Sapphic Nylon Enthrallment

"Is that what Sylvia did?"

Penny didn't look like she was going to answer, but in any case a light chime peeped forth from her phone, and she answered it with efficiency. "Yes... The new ClassyLady rep is here to see you... Okay, I'll send her right in." Penny smiled in a motherly way and waved Marnie toward the door, possibly checking out her ass as she passed. It made Marnie feel dirty and vaguely incestuous.

"Welcome to ClassyLady... Marnie, isn't it?"

This question erupted from the direction of the vast mahogany desk which filled one end of the room. Coming to her feet now was a thirty-something woman dressed in clothes whose stylings were sixty-something. Darlene Feinstein's apparel would have been at home in a Sears catalog during the Second World War, though here in the twenty-first century it looked dressy to the point of being prim.

Marnie nodded and took Darlene's hand briefly; it was warm and possessed of delicately-manicured fingernails that looked expensive. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Feinstein."

"Oh, it's 'Darlene', darling, 'Darlene'. 'Ms. Feinstein' is my mother, and she's so dreary to contemplate..." She trailed off and gestured for the guest to take a seat.

Marnie was supposed to leap into a discussion of how pleased everyone would be if LingerieGlance could just get more Special Blend stockings and gloves. How LG was so gung-ho about the sheer wonders that they were willing to help ClassyLady improve their capacity by investing in a higher volume factory floor for them (for a small share of the company, of course). The higher prices LG was willing to pay-- and the still-higher prices Marnie was supposed to put forward in case the first offer was rebuffed.

Instead she asked why Darlene had started the business.

"Do you want the answers I give the newspapers, or the truth?" The executive offered her a lemon drop from a twin of the bowl on Penny's desk.

Marnie declined the bribe. "The truth."

"Good! I like your style, my dear. And that goes for more than just what you're wearing, though that is certainly stylish enough. You don't go overt, and I like that. Women today have confused 'blatant' with 'intriguing' in their clothing styles, and it's been such a loss I weep to see it.

"It's where ClassyLady fits into the big scheme of things, actually. We hail from an older time, when a woman put care into her appearance in a way utterly unlike the haphazard norm today. 'Foundation garments', so the phrase went, were worn as a matter of course, and love them or hate them they provided a firm structure to build on. And what is art without structure?"

Marnie didn't answer so obviously rhetorical a question, and Darlene went on like this for several moments. It was interesting to hear the way the woman thought-- she was obviously quite intelligent and had an interesting philosophical angle on the topic of fashion-- but it had been an entire morning since Marnie had played with her legs and pussy and she was getting a bit antsy. She needed to stop this barrage of the metaphysics and aesthetics of nylon stockings before she ran out of the room screaming or started pawing at herself right in this chair. Her chance was forthcoming.

"Marnie, dear, the world of women desperately needs our elegance, it needs our class. It needs less of the overtly sexual and more of the hidden treasure. A ClassyLady product is designed to be sensual."

"It's not sensual." It was that, of course, but there was something more. And from out of nowhere, a thought sprang from hindbrain to lips without pausing for evaluation first. It came out like an accusation, which perhaps it was: "It's medical."

Unpunctuated silence reigned for several hour-long seconds.

"You know, my dear, I have to hand it to you: you're the first non-employee who has drawn that conclusion. It's very refreshing. And exciting." Her eyes glowed. "Let me show you something." She touched a button and a projector lit as the lights dimmed slightly. Darlene fiddled with her mouse for a moment and a presentation appeared on the wall.

The initial slide was the ClassyLady logo superimposed on a stylized picture of a shapely woman of indeterminate age who was wrapped from ankle to thigh and from fingertip to bicep in translucent seamed black elegance. Though it was the last thing she wanted during this visit, her clit responded to the suggestive pose and the effect she knew the imaginary woman would be experiencing in that outfit.

The second slide showed financial information since the company's inception. The first three years were red ink, but after that profits began to roll in... and still did. "As you can see, we're not paupers here. We have gone from negative to strongly positive profits in the last five years, and we've cycled the cash back into R&D."

Darlene showed Marnie the next slide and couldn't keep the smile from her voice. "This is an electromicrograph." She paused to look at her guest's blank reaction, and thought it worthwhile to elaborate. "A picture taken with an electron microscope. You can see the weave of the fabric here. Notice anything?"

Marnie did, though it had been years since she'd thought in detailed terms about textiles. "The weft is normal, but the warp..." Was there something funny in the yarn?

"Good eyes, my dear. It looks like two-ply nylon, but there's a tiny third ply wrapped around the other two. Large-radius fullerene strands, with lots of carboxyl bearings to make it more flexible. And the nodes..." Darlene had a self-satisfied smirk, now. "Well, the results don't show up well on the 'scope. I'll just show you an artist's rendering."

A computer-generated image showed up on screen. It was a long tube made of miniature interlocking hexagons, and every so often the tube was punctuated by spherical joints. The overall effect was a long string with a bunch of knots in it. Only the knots each had something sticking out of them, perpendicular to the string run. Tiny, almost invisible somethings.

"You see it. Nanotubes. Long ones, though the scale is skewed on that diagram. Electrically sensitive in both directions. And they semiconduct randomly."

Marnie shook her head. "I'm sorry, Darlene, but I haven't a clue what this all means. I'm a buyer for a web store, not a scientist. I only know how it makes m--" A little too revealing, there. "How it makes my customers feel."

Darlene adjusted her position in the massive leather chair, her knee rising into view as she crossed her legs. A hose-covered knee. Marnie began to salivate. "I see. And how do you-- ahem, your customers feel when wearing our products?"

Damn the bitch, she knew. She fumbled for the least revealing but most accurate phrasing. "Sensitive."

"Sensitive?"

The smirk was back again, and Marnie wanted to strike it off her. Or possibly remove it with a grinding, smearing motion, marring the elaborate lipstick job with her juices-- Calm. Focus. Get through this and promise yourself an entire night of nylon-coated bliss, okay? "Yes. Perhaps overly sensitive."

"You've had complaints?"

"Yes." From husbands and boyfriends.

"And the nature of the complaints?"

The women are becoming lesbian stocking sluts. "Some people have experienced discomfort."

"And the nature of this discomfort?"

"Undesired sexual arousal." There.

Darlene raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Our products are making women-- forgive the crude term-- horny, and that's a problem?"

Marnie reddened but returned fire. "Yes, when it's unasked-for! When it's incredibly distracting throughout the day, in meetings and when the kids are in the room, and when you start noticing other--"

Darlene paused to let her finish, but when she didn't the question spilled forth anyway: "Noticing other what?"

"Noticing other women. Their legs, their hosiery..." Darlene leaned back in her seat and put her feet up on the desk, crossing her legs at the ankles. Even in the imperfect lighting, it was apparent from the glimpse of seams that she was wearing her own product. Marnie's own legs slid together in sympathy, panties going soggy. She sighed and gave up, letting it all come out. "Wondering if they're wearing ClassyLady, too..." Sensation sang like a chorus of sparks up and down her inner thighs as they slipped over one another. She stared at Darlene's glistening calves...

"Yes, that's the effect we were going for. Ha!" Darlene stood up and walked around the desk. Marnie attempted to stand, too, but Darlene pushed down on her shoulders. Marnie was actually the larger woman of the two and began to struggle... but then the entire effort was made obsolete when Darlene pushed her legs against Marnie's. As calf touched inner calf, Marnie gasped and parted her thighs to admit her welcome assailant. There was no arguing, now, with the way her pussy made her feel.

"Yes, my dear," drawled Darlene, "I suspected you were wearing them. Our studies show that very few women are able to resist putting them on again once they've tried them." She hiked up her skirt to reveal the full extent of her thighs. And her lack of panties.

"I... don't... unngh... dammit, why does it have to feel so good?" Marnie pulled Darlene in close with her arms so she could entwine the other woman's lower body with the entire length of her limbs.

"It's an external nerve network. The nanotubes are thin enough to slip between your upper layer of cells, and they are shaped to make contact with any nerve endings in the skin. Not any of the pain or thermally sensitive nerves, of course. We've found protein markers on those nerves which allow us to shape the end of the nanotube to only target..." Her mouth was stopped in its exposition when Marnie covered it with her own.

The feeling of the hose as the two women's limbs swished against one another had the expected effect, and Marnie emitted a sensual moan around Darlene's invading tongue. Mmmm... Lemony. The president, despite the fact that she had been the initiator, seemed no less smitten by the nylonic... nanotubular... semicon-whatever effect, and Marnie got the distinct impression the other woman was on overdrive and barely in control of her own actions by now. This she could understand. Entirely.

* * *

Quitting her job at LingerieGlance had been easy; while Tyler griped about losing "some of my best talent to a supplier", he was too pleased by Darlene's guarantee of a 30% drop in Special Blend costs to protest overmuch.

The pay at ClassyLady was not much better-- though the stockings were complimentary-- but the title "Director of Internet Sales and Marketing" suited her just fine, and the position reported directly to Darlene. She had long since given up hope of using her marketing degree as anything other than resume-padding, so it was with great pleasure (and quite a few orgasms) that she accepted the job.

With unlimited access to the pussy-drenching nylons, she was wearing Special Blend all the time now, including while sleeping-- which made for delicious dreams and she rarely woke up without her fingers inside herself. When she slept alone, that is; when she slept with a lover, she got next to no sleep at all because minor shifts in leg position were as likely as not to incur stocking-to-stocking contact... and no woman was able to sleep through that temptation.

She threw herself into the work with reckless abandon, and made it her business to know all she could about the product-- even down to how it was made. She met with Darlene frequently, and sometimes they actually discussed business before pleasure. This was rare though, and Marnie was determined not to retain her position by merely being the CEO's toy. Sometimes she feigned a headache or fatigue and went home to masturbate feverishly; it was a measure of loyalty, if not exactly love, that the female nylon-encased forms she imagined as she fucked her pussy with both hands all had Darlene's delicately sculpted features.

Learning how Special Blend was made put her repeatedly in close contact with Felicity Major. There was still no love lost between them since their first meeting, but they had settled into what could be considered an armistice. Close contact with any other woman wearing Special Blend-- and of course everyone working at ClassyLady fit that bill-- caused elevated arousal levels but both women, by some silent mutual agreement, always concluded their business before it manifested itself as lust. And if, once in a while, fantasy-Darlene moved aside toward one thigh a bit and made room for Felicity's face... well, no one needed to know that except Marnie.

After a few weeks of this training period, Darlene scheduled a conference with the new recruit. Felicity was present as well, and Marnie was on her guard immediately.

"Hey, Darlene. You wanted to see me?"

Darlene, following her glance, smiled warmly. "Yes, dear, I thought I'd call this impromptu conference so we could discuss your progress. Or is it too soon?"

Marnie pointedly ignored Felicity's smirk.

Yes! "No, I have some ideas already. But first I have some questions. Some are technical, so it's good you're here, Felicity." She hoped the implication that Felicity wasn't necessarily useful for more than that was coming through.

If Darlene caught it, she gave no sign. "Go ahead, dear."

"I've noticed that after a little while ClassyLadys lose their... excitement. The thrill comes back if I wait long enough, but... why?"

"Yes, when you perspire, the thin layer of liquid has enough surface tension to keep most of the nanotubes from making neural contact. Even the ones which do make it to nerves get shorted out. Ineffective in moist areas. A pity, really, given the specifics of female anatomy." Darlene looked wistful about where the really good nerves were located.

"Ah..." Much was now clear. Trying to shower in them had been a hot idea, but she could see why it had been doomed to failure. Ah, well, Charlotte had still made it worthwhile. She'd looked so good, kneeling on the porcelain with her hair wet and her stockings soaked...

"Which I guess answers my next question: why not Special Blend pantyhose? I get it. Sweat."

"Indeed. Stockings are more effective in letting your body breathe, and don't trap the moisture as much as having your entire lower body coated."

"Panties, then. Crotchless," she added.

"Work for a short while, but there are electrical discontinuities which make them less effective very rapidly."

"Oh. Asses are sweaty."

"Marnie, dear, the language!"

"Huh. Sorry."

"Forgiven, this time. We have done the research, and our new Special Blend garter-belts have proven effective in transmitting the sensations higher on the body without suffering much from the... effect you so eloquently described. The seam transmits the impulses to the welt, and the garter-clips are metal and do the rest. We are exploring bustiers, but sizing is tricky. Corsets have more promise since tighter is better for the nanotube-to-neuron contact."

"Hmmm... higher on the body... any plans for bodystockings?"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question."

"Why not? If Special Blend feels this good on just my legs and arms, wouldn't it feel better all over?"

"How many times have you worn a bodystocking, Marnie? Remember: sweat is bad. Bodystockings are dreadfully hot; it's the same as the pantyhose rationale, except writ larger. No, it wouldn't work. Not long term."

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Just tell her."

Darlene remained silent and grim.

"She needs to know eventually. Now is a good time."

"Yes. Well. Some of the girls in one of the labs doused themselves with antiperspirant and used the bodystockings on each other. Stupid and tragic." She looked sad. "They probably thought they were being clever. They almost died of hyperthermia, and the other effects on them were not pretty." She didn't go on.

"What happened?"

Felicia took over. "The overstimulation, sustained over several hours time, caused higher cerebral functions to shut down. They haven't recovered. They're essentially animals now. Sex-crazed animals with no inhibitions. Our clinicians are still hopeful we can eventually cure all three, but it will be years at best."

Marnie was shocked. "So they're... what? Chained up in the basement?"

Felicia looked annoyed. "They're receiving proper care in the clinic."

"The clinic's in the basement."

Darlene held up a hand to silence Felicia's impending outburst. "They're as comfortable as possible. They're well-fed and taken care of. We even let them wear the bodystockings. It seems to calm them down." Sad this situation might make her, but from her lidded eyes and flared nostrils, there were other, darker emotions at play, here. "You can meet them, if you like. Most of the women here visit them from time to time."

Marnie imagined herself being ravished by three insatiable and mindless nymphs in the full-body, taut translucent fabric and felt her pulse race and cunt moisten. Yes, she was sure the women here visited them. As often as possible! From Felicia's flushed look, she had many guesses at what "proper care" referred to. How hard were the clinicians actually trying? "Okay, well, thank you for that... illustrative discussion of the perils. So bodystockings are out, for now."

"For customers, yes. We still have prototypes here you can try out. Under strictly-monitored conditions, you understand." Felicia licked her lips, seemingly subconsciously. "The fishnet bodystockings, on the other hand, are on the product roadmap for next year. The lower density of neural connections should avoid the... overstimulation effect, even if customers latch onto the antiperspirant concept, but the 'net is still an effective sexual stimulant. And 'net is cooler, too, for climates like the American Southwest, where widespread adoption of ClassyLady is proving problematic due to the summer heat. Our studies show that even with the lowest-denier sheers, the average frequency and length of perspiration is too much to induce sufficient--"

"The girls sweat too much to become extraordinarily aroused, let alone go lesbian."

"That's what I was saying."

"I know, dear, but it was taking too long."

Felicia did not glare, exactly. "At any rate, fishnet doesn't have as great an effect, and really is just to tantalize. We expect wearers to move up to our regular offerings once they discover how enjoyable the fishnets are. Unfortunately, while air conditioning mitigates the perspiration effects, somewhat, we're assuming that cooler climates will be more effective, and thus a better use of our marketing dollars. In fact, we're moving our corporate offices to Minnesota to take advantage of more customers... to take advantage of the proximity to more of our customer base." She grinned at her Freudian slip. "So we're focusing on the East Coast, the Midwest, and the Pacific Northwest until we can influence the fashion industry to re-adopt fishnet. And even with the regular stockings they're proving... annoying."

"They're all gay men."

"Yes, mostly, and not cross-dressers, either. Damn them."

"Well, we've got operatives with Donna Karan, already, and Betsey Johnson will be next. It will be slow-going, but product placement in the media is progressing very well."

"Julianne Moore and Angelina were easy to convince. Expect to see Jennifers Aniston and Lopez wearing next year."

"And Sarah Jessica Parker. Some of the usual suspects in the twenty-something bracket whose names I always forget but who make the talk show circuit."

"But not Paris Hilton."

Darlene shuddered. "No. That was a narrow escape, but we convinced her fashion consultant that bare legs were sexier."

"I still say there's a sizable chunk of the populace we're neglecting by excluding her."