Date: Tue, 18 Apr 2000 11:38:16 -0700 (PDT) From: Rita Opal 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.