The Chef
Copyright© 2025 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 16: We Feel the Same
“Should we talk about Friday?” Sophie asked.
We were all thinking about it, but Sophie was the one to bring it up. “I’ve been thinking about it all weekend. I’ve been thinking about us the entire time.”
She smiled nervously.
“Even while looking at my aunts’ clothes, I tried to figure out which dresses and suits you two would like to see me in the most.” She looked at Becca and added, “I would ask myself if you’d wear it.”
Hearing this, Becca asked gently, “So, you picked the outfits and shoes based on what you thought we’d like? Or what I would wear?”
Sophie nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “I figured that if you liked it enough to wear it, then Ben would appreciate it too.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Becca replied. “You could have chosen the clothes based on your own tastes. We want you to be yourself.”
“I did. Or at least I tried to,” Sophie insisted. “My aunt, as a sales rep, mostly wore dresses and skirts—those were the best looks in her day. Hosiery-clad legs in stilettos were the norm, and that’s what sold. So, I was choosing from snug dresses and pencil skirts paired with fitted jackets anyway. I just picked out the ones I thought you and Ben would like to see me in.”
Continuing, Sophie explained, “She didn’t wear pantsuits, but I brought back the two she had. I thought they were pretty, and I could wear them on colder days.”
She smiled and added, “And the heels—I just took the highest, sexiest ones she had.”
She chuckled. “Which was all of them. After all, she was a pharmaceutical rep. You know how they dress for the doctors; they look like high-end escorts.”
Becca smiled, unable to suppress a chuckle at Sophie’s last comment.
“I can’t wait to see you in them,” she said.
Smiling back, Sophie emphasized, “Um—yeah.”
She continued, “They’re definitely going to turn some heads. Like I mentioned, the community is already talking about how my style has changed. Just wait until I start wearing those clothes—they’ll really be talking then!”
“Especially with the hosiery I got,” she said. “It’s all from the eighties and early nineties.”
Turning sideways, she extended one of her legs to show us. “I don’t think my legs have ever been this smooth or tanned.”
Becca chuckled. “I like them. I know it’s not the norm now, but I think your legs look incredible. It’s stunning.”
“I thought you would,” she acknowledged. “That’s why I wore them today with this suit and these heels. And that’s why I now have a large box at my apartment filled with L’eggs, Hanes, and other brands. I even have a bunch that came in those egg-shaped containers.”
Reiterating the importance, Becca emphasized, “It’s important for you to be yourself. We don’t want you to be something you’re not.”
“I want to dress up for you—for both of you. Like I said, I finally have someone to dress up for now.” She paused for a moment and added, “And I just feel pretty when I’m with you both. I feel wanted.”
Then she caught herself. “I’m—I’m sorry. I—I’m not saying any of this right.”
Looking at Sophie, I said, “Sometimes it’s best to just say it. Don’t worry about finding the right words—just express how you’re feeling.”
I sighed and continued, “That’s all we can do.”
Taking a deep breath, she explained, “I’ve had to dress up my entire life. I think I was six when I started wearing makeup and pantyhose as part of competitions. And I mean real pantyhose—not girl’s tights. Actual women’s pantyhose, size A. If they didn’t stay up, my mom would put me in thigh-high stockings, rolling the tops to keep them in place under my dress. I hated it. I was constantly dressing up for strangers.”
Looking at both of us, she then asked rhetorically, “Do you know they make stiletto heels sized for young girls? They do. My feet were still growing and developing, and my mother was trying to guess what size high heels to buy so I wouldn’t outgrow them too soon. It’s nuts—those shoes get sold among moms with kids in pageants, kind of like handing down clothes between siblings.”
Looking down at her restrained wrists, she then said, “It’s one thing to wear your mom’s heels at home for fun, like dress-up. It’s another to have to wear them on stage in front of everyone.”
Becca then asked, “But you said you didn’t own heels. You only wore them with pantyhose on special occasions and felt awkward in them.”
Sophie nodded. “That’s right. I never felt comfortable in them. When I got old enough to fit into women’s sized heels—though they were still small, like a size five—it created all kinds of opportunities for my mom. She started buying heels for me to wear at competitions.”
She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Anyway, I just stopped. I stopped wearing pantyhose, heels, all of it—for years. I liked dressing up because it made me feel pretty, but the competitions did the opposite. I didn’t feel beautiful; I felt like a spectacle on display for the judges, the moms, and everyone in attendance. It wasn’t about the girls; it was about how they looked. My mom hated me, but I refused to participate in the women’s competitions. I refused to be paraded around.”
Staring at her restraints again, she added, “Do you know that at the Vegas shows, the women have to walk around the hotels all dressed up as eye candy? It’s a requirement. And there are other things no one wants to talk about. So, I stopped and never even went to my first pageant as a woman.”
Sighing, Sophie continued, “When I went to college and realized I was attracted to women, I stopped dressing up altogether because I didn’t need to. I liked dressing up, but I wouldn’t do it unless there was someone in my life who wanted me to—someone I wanted to dress up for. The girls I dated didn’t care if I did; most were the jeans, Converse, and T-shirt type. I learned during college just how different it is when you’re with women versus men.”
Looking at us more intensely, her eyes began to tear up. “I’m so happy I can dress up now. You both make me feel pretty. And I know it’s not just me—you want me this way, too.”
She stared down at her restrained wrists again, but now with a flush of emotion creeping over her.
“I—I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I feel so close to both of you. Maybe it’s because I’m alone.”
She looked at Becca, giving her a teary smile. “Maybe it’s because you and I are a lot alike—we’re both oddities in this community.”
She then glanced between us and added, “Or maybe it’s because I feel like we’ve created our own little sanctuary.”
“I don’t know,” she added. “I just feel like there’s something between us—all three of us. It’s a connection I can’t quite explain, as if we’re woven together by something deeper. I never expected this to happen.”
Sophie then looked at me. “When you came on Friday to surprise us with lunch, I was kneeling, getting Becca’s leg cuffs on, and I saw you walk in. You had a look on your face—the same look you have now. It’s the same look I’ve seen you give Becca. It’s like you’re staring into my soul. It feels like I belong to you.”
She struggled to hold back tears, now looking at Becca. “And after what happened with Steve, when I thought he was going to touch you, I just wanted to protect you.”
Seeing Sophie fighting her emotions, I responded, “You’ve been on our minds too—both you and Lucie.”
Becca added, “Last night, we were trying to figure out what to say to you. We wanted to find the right words for tonight. We were worried about saying the wrong thing and scaring you off.”
Sophie chuckled through her tears. “I can’t run away right now. I can’t get out of this jewelry even if I wanted to.” Tugging at her cuffed hands, she asked, “So, what did you decide?”
“That we feel comfortable around you,” I replied. “We really enjoy your company and love having you and Lucie here. We want to strengthen the bond that’s developing between us.”
Hearing this, Sophie began to cry. I watched as Becca quickly ran around the table to help dry her tears. I dashed to the bathroom for some tissues and placed them in front of her. By this point, Becca was wrapped around Sophie, trying to comfort her.
“Crying in jewelry really sucks,” Becca said with a light chuckle while hugging her. “I learned that lesson in an airport bathroom.”
She then added, “I’ll take the jewelry off.”
Her voice turned regretful. “I’m sorry. I should have done it before we sat down. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Sophie shook her head. “Do you want me like this? Right now—do you want me in these?”
Becca nodded, not saying anything at first, but then murmured a quiet “Yes.”
“Then I need to be in them,” Sophie replied, her voice trembling. “I don’t want you to take them off. I want to feel what you feel—even if it means I’m sobbing. When I’m here with you, I should be wearing these. It shouldn’t even be a question.”
As Becca held Sophie, both girls turned to look at me. Staring at them warmly, I asked, “Does that mean we all feel the same way? We’re all feeling the same thing?”
I watched as Becca and Sophie nodded, their gazes steady.
“Okay,” I said, shaking myself, “I’m going to assume that Lucie feels this way too ... and Godfried.”
As we all chuckled, I noticed that Sophie made the same sound as Becca when she was trying to hold back tears and laughter. At that moment, I realized I was emotionally attached to both women. They were both mine now.
And a wave of calm and panic washed over me at once. I was relieved that Sophie felt the same way we did, but I had no idea how any of this would work out.
The thought of my parents crept into my mind, and I knew explaining the restraints to them would be difficult enough. Now I had to consider Sophie too. A pit formed in my stomach as I realized I might have to choose between my parents and the two girls in front of me at some point.
Lost in thought, I felt Becca’s hand on mine as she settled back next to me. “You left us,” she said softly.
I nodded. “Yeah, just for a minute.”
“Is there anything we need to discuss?” she asked.
“Not right now,” I replied. “But it’ll be one of the many things we have to talk about.”
Becca stared at me, sensing I was thinking about my parents. She understood how important they were to both of us and how they might be the only parents the three of us would have.
I then looked warmly at Sophie across the table. She sat there, her eyes puffy and red.
As she noticed my gaze, she said, “I must look awful.”
“No,” I replied. “I’m seeing the real you, and there’s nothing awful about it.”
I then added, “You’re both remarkably beautiful right now.”
We talked more that evening, shifting our conversation to what lay ahead. We all agreed we didn’t want to rush things; we were content with how our connection was developing and wanted to continue growing closer. Eventually, it grew late, and Sophie and Lucie decided to head home.
We stayed up a little longer, with Becca still restless and unable to sleep as she was still in heat. Unfortunately, it was too late for any pet play, which only disappointed her. Nonetheless, our discussion naturally turned to the puppy gear and other topics, including the jacket and how to approach these subjects with Sophie.
Becca wasn’t concerned; she believed that, in time, everything would be shared—and she was right. Over time, Sophie learned everything about us, just as we learned about her.
The following day, Sophie arrived at our place, just as she did every Wednesday, eager to begin her day alongside Becca. She was dressed impeccably in a fitted gold sequin blazer that shimmered in the light, paired with a sleek black pencil skirt that accentuated her silhouette.
Slightly tanned nude hosiery complemented her outfit, and she wore elegant beige four-inch heels that perfectly matched her blouse. Sophie radiated a bright, polished presence, embodying confidence and style as she stepped through our back door.
Once again, I offered to drive Becca to work, but Sophie was adamant. She pointed out that she was passing by us anyway, which made it a perfect opportunity for her to see me.
This way, Lucie could spend the day with me instead of being alone in an empty apartment, and Sophie would have the chance to chat with Becca on their drive to and from the museum.
It was hard to argue with her logic; after all, it made sense for everyone involved. Sophie’s enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn’t help but agree.
During the day, the package promised by Michelle arrived, and later that evening, after Sophie and Lucie had gone home, I decided to pull it out to surprise Becca.
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