Chapter 1

It was a beautiful early Saturday evening and springtime and Robbie, my 32 year old husband of two months, had been out of town on business all week. I was bored and lonely and feeling more than a little sorry for myself. I was surprised when the doorbell rang, and scampered to answer it, eager for company.

Mark, the son of the people next door, was standing there smiling, holding a large cardboard box. He was a 21 year old college student, much closer to my own age of 24, and really cute. I’d sometimes fantasized about him as I spied him washing his car in the driveway, but I was too shy and too married to do anything about it.

“Hi, Sheila. Not interrupting anything am I?”

“No! Please, come in.” I hurried around, picking up magazines and stuffing the laundry I’d been folding back into the basket. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He eyed the liter of soda on the bar. “Sure. I’ll get it. You want some, too?”

“Please. I’ll be right back.” I carried the basket into the bedroom, talked loudly over my shoulder. “So what’re you up to?”

“On my way to a fraternity party. It’s a fundraiser for kids with cerebral palsy. Kind of a rummage sale.”

“Neat,” I said as I came back into the living room. He held out a large glass, clinked rims with me. We both sipped. The soda tasted a little strange. I guessed I’d grabbed the diet kind at the store instead of regular, and didn’t think any more about it. “So, that’s what’s in the box?”

“Yeah. Some clothes my sister’s getting rid of. She’s going for a more conservative look now that she’s getting married.”

“Marriage changes things,” I said seriously.

“I guess. Too bad, though. I really like the way she dresses.”

“Me, too. Paula’s a really pretty young woman.” I’d envied the nineteen year old, actually. With my ultra-conservative, background, the kind of freedom of dress and attitude and style she displayed was intriguing. I’d spent a lot of time that long, lonely week feeling trapped and poor.

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it. That was always her motto,” he said wistfully. “Want to see the great stuff she’s getting rid of?”

I nodded, looking for a way to keep the conversation going. We both gulped soda. I felt strangely warm, slightly flushed. I imagined it was because of this great looking young guy’s presence and interest in this older married neighbor lady. It was really flattering.

He grinned, held up a lacy, racy black teddy. “I never got to see her in this, of course. Bet it’d look great on you.”

I blushed furiously, finished my soda. I’d never seen anything so revealing from so close. “Maybe I should buy it as a surprise for Robbie.” His glass was empty, too. I picked it up, too embarrassed to sit still.

“Here. Allow me.” He walked back to the bar. “Paula says you’re her size.” His smile was teasing. “Care to model it for me?”

“No,” I laughed back. “That’s the kind of thing only my husband will ever see me in.” How would Robbie feel if I wore something like that to bed? Probably, he’d die of a heart attack.

The phone rang. I excused myself and answered a wrong number. When I got back, Marked handed me my full glass. I felt very warm and very thirsty. The odd aftertaste was kind of nice.

“Well, how about this?” He lifted a beautiful powder blue dress from the box.

I’d seen his sister in it once as she went out with her fiance, and marvelled at the unearthly color. “It’s simply gorgeous!”

“Here.” He pitched it to me. I ran the silky fabric between my fingers. “It’s the perfect color for you. Goes with your beautiful blue eyes. You should try it on.”

“I can’t do that.” The color in my cheeks embarrassed me even more.

“Robbie’d love it.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. Here. This other stuff goes with it. Paula made me promise that whoever bought the dress had to take the rest, too.”

My glass was almost empty again. I took the things Mark held out while he went for more soda. There was a satiny little blue brassiere trimmed with lace, and a pair of matching bikini panties. Rolled up with translucent azure hose was a garter belt. I’d never in my life worn anything even remotely as lovely. I hurriedly put it all on the sofa before he could see me examining it with such interest.

“Well,” he teased, “want me to be a guinea pig for Robbie?”

The warmth emanating from my belly had suffused all of me by then. I felt giddy and happy. I’d always dreamed, in a secret place, of being a runway model. My private high school girlfriends had all told me I had just the right high-boned look and the perfect body for it. But my folks would never have let me have such sinful clothes even if we had a million dollars. Impulsively, I decided to do it.

“Sure,” I giggled. “Why not?”

I gathered everything and stood. I was lightheaded for a second, but steadied myself and rushed into the bedroom. I hurried out of my blouse and stiff white bra, was just unbuttoning my jeans when Mark tapped at the door.

“You forgot your soda. Can I bring it in?”

I felt positively impish as I held my discarded blouse over my breasts. He’d know I was bare-chested behind it but wouldn’t be able to see anything. “Sure. Thanks.”

He opened the door, grinned into my flirting eyes, and backed out. I saw he hadn’t closed the door all the way. If it’d been on purpose, I knew it was because he was hoping to be able to see me. Again I was filled by a sudden rush of heat and obeyed the impulses I always denied. I fetched my soda, walked out of view and pitched the blouse to where I hoped he’d be able to see it flutter to the floor.

I dropped my jeans and cotton undies in my safe corner and stretched into the silky blue lingerie. It was much tighter than anything I’d ever worn. My breasts swelled over the top of the small strapless bra’s cups, making them seem larger than they were and exposing the top crescent of my silver-dollar sized areolae. The tiny panties hugged my hips. A bit of lace caught my eye.

I bent forward and opened my legs slightly. Where the padded crotch should have been was a frilled opening which displayed the sparse fur around my little pussy. My face turned beet red. I’d never even heard of such an obscene thing!

I shyly faced myself in the full-length mirror I seldom used. As long as my legs were together, the gap was invisible. And, I had to admit, the bra and panties looked wonderful on me.

There was another tap at the door. I nearly bolted for the bathroom.

“I, uh, forgot the shoes,” Mark apologized.

I swallowed an immense lump in my throat, took a deep drink of soda. “Bring them in.”

His eyes were as big as saucers as he looked at me. No one but Robbie and my family had ever seen me this close to being naked. Admiration - and desire - filled his face. My sluggish brain informed me, too late, that he had to be aware of the split panties. He had to know my vagina was exposed, even though he couldn’t see it.

I let his gaze linger for only a moment before my fear overwhelmed me. “Shoo,” I said nervously, waving him away.

“Sure I can’t stay and watch?”

“Positive. Go on. I won’t be long.”

It wasn’t until after he’d left - leaving the door even further ajar - that I really paid any attention to the shoes. They were the tallest heels I’d ever seen, with graceful, slim spikes, and of the same glowing near turquoise as the rest of the outfit.

It took a second to tell the back of the garter belt from the front, and longer than that to get the sleek clear-sky colored hose rolled up and their darker seams straight. I strapped myself tightly into the shoes and prayed I’d be able to stand. They felt like stilts. I took a few hesitant steps and sought the mirror’s reassurance again.

I looked better than most catalogue and magazine models! I couldn’t really believe it was me, Sheila Daggart, standing there, until I touched the satiny swells of my breasts. My legs looked as marvelously changed as my breasts. I wet my lips. Robbie was going to think he’d died and gone to heaven - if I could ever get up the courage to wear this for him. Which reminded me of my “guinea pig.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pranced - I couldn’t really walk - to my dresser, which took me past the half open door.

He was watching! I caught a glimpse of him in the living room, staring at me with gleaming eyes. I pretended not to notice as I rooted through a drawer for nothing. I closed that drawer, opened a lower one so I had to bend forward. His eyes were clinging to my tightly encased rear, trying to penetrate the filmy fabric. With my thighs clamped together, he could see only the deep blue lace between my legs. Another wave of dizziness washed through me as I straightened.

It wasn’t until then that I realized I’d been set up. He’d arranged this whole event, hoped the pretty, incredibly naive wife next door would fall for it. The soda’s unusual flavor wasn’t from a diet additive, but from some sort of liquor from Robbie’s seldom used bar. He’d been hoping to get me drunk, fully aware that I’d never tasted anything stronger than beer.

And he’d succeeded. I was really buzzing from the unaccustomed alcohol racing through me. I strutted back out of sight, increasingly aware of my breasts bouncing within their light, tight confinement. He’d want to get me soused, get me into this gorgeous, sexy outfit - and then what?

Had I not been drunk, I’d have been either enraged or terrified. As it was, I believed I was in total control of the situation, now that I understood it. And I was having a great time! I didn’t want it to end yet. I was tremendously excited by the fulfillment of this long-suppressed dream. I just had to see what I looked like in the soft azure dress - and what kind of effect I’d have on Mark.

I turned before the mirror. The dress was much tighter on me than it was on his sister. And, because I was several inches taller, it was extremely short as well. Micro-mini, I think it’s called. It barely covered the dark band atop the slinky hose, was molded to my body like skin, and dipped extremely low, both in front and back.

I had to take very short steps on my way to the door. I fearfully drew my shoulders back as I swung it open and smiled across the living room. His stare was sweaty.

“Well? What do you think?” I turned a slow circle in the doorway, heard the faint slur on my voice.

“Jesus, Sheila! You’re ... you’re -”

“Think Robbie will like it?” I teased.

“Yeah!”

I gave him a soft frown. “I don’t know. Something’s missing. Think a little makeup would help?”

I saw relief wash over his face. The sly little manipulator had been looking for a way to suggest it himself.

I rattled the ice in my glass at him. “Pour me some more soda, please?”

As he scurried to obey, I went into the bathroom. He was there almost instantly, looking oddly puppy-like. I let him hold the drink as I finished encircling my right eye with a band of black liner. I’m sure he didn’t notice that my hand was a little wobbly. He was too busy trying to memorize every curve and swell he saw.

“You’re such a dear. Thanks.” I waved him away. “Run along now.”

I couldn’t get the image of the way he’d looked at me out of my fogged brain. Such incredibly helpless, overpowering desire. Somehow, I was now the one manipulating him. I tried to remind myself what a horrid thing that was, but didn’t even come close to convincing myself I should stop. I swilled half the glass of spiked soda.

I used every bit of the makeup I’d been shyly - almost guiltily - collecting over the two months of my marriage. I felt neither shy nor ashamed anymore. In addition to the wide circle of eyeliner, I made my lashes longer and thicker and blacker than I knew I could. I dusted my lids lightly with a glittering blue shadow, and liked it so much I added lots more.

My cheeks were already brightly flushed, so I skipped blusher and rushed headlong into lipstick - a thick, unblotted coat that matched my already brilliant red nail polish - the only vanity I allowed myself. I experimented with gloss, liked the even wetter sheen.

Had I not witnessed the transformation I’d performed, I wouldn’t have believed it was me. Gone was the mousy, retiring housewife. The blonde woman posed hipshot before the mirror wasn’t a glamorous runway model, but a tramp.

“It’s okay, Sheila,” her thick, sensuous scarlet lips told me. “Have fun. It’s just a harmless game. Enjoy it while you can.”

My rear inscribed wide circles in the air as I made my way into the living room. There was no other way to walk but sultrily. Mark had turned on the stereo, tuned it to a rock and roll station. He was staring at me, speechless. I smiled smugly as I arranged myself on the sofa, careful not to give him a completely unobstructed view of my crotch. Still, as he sat opposite me, I knew my legs were visible virtually all the way up.

He found his voice after clearing his throat. “Uh, I was wondering.”

I blinked immense lashes at him. “About what?”

“Well, if you’re not doing anything ... I mean, that party I’m going to...”

“Why, is that an invitation?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’d love to. But don’t you think I’m a little ... overdressed?” I recrossed my legs just to watch his eyes bulge. I hadn’t known eyes could really do that.

“Uh, no. Not really. See, I didn’t really explain it well.”

I stood, bent over the coffeetable for his glass, wanting him look at my swollen breasts. I hadn’t realized until then how hard my nipples had become. They clearly dented the thin bra and dress. The longer he looked at them, the weaker my knees got. I had to compel myself to stand and weave my way toward the bar. I could feel his continuing stare, couldn’t resist adding another measure of sway to my hips.

“So explain it now - and tell me what you’ve been putting in our soda so we can have more.” What would it be like to be at a party, in a room filled to capacity with lusty, virile young men - all of them gazing at me with this same intensity.

I had to look back over my shoulder, smile at him with my wet crimson lips before he saw it was okay.

“I, uh, well - rum. Look, I’m sorry. I thought -”

“The party?” I coached.

“I didn’t exactly lie,” he insisted. “We are holding a fundraiser, like I said. It’s just that the, uh, sale is mostly clothes like, uh -”

I turned, ran my hands lightly down my body. “Like this.”

He was wearing a blank, mesmerized expression. A fervent nod. He heatedly let his eyes dance up and down me. “I’m supposed to bring somebody to model some of it. Tony and Rod -remember them? - talked me into, well, tricking you into it.”

“Ah. Those friends of yours who helped us move in.” I carried the two glasses back, sat a little more carelessly, knew he’d gotten just a flash of the lace surrounding my exposed center. He looked, then desperately met my hooded gaze. “So,” I went on, “what did you hope I’d do?”

“Just wear three or four outfits. I swear to God, that’s all. Walk around while everybody bids on what you’re wearing, then -”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

He was dumbfounded. “Really?”

I sipped, was slightly hypnotized myself by the slick red curve I deposited on the glass. “On two conditions. First: I get to keep this dress and that teddy -”

“Sure! There’s hose and heels for it, too!”

“Second: everybody has to think that your trick worked perfectly. You tell them I’m so drunk I won’t even remember it.” I realized that if I finished the drink in my hands, that might be true. I put it down.

“Third -”

“You said two conditions.”

“I changed my mind. Third: you bring me something pretty to wear sometimes. Something really sexy. I’ll model it - just for you.”

He was speechless, but his nod was instantaneous. I made him come with me into the bathroom to gather my makeup. I wanted him near me. I wanted to feel his eyes. I was more excited than I knew was possible. I had to have more.

As I was dumping the cosmetics into my purse under his unswerving, unblinking ogle, the need to kiss him consumed me. I turned to face him, draped my arms around his neck, pulled myself close, from thigh to breast, and guided his slack mouth to mine.

I tried to keep it gentle, but my tongue snaked from between my parted lips and slid over his, touching his gleaming teeth, found his own tongue within. I clenched him to me, crushed my breasts into his chest, slid my hips from side to side over what seemed a massive, wondrous erection, and ground my mouth against his. He was hard because of me. Because of the way I looked.

Stopping may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I didn’t want to end it, that’s for sure. But, even more than I wanted to drag Mark into my bed, I wanted to be seen. I was possessed by the irresistible need to wear as little as possible before as large an audience as possible. His strong hands were massaging my tight, round ass. His hard-on rubbed deliciously against my mons. I tore myself away from his muscular body, pushed him away when he tried to follow.

“No.” I was hoarse. “Stop. None of that. Keep your hands to yourself.”

He wiped the red stain from his lips with the back of a hand. “Sure,” he croaked. “Whatever you say.”

I woozily inspected myself, shakily repaired my damaged lip color, bizarrely wished I could make it even redder.

The drive was too long. My hands were knotted fists in my lap. I wanted to touch - him, myself, anything. I kept feeling the tightness of the clothes, the all new way the wind through the window licked at my body in places always hidden. I felt the weight of my makeup, smelled it, tasted it. Moisture slickened my thighs above the stocking tops. The tips of my breasts throbbed with agonizing sensitivity.

I wanted to run inside, but waited for Mark to open my door. The dress rode up to totally bare my panties when I slid across the seat. I tried to resist. I couldn’t. With my towering heels on the pavement, I slowly spread my thighs.

“Look at me,” I heard myself quietly moan. “Look at my vagina, Mark. See how wet it is?”

He fell to his knees between mine. “God, Sheila! Let me kiss it! Please!”

Kiss it! I’d heard stories - disgusting rumors in my private schools. But Robbie had never even mentioned it. He’d shown me doggie-sex, let me be on top once, but never anything like -

Like what Mark was doing. My momentary paralysis had given him all the time he needed to push my legs even wider and drop his head to my lower lips. His breath was like fire, his tongue a limber, sentient penis flicking my engorged clitoris while his hungrily sucking lips nuzzled in my thin, dewy damp curls.

I tried to scream, I think. My hands were knotted in his hair, trying to push him away, but my thighs had clamped themselves to his head with such spastic force that he was trapped. I sobbed as his tongue darted into my nether mouth. I came.

Just like that, I had the first full-blown orgasm of my entire life. He’d barely touched me, but the last hour had been such intense foreplay that a touch was all it took.

It frightened me sober. I threw him away from me, sent him sprawling on the asphalt, and tried to disappear into the deep shadows of his car. My vagina was still knotting, squirming, pulsing. My hips were rolling, thrusting against nothing, and I couldn’t make them stop until the orgasm ended of its own volition.

“Are you okay?” He hovered in the open door, almost as scared as I was.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I choked out, my voice trembling wildly.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself! And you didn’t -”

“I told you before! No more of that! You - you raped me!”

His mouth tried to shape a denial, but no words came out. Shame grew in him, filled him. The silence went on and on. My breathing slowed, became almost regular. My hand reached out to cup his cheek, but I pulled it back.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It wasn’t really rape. It was my fault, too. But we can’t do anything like that again, honey. Promise me?”

He nodded slackly, blew a harsh sigh. “Well. I guess I better get you home, huh? Unless you want me to call a cab. I understand. I never should have -”