Replaying the Old Magic Ch. 01

Josie knows she's been reborn. She's undergone the most total and authentic renaissance of any woman she'd ever heard about.

Three months ago, Josephine Rickardson was a lonely 54-year old childless divorcee, living alone in Frankston, a southern district of Melbourne, Australia. Earlier in her career, when her ex-husband Peter had been a college teacher, she'd worked for the local government administration. In recent years, she's been the headquarters receptionist at a major advertising agency in Melbourne. She's been known as a pleasant lady, with a friendly personality, good at her job and better preserved than many women of her age. With a Size-12 figure [that's US size10], standing 5ft 5ins tall and with her flowing dark brown hair, courtesy of L'Oreal she admitted to herself. She looks striking and attractive. Just what the company always wanted for a receptionist.

But Josie had given up all thought of attracting anyone. Certainly, she'd no plan to find another man and had resolved herself to a life alone, with little personal excitement.

About 5 years after Peter left the house, she'd had a brief fling with a married man who knew exactly what she wanted and needed. He'd revelled in her sensuality and over one particular aspect of her outfit. He'd bought her firm and controlling underwear: girdles, corselettes, real corsets, long bras, compression stockings. Josie had come to revel in them also and come to associate excitement with those foundation underclothes. In that sense, she became a fetishist: no corsetry meant no orgasms. For a few months, she enjoyed her orgasms with this man and he taught her to use her underwear to excite him.

The more firmly she dressed, the greater his excitement and the stronger were both of their orgasms. She let him do as he wished on and in her body. He plunged into her and used her corsetry to tug her around. He took her "bottom and top" as she called it to herself, meaning vaginal and throat. He bent her into impossible curves and contortions; shapes she had thought totally unattainable. But she took all he did and gave to her, and her orgasms became frequent, intense and long-lasting. Together, they wrecked her underwear time and again. In their time together, he bought replacement outfits many times because they ruined her girdles, corselettes, corsets and bras with their antics. And her stockings never lasted more than a few hours. They went to bed with her fully dressed and frequently she woke up hours later dressed in wreckage; with girdle-bones sticking out, broken suspenders, unusable zippers, and everything stained with his juices and hers. She loved the whole experience and every episode.

But he was married, after all, and their friendship came to an end.

Since then, she'd experienced no sexual excitement at all. To be honest, her husband had given her little excitement as such, so she had no experience of anything erotic before her affair. As she sat behind her reception desk, she'd given up all thought of sexual adventure, but still longed to use her corsetry-skills again before it was "too late."

Retirement was looming, and she'd begun to take things easy. Accordingly, Josie has dressed to relax and to be comfortable at all times. And why not? No one seemed to notice her any more; so she covered herself in flowing dresses, loose trousers, big sweaters in the winter. She'd become an invisible woman and regarded herself in that way.

Until 14 weeks ago, that is. It was then that David Lambert was appointed as Chief Operating Officer; second in command of the company. In effect, he ran and made decisions for the business because the CEO was 2,200 miles away in Perth. She saw David on his first day, as he arrived for an all-staff meeting. Walking across to her reception desk, he introduced himself and they shook hands. Josie noticed that he spent a few extra seconds holding hers, and his eyes wandered up and down her figure. She noticed, also, his strong hands, tall forehead, full lips and the way he walked with deliberation and a slight sway. He was, without doubt, the kind of man her mother would have called "dangerous"; meaning good-looking and probably well-experienced in all matters sensual.

Over the next few days, David established himself as COO and came to her desk every morning and evening. Always, he spoke to her in his soft voice and looked straight into her eyes all the time; except that he always roamed his view over her figure as he left. As each day went by, Josie found herself looking forward to his next short visit to her desk and, of course, this had two effects on her.

First, she decided to dress a little more carefully each morning; to choose clothes that complemented her hair-colour and fitted her figure a little more closely. She bought rather shorter skirts and more frilly blouses; and took out her slinky underwear from its long-forgotten drawer in her spare room. For the first time in over a decade, she started to wear a nice bra; longline, underwired and lacy, designed to hold her ribs gently while pushing her breasts upwards a little. And stocking-tights [pantyhose in US]; and smooth-fitting tight briefs made with nylon and Lycra. For the first time in a decade, she wanted to wear clothes that shaped her figure and "held her in place" as she thought to herself. She chose shoes with heels a little higher than usual. Not skyscrapers, but two or three inch so that she had to learn how to balance and walk elegantly again after so many years in flatties, as she called them.

Second, she started to imagine his hands on her face, or on her shoulders, or touching her breasts, or pressing on her stomach, or holding her waist, or searching between her thighs. These were very unfamiliar thoughts for Josie and she was disturbed at the same time as excited. For the first time in many years, she began to want physical contact with a man. Well; with David Lambert, anyway. If you told her she was lusting for him, she would have denied it, but deep down she knew it was true. After all, he must have been 20 years younger than she was. How could he possibly think of her in any sexual context?

And then it happened on a Friday morning: David came to the desk when no one else was there and spoke to her.

"Josie; would you meet me this weekend, please? We could have a drink and talk about things that interest you. I'd like to see you out of the office, if you'd like to."

Taken aback, and lost for words for a moment, she stumbled over a reply, "Yes – er – yes. That would be nice. Yes. When do you think?"

He didn't stumble at all because he obviously had it all planned out, "Let's say tomorrow evening. Is 7 o'clock good for you? I'll come round to your place if that's OK. Yes?"

She agreed and he backed away from the desk with a big grin; then he walked away but gave her a look back as he entered the lift; and smiled and gave her a wave. Before she could wave back, he disappeared behind the sliding doors.

Now she faced a quandary, and she sat there at her desk for some minutes, staring into the distance and wondered what had just happened to her. Then her mind began to see the near future, and the full force of her predicament hit her. She began to perspire and tremble a little.

What would she wear? How should she behave towards him? What will people think? Would he be expecting any intimacy?

This last question lingered in her mind and took over all Josie's thinking from that moment onwards, for the rest of Friday and overnight, and into Saturday. She half feared that David would expect intimacy and half hoped that he would. Even if he only held her hand. But what if he wanted more? It was many years, 10 years since anyone had kissed her; and longer since she'd made love with a man. With that thought, sitting at her desk, her left hand moved unconsciously to her abdomen; held as it was in her smooth tight briefs and the nylon tights. She placed her hand on her tummy and then became aware of where it was going – downwards towards her pubic mound. She stopped herself immediately and looked around.

Throughout Saturday, Josie looked through her cupboards and drawers; deciding what to wear and how to appear to David. Gradually, during the day, her fear of intimacy grew and her desire for it diminished. She came to an important conclusion.

"I'm not ready for real intimacy yet, so I won't entice him by wearing a provocative outfit. I'll be sensible and wear things that make me feel good but won't tempt him to get too friendly today."

Her selection of clothes was businesslike. A straight skirt with pleats, a white blouse more like a shirt, a fitted jacket to match the skirt. Three inch heels that she'd not worn for centuries, it seemed to her.

For underwear, apart from the longline bra, she erred on the side of security and anti-sex as she remembered from her married days. Peter used to say, "Take off that armour and let me get at you. I hate those clothes."

He was referring to her girdle and stockings. She still had a collection of panelled and zippered open-bottom girdles as well as firm panty-girdles. On this occasion she chose a very firm high-waisted classical open girdle that she'd bought in the 1990s. It contained four flexible bones over the front of her abdomen, from the top edge of the girdle all the way to the bottom edge. Another bone smoothed out her figure at either side, over each hip; and two more bones ran over the waist into the small of her back, to prevent it from rolling over.

She struggled into the girdle through lack of practice, pulling it up gradually into place, and fastening the hooks over her thighs and hips. And finally, gliding the zip over the hooks to give her a smooth outline, before sitting on the edge of her bed to slide the stockings over her legs. Fastening the eight suspenders to the stockings was as unfamiliar to her as any part of this dressing ritual. She could not remember the last time she had done this. Certainly, Peter had never wanted her to do it and never took part in the little "ceremony."

So she was absolutely convinced that David would be deterred by her underwear and would not "try anything" on this first occasion. If he wanted more, then she would consider for the future and dress more to his liking. Well, more to the liking that she assumed men would prefer, based on her memory of Peter's responses in that earlier life. For herself, she felt wonderful: contained and controlled and shaped to show off her younger-than-54 years figure. She was a little breathless with the exertion of her dressing, and with the unfamiliar pressure of her foundation wear. And with anticipation of spending time with Mr Lambert, of course. More than anything, she felt "safe."

As 7 o'clock approached her excitement and breathlessness increased. She began to wonder how David would find her place, since he hadn't asked for the address. Of course, as COO, he had access to all staff records so he had no such difficulty and on the dot of 7 pm he rang her doorbell. Josie opened the door and he took one step inside her apartment, leaving the door open. She held out her hand as if to shake his.

"May I?" he asked softly as he held her hand and pulled her towards himself; wrapping his left hand around her waist.

He kissed her gently on her left cheek, at the same time letting go of her right hand and pressing his own on her waist just above her left hip. She let him do all this, believing that he would be discouraged by whatever he felt.

"Come on," he said, "let me take you out."

She closed her apartment, locking the door, and they went down to his car. She walked along with him all the way, with her arm through his, as if they were long-time friends. Her sense of complete safety made her a little adventurous. At the car, he opened the door and helped her sit into the passenger seat. Sit down, since it was a low sedan, and she was glad she'd worn a skirt of "decent" length.

David got into his seat and leaned across to kiss her cheek again. At the same time, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and tugged on her just a little. His fingers spread out and he quite clearly felt at her waist and her underwear.

"I like your outfit very much," he whispered as his lips left her cheek, "will you show me more of it later?" As he said it, he squeezed her waist and she could feel the bones of her underwear moving and yielding under his grasp.

"You like it?" she was genuinely surprised.

"Josie," he kissed her cheek again, "this is exactly how I wanted you to dress but didn't dare to expect it. You're just my kind of girl."

"Girl?" she giggled, "do you know how old I am?" She thought to herself, "...old enough to be your mother..."

He giggled back at her, "Of course I know and I think you're wonderful."

After that, the evening went along with increasing sensuality. They held hands, kissed, and felt at each other. Josie realised this man could make her feel good again; feminine and desirable; all the things she's forgotten.

After they'd had a little to eat and a drink or two, they went to his place; a nice little row-house down by the ocean. By then, Josie was wishing she'd spent more time preparing her body for "company" and not just choosing boring clothes.

She needn't have worried too much because David seemed to sense that she wasn't yet ready for more sensual exploration. He limited himself to feeling at her figure, running his hands over her shape as he kissed her and played with her hair. Actually, running his hands over her hidden underwear; feeling and judging how it was made, where the edges were and the bones, how her stockings attached, how the zipper lay on her figure.

Of course, as they kissed sitting on his long sofa, he explored some way up her legs under the prim skirt, until she could feel his fingers on her stocking tops and the inside of her thighs. She murmured and mewed like a kitten for the first time in her life, thrust her hips forward as if to encourage him, and parted her knees a little. And so he was encouraged: he slipped his middle finger under the edge of her knickers, held away from her skin by the bottom edge of her girdle. She stayed still with eyes shut, and mewed some more, as he slowly pushed his finger into her hairy labia, and further into the beginning of her vaginal opening. He didn't go all the way in although she would have been happy if he had. She knew she ought to feel outraged by this stranger probing into her private parts, but in fact she felt disappointed that he didn't go any further.

As he pulled away, he stroked her pubic area under her skirt, and so on down her inner thighs.

"So beautiful," he whispered and she knew he was referring to her underwear; or maybe a little also about her body and her willingness.

She felt at his flat tight stomach and the growing bulge at the front of his trousers. She even played with his zipper, but didn't dare slide it down at that moment. Josie could feel her vaginal juices running for the first time in many years.

She murmured again to him,

"Mmmm. Nice. That's nice"

After more kissing and cuddling, he drove her home and they planned another evening together, later in the week. And his plans were clear from his farewell,

"I love the way you dress underneath, so nothing less than this evening. Is that OK? And I'll do everything I can to please you as well."

"I need to get myself sorted out for this," thought Josie to herself later, as she lay in her bed, "I'm no girl but I'm not ready to be an old biddy yet."

Her imagination was now in overdrive. In her decade of abstinence, she's read and heard of all manner of erotic weirdness, of perversions and some things that were utterly disgraceful. For the first time in her life, she began preparing herself mentally for everything that may happen. Everything. And her corsetry would be at the centre of that everything.

To be continued....