quiver, but he was clearly fascinated by what I said. "The
'professional' approach appeals to me," I continued, "because
there is one aspect of our possible mutual exploration that
concerns me. The fact is that the garments of interest can't
simply be considered in abstraction like coats, pants or dresses;
they do have a definite sexual connotation, and any common
pleasure can't really be restricted to appreciation of the
garments themselves, it will necessarily have sexual overtones."
"That's obviously true," Bill said; "no doubt psychoanalysts
would have a wonderful time disecting the precise reasons for our
pleasure in these items. I suppose I would have to admit that the
attraction does have a sexual component, but that's a simple fact
of the way men and women relate, which to me is perfectly
natural. I described you as attractive, which happens to be true,
and not just polite conversation; the remark obviously has sexual
overtones, but is a perfectly acceptable comment by the rules of
society." "Thank you, by the way," I said; "it is acceptable, and
I appreciate that life does involve interactions that have a
sexual connotation, and that it doesn't necessarily follow that
the people concerned will immediately embark on a sexual
relationship." "Let me attempt to put you at ease," Bill said;
"as I said, I am a photographer with a passionate interest in
images. I'm concerned about the detail that goes into creating a
satisfactory image, and I might very well want to make
adjustments to your pose, or the precise arrangement of your
clothing. To take an example that is a propos, I might want to
suggest that the overall impression would be improved if your
suspenders were adjusted differently; it might even be necessary
to demonstrate specifically what I wanted. Because I understand
that some women might have difficulty dealing with that, and it
might be considered to be getting us into dangerous territory, I
think it would be a good idea for you to bring a friend along.
That would help in putting you at ease, and she would also be of
assistance in dealing with any 'hands-on' intervention that I
needed to adjust my composition." This gets very interesting, I
thought to myself, and I am sure Jan would be fascinated to be of
assistance. Though the point was reasonable, I was convinced that
his reference to suspenders was not accidental, given my previous
comments. "That does make it more obviously wholesome and
innocent," I said. "I think my companion would be quite
interested in helping me; I'll ask her." He didn't recoil in
horror, but I noticed a flicker of interest at my use of the word
'companion'. "That would be great," he said; "why don't you do
that, and get back in touch with me."
I agreed, and we parted company, shaking hands in an almost
businesslike fashion. As he looked at me, I became very aware
once again of the particular things I was wearing under my dress.
I enjoyed the feeling, and again found the situation quite
deliciously exciting. It occurred to me that Jan was right, as
always, and that evident male interest in my own personal symbols
of femininity did add a piquancy to my pleasure.
When I got home, Jan was waiting all agog to hear my report on
the meeting. I told her the whole story, and she listened with
interest. "You handle things very well," she said approvingly,
"in spite of your apparent unease at these assignations. I must
say I like the approach, and I would be fascinated to be a
participant. Apart from my usual pleasure in seeing you in the
things that turn you on, seeing how good photography is done
under these rather special circumstances would be very
interesting. "I take it I should agree, then?" I said. "Oh yes,
definitely." "We should think a little about how to set it up
then." "Yes," she said. "I wouldn't contact him immediately; that
would indicate that you are a little too eager. Just wait a day
or so to give the impression that you have given the matter
careful consideration." "That's what I thought," I said. "and
you're prepared to assist me?" She grinned: "I wouldn't miss it
for anything. I liked the 'companion' bit too; that sent a
definite message." "I suppose I could have passed you off as a
good friend," I said, "but there's no secret about where we live
-- together. I thought it wouldn't be too cool to refer to you as
my wife; that might have sent a much less subtle message." She
grinned at that. "I think it could be a lot of fun with you
there," I said, "but you might have to consider how far your
involvement goes; he might be interested in doing some
provocative shots of twosomes or sisters." "We'll see about
that," she replied; "it could be that I might get into the spirit
of things. Do you think we should take Len along, too?" We both
laughed together, and went off happily to prepare for bed.
I let a couple of days go by, and called Bill in the evening; it
didn't seem necessary to use email any more. When he answered the
phone, I said "Hi, it's Rita. I think I would enjoy doing a photo
session with you, and Jan would be happy to come along and
assist." "That's great," he said. "We should talk a bit about the
logistics." "Yes. I got the impression that you had a particular
type of venue in mind; do you have somewhere?" "I suppose we
could use your place, or mine for that matter, but that might not
be best. I do have an apartment I can use -- it belongs to a
friend who is out of town. It would be fine for what I have in
mind; I would like the ambience of a boudoir, if you like: a
bedroom setting, which is fairly pleasant and gives a feminine
feeling. Not overly so, but the sort of place one might imagine
you use to dress in. I also find that it can be quite effective
to locate these pictures in a lounge or sitting room -- in a
highrise, with a night cityscape showing through the window. In
subdued lighting, on a high floor, that's quite private. My
friend's place would be good for both." "That sounds good," I
said. "It could be that you would like my place here, but we can
think about that for another time. Now I am very interested in
exactly what you have in mind for the actual shots -- I need to
know just what I am letting myself in for." "Well," he said "I've
told you what images appeal to me. I find foundation garments, of
almost any description, with stockings, interesting, particularly
when they are worn by an attractive woman. To get satisfactory
pictures, it's obviously important that you are happy with what
you are wearing -- it's best of all if you are clearly enjoying
yourself and relaxed. So I'll turn the question back to you; what
sort of things do you have that you enjoy wearing?"
This is the moment of truth, I thought. I may not be laying
myself completely bare, but I shall be exposing things not
normally seen in public. "I find that corselettes suit me best,"
I said, "and I enjoy wearing them with stockings and suspenders.
With some outfits separate bra and a girdle are appropriate, and
I have a selection of them. I don't normally wear panty-girdles;
I like the open bottom style, and everything works best for me
with six suspenders, rather than four. Pantyhose don't appeal to
me at all." I didn't find getting into these intimate details
difficult; I knew I was talking to an afficionado, and I found it
was pleasantly titillating to discuss these very feminine items
with a male. "Do you wear fully fashioned stockings at all?" he
asked. "Not usually," I replied; "the seams really are something
of a nuisance, though they look nice if they are straight." "I
can get some," he said; "would you object to wearing them?" "Not
at all. What I like about stockings is the feel of the texture,
and the smooth sheen that I see from my vantage point; I suppose
seams are one of the things that Jan could help me with." "Good,"
said Bill. "I leave the choice of the other things to you. Bring
along two or three in quite different styles that you are fond
of. I'm sure you have excellent taste, and I think we are on the
same wavelength." He gave me the address of the apartment, and
feeling committed, I gave him my phone number in case he needed
to contact me. We arranged to meet after dinner on the Saturday
evening.
"Well, the die is cast," I told Jan. "We have a date on Saturday
evening in an apartment with an absentee owner. I am to bring
along two or three garments that I am particularly happy with,
and he may provide fully fashioned stockings. He obviously likes
them, and I'm afraid your work may be cut out getting my seams
nice and straight." "That should be fun," said Jan with obvious
amusement. "I haven't really thought about accessories, and the
general impression apart from the items of specific interest," I
said. "The fashion magazines don't really devote too much space
to creating the optimum image while en deshabillee. I would
imagine that I make myself as presentable as possible, as I would
normally, and assume that will still be the best when the dress
and slip come off." Jan considered the problem with continued
amusement. "I think so," she said. "Of course, if he is a fashion
photographer, he may have very specific ideas about hair and
makeup. We should be prepared to accommodate his wishes." "We had
better take an overnight case," I said, "with all the necessary
items, as well as a selection of necklaces, earrings and
bracelets." "Good thinking," said Jan. "Probably a modest
selection of panties, with choice of colours, would be a good
idea too. I'll leave the girdles up to you." I giggled.
Saturday afternoon I devoted myself to making preparations. I
decided that it would appeal to my private sense of fun to wear
what I had been wearing when I met Bill. Once again I put on the
black corselette, and I wore a new pair of sheer charcoal nylons,
carefully attaching them to the six suspenders, and making sure
the tops were level, and the suspenders nicely spaced. I decided
that red panties might provide an interesting contrast, and I had
put them on first, judiciously under the corselette and its
suspenders. Again for contrast, I decided that ivory pumps with
fairly high heels would be a good choice. I chose my favourite
long dangly earrings with the native design, and spent a long
time making my face up carefully and brushing and combing my hair
so that it looked its best. This is the complete image, I
thought, realising that what I wore over my lingerie was not
really of any great importance. I wore a dark slip, and put on a
comfortable full skirt -- a green print, with a matching top that
wasn't transparent enough to show the dark underwear. I felt
ready for the fray, and packed my overnight bag with a couple of
girdles and bras. I put a full makeup kit in too, and a hairbrush
and comb. I wore a short necklace, metallic gold in colour, and
picked a couple of others, along with a bracelet or two to put in
the bag.
"I think I'm ready," I announced to Jan. She had dressed herself
in her most effective casual style, with her full red skirt and a
white blouse. She wore beige pantyhose, and a pair of casual
slip-on flat shoes. Her outfit was elegantly simple, and she
looked wonderful as usual, making me think how lucky I had been
to have my life so intimately involved with hers. It was time to
go, and taking our purses, and the overnight bag, we set out
across town to the address Bill had given me. It was in an area
of highrise apartment buildings; they weren't too densely packed
together, and they made a nice cityscape to anyone who found that
sort of view attractive. The building we went to was one of the
higher ones, and the apartment was on the eighteenth floor, above
many of the neighbouring buildings. I rang the buzzer, and Bill's
voice answered "Hello." "It's Rita and Jan," I said, and heard
the lock click. We went into the lobby, and pushed the elevator
button. We were soon on the eighteenth floor and at the door of
the apartment; I knocked, and Bill opened the door. "Good
evening, ladies," he said with a smile. "Hi, Bill," I responded,
and introduced Jan, simply saying "This is Jan." He shook her
hand, and gave her a pleasant smile. "I'm sure Rita has told you
what this is all about," he said, "and I understand you're here
to see that she looks her best, and that nothing sinister is
going to happen." "I'm sure it won't," said Jan. "Rita has told
me all about what you do, and I think it will be very interesting
to see what is involved in making good professional pictures."
Bill seemed quite pleased at this response, and led us into the
apartment. The living room was uncluttered, furnished with an
elegant simplicity in danish style with glass and silver
fittings. The drapes were open, with windows extending almost to
the floor, which showed a broad panorama of city lights below.
There were some windows lit in the neighbouring apartment
buildings, and figures of people could be discerned but not in
any detail. "I like the view," Bill said. "It makes a very nice
backdrop at night, and as you can see, no one will be able to see
what's going on here. Maybe we should sit and relax for a moment
-- would you care for a drink?" "I don't think so, thanks," I
said; "maybe later." and Jan nodded agreement.
We sat in silence for a while, then Bill said "Maybe I should
explain how I work. I use a hand-held camera with quite fast
film, so that a lot of light isn't necessary. Light and shade,
and shadows, do matter, though, and that's another reason why I
like this apartment. There is a very sophisticated system of
direct and indirect lighting, and the switching system is almost
a control panel; it does enable me to get things just right."
"That deals with technical matters," I said; "how do you deal
with composition, and getting your model in precisely the right
pose?" "There's only one way to do that," Bill said; "take a lot
of pictures." He grinned. "I ask the subject to try to make
herself feel comfortable, and I also make specific suggestions
myself about positioning. When things are approximately right, I
make encouraging noises, and just keep shooting; there will be
one or two shots that stand out when I look through them all
later. I flatter myself that I do have some skill in catching
just the right moment, so there isn't a ridiculous waste of
film." "It sounds as though it will be very interesting," I said;
"Let's get started."
"That's fine with me," said Bill. "Now let's make one thing quite
clear: this is a professional situation, and I want to be sure
that you are at your ease, and that you are happy with the
procedure. I know that one might characterise the situations as
intimate, but I see them simply as professional modelling
sessions. Obviously I am interested in the visual images I shall
be shooting, but they are images only, not the first step in a
seduction scenario. I am happy you are with us, Jan. I don't know
about Rita, but it does make me feel more at ease. There are two
bedrooms, and I would like to use one of them as a set later on,
but you could use the small one as a dressing room." "I don't
think that's necessary to start with," I said. "I came prepared,
so to speak, and I'm already wearing my first outfit. I don't
think a simple unveiling is any more embarrassing than walking
through the door already unveiled." I was trying to match his
professional attitude, and also show some nonchalance about the
whole scene. I took my top off, and slipped casually out of my
skirt, and stood there in my slip. I pulled up the hem and eased
myself out of it to reveal the black corselette and suspendered
stockings. I walked casually over to a chair near the door, and
laid my clothes on it, and turned to face Bill. "What's the first
location?" He was looking at me carefully; his eyes showed
appreciation, but I certainly did not detect any signs of undue
excitement.
"That looks beautiful," he said. "I think to start we should
simply take you as you have chosen to present yourself, maybe
standing by the window." He was adjusting the lighting, and
picked up his camera; he motioned me forward with his hand, and
then looked through the camera viewfinder. "It's beautiful," he
said again. "There's a marvellous sheen on your stockings, and
the layered structure of the girdle is exquisite." "What about my
face and hair?" I asked. "They're fine," he said. "Just turn
slightly towards me, and don't look quite so serious. I don't
want a broad smile, but look contented as though you are quite
happy with the impression you make." The camera clicked, and he
moved around, motioning me to move slightly this way and that. I
felt strangely unmoved by the situation. I was standing there in
my favourite corselette, feeling the gentle constriction of its
material, and the tug of my suspenders stretching across my
thighs to the tops of the smooth sheer nylons, enjoying the
sensations as I always did. I was aware of Jan's presence, and
also watched Bill moving around with his camera. I felt confident
in myself, at ease, and not threatened at all by the presence of
a male I hardly knew. I felt his appreciation as something
positive, and the situation seemed as natural as nakedness is in
a clinical setting. The situation was professional and strangely
normal.
"That's a very good start," said Bill. "I think we'll find that
the first impression is likely to be the best. I must compliment
you on your choice, and the evident care you have taken in
preparation. The white shoes and red panties provide just the
right contrast." It seemed strange to hear him talking casually,
without embarrassment, about intimate feminine garments, but it
was quite appropriate under the circumstances, and confirmed my
assessment of his professional attitude.
"I'd like to try another pose now," Bill said, " and have you
sitting on the couch here. Your legs are really very good, and I
think a casual pose would show them off nicely -- sit at the end,
and stretch your left leg out along the seat, and see if you can
fold the right one underneath, so the knee is prominent." I tried
to sit, almost reclining, as he suggested, and looked at him for
further direction. "That's almost it," he said. The texture of
the stockings shows nicely, and also the way the girdle
accommodates to your pose. If I shoot from above your thighs will
also be quite prominent, and I want to capture the interplay of
suspenders and the dark top of the stockings." I was in heaven; I
was conscious of exactly the things he described, but for me the
impressions were tactile, as well as visual. I was also quite
excited by his references to things that gave me such pleasure
personally. "Can you move your right thigh just a shade?" he
asked. "The effect of the suspenders stretched across your skin
is very good, and I want to be sure that they all show clearly.
You've gone to the trouble of wearing six suspenders, and I want
that to be evident in the pictures. That's good; now just lean
back and relax." He peered through the viewfinder, and clicked
away as he looked at me from various vantage points. "Now try a
smile -- not a large grin, but enough to indicate that you are
relaxed and happy." I was, and he was obviously satisfied with
the effect. "Now I think one or two close-ups would be good," he
said. "I'd like to show those suspenders nicely stretched. The
one on your right side isn't quite right; do you think you could
help us, Jan?" Jan came over to me, and winked, knowing that Bill
was standing behind her. I tried to show indifference, but as I
felt Jan's fingers on my thigh, I got quite squirmy inside; as
she adjusted the suspender and rearranged the top of my stocking,
I felt intense excitement. She was quite aware of the effect on
me, and she brushed my cheek in a sisterly way when she was
finished. "That's perfect," said Bill, and moved over me to take
his close-up pictures.
I was utterly thrilled by what was happening to me. I have always
been specially fond of stockings and suspenders, and they have a
strong effect on me. There is definitely a sexual response, and
one of the pleasures of love making is to feel the hands of my
partner exploring the intricate clothing around my thighs. In
spite of that, dressing and undressing was almost always
something I did for myself, though Jan often looked on with
interest. Having her assist me was a novel experience, and I
found I enjoyed it. I wondered whether I would enjoy the
experience of relaxing idly while a maid or corsetiere carefully
attached and adjusted my suspenders. I thought I would like it,
especially if Jan played that role.
Bill was satisfied finally with his shots, and suggested we take
a break. He suggested that I might like to wear a robe, and I
realised that was one thing I had forgotten. "It doesn't matter,"
I said, "I'm quite comfortable like this. I hope you don't find
it too disturbing." "It's a beautiful sight," said Bill, smiling;
"I'm just concerned that you feel at ease." I was not really at
ease, as I was in a fairly high state of excitement, but it was a
pleasant feeling. I hoped that it didn't show, and feigned
nonchalance; we sat in the comfortable chairs, and chatted
together. After some casual pleasantries, Bill turned to Jan:
"What do you think of Rita's interests?" "She's very feminine,"
Jan said, "and she has always been attracted to things that she
thinks of as feminine. I think she shows good judgement, and I
like the effects." "You certainly are feminine, yourself," said
Bill; "do you share her interests?" "I'm certainly woman enough
to take that as a compliment," Jan replied, "and I am fond of
feminine things too. Rita and I don't have exactly the same ideas
about what's feminine, but I think we both enjoy being female." I
listened quietly, having a suspicion where this conversation
would lead, struck by the bizarre picture the three of us must
have presented. It might have been a friendly conversation at a
party, except that one of the participants was sitting casually
on the couch exhibiting the complete expanse of her nylon
stockings, with suspenders prominently stretched across her naked
thighs.
Bill pursued his agenda. "You make a very attractive pair," he
said. "I wonder if you have thought about modelling, Jan." "I
take it you're thinking of lingerie," said Jan. "I can't really
say that I have. I look at fashion magazines, and I often like
the pictures, but I haven't really thought of myself in that
context." "The reason I ask," Bill continued, "is that I find
that pictures of two women together work particularly well. I
like the subject matter, obviously, but it appeals most to me
when it appears natural, without any overt sexual connotation.
The effect I like to show is that of a woman dressing or
undressing just as a normal part of her day. With two women, one
can show interesting contrasts in what they wear, and it's clear
that the state of undress isn't related to a sexual encounter --
it's more like a picture taken behind the scenes at a fashion
show. That has a natural effect, and one can add interest if they
assist one another, with shoulder straps or suspenders or
whatever; it adds emphasis in a completely innocent way." For
some reason Jan didn't let the topic drop, as it might have. "I
assume you are asking me if I would be prepared to pose for you
too," she said sweetly. "Yes," Bill said. "You are an attractive
pair, and you are obviously good friends; that interaction would
show in the pictures, and add a definite something." "I'd never
ever thought about doing such a thing," said Jan, "but I've found
watching the session with Rita quite interesting. Let me think
about it."
"Maybe we should try something different," Bill said, apparently
anxious to get back to work. "Would you care to go and change
into something else?" "I'd be happy to," I said. I took the small
overnight bag, and my clothes from the chair, and went into the
bedroom with Jan. She smiled at me, when the door was shut, and
whispered "It didn't take him long did it? You were right." "I
saw it coming," I said, "and I was watching how things developed
in utter fascination." We giggled together. I hurriedly undid my
suspenders, and unzippered the corselette, sliding it off. I
thought I would change my panties for a contrast, and picked a
light blue pair. I quickly pulled them on, and then took out a
white bra and girdle; the bra was bandeau with nice lacy cups,
and the girdle sat fairly high on my waist. I put the bra on, and
Jan helped get things nicely into place, then I slid the girdle
up my legs, and fastened it. I was doing things a little faster
than usual, but I still took my time with the suspenders, making
sure the back ones were in position properly before I started on
the others. "I can help, if you like," said Jan. "I think it's
OK," I said, "but I did rather enjoy your ministration just now;
maybe that's something we can explore later on." I winked at her.
I looked in the mirror, and gave my hair a quick brush, and then
went to the door.
Bill looked at me in appreciation. "That's a beautiful choice
too," he said. "Obviously you like wearing just the sort of
things that appeal so much to me visually. I like the texture,
and the contrast between the stretch fabric and the satin
panels." I didn't say anything, but I thought to myself that he
really did have similar tastes to me. "This might be the point to
try the fully fashioned stockings," Bill said; "I'm sorry, I
should have thought of it before you went in to change." "Sure,"
I said, and took the package he offered. They seemed to be the
right size, though different makes do seem to vary. "Would you
object if I took some shots of you putting them on?" he asked.
"Not at all," I said, with a little thrill of excitement. "But I
suppose that means you will want to have me pose appropriately."
I grinned at him innocently: "I imagine you are much more of a
connoisseur than I am, but I'm sure every woman has her own
particular way of putting on stockings." "They do indeed," he
said, "but it would probably be most effective if you were to do
things the way you usually do. If you would like Jan to help you,
I'll warn you when I want to shoot. I would be happy to include
her, but it wasn't part of the deal, and I don't want her to
think I'm pushing her."
The 'usual' way I put stockings on was standing, as I liked to
have my legs straight; that helped me to get the tops right, and
have the suspenders carefully in position. Taking them off wasn't
so critical, but I usually had my legs straight to undo
suspenders too, though I quite often did it lying on the bed. In
the interest of giving Bill some more varied poses, I thought I
would take my stockings off sitting down. I sat on the edge of
the couch, and stretched my legs out, kicking my shoes off. I
leaned to the left, and undid the right suspender at the back,
using just one hand. Then I used both hands, slowly undoing first
the one at the side, and the one at the front in my lap. I did
these two slowly, reversing the procedure for doing them up,
holding the little knob with the material of the stocking
stretched over it between the fingers of one hand, and sliding
the metal loop with the other. Jan stood at one side, watching me
with a smile, and Bill peered through his viewfinder and clicked
away. When the stocking was free, I carefully pulled the top down
my leg, then tugged at the toe, taking the stocking off without
turning it inside out. I fluttered it out, to remove the folds,
and then laid it over the arm of the couch. "That's the routine,"
I said, "now the other one's just going to be the mirror image."
"It was good," said Bill, "please carry on." I did, and Bill
moved around me, capturing the event on film.
"I find it easiest to put stockings on standing," I told Bill. "I
hope that doesn't get in the way of your composition." "No,
that's fine," he said, "it's by far the best if you act as you
would normally." I opened the package he had given me, and
carefully stretched out the stockings. They were a dark beige,
wonderfully sheer, with elegant seams of course, and the darker
shade of the tops contrasted clearly with the rest of the
material. I bunched one up, with great care, until my hands had
reached the ankle; then I put my right foot on the couch, and
leaned forward to ease the foot of the stocking over mine. With
the fully fashioned, reinforced heel and toe properly in
position, it was a wonderful fit. I slowly pulled the bunched up
material over my leg, and as I let it slip through my fingers,
and smoothed it out, it enveloped my leg with a wonderful form
fitting caress. When the tops were snugly round my thigh -- they
seemed to be exactly the right length -- I stretched my leg back,
and looked over my shoulder to check the seam. It was more or
less centred down the back of my leg, but I thought it needed
some careful adjustment. "Here's where I need your help, Jan" I
said. She came over, and kneeled on the carpet behind me; she
smoothed the material round here and there, and then tugged at
the back suspender to check how it was placed over the seam.
Bill had stopped taking pictures when Jan came over to me.
"That's a beautiful pose, with the pair of you," he said. "Would
you mind very much Jan if I took it?" "I suppose not," said Jan,
"but how do I look? I didn't really come prepared to be a model."
"You look very nice, and more to the point you look natural.
There's a wonderful ambience: two girls together, quite innocent
and natural, one helping the other get ready." "You're very
persuasive," sad Jan, smiling. "Go ahead, then." I didn't care
about the picture, but I was quite eager to go ahead. I stood,
carefully posed, and felt the brush of Jan's fingers against my
thigh, then the tug on the suspender. As she fastened it, I felt
nylon stocking being pulled tight, and savoured one of my
favourite little sensations of femininity, accentuated by Jan's
participation, and Bill's attentive observation. I took the other
stocking and we slowly and carefully repeated the whole process;
Jan joined me again to smooth the stocking seams exactly into
position, and fasten the suspender. I walked a few steps in my
stocking feet, over the thick carpet, to make sure the feel was
just right, then I carefully fixed the suspender on my right
side. I did the same for the other side, and then grasped the
suspender on the front. "I'd like a close-up as you do that,"
Bill said, and moved over. I took my time carefully stretching
the band of the suspender, sliding the tab behind the stocking
material, and hooking it through the metal loop. I repeated the
process on the other side, and then smoothed the delicate satin
ribbons attached to the suspenders to obscure the intricate
details of the fastening.
I slipped my shoes on again, and looked at Bill. "I'd like to
take one or two from behind," he said, "to show the seams, then
maybe we could have you standing by a full length mirror." He had
me pose by the large window, looking at the cityscape below. I
was quietly excited, and enjoying every minute of the experience.
I felt quite natural, in spite of the unusual situation, and I
accepted Bill as part of the whole scenario without any sense of
embarrassment or awkwardness. We finally went into the large
bedroom; it had large full length mirrors on the closet doors,
and Bill posed me standing sideways, taking pictures from front
and rear. He then asked me to lie on the enormous bed, which had
an elegant blue coverlet, and big fluffy pillows; I had to roll
this way and that, and move my legs into various poses. It was
great fun, and I enjoyed feeling the way the subtle tension in my
girdle adjusted itself as I moved.
"That's enough for one session," Bill said eventually. "Why don't
you get your other clothes on, and then please join me for a
drink." I went into the small bedroom, and put on my slip, then
the top and skirt. I took a quick look at my face and hair, but
things seemed to have survived quite nicely. Back in the lounge,
Bill had opened a bottle of white wine, and was pouring it into
three elegant glasses. He had also found some little snacks and
crackers. We sat down, and I took my glass: "Cheers," I said.
"Your very good health, ladies," said Bill. "I appreciate your
efforts very much. You're not too worn out, Rita, I hope?" "Not
at all, " I replied. "I enjoyed it, and it wasn't exactly
something I do every day." He smiled: "So you didn't find it
awkward? You certainly didn't give the impression of being shy."
"No," I said. "I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but the whole
thing was strangely natural, once we got into it." "I'm glad to
hear that," he said. "My whole idea is to do things in a
professional way. It is modelling pure and simple; you were
modelling things that some people want to see modelled, that's
all." "I don't imagine that too many of them are women," put in
Jan. "There must be some," he said, "otherwise I would never get
new clients like Rita, but I would be lying to you if I didn't
concede that most of the people looking at these picture will be
men." "What are they looking for?" asked Jan. "Who really knows?"
replied Bill. "I can only speak for myself; I think these things
do have an esthetic appeal, and I just like looking at them.
Other people like to look at pictures of flowers." "Fair enough,"
said Jan, "and there's no accounting for taste, but I don't think
society in general would put those two on quite on the same
level; feminine lingerie is certainly perceived to have some
association with sex." "Obviously it does," said Bill, "and sex
pervades our society and its customs and mores. Many of its
manifestations are quite innocent and acceptable; any picture of
a beautiful woman provides some kind of stimulus for normal
males. That's considered quite innocent; swimsuits are a
perfectly acceptable photographic subject; I happen to think
girdles are equally attractive, and they serve the same purpose
as a beautiful dress in adorning an attractive woman."
"It's probably time to let you go," he said, as he emptied the
remains of the wine bottle into our glasses. I'll get copies of
the pictures I want to use to you fairly soon, and of course you
have the right to tell me if there are any you would like
withheld. I'd like to thank you very much indeed; I hope we can
do it again sometime soon." We said our goodbyes, and he showed
us to the door, and shook our hands as we left. Jan and I rode
the elevator in silence, but once out of the building she grinned
at me and said "Very, very interesting." "Wasn't it ever?" I
said. "What do you think his game is?" "I just can't figure that
out," said Jan. "He's so professional, and everything was so
wholesome and tasteful; it just could be that it's exactly the
way he described it. But I can't imagine that his interest is
purely esthetic; he must be getting turned on. There's nothing
wrong with that, of course; I would have to be the first to admit
it, especially in present company." She winked at me. "Well I can
understand his interest," I retorted, "but it does depart from my
experience; he really does seem to be interested only in looking.
I was wondering whether it was a turnon for him, too; I even
tried to pick up on any signs of that there might have been, but
if he was getting excited he disguised it well. It really was
wholesome." "I take it you enjoyed yourself," Jan said. "Yes, my
love, I did indeed. Bill may have been taking it all very calmly,
but I am seriously turned on; I found that the items did have
sexual connotations for me, and I really am quite desperate to
explore that. I hope I don't shock you; the fact is that I am as
horny as hell." Jan giggled. "It did cross my mind that might
happen, Rita my love," she said. "And I am not really shocked; I
liked the effect it had on you, and I want you, as soon as can
decently be arranged." We hugged one another, and got into the
car.
The rest of the evening, after we had driven home and hurried off
to bed, was pure ecstasy. The next morning, in the cold light of
day, we sat drinking our coffee; my mind was still on the events
of the previous evening, and I am sure Jan's was too. She soon
confirmed my guess: "I still can't sort our for myself precisely
what our friend Bill is up to." "He's an interesting one, for
sure," I said. "But it could be that what he says is precisely
the way it is; he certainly acted consistently with that." "I
know," said Jan, "but for me it just doesn't compute." "You find
his story isn't credible?" "It's unfair to say that," she said;
"everything was consistent, but I just don't see it." "Why
couldn't he be exactly what he says?" I asked; "A girdle
afficionado?" "I suppose he could be," said Jan doubtfully. "The
point is that girdles are a very powerful symbol for some people,
and they symbolise sexuality. For you they are a symbol of
femininity, but feminisation was, and being feminine is, a
powerful sexual stimulant for you. Without being exactly a
devotee of the garments in question, there's no doubt the effects
are delightful. I can understand a male who sees them as powerful
symbols of femininity, and who has an internal desire to be
feminine, being captivated by them -- I knew one such person very
well. I can also understand a female who sees them as powerful
symbols of femininity, and who delights in her femininity, having
a similar reaction. It's not typical of females, but there are a
few examples -- I know one such person very well too." She
grinned at me. "But he likes simply looking at them, worn by
attractive women; apparently he doesn't secretly want to wear
them himself, nor does he have a desire to rush into bed with the
attractive ladies who wear them."
I grinned wickedly at her. "It's interesting that you happily
accept those two cases," I said. "I don't think either of them
represents 'normal' mainstream society behaviour. I can identify
with them, and I must have had a seriously perverting effect on
you, but the normal male sees women as sexually desirable, and
subject to the constraints of polite society is content to
observe them, and find them attractive. Certain kinds of clothing
will make them more attractive, and tastes differ. Underwear, and
specific kinds of underwear add a spice to the effect, but don't
really change the basic equation. Would it bother you if he were
crazy about women wearing pink dresses and layers of petticoats,
and wanted to photograph them?" "You make a good case," she
conceded; "it's hard for me to judge from my own experience. I
went through life as a woman, I enjoy the idea of femininity, and
identify myself with it. The symbols are different from yours,
but something similar is going on. I wore girdles and stockings
at one time simply because it was what women wore then, and they
had no special significance for me. They are very special symbols
for you, and in a way they have become so for me, because of my
interaction with you; also, as you said the other day, I no doubt
pick up on the effect they have on you. Maybe there is a space in
between the two extremes for simple esthetic appeal."
"You have a point too," I said. "They may not have the same
significance for most other women as they do for me, but they are
nonetheless symbols, and symbols of sexuality. In your younger
days you wore girdles and stockings as a matter of course, as you
just said; but how would you have reacted to a male seeing you
dressed that way? Would you have casually fixed your suspenders
in mixed company?" "No," she said. "Of course you wouldn't," I
replied. "The question is why not? The fact is that they are very
specific to being a woman, and society has made quite specific
conventions about what it is permissible to exhibit to the
opposite sex. The rules change from time to time, but the basic
idea remains: certain things that pertain to one sex can
legitimately be referred to by the other, but other things belong
in a secret world. Necessarily they acquire a mystique and become
symbols. Exhibiting them in special circumstances is a favour
given to a special person, and accepted as such; it's definitely
in the realm of sexual interaction, and even implies that
physical sex is on the agenda." I paused for a moment. "I think I
may be persuading myself that you are right," I said. "By almost
universally accepted conventions, a partially dressed women is
announcing that she is available, and a man seeing her so would
understand the invitation, and respond to the stimulus of the
signal. You could argue that spending the evening dressed the way
I was last night was tantamount to saying 'here I am Bill; look
what I have to show you; let's make love.' It is quite odd that
he didn't obviously rise to the occasion." We both giggled.
"The real question is what happens next," Jan said. "Are you
interested in another session?" "Yes," I said; "I really enjoyed
it. And now the whole thing has a new dimension: we have to
follow on in order to solve the mystery of what makes Bill tick."
Jan smiled. "You are absolutely right," she said. "That's going
to bother me until I sort it out. And if it's anything like last
night, doing the experiment will be very rewarding -- if not at
the time, certainly later on." "Maybe you should participate," I
said. "Bill would certainly like that, and it might give you a
better handle on him." "Now that's an interesting thought," Jan
said. "Maybe I will." "I hope you can handle it. He'll have us
fiddling with one another's bras and suspenders; I think I might
enjoy that, but you've had a lot less practice -- you might have
trouble controlling your excitement." "Damn it, I will," said
Jan. "I'll show you how femme I can be; I'll wear all the
girdles, stockings and suspenders Bill wants." "You're so macho,"
I said, "I love it." We both collapsed in a fit of giggles.
A couple of days later I found my email inbox bulging; there were
several very long messages from Bill. Looking at the first, there
was a short message saying he was sending me the pictures that he
had picked out as the best. He wanted to know what I thought of
them, and hoped he would hear from me soon. I called Jan: "We
have some proofs to look at; do you want to come and check your
first impressions with mine?" "Yes," she said, "but wouldn't you
rather take a look at them yourself first? They are private in a
way." "No, my love," I said. "I appreciate your delicacy, but you
were there when they were taken, and I don't have any secrets
from you; come and join the fun." I went through all the
messages, and carefully saved the attached files; they were all
identified with names like rita016.jpg so it would be easy to
identify them and handle them systematically as Bill had
obviously done.
Jan sat down beside me in front of the large computer screen. I
selected the first one in sequence with some eager anticipation.
It filled the screen, and there I was standing in my black
corselette with nice high heels and suspendered stockings in
front of the apartment window. I was turned slightly, looking
into the room, with a hint of a smile on my face. The detail and
contrast were very good, and the textures of the various
materials were clearly depicted. "Wow!" said Jan. "That's you
alright; it's a beautiful picture of the woman of my life, in a
characteristic pose." "It is good, isn't it?" I said. "It's a bit
strange looking at it, though. I have looked at a fair number of
pictures like this -- I think I even recognise the apartment
setting now -- but I'm not sure how objective I can be. The fact
that it's me gives me an odd feeling, and of course I also
remember the precise moment he's captured." "I'll try to be
objective," said Jan, "though I don't have quite the wealth of
your experience in this field. You don't have to be objective;
what matters is if you like them. More to the point, you have to
decide if having other people see them would bother you."
"That doesn't bother me at all," I said. "Seeing an image like
that would normally have a definite effect on me, and give me an
urge to adorn myself in exactly the same way. When it's me, and
that's precisely what I did, before the event, it has quite a
different effect. It's strange, but maybe I can be more
objective; my interest now is not the impact, but whether the
portrayal is just right, whether certain details show, and
whether the quality is there." There were about twenty pictures,
and we spent an hour looking at them carefully, and flipping to
and fro to compare them and check how they differed. There were
pictures of me in the black corselette, and in the white bra and
girdle in a variety of poses, standing, sitting and even casually
lying on the bed. In all of them the stockings and suspenders
were prominently featured, and the texture of the girdles was
clearly exhibited. Insofar as I could judge objectively, my poses
were good, and I looked quite natural, like a woman innocently
relaxing, or happily getting herself dressed. The red and blue
panties showed clearly in some of them, quite discreetly, and
nothing was at all provocative or suggestive. They were very good
high quality pictures that displayed certain items of clothing as
might be done for those legitimately interested in them. There
were two or three of me putting on stockings, and the close-up
finale to that sequence, of suspenders being fastened, really was
a work of art in its depiction of textures including my glossy
finger nails, the dark stocking top and the stretched suspender
with all its little accoutrements. He had included one picture in
which Jan appeared. I was standing, in a rear three-quarter view,
with dead straight stocking seams running up the backs of my
legs. Unfastened suspenders were dangling at the front and sides;
the near one at the back was elegantly fastened, and Jan was
kneeling on the far side, attentively dealing with the suspender
there. He seemed to have captured something in her attitude that
showed clearly (to me, not exactly an unbiased observer) how she
related to me.
"It's a bit overwhelming," I said finally. "They really are good,
and I am very happy with all of them." Jan smiled at me: "You are
a beautiful lady," she said, "and it comes through." That got to
me, and I squirmed with a little thrill of sexual excitement.
"You are wearing things that you enjoy," Jan continued, "and that
shows clearly. I also have to give Bill full credit; in spite of
what might strike some as an odd choice of subject matter, the
effect really is wholesome and innocent." "You think they would
appeal to real gentlemen, models of rectitude and civilised
behaviour, who just happen to find the garments esthetically
appealing?" "Yes," she replied; "that characterises them
precisely." "So do we tell Bill he's free to use them on
websites?" I asked. "I don't see why not," said Jan. "There are
people that would enjoy looking at them; the only possible
reservation would be if there was someone we knew that looked at
such websites, and recognised you. That could be embarrassing,
most likely for them rather than you." "Do you have anyone in
mind?" I asked. "I suppose Peter might still be into that, but he
wouldn't bother me, and he got the whole treatment personally
delivered." Jan smiled. "If there was anyone I know," I went on,
"it might flush them out of the closet, and I would be happy to
oblige them with a private showing. The fact is I don't really
care." "Then tell Bill he can use them to his heat's content,"
said Jan. "But what about you?" I asked. "You're fairly
recognisable in one of them, and we're presumably even more
identifiable as a couple. Does it bother you?" "No," said Jan
happily. "I feel just about the way you do. If by some remote
chance someone we know sees the pictures and recognises us, so
what? It might even add some interest to our conversations with
them."
I waited until the evening, then I sent a message to Bill. I told
him that both Jan and I were very happy with the pictures. I said
that they were very good, and that they showed things in a
natural wholesome way, exactly as he had said. I also told him
that I would be pleased to see any or all of them on the web.
He phoned the next morning. "That's great," he said. "Thank you
very much for being such a wonderful subject. I think a lot of
people will get a great deal of pleasure looking at them, as I
do." "You're welcome," I said. "I'm likely to come across them
anyway, but you might send me the links when you have got them
placed. I can look at them now, of course, but it will be
interesting to see them in context." "I will," he said. "and I am
sure there will be a very good response; you'll probably develop
quite a fan club, and people will be wanting more. Would you like
to have another session?" "Yes, and by the way, I've talked to
Jan, and she would be quite happy to join me." "That really would
be good," he said. "There's one minor problem," I said; "she's a
little more up to date in her tastes than I am, and I'm not sure
that she has too many things that would appeal to the devotees.
She's certainly game to try, though." "Let me know her size,"
said Bill, I think I can get hold of some nice things for her."
"We may be able to organise something too," I said. "I'll get
back to you soon. I happen to know that she does have a corset,
with eight suspenders; that ought to make a good photographic
subject." "That's certainly a thought," said Bill; "I would be
happy to see it. I'll wait to hear from you; don't be too long."
I went to join Jan in the living room. "I told Bill everything
was AOK," I said, "and that he was free to use the pictures. He
was duly appreciative, and quite complimentary." "Always the
perfect gentleman," said Jan. "I also said yes to a query about
doing it again -- and told him that you would be interested in
joining me." "The plot thickens," said Jan smiling, "but that
might be the way to figure him out." "I put it delicately, to
him," I said, "but you're really not too well provided for
participating in this milieu; I did tell him about the corset --
the one you used for Len. He seemed interested, but I think we'll
have to get you a modest selection of girdles and stockings."
"The things I have to do for my art!" said Jan in mock despair.
"It will be in a good cause though. I hope it doesn't upset you;
I will really be trespassing on your territory." She said that
quite seriously, and I hugged her. "You're sweet," I said. "But I
think it will be fun, and I might get a vicarious thrill out of
'feminising' you." "You certainly have enough equipment," said
Jan; "it could be that our sizes aren't too different." "We can
try," I said, "and I can always visit my suppliers. Actually Bill
asked about your size, and said he might be able to get some
appropriate things." "It's almost worth taking him up on that,"
she said, "just to see what his ultimate vision of me is."
"There's something else I've been thinking about," I said. "What
about suggesting we do the session here?" "We could," she said.
"He knows where we live, and I can't see it poses any further
threat, if there is one." "I was thinking of the guest room," I
said. "It's pleasant and comfortable, and it has a certain
boudoir ambience. I wouldn't want to use our bedroom; that's just
for us, and it's special." "You're very sweet, too," said Jan.
"It's a good idea. I rather like the idea of having him come
here. The invitation sends a signal of sorts, and he might
respond to it and get a bit more personally involved." "What you
really mean, is that he might be somewhat more disposed to
indicate a sexual interest," I said. "You can really be quite
devious." "I just have to figure him out," she said; "it may take
all kinds of experimenting." "What if he's a predator, out to
molest beautiful girdle-clad women?" Jan giggled: "That could be
fun. There's two of us, and I think we can handle it. In any
case, my guess is that it would be a very genteel and civilised
seduction."
In the days that followed we started sorting out appropriate
things for Jan to wear. She did have the odd girdle, left over
from long before, and a couple of suspender belts and pairs of
stockings. "I'm not quite the pack rat you are," she said, "but
you see I am prepared for a variety of situations." As she
suggested, I had an enormous collection. I had acquired an
incredible variety of foundation garments over the years; many of
them dated from the early days, when I was experimenting -- not
only with what suited my tastes the best, but to actually figure
out my size. There were corselettes, girdles, waist cinchers,
panty-girdles, long leg panty-girdles, basques and some other
garments hard to classify. Not all of them fit me properly, and
some had turned out to be not my thing at all the first time I
tried them on. "I don't know if you're game to try panty-
girdles," I told Jan, "but I have some of those. One or two were
really tight, and they might fit you." "I don't mind," she said,
"in fact panty-girdles were somewhat more usual than the things
you go for. The real question is will Bill go for them?" "Oh I
think so," I said. "I think his field of interest covers the
whole spectrum. He did specifically say 'foundation garments'."
We both got to giggling again; it was great fun, and if one sat
back and looked at the whole scene rationally, it was hilarious.
"I haven't tabulated precise statistics," I said, "but my careful
examination of the various pictures available on the web
indicates that just about anything that one might call a
foundation garment will be featured somewhere. Certainly panty-
girdles are quite well represented. The long leg ones too, even
those all-in-one long-leg briefelette things, which can only have
ever been worn by women immune to the calls of nature." Jan was
giggling again; I ignored her. "But pride of place definitely
goes to 'open bottom' garments. They seem to be what the true
girdle lovers really appreciate. Of course on some websites run
by people without the high moral tone of our friend Bill, the
models don't wear panties, and they adopt quite ungainly
attitudes. I don't think that's quite our style." Jan tried hard
to recover from her amusement. "Let's suggest an interesting
contrast," she said. "You can feature open bottoms, and I, though
swathed in latex, satin and power net, will present a much more
discreet and dignified image." "I like it!" I said. "There has to
be a difference; it's the spice of life. And I think Bill will
like it too."
The next morning I gave Bill a call. "We're having some success
in getting together a suitable wardrobe for Jan," I told him.
"The things that seem to work best for her are panty-girdles. We
thought that if she wears those, and I stay with open bottom
girdles and corselettes, it might make a nice contrast." I didn't
even stop to think about the incongruity of talking about such
things with a male. "It would indeed," said Bill. "I would be
happy to make that the feature of our next session. But at some
point I really would like to have you both wearing identical
outfits; that can be very effective." "I'm sure we can manage
that too," I said, "and I'll get back to you as soon as we have
done a bit of a dress rehearsal." Jan had been listening to my
side of the conversation with great interest. "He likes the
idea," I told her, "and he proposes that it be the feature of our
next session. But he also likes the idea of having us appear in
identical outfits; let's leave that for the moment, but it might
be interesting for us, too." "What was that about a dress
rehearsal?" Jan asked. "Well, I thought it would probably be a
good idea for you to have tried some of the things, before Bill
arrives with his camera. We want to be sure that they are the
right size, and find out which ones suit you best. I thought I
would have some innocent enjoyment watching you, and offering my
advice and assistance." "Oh dear," said Jan, "what have I let
myself in for?" "Seriously though, it's probably a good idea to
find out what works best for you, and I think I can do a
reasonable job of guessing Bill's reactions." "You're right," she
said. "Why don't we play a little dress-up this evening?"
I was looking forward to the evening. From the vantage point of
my early days, the current lifestyle enjoyed by Jan and I had
some aspects of role reversal. The femme role was an adopted one
for me, though I had grown happily into to it as the natural
state of affairs, and Jan recognised it as such. Against that
background, and in terms of the things that were an essential
part of the femme role for me, having Jan play 'dress-up' was a
titillating reverse reversal. There was no way I was going to
play the role of a male with eyes all agog watching his
girlfriend model different items of lingerie, but I anticipated
watching Jan with great pleasure. She was a wonderful sport, and
didn't keep me waiting long after dinner.
We went into our bedroom, and I started to take off my dress. "I
want to get comfortable," I said with a grin, "and it might be
appropriate to set the scene properly." I took off my slip too,
and put on my fluffy pink peignoir with the lacy trim. I piled up
the pillows on the bed, so I could watch Jan easily, and reclined
casually. I made no attempt to wrap the robe around me, and I lay
there relaxed, exposing my nylon covered legs and showing off the
suspenders stretched across my thighs to tug at the stocking
tops. Jan was quite happy to play along; "I take it that's meant
to inspire me," she said. "You certainly do set a good example."
I smiled at her. "I love you, Jan," I said, "and you're a good
sport, too." She was taking her blouse and skirt off, and soon
stood there in her bra and half slip. She eased the slip down
over her legs to reveal her elegant dusky pantyhose, and I
thought, as I always did, that she was a beautiful woman. "I
assume the bra is alright?" she asked. "There's a white girdle to
go with it." "It's beautiful," I said; "I've always liked your
taste in bras. That's one thing we do see eye to eye on." She
rolled down the top of her pantyhose, and then sat on the edge of
the bed to ease them down her legs. Having got them over her
heels, she pulled at each toe in turn; when they were free she
held the toes together and fluttered them out. She was wearing
some smart pastel blue panties, with a narrow lace band around
the waist and thighs; of course it wouldn't matter too much after
the next step. She looked through the pile of panty-girdles piled
on the dresser, and held one or two of them up to examine. She
picked out one that was small and firm, with a satin panel over
the tummy, and stretchy power net at the sides. It had a narrow
net elastic cuff on each leg with suspenders attached. "How about
this?" she asked. "Good," I said. "It's a nice choice." She
stepped into it, and pulled it up over her legs. As she tugged it
over her hips, I saw it take up her shape, stretching nicely into
position. She got the waistband into place, and then patted
herself here and there. "So far, so good," she said. "It's snug,
but it's quite comfortable. I've worn control tops that were much
more constricting than this." "It looks nice on you," I said. I
could imagine how it felt, and inevitably thought to myself that
it would be interesting to try it on too. "Help yourself to the
stockings," I said; "there's a whole drawer full of them, and I
think we're about the same size." She picked out a dusky brown
pair, and I watched in fascination as she put them on. Her
technique was quite different from mine, and she eased one of
them over her foot and up her leg. It seemed to fit very nicely,
and the dark top came to just the right point on her thigh. She
attached the front suspender carefully, getting the tension just
right. Although it wasn't a regular habit of hers, the old skills
remained, and she did the task as though it was an everyday
occurrence. She reached for the suspender at her right side, just
slightly toward the back, and attached that one equally deftly.
The suspenders were nicely stretched, carefully placed, and the
top of her stocking was held nicely level. "Very good," I said
approvingly; "you must have been practising." "It's part of my
upbringing," she retorted; "it's just possible I was doing this
before you were." She repeated the procedure with the other
stocking, carefully getting the suspenders right, just as I would
have done. Then she put her heels back on and turned to face me.
"Satisfied?" she asked, with a sweet smile. "You look delicious,"
I said; "I don't think Bill will be able to resist you." She
walked up and down, and carefully examined herself in the full
length mirrors; she seemed to be quite satisfied with what she
saw. "It takes me back," she said. "I remember dressing to go to
parties; it was quite exciting then. It wasn't exactly a sexual
feeling, but I felt I was moving from girlhood into womanhood,
and it did thrill me." I was quite touched. "Come and lie by my
side for a while," I said. She sat on the edge of the bed, and
then swung round to lie by my side, giving me a wonderful view of
the results of her efforts. We held hands quietly. "I enjoyed
watching you," I said. "But now I envy you the girlhood that I
didn't have. I got things sorted out properly eventually, and
seeing you get dressed in the things I like so much brought home
to me the joy we have of being women together." She kissed me
tenderly. "I know exactly how you feel," she said. "We're playing
a silly game, just for the fun of it, but the symbols are
powerful. I have to admit that they do things for me too; it
could be that they represent the joy I have, now you are a woman
with me, and we can share our feminine space." We lay side by
side, happy in our love for one another, for once without any
sexual feelings.
Jan got up eventually, and tried one of the other girdles. She
found a beautiful black one, all power net, which showed
intricate geometric designs as the light played on it. It had
longer legs, and very short suspenders; there were six of them.
"For the occasion itself, I'll wear a black bra with this," she
said, as she fastened her suspenders. She started at the front,
and handled the ones at the back quite deftly, but didn't manage
to get them lined up too well. "I used to have one like this,
too," she said, "and I hated sitting on the suspenders." "For you
they were much more functional than symbolic," I said. "The
symbolism is powerful for me, and I like the little sensations
that keep me aware of the symbols. They continually remind me of
my femininity. That's a delight; to be philosophical, I suppose
you always thought of yourself as feminine -- it was a basic fact
of life, and it didn't require reinforcement." "I quite like the
way it looks," said Jan, "and I'll soldier bravely on. Hopefully
Bill will want me standing, or reclined on the couch, not sitting
primly on the edge of the seat with suspenders digging into me."
"Not a chance," I said; "he wants to see them clearly." We
giggled, obviously getting back into the fun.
"That's probably enough, judging by the last session," she said.
"I don't really fancy the long-leg things, and if I wore them, I
might as well wear pantyhose." "No, Bill's on my wavelength," I
said. "He likes suspenders to be seen. There are a fair number of
pictures of long-leg panty-girdles, though; and the suspenders
are quite apparent. The effect is quite subtle, but they show
through, and hint delicately at almost hidden delights that we
are exhibiting so grossly." "Very poetic," said Jan; "I'm
beginning to appreciate that this art form has a wealth of subtle
and varied expression." She smiled and came over to lie down by
my side again. I kissed her. "This is fun," I said, "but that was
a beautiful tender moment we had together. I was impressed, too,
by what you said about the symbols. They are mine, but they
affect you too, and they have become something we share." "That's
true," she said, "and the sharing has become a symbol of the way
we relate." "Being women together is really the essence of it," I
said. "It occurs to me that if we did Bill's routine of wearing
identical outfits, it might have a powerful effect on both of us;
the symbols would be reinforced by the way we feel about each
other." "An interesting thought," said Jan. "Before this evening
I wouldn't have thought so; we have different tastes -- feminine,
but different, and we enjoy the common femininity together with
the differences. But now I really would like to try it." We
snuggled together and hugged one another, rubbing our suspenders
together.
I called Bill again in the morning. "Jan tried a couple of panty-
girdles last night," I told him, "and she really does look good
in them; I'm sure you'll appreciate it." "I will; it sounds
great," he said. "She wasn't too enthused about long-leg ones," I
said, "and I must say they don't really appeal to me." "That's
fine," Bill said. "One can get some nice shots with them; there
is an appeal to the way they envelope everything, but show subtle
hints of the suspenders underneath. But things are best if you
both go with what you like; I'll like it too." I was amused at
his comment, and thought that I might have been reading his mind
when I talked to Jan about the garments; there is no doubt he was
a real connoisseur. "Now about the venue," I said: "we thought it
might be interesting to do the pictures here. We have a spare
bedroom, with something of a boudoir decor; it's spacious, and
there are a lot of indirect lights." "That sounds good, and it
looks better if all my picture don't seem to show the same
location," he said. "Maybe you should come and look at it first,"
I suggested. "Come any time; tonight if you like." "Thanks," he
said. "I'd like to do that. I'm sure the room is as nice as you
say, but then I will be able to prepare for anything it might
need. And of course it will be a pleasure to visit with you; I
always enjoy the company of attractive women. See you this
evening, after dinner."
I was squirming slightly in response to his compliment when I
told Jan about the date. "We can show him the room," I said, and
then have a quiet little drink and some civilised conversation.
Maybe we'll be able to sound him out a little further." Jan
thought that was a great idea.
We didn't spend the day in frantic preparation, but we did make
sure that things were reasonably neat and tidy in the guest room.
We quite deliberately left a fluffy nylon housecoat hanging
there, and I draped an elegant lace hemmed slip over the back of
one of the chairs. Jan was amused by my effort: "Just leave the
odd hint of femininity," she said, "and make it look like a
woman's room." We didn't prepare ourselves especially, either. We
were both dressed in a neat casual manner; I wore a moderately
full floral print dress, and Jan wore her favourite full red
skirt with a white blouse. I think a careful observer might have
noticed, though, that our makeup was quite carefully done, and we
both spent some time brushing and combing our hair.
Soon after we had finished dinner the doorbell rang. I went over
to let Bill in, and he greeted us with a cheery "Good evening,
ladies." He had a small photo bag with him. "Just a light meter,"
he said; "it won't hurt to check the background." We took him
into the guest room, and he looked around carefully. "It will
work very well," he said. "I like the decor; the bedspread will
make a beautiful backdrop, and there are a variety of chairs and
couches that can be used for different poses. They're nicely
spaced, too, so I can walk around without crowding you." He tried
the various lights, and played with his meter for some time. Then
he smiled and said: "It's a beautiful room, and it really is just
right for the purpose. I appreciate your kindness in allowing me
to use it." "You're welcome," I said. "We thought it would be fun
to have a session here. So much for business, though; would you
care to join us for a little drink?" "That would be a pleasure,
too," he said, so we went back into the living room and sat down.
Jan offered the wine, and laid plates of cheese slices and
nibbles in strategic locations. The whole scene was very
relaxing, and of course this time I didn't exhibit any
incongruity in my attire."
Jan jumped right in, to start the conversation. "I was quite
intrigued," she said, "when Rita told me about all the sites
there are on the web showing pictures of girdles. I can
understand the porn sites; we all know there's a market for that,
but I had not thought there would be such interest in making an
innocent and quite wholesome study of girdles." "There will be
people somewhere interested in almost anything," Bill said. "The
incredible panoply of what can be found on the web illustrates
that. You just happen to have come across one the many special
interest groups." "I suppose so," said Jan, "but I am still
struck by the number of afficionados for something so esoteric."
"That's an interesting point," conceded Bill; "I am not sure I
can account for it, even though it's one of my interests
personally. Of course one can make all the usual observations
that psychologists come up with; lingerie is not normally seen,
in public, it's specific to females, and males are generally
attracted to females. Males presumably find partially clad
females sexually exciting, and that effect somehow gets
transferred to very specific items. Maybe people get imprinted by
a first view or experience that affects their subsequent
reactions. Who knows? I submit that girdles and stockings are
attractive to look at, and it's as simple as that. Obviously they
don't do much in the abstract, and what is attractive is to see
them adorning a beautiful woman; such a judgement is clearly
related to sexual attraction -- it would be naive to suggest
otherwise. But many of the little games men and women play relate
to their basic sexuality, and they can often be quite innocent,
and accepted by society as such. The rules about what can be
said, and what can be seen, are really quite arbitrary. It's
perfectly acceptable for women to wear swimsuits at the beach, or
when they are sunbathing; nobody thinks they are exposing
themselves brazenly, or that they are behaving indecently. But
there's very little difference between a 1950s style swimsuit and
the corselettes that women wore away from the beach under their
other clothes. It was natural to see one, and very indecent to
contemplate the other. Modern smimsuits are very hard to
distinguish from matching sets of bra and panties; one might have
to be told that a given example is actually underwear, rather
than swimwear, but when one knows that, it becomes titillating
and slightly indecent to see it."
"I believe that some men make this transference much more
explicit," Jan said, "and the garments become sexual objects in
their own right. I don't know the statistics, but presumably
there are some of those avidly looking at your work." "No doubt,"
said Bill; "it's quite a well known phenomenon. It's really quite
innocent too; such people aren't exactly typical of what is
thought of as normal society, but they certainly don't do anyone
any harm. Live and let live." Of course I was fascinated by this
turn in the conversation, and found the way Jan was playing the
devil very interesting. "I think some of them go even further,"
Jan said, and want to wear the things themselves. I suppose it's
related to transvestism, which seems to be a fairly well known
phenomenon as well." "There are a number of interesting facets to
the whole subject," Bill said; "groups form within groups, each
with their own particular angle, and as I said, there's no limit
to what people get interested in and even turned on by. It's
obvious that some of those who send me email are motivated that
way. I think if you really explore the net, you'll find pictures
of men wearing all kinds of feminine attire. Some of them pass
very well." "I don't know too much about it," Jan lied, as I sat
breathtaken; "but it's understandable in a way. I can imagine
that people might be quite curious about the experience of the
opposite gender. Things like girdles and stockings are absolutely
gender specific; they don't relate to anything whatsoever in the
experience of males, and I can see how a man might be curious
enough to say to himself 'I wonder how it would feel to wear
those things.'"
Bill didn't show any undue awkwardness at the turn the
conversation had taken, or to be precise, the way Jan had
deliberately pushed it. "Well," he said, "I do have a bit of a
confession to make." I couldn't see Jan's reaction, but I felt an
internal jolt; "here it comes," I thought. "I got curious myself
at one time," Bill continued; "I've always been taken by these
particular items of feminine attire, and I did wonder to myself
what wearing them might be like. I also knew about transvestites,
and I wondered if I might be one, without having realised it; I
thought it might just be that my interest in girdles was really a
symptom of that. I got very curious indeed, so one day I got
myself a nice sleek beautifully textured girdle and a pair of
sheer nylons, and I tried them on. It was an interesting
experience, but I didn't get excited. I struggled with the
stockings and suspenders; when I got them on I walked up and down
to see how it felt, and looked at myself in the mirror. It didn't
do anything for me, and after a while I got quite uncomfortable,
and felt rather ridiculous. That was the end of my curiosity."
"Too bad," I thought to myself; "a false alarm." Jan kept her end
of the dialog going: "That doesn't shock me or surprise me at
all," she said. "That's exactly what I meant. One can't help
being curious about what it might be like to be on the other side
of the fence." "I guess not," said Bill. "my fascination with
girdles and stockings continued, and I realised it was precisely
because they were associated specifically with women. I'm very
attracted to women, and I like looking at them, and the things
that single them out from men play an important role in the
attraction."
We arranged to get together again on Saturday, to do a
photographic session in the guest bedroom, and Bill made his
polite farewells and went on his way. "Well, Jan my love," I
said, "you were doing some real probing there; you had me on the
edge of my seat." "Sitting on suspenders, no doubt," she said
with a grin. "I thought an almost direct approach might be a good
tactic; he likes girdles, which isn't a universal taste, and he
must be used to people asking why. Anyway, that shoots down one
theory; being curious, and wondering about things you don't have
any experience of is perfectly natural. I suppose the only reason
most men haven't done much the same is because they accept the
edicts of society about the way they are supposed to behave."
"Yes," I said; "they simply accept the appropriateness of things
being characterised as 'just for males' or 'just for females'
without question. It's us gender benders that make a bee-line for
anything that society deems inappropriate. Excuse me, I must go
and fix my lipstick." Jan giggled. "You're cute," she said, "and
I love those earrings."
Our next task was to organise the costumes for Saturday. The two
quite different panty-girdles that Jan had chosen met with
everyone's approval, but I needed something appropriate that
would contrast nicely and was different in style from the things
I had modelled before. I did have a large selection, but my
favourites were not very different from the ones Bill had already
taken shots of. At least I could alternate colours, I thought, so
I picked out a nice corselette in white. It was stretchy and just
a little tight, and it had a lot of lace trim; the bra cups were
really beautiful in fact, and it had slender shoulder straps.
Looking at it gave me the idea of a basque; I had one in quite a
bright shade of pink, and picked that out. It would make my
panties very prominent; I thought I would find some contrasting
ruffled ones, and possibly wear them over the long suspenders. To
give Bill a bit of choice, I selected a beige girdle, with
brocade panels; it was quite high in the waist, and I found a bra
that would match and also leave something of a midriff; it was
underwired, and had no band to speak of underneath the cups. Jan
looked at my choices with interest. "We shall contrast alright,"
she said. "You'll be the exotic bird of paradise, and make me
look like a staid matron." "Not at all," I said; "it's only the
basque that is a little out of the ordinary. We have a selection
of five items that cover the whole spectrum; I hope you can deal
with the flow of correspondence that will come from our fans."
"You aren't suggesting we should publicise an email address?" she
said. "No. A lot of the sites do invite correspondence with the
models, though. I wonder what a goggle-eyed male writes to his
favourite girdlequeen? It would be a chance to find out."
"I'm beginning to take Bill at face value," I continued. "It
would be quite interesting to get him to expound on his personal
tastes at some length. He seems to have really eclectic
interests, but he must have some special favourites. Does he like
slips, I wonder, and what about petticoats?" "You and he are real
soul mates," Jan said, smiling. "I'm beginning to find his avid
interest quite infectious, but it would still make a lot more
sense to me if I saw a nice bulge in the front of his pants."
Late on Saturday afternoon we started to get organised for the
evening's activities. After some discussion, we decided against
getting dressed ready for Bill's arrival. "There's a fair number
of combinations," I said, "and I can't guess what he might
prefer. Do we go both black, and both white, or do we contrast?"
"I'm guessing that he'll want us in the same colour," said Jan,
"but it won't be a big hassle to do the changes." We had a quick
dinner, and sat down to await Bill's arrival. Right on the minute
the doorbell rang, and I went to let him in. He greeted us as
usual, and put down his bag of equipment. "Sit down, for a
moment," I said, "and let's talk about logistics. The basic menu
is panty-girdles for Jan, choice of black or white; for me a
white corselette, a beige girdle, and a pink basque." "That's a
surfeit of riches," he said smiling. "We thought we should leave
the choice of combinations up to you," I said; "We've provided
the raw materials, but you are the artist." "You flatter me," he
said, and you're very considerate. I'll try to be the same, and
not get into requesting too many costume changes." "Would you
like to look at the choices?" said Jan. "No thanks. I would
prefer to see them adorning two beautiful women for a first
impression. I think I would like to start with you very similar,
both in white, and then we can try the contrast later." We showed
him to the guest bedroom to get set up, and retired into our
bedroom to get ready.
"White it is," said Jan, already stripped down to her panties.
She pulled on the white panty-girdle and started work on her
stockings. I tried to hurry, but she was ready to go long before
I had my stockings fixed to my satisfaction. When we were both
completely ready, we looked at one another; we liked what we saw,
and something clicked. We hugged one another, and clung together
for a while before we moved into the other room. Bill looked at
us in admiration. "Wonderful," he said. "I knew I could depend on
your judgement." He worked us quite hard; he wanted a variety of
poses, standing, sitting on the couch, one of us reclined on the
bed, and several combinations and variations. We were in casual
conversation, earnestly studying one another, helping one another
with suspenders or bra straps, and finally both lying on the bed.
At that point things got interesting. "There's a wonderful
interplay between the subtle differences of shading and colour,"
he said. "Now it might be seen as slightly risque in some
circles, and I have no desire to create any difficulty for you,
but I think a sisterly embrace would make a beautiful
composition." "I think we can manage it," Jan said sweetly and
threw her arms round me. Bill got us into various poses, and by
the time we were finished, we had spent a good half hour rolling
round on the bed. He obviously liked the idea of intertwined
suspendered nylons, and finished up with some close-ups. I rather
liked it too, and by the end I found my excitement had risen
several notches.
We took a break, then, and realised it had really been quite hard
work. Neither Jan or I could be bothered to cover ourselves up at
that point, and we just sat on the couch. Bill sat on one of the
chairs, and took the whole strange scene as though it was a
matter of course; in a way it was -- a rest break after a fairly
strenuous session of work. "I must compliment you," Bill said.
"You put up with me very well, and you make a very good team.
There's a wonderful cameraderie between you that should show up
very nicely." After a short rest and some desultory conversation,
we took our leave briefly for the costume change.
"I think he may have caught on to us," Jan whispered, and
giggled. "It doesn't seem to bother him," I said, "and I don't
know about you, but I like the term 'cameraderie'." We both
started giggling, and started work on our changes. Jan put on the
black panty-girdle, and chose some lighter coloured stockings to
contrast; she fixed them deftly and quickly while I was still
getting into my bra. She changed her bra too, and then watched as
I went through my routine with my suspenders. "You really want
pin-point precision, don't you?" she said. "Of course," I
retorted; "and I also want a good grade from Bill -- I'm shooting
for an A plus. I'm afraid when he looks at you from behind, he'll
be tough on you." We giggled together again. I would have used a
different term, but there was a real cameraderie between us;
Jan's adoption of some of my special symbols triggered something
between us that we were both aware of. We both attempted to
compose ourselves, and went out to face Bill again.
He went through much the same sequence of poses and combinations
again, though I noticed he didn't repeat things exactly. The same
ingredients were there, but he carefully combined them
differently. It became something of a blur after a while, and I
was beginning to get tired physically. His grand finale this time
was to have each of us stand, in turn, suspenders being attached
and detached by the other, kneeling at her task. I did enjoy that
part, and when I ministered to Jan, I carefully moved her back
suspenders to the vertical central position I thought they should
take. "That's a nice touch, Rita," said Bill. "I was going to
comment on that before, but then it struck me there was a nice
casual feel; now there will be an interesting before and after
comparison." I could feel Jan's response; it might have been
annoyance, but I had a suspicion she was trying not to giggle.
"You have worked very hard, ladies," Bill said finally. "I think
that's enough for one session, and I have a feeling the pictures
will really come out well. I haven't forgotten the basque, Rita,
but I'm sure you don't need another change, and any more requests
to move this way and that; let's use it next time -- I look
forward to seeing it." "Thanks," I said. "I'll go and put my robe
on, and join you in the living room. I think we all need some
refreshment." Jan got her robe too, and we exchanged impish grins
briefly in the bedroom. We soon were sitting in the living room,
and sipping at our wine glasses. "I'm really quite tired," I
said. "It's great fun, but I had no idea that modelling was such
hard work. "It certainly is," said Bill; "that's why I didn't
want to try and cover everything in one session. The variety of
costume is interesting, but I don't really like the idea of a
catalog with one picture of each garment. I am much more
interested in exploring the different ways that one item can be
presented, exposing all its different facets and details."
"You're an artist," said Jan. "Well thank you; maybe that's a bit
of a pretentious description ..." "Not at all," said Jan. "I'm
not sure this subject matter would be at the top of my personal
art appreciation list, but your pictures have a wonderful
quality, and they evoke subtle feelings. That becomes apparent
when one has actually been present on the occasion depicted."
Bill seemed very pleased by this critical appraisal of his work.
"The question now is what next?" he said. "I don't want to abuse
the wonderful reception you have given me, twice now, but I do
have one further idea I would like to explore." "It has been a
fascinating experience," I said; "I don't see myself doing this
indefinitely, or making a career of it, but I'm interested in
your idea." "I mentioned it before," he said. "One can get
wonderful effects with two women wearing absolutely identical
things. Then one has a subtle interplay between the attraction of
the garments themselves, identical, with the way they offset the
different characteristics of the two wearers. There's also a
sisterly quality, the friendship of two women together that gives
a special feeling. The two of you evidently relate to one another
very closely; it's apparent watching you, and I think you'll see
it clearly in some of the shots from this evening."
"I'd like to try it," Jan said, looking at me. "Me too," I said.
"We'll have to give some thought to precisely what we wear; do
you think the basque would work as a twosome?" "Very likely,"
said Bill, "but I leave it to you; you both have to be
comfortable, and enjoy what you are wearing. By now I have great
faith in your judgement; I know you won't disappoint me." "It
will take a little work," I said. "Women can be very particular
about what they wear, and how they wear it; getting two of them
to agree to the point where they are completely comfortable will
be an interesting process. I look forward to it, though; we'll
come up with something. We'll surprise you." "I know you will,"
said Bill, "and I look forward to it too. I know I can't rush you
on this, so just let me know when you've got something." "We
will," I said, and Jan nodded agreement. The evening's business
seemed more or less complete at that point, and Bill took his
leave, promising to send his selection of pictures soon.
Jan and I were both tired, and in a somewhat more serious mood as
we got ready for bed. I enjoyed the unusual pleasure of seeing
her take off her stockings and girdle, but didn't remark on it.
"It's been very interesting," I said, "but I think I have had
just about enough. One more session will certainly do it." "Yes,"
she agreed. "That's one more chance to find out what Bill's inner
motivation is." "I am more and more convinced that he is exactly
what he claims to be," I said. "What I find interesting, is that
he has got us into something new that seems to be fun. I don't
mean the activities as such, but we'll come out of the whole
thing with something extra: new insights, I suppose." "Yes. There
was something interesting going on, and I can't put my finger on
it. It was quite funny at times, too; I can't decide whether he
has us figured out or not." "If he has, it doesn't seem to bother
him in the least. Of course some straight men extend their
interest in women to pairs of women, and find lesbians quite a
turnon. They accept them much more readily than gay men; I guess
it makes sense; if one likes women, one can understand why
someone else would like them. I wonder how he would react if he
knew my history?" "That might not bother him either," said Jan.
"If it is really simple esthetic appeal that he appreciates, and
he doesn't want to look at genitalia, one image is as good as
another. Much better if it's yours." "Well thank you," I said.
"He was talking the other day about TVs on the web; he seemed
quite appreciative." "It could be that he's just a nice friendly
tolerant guy, happily adjusted in his heterosexuality," Jan said.
"His interests are slightly unusual, but he accepts them as a
given and feels no awkwardness about them. I just want to be
convinced; there's still something that bothers me about it."
"Maybe it's that he's straight," I said; "you've really developed
a liking for transgendered males." "I just love that nightdress
you're wearing," she said; "it's so feminine; you look
beautiful." And we were back to giggling again.
After a good night's sleep, things felt pleasantly normal as Jan
and I sat drinking coffee. "The whole evening is a bit of a blur
now," I said; "it will be interesting to relive it, and see what
actually happened when Bill gives us his edited version. I really
do want to see those pictures." "I do too," said Jan. "The whole
thing has been quite different from what I anticipated, and I
think I have got into the mood." "You're not thinking about any
changes to your wardrobe?" She knew I was kidding her: "I don't
think so. Those things are very nice, but they are for special
people like you. I did enjoy wearing them, but it was a special
occasion, like a costume party. Apart from some interesting
memories, they had an effect because of the association with
you." "The whole thing has worked out a bit differently than I
imagined," I said. "I thought it would fun, and turn me on
somewhat; it did that of course, but something else happened. The
fact that you joined in, and visited my turf, so to speak, really
did something to me. Don't misunderstand, please; I like things
the way they are, and the whole impact there was because it was
an exception." Jan took my hand lovingly. "I know what you mean;
the path we're on is just right for us, and we keep rediscovering
that by making interesting little detours."
"I think it will be good to do one more session," I said. "Then
we can tell Bill it was nice, and that we enjoyed it, but we
don't see it as a vital part of our lifestyle. I'm sure as a
connoisseur, and collector, he'll want to go on to other models
anyway." "That will certainly be enough for me," Jan said, "but I
thought you might have a hankering for more." "No," I said;
"Obviously I enjoy the things I wear, and there will be a large
selection of well done pictures to document that, but if I need
more visual stimulation when I'm bored, there are plenty of other
people I can look at, and more variety." "We do have to plan for
the grand finale, though," Jan pointed out. "I know, and I have a
strange idea that it might really do something for us. It will be
a special event, a once only affair, but Bill's idea of really
identical outfits does appeal to me. The big question is
precisely what we wear; that basque is nice, but I don't really
think it's the best choice, and I'm not sure if we could get a
matching one. What do you fancy?" "I don't think I mind too
much," Jan said thoughtfully. "I'm finding the whole adventure
quite exciting too, as a change of pace, but the basic field of
interest is really your show. Why don't you pick out something
that you really like, and that really does all the things for you
that it possibly can, then let me simply take your lead?" "That's
sweet of you," I said. "I think we should really get down to
basics for this one; pick something that is really the epitome of
what the fans want to see on the web. They seem to be very
partial to a favourite of mine: a nice form fitting corselette,
with lacy bra cups and stretchy panels showing patterns in the
construction. I think black is the most effective, but I already
did that. I wonder if one could get pastel colours?" "Your
enthusiasm is really infectious," said Jan; "I'm getting quite
eager to try one, too. I know what we should do! It's a special
occasion, so why don't we go shopping for an extra special
corselette for you, and get another one exactly the same in my
size? It would be fun." I snuggled up to her, and I felt my eyes
moisten a little. "It would be fun," I said, "but it would also
demonstrate what a wonderful person you are. I love you, Jan." I
was very happy.
I had a large collection of a variety of foundation garments; I
suspect the range might even have been more extensive than that
exhibited in Bill's incredible inventory of pictures on various
websites. Many of them I was particularly fond of, and I got
great pleasure wearing them. I didn't need more samples, and it
was one area where I usually did my own thing, and didn't consult
Jan. She was always happy to see what my latest acquisition was,
and share my pleasure, but it was one of the areas where we
enjoyed the little differences between us. So her suggestion
about shopping together was a wonderful gesture; she knew what it
would mean to me, and how it would affect me; this time she
wanted to share the experience fully, even to the point of
accepting my choice for herself. I looked forward to the trip
with impatient anticipation.
The next morning Jan and I set out to do our shopping for the
grand finale with Bill. I was quite excited, and eager to get
going; on the surface Jan seemed to be taking it calmly, as a
matter-of-fact everyday event, but I think that my feelings were
affecting her, and she shared some of my excitement inwardly. In
any event, she was certainly planning to enjoy herself. We had
had some discussion about which stores would be best to go to,
and I insisted on The Feminine Mystique. It was a particular
favourite of mine, and I knew Anne, the owner; she was a good
friend, always happy to see me and chat for a while.
One of the advantages of living in a large city is the wide range
of choice available for almost any commodity produced in our
society. The larger the population base, the more specialist
stores there are, catering to every esoteric interest. The
Feminine Mystique was a lingerie emporium, and Anne maintained an
incredible selection of items, including just about anything with
the feminine connotation evoked by the word 'lingerie'. She also
made a specialty of foundation garments of all types, in spite of
the supposed current lack of interest in such things. The fact is
that there was a demand, though small, and she had a devoted
clientele of regular customers; they were women who wanted
something special for a special occasion, those with plain old-
fashioned tastes, a few real devotees like myself, and last but
definitely not least the transgendered. Anne had discovered in
the very early days of her business that there were males who
wanted to purchase items of lingerie for themselves, and that
some of them wanted to develop a complete feminine image; she
also encountered transsexuals, who needed to create a female
wardrobe. She had great empathy for these people, and welcomed
them, being happy to give them the benefit of her advice; of
course she was shrewd enough, too, to realise that the
transgendered community could be a significant part of her
business. In my early days I was too shy to visit stores like
hers, and I only got to know her after my transition. On one of
my early visits there, I had noticed a fairly obvious TV
interested in bras, and seen Anne's friendly and empathetic
treatment of her; it wasn't long before I opened up and told her
my story. She was happily accepting, as Jan was; she enjoyed all
the wonderful things used for feminine adornment, and understood
why males and former males might share her pleasures. Of course I
visited her secure in my adopted role as a woman; I had some
special tastes, and she was happy to cater to them and advise me,
woman to woman.
We drove to the mall where Anne's store was located, and walked
through the wonderful display of feminine clothing crowding the
interior. There didn't seem to be any other customers, and we
found her at the back, looking through suppliers' catalogs.
"Rita!" she said. "How nice to see you!" "This is Jan," I said;
"I've told you a lot about her, but I don't think you've met
her." "Hello, Jan," said Anne warmly. "Welcome to my little
boutique." "Hello," replied Jan. "Rita's told me a lot about your
store, and I can see now why she's so much in love with it." Anne
smiled happily. "So, what can I do for you? Are you interested in
something particular today?" "As a matter of fact, we are," I
said. "We would like to look at foundations. I always like to see
what you have there, any time, but what I have in mind today is
something particularly nice in a corselette." Anne led us over to
the side of the store where bras and girdles were prominently
displayed. "Rita seems to be very fond of corselettes," she said,
and smiled at Jan. "Do you share her tastes at all?" I was glad
to have Jan brought into the discussion as I was afraid my
enthusiasm would take over. "I don't wear them regularly," said
Jan, "but I do think they are nice for special occasions." "And
you have a special occasion coming up?" "Yes," said Jan, and
looked at me for guidance; she was enjoying the encounter, but
she knew this was my territory. "It's just a fun thing," I said.
"but you can help us best if I tell you exactly what we want."
Anne looked at me with interest. "I would like a really special
corselette," I said, "and for fun, we would like to have two that
match exactly. We aren't the same size, but we'd like them
exactly the same otherwise." "It certainly sounds like fun," Anne
said. "I'm not sure I want to know exactly what you two are up
to, but I'll show you what I have." She had a surprisingly large
selection of corselettes, and started to pick them out, and hold
them up for us to examine. Many of them were very beautiful, and
made me want to try them right there and then; quite a few were
very familiar, and already had their place in my wardrobe at
home. "What do you think, Jan?" I asked. "Do you see anything
that you like particularly?" "They are very nice, all of them,"
Jan said. "It's really hard to choose. It seems that we also have
to decide between white or black; do they make them in other
colours at all?" "Not usually," said Anne, "but in one of the
catalogs I was looking at the other day there were some other
choices. In fact I think one of the manufacturers is offering a
variety of colours. I'll go and see if I can find it." She went
back to the counter, and started leafing through the literature
there. Jan smiled at me innocently, and I surreptitiously blew
her a kiss. "Here it is!" Anne said, and brought a thick glossy
trade catalog over to show us. I almost fainted with awe when I
saw the page she was indicating; there was a picture of the most
exquisite corselette I could imagine -- in mint green, and the
announcement that they were available in several pastel shades as
well as black and white. Jan could always read me like a book,
but no one would have missed the vibes I radiated at the sight of
that picture. She didn't miss her cue. "That's the one," she
said. "I love it!"
"I'd have to order them," said Anne. "That firm is quite good,
and it will take about a week." I had recovered my poise enough
to say "We can certainly wait that long; I like Jan's choice, so
could you order them for us?" "With pleasure," Anne said. "They
are quite expensive, so we should be very careful to get the
sizes exactly." She paused for moment, thinking. "Wait a minute,
I'm sure I have one or two of that particular model in the store
room. I just have them in white, but you would get a good idea of
the style and material." She went off into the back store room,
and Jan gave me a quick hug. Anne returned carrying a box; she
opened it, and held its contents up in front of her. It was a
corselette that took my breath away: slender lace trimmed
shoulder straps descended to the saucy cups; the sides were
powerful elasticated net, joined seamlessly at the front to a
diamond panel with a shiny satin finish; there were six
suspenders, quite wide, each with a discreet shimmering ribbon to
cover it. It was a foundation garment for a goddess. "It fastens
at the front," Anne said; the zipper covers the hook and eye
fastening underneath, and runs right up between the cups. The bra
section fastens at the front, of course; that's not ideal, but
with a corselette there's no other way." As she spoke, I noticed
the almost imperceptible seam of the zipper which blended into
the texture. Jan was obviously impressed, and took the corselette
to hold in front of her. "The length is just about right," she
said, "but we'll have to measure to see how it would fit round
me." "The sizes normally go by the bra size," said Anne, "and
that means the waist and hips aren't always quite right. These
ones are special, and there is some choice for the other
measurements too. You're welcome to try it on; that's probably
the best way to get correct measurements."
"I will try it on, if I may," said Jan. "It is my bra size." Anne
led her off to one of the change rooms, and I entertained myself
by looking around the store. It was always fun to look over the
wide range of lingerie items on display. Jan and Anne took quite
a time before they returned, not surprisingly as Jan would have
had to take almost everything off. She smiled at me, and had
evidently survived the ordeal. "I have Jan's measurements," Anne
said. "Now for you, Rita. Would you like to try it on?" "I don't
think I need to," I said; "I'm wearing a corselette now, and you
can probably use it as a guide." We went into the change room,
and I took off my dress and slip. Anne sized me up with a
professional eye, and measured round my bust, waist and hips.
"You're very similar in size," she said, "but Jan is more slender
in the waist." "I know, and I envy her," I said. "That may be why
corselettes suit me best; they are quite accommodating." "Yes,"
said Anne, "they do work well for you. This new one will be just
wonderful, and I'm sure you'll be happy with it; one day you must
tell me what it's all about." "We're just going to have our
picture taken together," I said. Anne looked puzzled, then
laughed. "I promise to tell you about it," I said. "I'll see how
things work out first, and then I may even be able to show you
what it's about."
We rejoined Jan. "What's your choice for the colour?" Anne asked
us. Jan looked at me quizzically; I knew already, but I glanced
at the catalog to make sure. "Powder blue." Jan smiled happily;
she knew my tastes. "I'll order them right away," Anne told us,
"and I would expect to have them ready for you in exactly a
week's time." We thanked her, and as we were leaving she told us
to drop by again soon. "That was great fun," Jan said, outside in
the parking lot, before I could say anything. "It certainly was,"
I said, "and I enjoyed having you there with me. You're so good
to me." She brushed my cheek tenderly, and we went off to have
some lunch. I wasn't sure I could wait a week before turning
myself into a vision in powder blue, and I was very eager to see
how Jan would look, too.
Back at home, after lunch, I checked the computer. There was
email for me, and the spool file was bulging. The messages were
from Bill; the first one said he was sending his selection of
pictures from the second session; again he said he was very
pleased with the results, and thanked us for our cooperation. He
asked me to be in touch soon. I carefully saved all the attached
picture files; their names incorporated a sequence number, as
before, and by the time I had finished the task there were almost
forty files; if I got into this as regular hobby, I thought, I
would need to get a bigger disk. I told Jan that we now had the
latest sequence of pictures, and we agreed to look at them in the
evening, after dinner. I was really curious to see them, but I
played fair, and went on to do other things.
When we had finished eating, we took another glass of wine each,
and went over to the computer. Jan hugged me as we sat down in
front of the screen. "This should be fun," she said. "I know that
you will be as spectacular as ever, but I don't know whether I
shall exude the same sense of delight that you do." "I think you
will," I said; "from the way you entered into the spirit of that
evening, and the dedication you showed, I think Bill will have
captured your joie de vivre, and your ecstatic response to the
delectable garments you were wearing" As Jan made a move as if to
hit me, but actually lovingly ruffled my hair, I loaded the first
of Bill's pictures. I gasped; he had just about done exactly what
I said. There were Jan and I, in white, panty-girdle and
corselette, with sleek dark suspendered nylons; we stood casually
chatting, partly facing one another, with light smiling faces. He
had certainly captured something vital; to me the relationship
between Jan and I was quite explicit in the picture, and Jan
appeared so natural and at ease in her clothing that one would
assume she always dressed that way, and delighted in it. She was
quite taken aback. "We do make a beautiful couple," she said
finally. "It's amazing," I said "something comes through, that I
didn't expect. I can't quite put my finger on it. It could be
that I'm looking at pictures of myself, plus someone I feel very
special about, and it doesn't quite fit with the subject matter.
I am familiar with that of course, but usually the pictures are
of people I don't know." "It's too bad we're dressed that way,"
said Jan; "that would make a beautiful portrait." She grinned to
show she wasn't being completely serious. "It would," I said.
"And I think you may be the find of the year on girdlequeen
websites; you show star quality."
We looked at the rest of the pictures avidly. We went through the
sequence several times, and must have spent three hours staring
at the incredible pictures of ourselves. I remembered many of the
poses, and Bill's directions, but the evening had become quite
blurred in my mind, and the dominant feeling left with me was
that it was in fact quite hard work, and I had got physically
tired. The pictures brought the whole thing back to life, but
with a different focus. We looked happy, vibrant, we exuded
pleasure in the things we wore, and above all the fact that Jan
and I had a very special feeling for one another came through.
The girdles and corselettes, and the delicious suspendered
stockings -- all depicted with wonderful clarity and loving
detail -- became secondary. "We were joking about whether Bill
had figured us out," I said; "he must have now, at least if he
sees what his camerawork has captured." Jan was still quite
overwhelmed by the experience of seeing the portrayal. "It's us,"
she said; "you can almost read the way we think about one
another. They are staggering pictures." "They are also beautiful
examples of the genre I was describing to you," I said. "The
whole art of depicting girdles and their beautiful wearers will
be revitalised by this contribution." Jan smiled at my somewhat
biased art critique, and continued in similar vein. "When they
write the definitive history of fin de siecle girdle and stocking
art, we will be revered as the ones who inspired Bill to raise
the genre to sublime heights. There's no doubt that you, my
lovely Rita, were the seminal influence, but I shall look back
with pride on the role I played in making the simple panty-girdle
hold its own as an essential symbol of feminine charm." We were
back into giggling mode, again. "Indeed," I said. "when one
considers the primary focus of this artistic movement, the
suspender, standing as it does as an essential symbol of
unqualified femininity, one can only admire the masterful
understatement in these compositions, achieved by restricting one
of the subjects to a simple four. The effect is made particularly
telling by the juxtaposition of a more conventional sextuple
display by the other subject." Jan almost collapsed on hearing
this erudite analysis. "I have to defer to your wealth of
experience," she said. "You are the expert in this field." "Maybe
in the present company," I admitted modestly, "and I think they
are fantastic girdle pictures."
They were indeed. I looked at the last sequence again; I wore the
beige girdle with its high waist, the underwired bra, and
charcoal stockings; Jan was in black, with prominent lacy bra
cups, kneeling behind me. Her panty-girdle was stretched
fetchingly over her derriere, held firmly by its six suspenders
to her light beige stockings. She was fondly attaching one of my
back suspenders, her face showing loving concentration. Finally
Jan was standing in a beautiful relaxed pose, while I returned
the favour, kneeling to my task and stretching my girdle so that
its elasticated structure showed prominently. There were two
close-ups of my fingers adjusting Jan's suspenders at the back;
as Bill had promised, they clearly showed the effects of my
careful alignment.
We went to bed eventually, and snuggled together happily. I was
excited a little by the effects of the final set of pictures, but
we both felt overwhelmed by the impact made by the whole set.
"I'm a bit confused," Jan confided, "and I don't quite know how
to respond. For a long time now, girdles and stockings have been
very much your thing, and I've enjoyed them, vicariously I
suppose, as something I associate with you. This whole episode
seemed like something to do just for fun, but it's almost as
though the effects you often talk about are rubbing off on me. I
can't say I really have any desire to wear the things, but they
are doing something to me, and this morning, in The Feminine
Mystique, I really felt as excited as you did. Some of it was
just my pleasure in giving you a treat, something I knew would
really give you a charge, but I felt a real thrill on my own
account." "I'm picking it up too," I said. "I think it's just
that we're very close, and we react to signals we pick up from
one another. We are close when it matters, but we often do our
own things; we enjoy our feminine companionship, but play quite
different roles in the way we relate sexually, and delight in the
subtle differences. Just for fun, you've been playing on my turf,
as you put it, and we have been playing almost identical roles.
That may have been accentuated because we were both doing femme
things, so to speak, in the presence of Bill, a male. When the
fun is over, things will get back to normal, and we'll simply
have a nice memory to look back on." "Maybe," said Jan. "Of
course, I'll always be able to drool over your pictures on the
web," I said. "You might not need to; I might finish up so
inspired by the experience that I become addicted to your
tastes." "A girdle freak?" I said. "Yes. The thought is making me
feel quite squirmy; I suppose worse things could happen." I don't
think she was serious, but the thought made me quite squirmy too;
we snuggled up even closer.
I called Bill in the morning. "The pictures are just fantastic,"
I said; "you've really outdone yourself." "I'm glad to hear
that," he said. "I certainly felt they were good, but you never
know how the subjects are going to react." "I see your point
about using two women," I said. "There's something indefinable
that comes through. Both Jan and I were overwhelmed. They are
very good pictures of the subject matter, but we got to the point
where we forgot about the girdles and stockings, and looked at
the way we were portrayed, and how our interaction came out. Jan
remarked on the very first one, that it would make a beautiful
portrait of us." "You and Jan are very close, aren't you?" he
said. "It was clear when I met you, but it certainly comes
through in the pictures. They show something that isn't there in
my other pictures with two models." "I think you know the score,
Bill," I said. "Jan and I are very close indeed; we had a quiet
laugh together after that session -- we liked the term
'cameraderie'." "Well, you deserve one another; you're very nice
people." He didn't seem unduly surprised, or upset, by my
confession. "That's kind of you," I said. "As for the pictures,
please use them as you wish, and I think they will help your
reputation." "The next question is where we go from here," he
said. "Have you thought about that?" "Yes," I replied. "We would
like very much to do another session, and your idea about
identical outfits really does sound good. After that, I think
we'll be ready for a break. You'll probably have exhausted our
potential, too, and be ready for some new faces." "That's fine,"
he said, "but I may come chasing after you again in a few months.
Have you had any more thoughts about what you want to feature?"
"We have indeed; in fact we were so enthused about the idea that
we have a special purchase on order." "That sounds exciting,"
said Bill. "Will it take long?" "Just a week, but it really is
fabulous, I'll have trouble waiting that long. Anyway, we'll let
you know as soon as it's ready." "You're being quite coy," he
chuckled; "I take it you plan to surprise me." "Yes, sir! You can
trust our judgement." "I know that," he said. "I'll look forward
to hearing from you."
I duly reported back to Jan. "I talked to Bill," I said. "I told
him the pictures were fantastic; that in about a week we would
have a surprise for him, and that then we would be ready to take
a break. He seemed quite chirpy, and threatened to come chasing
after us some months down the road. Oh yes, and I came out to
him." "You did? What as?" "What I am, my love. A lesbian woman.
That didn't seem to bother him either; it just came up naturally
in the discussion of the pictures. He remarked that you and I
were close." Jan smiled.
A couple of days later, Bill sent me a note saying that the
pictures were all on his website, and he reminded me of the
reference to it. I took a look; Jan and I were prominently
featured in three of the many 'galleries' that made up his
enormous exhibit. The whole thing must have had several hundred
pictures. He had used all the pictures that he had asked us to
look at. I looked briefly at some of the other galleries,
thinking that the comparison would be interesting, wondering how
we would compare with the other models. I found that I couldn't
do that objectively; I had a response to the pictures of myself,
and those including Jan, which made it impossible to look at them
impartially. Other people would have to make the comparisons. I
felt a thrill of excitement as I realised that many people would
be doing just that; I wondered for a moment if I shouldn't have
let Bill advertise my email address like some of the other
girdlequeens who invited messages from those who liked their
pictures. Some of them got sent garments too, by their fans; that
didn't appeal to me at all, as I enjoyed the fun of shopping for
the things I wore.
About a week after our visit to The Feminine Mystique, Anne
called to tell me that the corselettes had arrived. "They're
absolutely beautiful!" she said. I told her we would be over to
pick them up right away, and excitedly told Jan the news. "I
don't suppose she'll suggest that we try them on there?" said
Jan. "No," I replied. "If there is some problem, they would have
to be sent back, and repeat the whole process. I'm sure they will
be just right; Anne is very careful, and she knows her job well."
We drove over to the mall, and found Anne in her store helping a
customer choose a nightdress. "Hello, Rita and Jan! I'll be with
you in just a moment." We spent a moment or two looking over some
of the finery on display, then Anne came over to us. She took a
couple of boxes from underneath the counter, and opened them up
to show us the contents. I gasped; the real thing looked utterly
fantastic. "They're beautiful," Jan said, "and they really do
match identically. I'm sure they are exactly right, as you took
such care in the measurements; we'll take them home to try."
"That's fine," said Anne, as Jan looked in her purse for her
credit card. "I'm sure there won't be any problem, but if there
is, please get in touch with me immediately."
We left the store with the two boxes, and walked back to the car.
"I'm really quite excited," I told Jan; "it's as if there's some
special symbolism involved here, and I don't think we can be too
casual about it." Jan understood. "Why don't we calm down, and
wait until this evening after dinner?" she said. "Then we can and
try them on together, and have our own private showing. I'll need
you to help me, too." I didn't think that was really true; Jan
didn't regularly wear garments like that, but a woman of her age
couldn't possibly be a neophyte. She knew how exciting it was
going to be for me, and her wonderful kindness and acceptance
prompted her to share the experience with me. I squeezed her
hand, to tell her I understood too.
Once home, I put the boxes in the bedroom, and tried to forget
about them through the long afternoon. I had plenty of
interesting things to do, some of them things I ought to have
been doing, but they weren't getting my full attention.
Eventually I started work on dinner, and prepared everything we
needed. When it was ready, Jan joined me at the table and poured
wine for us both. She lifted her glass in a mock toast and said
"Here's to a fun evening, Rita, my love." For some reason I
almost choked up. "You're so sweet, Jan," I said. "All these
silly games I play are just fun, and I enjoy indulging what I
like to pretend is my femininity. You're wonderfully accepting of
all of it, but you also know that some of the symbols have a real
effect on me, inside my mixed-up head, and you go out of your way
to reinforce them, and make it ecstatic." "Don't be too cynical
about yourself," said Jan. "Femininity is defined by every woman
in her own terms; you are as entitled to your view of it as any
genetic woman is of hers, and by any 'standard' definition it's a
quality you have. Your special version of it adds something that
is fun, and it has come to have a lot to do with the way we
interact. The pleasure you get from your special femininity is
infectious." She couldn't resist adding "And that's why I'll be
spending the evening struggling with suspenders." That was a nice
touch, and it lightened things up; we enjoyed a leisurely dinner,
without feeling any sense of urgency.
After our traditional demi-tasse cup of coffee, we cleared the
table quickly, and went into the bedroom. Jan hugged me, and we
sat side by side on the edge of the bed. "We have a lot of fun
together," she said, "and we've tried all kinds of things. I'm
really looking forward to this, because I never thought of doing
it before, and now I wonder why." "You thought it was 'my turf',"
I said. "Well it is, and I wouldn't want to encroach on it;
things are good the way they are. This is really an experiment,
and I want to find out how much your potent symbols affect me.
Let's take everything off, and then get ourselves ready,
together, step by step, as if we were expecting Bill to drop in
later on." "I'd like that, Jan," I said. "I've had feeling about
this all along, and I think something very nice will happen."
We undressed together, in no great hurry, as though it was
bedtime; all our clothes were carefully folded, hung up and put
away where they belonged. Eventually we sat there, looking at one
another, quite at ease in our nakedness. "I was serious when I
said you would have to help me," said Jan. "What happens first?"
"Panties," I said; "certainly for Bill's ease of mind. And for
proper display of open bottom garments, they have to be
underneath. But let's leave them for now, and get the full feel
of the corselettes." "That sounds good," said Jan, "but thinking
ahead, the colour will be a bit tricky." "I know. I think the
only possibility is white -- dazzling white." She smiled. She
took one of the boxes, and lifted out the powder blue corselette.
"The size will be on a little label somewhere," she said. "Here
it is; I seem to have picked the right one. I took the matching
corselette from the other box, and checked its size. "Right for
me," I said. "Now tell me the drill," said Jan; "I'll need
detailed instructions." Of course she didn't really, but she knew
I would enjoy giving a commentary on the events to follow.
"Unzipper the front," I said, "and make sure that all the hooks
are undone." Both garments opened three quarters of the way down
the front. "Ready!" I said. "Action!"
I started the command sequence: "First we step into the
corselette, and ease it up over hips and derriere; pull it right
up until the cups are in the right place. The bottom hem can be
rolled up, and will be pulled down later on when the top is
properly in place." I suited my actions to the words, and Jan
followed me carefully. "Find the straps; then we slip our arms
through them, and move them over our shoulders." Jan followed my
example, and we stood with the corselettes wide open, exposing
breasts and midriff. "The next step is quite tricky, as Anne was
warning us. We have to get the cups in position, and then fasten
the bra section at the front. It's almost impossible then to get
the rest done up, so we work up from the bottom, hoping that the
cups are where they should be." I was fastening hooks from the
bottom, and felt the pleasant sensation of being pulled in as I
progressed upwards, and saw that Jan was keeping in step with me
hook by hook. "Now we do the bra hooks. It's the worst part of
the process, but believe me, it's easiest in this sequence." The
bra cups were connected by a sequence of smaller hooks and eyes,
and I pulled the lacy cups over my breasts, and started work on
the hooks. Jan was somewhat more well endowed than I was, and
struggled with her fastenings. "Take a deep breath, and pull the
zipper up to the top of the cups." The two zippers moved in
tandem, and the two of us stood there encased in powder blue
elastic net. "The shoulder straps probably need adjusting now;
Make sure the bra is exactly where it should be, and you have the
right amount of support. The whole thing can be pulled up to get
it right, if necessary, and the bottom can be stretched out. Get
the bra where you want it, and I'll do the straps for you." Jan
wriggled and tugged for a while, then stood with her hands cupped
under her breasts; she nodded at me. I pulled at the straps, and
adjusted them carefully to hold her breasts just the way she
wanted them. I smoothed and patted at my own bra section, and
then pulled the hem of the corselette down over the top of my
thighs. "Do my straps, please." She did, expertly. "That
completes phase one. It's well worth the trouble, but I must
admit that things were much easier in the old days; I could get
the corselette right where I wanted and fastened fairly easily --
then I could get the breasts right afterwards." Jan laughed.
We walked over to the full length mirror on the closet door. We
looked spectacular, with the beautiful blue texture evidently
stretched to shape our figures to perfection. The suspenders
dangled provocatively, displaying their satin ribbons. I felt as
good as I looked, and enjoyed the firm constraint, with its
gentle pressure caressing my whole body. I looked at Jan, the
obvious question in my eyes. "It is quite sensuous," she said. "I
can feel the constraining effect everywhere, but it's not really
unpleasant; it's quite gentle and stimulating. I'm beginning to
understand how you feel -- and it does look divine." We hugged,
and just stood together, in the joint embrace of one another as
well as the powder blue material. I felt a delicious friction as
our bodies moved against one another. "It's also beginning to
make me feel very sexy," Jan said; "It was a good idea to try
them on by ourselves, before Bill comes visiting; he might have
had trouble withstanding the assault." I smiled happily. "I've
had a lot of pleasure trying on new foundations," I said, "but
this is the most wonderful experience yet; I'm glad it's doing
things for you, too. Sharing it is even better."
We couldn't resist making admiring glances at one another. "Are
you ready for phase two? Stockings." Jan nodded happily. "I think
black will be most effective." I took two new packages from the
dresser, giving one to Jan, and started to unwrap mine. The sheer
black nylon unfolded in my hands. "Put one on, and then I'll do
your suspender at the back." Jan eased the material over her
right foot, and smoothed it up her leg; she pulled at top gently,
so that it stretched evenly round the middle of her thigh. I
kneeled behind her, and tugged the suspender down; holding the
little rubber pad firmly in position between her thigh and the
middle of the dark band on the stocking, I slid the metal loop
over it, to grip the sheer nylon firmly. I made a small
adjustment to the suspender, shortening it, and then smoothed the
delicate blue ribbon over it. "Now the other one." The whole
delightful process was repeated on her left leg, and when I had
finished, I stood up and surveyed the overall effect. "It looks
very nice. Don't do the others yet; I'd like you to help me at
the back, and you'll mess things up kneeling." I started to put
my right stocking on, and felt the marvellous caress of the nylon
as I worked it up my leg to my thigh. Jan got down behind me, and
I felt the tug of the suspender at the hem of the corselette.
There was a tension in the stocking then, and I enjoyed the feel
of Jan's fingers as she handled the suspender. I put the left
stocking on, and we repeated the little ritual; when Jan stood up
I felt everything was firm and secure behind me. "I always do the
suspenders at the two sides next, and I like to watch in the
mirror to get them straight." Jan followed my actions once again,
and we both fastened and adjusted the side suspenders in turn.
"The front ones should be easy now, and the tops of the stockings
should be smooth and level. I tugged at each of the front
suspenders in turn, carefully attaching them just a shade inside
the front of my thighs, and glanced at Jan to see her doing just
the same. "Finished!" I felt the smooth caress of the nylons, on
my legs, and the delicious tug of the suspenders on the bottom of
the corselette, holding it in position and complementing its
gentle constraint.
"It feels wonderful!" I whispered. "I know it's silly, Jan, but
every time I do this, something comes over me. It's the essence
of femininity in my mind, and I just want to let myself sink into
it." Jan held me close. "It isn't silly," she said. "I feel it
too. I don't always make the same associations as you, and I've
always taken my feelings just as they were, without too much
thought about them. But I have a strong feeling of femininity
now, and I just want to bask in it too, and enjoy being a woman."
We hugged tight, and then as our two minds followed the same
path, we walked over to the bed and lay down side by side. The
feeling I had was both enervating and strangely calming, and I
felt an overwhelming tenderness and empathy for Jan; I know she
shared my experience, and we clung together.
We lay in one another's arms for a long time, but I finally
started to be stimulated by the feel of my corselette and
stockings, and the sight of Jan dressed in exactly the same way.
I started to caress the naked skin below the hem of her
corselette, and worked my fingers in between her thighs to find
her labia. She responded instantly, and I realised we were still
tuned to exactly the same wavelength. I felt her hands exploring
me in turn, and thrilled to her touch. We made love passionately,
and lost ourselves in sensuous pleasure which culminated in
exquisite release.
Calm and completely relaxed finally, we lay side by side with our
hands lightly touching. "We must remember to wear panties when
Bill comes over," I said. Jan giggled and said "I suppose we
must. But I'm glad we did our own private preview; I had a
wonderful visit into your space." "It made it much nicer for me,"
I said. "Just think: if these delectable creations have such an
effect on you, I hate to imagine what will happen to poor Bill."
Jan giggled again. "I can't wait to find out," she said. "He's a
nice friendly guy, and very skilled at what he chooses to apply
his talents to, but for some reason I would feel happier if I
thought he was really turned on by it." "Maybe he will be; if a
tempting twosome in powder blue don't get to him, I can't imagine
anything that would." We checked one another carefully to make
sure that our activities had not had any untoward effect on our
ensembles; everything seemed to be in impeccable order, so we
carefully undressed and prepared to get back into bed in more
conventional night attire.
After a deep refreshing night's sleep, and our early morning
coffee, I decided it was time to call Bill. I waited a while,
until I thought it was a reasonably civilised hour, then dialed
his number. "Hi, Rita," he said. "I guess the week has gone by."
"It has indeed," I said, "and Anne at The Feminine Mystique was
as good as her word. We are now equipped to give a spectacular
grand finale." "Great! I can't wait to see what you have for me.
When and where?" "We'd be happy to do it here again," I said, "if
that suits you. How about tomorrow evening, right after dinner?"
"OK to both; I always look forward to seeing you, but this time
you really have wound up my anticipation." I told Jan what the
plan was. "It gives us a couple of days to get blase and
professional," I said. "Don't count on that; you may have opened
up a whole new world for me," said Jan. "We had better think
about how we reveal ourselves to the poor unsuspecting man. Do we
go off to change, and make a dramatic entry to suitable music? Or
do we wait for the critical moment, and throw open our
negligees?" "We could just get ourselves ready early, and meet
him at the door," I said. Jan giggled at the thought. "No," she
said, "I think that would be overdramatising somewhat. I think we
should be ready when he arrives, and wear nice sensible
housecoats that discreetly cover everything. We can casually take
them off when he's ready, and study his reactions." "I like
that," I said.
On Saturday we had a fairly quick and early dinner, and went off
to our bedroom to prepare ourselves for Bill and his camera. We
both undressed completely and had a quick shower, then spent a
minute or two getting our various props together. We started with
matching white frilly panties, and then began the serious ritual
of getting our corselettes on. I enjoyed the process as always,
but quite deliberately we both proceeded in a calm matter-of-fact
manner, very different from the previous occasion. With
everything carefully adjusted and fitting just as it should, we
picked out the stockings, brand new black ultra sheer, and set
about making sure they were attached and fitted to perfection.
Jan followed my system, and got both her back suspenders in
place, then asked me to check them for her. She repeated the
favour for me, and we fastened the others in the usual sequence.
We couldn't resist a quick trip over to the full length mirror,
and found the overall effect every bit as overwhelming as before.
We put on matching ivory pumps, with fairly high heels, and then
wrapped ourselves in long housecoats which tied with a belt at
the waist. With Bill's dual surprise carefully hidden away, we
then sat down to fiddle with makeup and hair, and worry about
which earrings to wear. Finally we decided we were ready, and
returned to the living room to wait.
Jan seemed to be quite calm about the whole thing; I wasn't
nervous at all, but I felt a sense of quiet excitement. We heard
Bill's car in the street outside, and soon after the doorbell
rang. I opened the door, and said "Hi, Bill." He came in and
smiled as usual "Good evening, ladies." "We're ready to start
right away," I said; "let's go through to the guest room, and you
can get your equipment organised." That didn't take very long;
Bill got his camera out, and played with some of the light
switches, then turned to us with a smile. "I'm ready," he said. I
realised then that we ought to have rehearsed the next step; the
idea was to reveal ourselves to Bill without undue ceremony,
feigning nonchalance, and enjoy the impact. Fortunately something
like that happened; we casually untied our belts, and took off
our housecoats, laying them down on the couch, then we turned to
look at Bill. The sight of his face was worth all the effort. He
was clearly staggered, but he recovered his poise quickly. "That
is utterly fantastic," he said. "It's the vision I dream about."
Soon he was back to chatting happily about girdles as though they
were an everyday item of conversation in mixed company. "How did
you manage do get that colour? I've seen very few foundations in
anything other than black or white, and usually the coloured ones
have been dyed specially for the occasion." "We were lucky," Jan
said. Anne at The Feminine Mystique happened to have run across a
manufacturer who had you in mind."
We got down to work. It was fun, up to a point, but it definitely
was work. Bill had us standing, sitting, chatting in various
poses, much as he had done before, but again he didn't repeat
things exactly. He was obviously inspired by the identical
costumes, to contrive situations where we were much closer
together. At one point he wanted shots of me whispering in Jan's
ear, we finished up with my suspendered thigh stretched out
across Jan's lap, with the tops of her stockings peeking out
beneath. We spent an hour sitting in the chairs, reclining on the
couch, fixing makeup at the vanity, and standing by the full
length mirror. Eventually Bill called time out, and we took a
break. Jan and I sat on the couch, quite unposed and unconcerned
in our attire, and Bill looked at us admiringly from the chair
opposite. "I have a feeling these will be very good," he said;
"you are always beautiful together, but tonight you are
inspiring." "I think a certain manufacturer of corselettes
deserves some of the credit," I said. "They look fantastic; the
moment I saw the picture in the catalog, I knew it would be
impossible to resist. And they feel wonderful, too; wearing them
is absolutely delicious." "That's right," Jan put in; "there's an
exquisite firm tension everywhere, but it's comfortable and
caressing. You know you really ought to try one yourself; I'm
sure you would enjoy it. For once Bill seemed taken aback. "I'll
take your word for it," he said lamely. "As I told you, I was
curious enough once to experiment, and I found out quickly that
for me the appeal was visual. What I respond to is the sight of a
woman's beauty enhanced by a good foundation and her legs
embellished by sheer stockings." "There's no tactile appeal at
all?" asked Jan. Bill began to look embarrassed, "Well, ..." he
started. Jan interrupted: "I would have thought that the
beautiful women you admire would have a tactile as well as a
visual appeal. Rita looks delicious in her corselette and
stockings, doesn't that make her carressable and huggable?"
Bill seemed quite embarrassed, and I thought Jan was being a bit
too aggressive in her attempts to sound him out, so I came to his
rescue. "You're saying very nice things about me, Jan," I said;
"it makes me want to give you a great big hug, but I don't want
to embarrass Bill." Bill smiled, and seemed to have recovered. "I
think that's something I would like on film," he said. "Maybe you
would do it for me later." "With pleasure," I said, "you're the
director." "Yes," he said, "but all a director can do is attempt
to get his models to behave naturally. I would like to have one
of you on the bed now, in a natural pose, of course." So we got
back to work. He had Jan, then I, reclining on the bed with the
other sitting on the edge; we were chatting casually, being more
serious and whispering; he even got us to touch one another in a
discreet sisterly way. "Now," he said, "to finish with I really
would like to have you both lying on the bed, if you don't mind."
We certainly didn't, and lay side by side in various different
postures while he motioned us to move this way and that, and
clicked away with his camera. "Let's try some hugs," he said
finally. He got us to sit up, leaning against the piled up
pillows, and hug one another, then Jan lay back with me embracing
her, and my head buried in her powder blue bosom. This part of
the session became quite a lot of fun, and I found myself
beginning to get excited by the activity. I could also sense
Jan's responses, and knew that she was reacting in just the same
way. The whole thing finally became too much for us, and we clung
together in a passionate embrace.
I heard Bill say "Thank you, both; that's probably all we need
for this session." There was a strange catch in his voice and I
looked up at him; he seemed upset. He turned away and started to
pack up his equipment. I got up off the bed and went over to him;
"What's the matter, Bill?" "Nothing," he said. "You really are a
beautiful pair, and you have been very helpful and cooperative; I
shall have some great pictures of you. But I think I've intruded
long enough." He seemed quite sad now, and a sense of empathy
came over me; without thinking, I wrapped my arms round him and
hugged him. I clung to him as he stood there, and he gradually
wrapped his arms round me, hugging me to him. It was a wonderful
feeling, and as we stood there pressed against one another, I
felt the unmistakable push of an erection against my groin. He
let me go, and gave me a wry smile "There's a very definite
tactile appeal," he said. "I'd better go, now." Jan had been
watching this tender scene with great interest, and she jumped up
and came over to us. "We can't let things finish like this," she
said, and then she wrapped her arms round him, clinging to him
just as I had. "I'm sorry," Bill said. "You really are
attractive, both of you, and tonight what I saw really was the
kind of vision I dream about. It got to me, and I'm not sure I
can deal with it calmly." Jan showed the wonderful empathy I knew
so well, and said very sweetly and earnestly "You are attractive
to us, too" She gently brushed the bulge in the front of his
pants, and took him by the hand, almost dragging him over to the
bed. "Lie down, and relax," she said; "we want you to stay with
us for a while." Bill meekly fell back on the bed, and rolled
over to the middle; Jan lay down by his side, and I followed,
lying down on his other side. We both squeezed ourselves up
against him.
It was a pleasant, comfortable situation, and there was a sense
of inevitability about it. Jan and I had acted quite
spontaneously, in tandem, and as I lay beside Bill in an almost
euphoric state, my mind began contemplating precisely how things
would work themselves out. I started to think about trivial
details: Bill was fully dressed; how would we get him into a
suitable state to do what the agenda now called for? Jan and I
were encased in our corselettes, which were the initial stimulus
for our current menage a trois; would we now find them to be
impediments? Was there a simple way to remove our panties? Not
quite so trivial was the matter of logistics; would Jan and I
take turns, or would we contrive some exotic procedure that
actively involved all three of us? None of this seemed to matter
very much, and I found my speculations more amusing than
worrysome. Bill wasn't quite so unconcerned, apparently, and said
to no-one in particular: "I'm sorry; I didn't want this to
happen." Jan hugged him, and said "Why not? I want it very much,
now. I think I must have wanted it all evening; that's why I
provoked you the way I did." I took my cue: "I want it too, Bill.
You take beautiful pictures of your girdlequeens; I enjoyed being
one of them, and I want to show you how girdlequeens make love."
I saw the response in the front of his pants, and caressed it.
"That looks very nice," I said, "we can't let it get away now,
can we Jan?" "No," she said, and wrapped her hand round mine.
Bill seemed ready to accept the inevitable. "You are so
beautiful," he said, "and girdles really do something to me. When
you took your robes off this evening, I was just blown away."
"Girdles are sexy," I said; "they do something to me too, we
should enjoy them together." Jan was being her practical self,
and started to unbutton Bill's shirt; I decided to provide a
distraction, so I took Bill's hand and put it on my knee. "Don't
those stockings feel nice and smooth?" I asked. I guided his hand
up my thigh until it reached the suspender. "Feel the suspender,"
I said; "it pulls gently and keeps the stocking stretched that
way." Jan had unbuttoned Bill's shirt, and started work on his
belt and pants. I continued the guided tour, and moved his hand
up my thigh to the hem of my corselette. "Feel the nice firm
material," I said, "I love wearing it, and it feels lovely as you
hand moves over it." Jan was close to getting Bill's pants
completely free, so I decided it was time for the main
attraction. "Push your hand in between my legs," I said; "do you
like my nice frilly panties?" He obviously did, and started to
explore quite carefully; I was starting to get worked up myself,
and he detected my response. Jan pulled at his pants with
consummate skill, and quickly dragged them down his legs. His
cock stood up, firm and hard. Jan caressed it carefully; "Mmm,
that looks good," she said. "I want it."
She moved one leg over Bill, so she was kneeling astride him,
with his upright cock pushed against her panties. She pushed his
undershirt up over his chest, and started to gently massage him
with the palms of her hands. "I want that big cock inside me,"
she whispered; "why don't you undo my suspenders for me?" Bill
didn't need too much encouragement; he reached out to Jan's
thighs, and carefully undid one of the front suspenders, then the
other. "Pull my panties down," she said. Bill pushed his hands
up, underneath the hem of Jan's corselette, and she wriggled in
response to his touch. I realised it wasn't going to be too easy
for him, or comfortable for her, so I quickly unfastened her
suspenders at the sides and back. I reached up under her
corselette, from behind, and helped Bill slide her panties down
over the tops of her stockings; I couldn't resist pushing my hand
between her legs and gently exploring her vulva. She sighed
happily in response, and I could feel that she was ready. She
took hold of Bill's cock gently, and guided it to her labia, then
she pushed herself down to envelope it in her vagina. I knew the
delicious sensations she was feeling, and began to get very
excited myself, as a sympathetic response deep within me almost
made them physically real for me too. As she paused, with Bill's
cock thrust right to the depths of her vagina, I moved round and
kneeled by Bill's shoulder facing her. I slid the zipper on her
corselette down between its bra cups, and started to undo the
small hooks; I pushed the straps off her shoulders, and her
beautiful large firm breasts popped out of the cups. She leaned
on her arms, and began to move up and down, sliding Bill's rigid
cock almost out of her, and then pushing it back again. I could
sense her ecstasy, and felt it vicariously myself, as I caressed
her nipples and felt them stand up stiffly in response to my
touch. Her excitement grew, and the rhythm of her motion speeded
up; Bill started to moan, then exploded in a violent spasm, and I
saw the pulsations at the base of his cock. A moment later, its
spontaneous motions triggered Jan's response; she cried out in
delight, and I felt her whole body pulse as the full force of her
orgasm engulfed her. She finally lowered herself down and lay on
top of Bill, relaxing completely, with her head resting on his
chest.
I felt a release of sorts myself, as Jan's climax swept over her;
I desperately wanted that big stiff cock inside me now, but I
felt no sense of urgency, and lay back on the bed by Bill's side,
with a happy sense of anticipation. Jan eventually eased herself
carefully up, releasing Bill's cock, now quite limp, and she lay
on his other side snuggling up to him. "That was fantastic," she
said. "Let's relax quietly for a while, but I don't want you to
go, yet. You wanted two girdlequeens for the evening, and Rita's
still there waiting for you; she's the loveliest girdlequeen of
all, and I want her to get exactly the same treatment." I
squirmed happily and snuggled up against Bill too.
We all lay quietly for a while, then Bill said "This is more than
I deserve; it's a wonderful finish to my best photo session
ever." "They should turn out very well," said Jan. "You are a
brilliant photographer, and you have a liking for your subject
that really comes through." "Yes, I do like the subject," he
said. "Beautiful women radiate their own special charm, too, and
for me it's enhanced to perfection when they wear girdles and
stockings." "They do turn you on, don't they?" Jan asked. "Yes,"
he said simply. "I have always had a thing about them. I think
that there is an esthetic appeal, but that could be my way of
justifying my feelings." "You don't have to justify them," said
Jan. "All kinds of things turn people on, and for the most part,
they become part of the fun and pleasure of sex." "That's a
refreshing point of view," said Bill; "I wish it were more widely
held. You asked me earlier on if there was a tactile appeal, as
well as the visual one. There is, but it's an experience that has
passed me by. I've tried to persuade my lady friends to make love
wearing girdles, but I have never had any success." "That's too
bad," I said. "I don't think they know what they are missing.
Girdles have a wonderful tactile appeal for me, and they make me
feel very sexy. Why don't you make up for all those
disappointments and see how nice my corselette feels?"
Bill turned partly towards me, and put his hand on my knee; he
started to stroke my leg very gently. I just lay flat on my back,
and felt little tremors of excitement as his hand gradually
worked its way up over my thigh. He shifted position to free his
other hand, to use it as well, and soon reached the tops of my
stockings. He gently smoothed the satin ribbons attached to my
suspenders, and then I felt him gradually exploring their
intricate details. My awareness of them was heightened, and their
very strong association with femininity overcame me once again. I
lay completely still, wallowing in my sense of femininity; all I
wanted was to be utterly submissive; I wanted his exploration to
continue, and build, and I wanted him to take me. Jan could read
me like a book, and decided to help things along as best she
could; she snuggled up against Bill's back, reached her arm over
him, and started an exploration of her own centred on his balls
and cock. Bill obviously enjoyed this attention, but he continued
his activity, and I felt little tugs on my suspenders. "I don't
know why these things have the effect they do," he said quietly;
"I just can't resist them, and they drive me to a state of sexual
yearning." "That's precisely the idea," I said. "They have always
done things for me, too. They're symbols, but they are very
powerful symbols; to me they symbolise femininity. Feeling
feminine is a very strong stimulus." Bill's cock was beginning to
show signs of life now, a definite symbol of masculinity, which
added to my excitement. But my crazy mind still followed its
train of thought, and I wondered yet again about my special
symbols and the power they held over me. "Suspenders are a
special feminine symbol," I mused out loud; "they belong in a
secret feminine world, and when they are exposed to those
normally excluded from that world they represent the basic sexual
desire that men and women have for each other, and they trigger a
response." Jan's ministrations, and my discussion of his
particular fetish, were having their effect on Bill, and his cock
was now tumescent, standing rigidly upright.
Suddenly I didn't want to wait any longer, and I realised with
horror that Bill's access to me was blocked by my frilly white
panties, firmly held in place by a layer of powder blue power
net. With an incredible presence of mind, Jan came to the rescue;
she leapt out of bed, and ran over to the dressing table; she
returned with a pair of nail scissors. "Don't move for a second,"
she said, and snipped carefully at the seam along the top of the
gusset of my panties, just below the hem of my corselette. She
virtually ripped the material away, exposing my vulva completely,
and I spread open my thighs ready for Bill, with the display of
stockings and suspenders completely undisturbed. I decided it was
time for one last invocation of the symbolism that had always
captivated me, and was having such a powerful effect on Bill. "I
want you to see how good it is to make love to a girdlequeen," I
said. "I want you lie here in between my suspenders, with your
legs pushing against my sheer stockings; I want you to feel my
corselette just the way I do, and I want you to push that lovely
big cock right inside me. I want you to fuck me."
"I am a girdlequeen, and I want you to fuck me."
Bill didn't need any further encouragement; he did precisely what
I had asked, and I felt his distended glans pushing at my labia.
He thrust harder and harder; the lips opened, and I felt his
shaft move into me. It was an ecstatic experience and my sense of
femininity overwhelmed me; as he thrust his way right to the
depths of my vagina, I felt intoxicated by sensations of physical
and emotional pleasure. I had spurred Bill almost into a frenzy,
and there was very little gentleness in his vigorous motion; that
suited my mood and desires, and I gave way to his passion
ecstatically, as his rapid thrusts repeatedly stimulated my
engorged clitoris. His efforts lasted for a remarkably long time,
but eventually I sensed his imminent climax; then the walls of my
vagina reacted to the violent spasm of his cock, and I felt the
jet of fluid spurt into my innermost depths. I reacted almost
immediately, and the whole of my body resonated to the intensity
of my climax. The waves of ecstasy gradually diminished, and I
was dimly aware that Bill's spasms had already finished. He
gripped the backs of my thighs, and rolled over on his side,
pulling me with him, and we lay there, with his hands grasping my
suspenders.
We lay like that for what seemed like a long time, but finally
the fact that it wasn't too comfortable penetrated our collective
consciousness. We disengaged, and both lay flat on our backs; my
feeling of euphoria overcame any sense of fatigue. Jan appeared,
wearing her housecoat, and I felt a pang of guilt as I realised
that she had been there with us, and I had lost any awareness of
her presence. She sat down on the side of the bed, and gently
caressed Bill. "What can I say?" he said. "You are both wonderful
people. I found you attractive right from when we first met, but
I had no intention of getting into ..." "Sex," said Jan, finding
a more direct word than the one he was searching for. "It is
deeply satisfying as a basic expression of the love that two
people feel for one another, but it can also be an innocent
pleasure freely shared between friends. It's fun, and there's
nothing wrong or immoral about having fun together." "And if
there are symbols, or special triggers, or little variations that
help things along, why not use them to make things even better?"
I added. All three of us felt satisfied, and happy about the way
events had unfolded.
Later that night, after Bill had finally collected his equipment,
and left, Jan and I lay side by side in our big bed. We were in a
pleasant state of relaxation, both with feeling that the
'girdlequeen' episode had come to a logical and happy conclusion.