Everyday Evie

Sitting straight I calmed myself, "You girls are right, I am plain aren't I? If you'll help me I'll try to be more fashionable, but I will never start dressing like the tart your father is living with. I'd rather wear a potato sack than dress like I was for sale."

Helen jumped in, "She's not like that mom. She's not a *tart* as you say."

That struck a nerve, "All right young lady answer this. Why would a thirty-one-year-old woman wear skirts that are no more than six inches beneath her butt and blouses open far enough you can practically see her navel? If that doesn't say tramp, certainly the take me home and screw me heels do. Sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did about her heels."

Both girls were snickering, Karen said softly, "Take me home and screw me heels, I never heard that before but your right, they do say that."

That weekend the girls and I did some shopping for me, my normal attire was dresses and skirts that were well below the knee. The girls picked out a few that were knee length or a few inches above and flared out nicely from the hips, I felt half naked with so much leg showing. Then some blouses that accented my 34B's without being so tight the buttons were strained, I'm not a pantyhose person, I opted instead to go with stay up's. Something I was aware of but never considered buying. To show them I was okay with the thigh high stay up stockings I grabbed a few pair and tossed them in the basket.

Once again it was Helen who spoke, "Mom, those are way off the charts from what you wear, which is nothing. Are you sure you won't be self-conscious and stop wearing them after a few times?"

"You seem to be forgetting something young lady. No one will see these things but me or maybe you two. Okay, you don't like my baggy granny panties? Show me what's available. But not the kind that go up the crack of your butt. I hate wedgies."

The girls wanted to shop at Victoria's, I wanted to go across town to a shop mother had always gone to, Millie's Millinery. Once inside Millie's the girl's eyes nearly popped out of their heads, all they knew of finer underwear was what was popular on web sites or VS. Where they now stood was truly a millinery shop, not a place to buy crotchless panties and peek-a-boo bras. Millie had long since retired but her daughter Janice had taken over, we were about the same age and had been in school together.

"Evelyn, is that you?'" Janice chirped.

When the girls heard her address me by name I think it surprised them, oh sure they knew my name, they just didn't know anyone who called me by my first name. We were shown the soft, skin caressing silk panties, bras and garter belts, she told us belts were becoming quite popular again. She said for a long time it had been an older woman's item but of late more and more younger women were buying and wearing them. Which meant she was also ordering far more stockings than prior. When I told Janice what I was wearing for underwear she winced.

"Oh my gosh Ev, you can't be serious. Let me show you some newer designs, hip hugger cuts, bikini and one of my favorites, boy shorts. Even full briefs in silk are far more comfortable than what you wear now."

By the time we were through I defied my better judgement and had purchased a half dozen pair of panties, two boy shorts, two hip hugger and two full briefs in silk. I had already convinced myself I wasn't going to like the skimpier ones. My saving grace is that the girls are the same size I am, if I didn't like them, they would be more than ready to put them in their dresser drawers. Three new bras for myself and underwear for each of the girls.

I hadn't worn makeup for years other than a little blush and a dab of lipstick if I had to be somewhere formal. When we got home the girls accepted the challenge to correct that. By the time they finished I looked absolutely lovely. Just enough to highlight my features, not so much that I looked as though it was applied with a trowel.

We laundered everything that night and dried it on racks. The next morning the girls grabbed their stuff off the rack right away and came prancing into the kitchen in their new underwear, spinning around, showing off. When they insisted I do the same I grabbed my stuff and went to the bedroom, walking back to the kitchen I wore a robe, at their insistence I opened it. Standing in a powder blue bra, and matching boy shorts I turned slowly, Karen whistled.

Helen spoke up, "Mom, you look hot, I mean smokin hot."

Not what I was wanting to hear, "Yeah well, I don't want to be HOT, as you say."

"No, no, no, Mom. Not slutty hot, I mean just hot. How could you wear that under your work clothes and not feel sexy? OMG, my mother is a hottie."

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be a *hottie*. Pointing a finger at them I scolded, "If you utter one word about this you're both grounded for life, got it."

Karen giggled, "Mom, we're wearing the same undies, it's not likely we're going to talk about them, and we sure as you know what, aren't going to show any boys."

I quipped, "Make sure you don't, remember girls, an aspirin held firmly between the knees works every time."

They were old enough to know what I was talking about but they still squealed and ran to their room giggling, all I saw was a pair of silk pantied butts disappearing down the hall. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom I slowly turned left and right checking out my figure. The girls were right, I did look good in my new undies. My breasts were still firm enough that they didn't sag or hang, I was blessed with a high metabolism so weight gain was at a minimal if at all. I was pleased that at the age of 39 I was the same size as my girls in some areas.

I ran my hands down my hips, over my butt and down my thighs, feeling along the edges of my panties I secretly imagined a man's strong hands gliding over my skin, bringing me to a state of arousal. I wasn't done raising my daughters though so an active sex life would have to wait. I had at least two years, actually closer to three before dating for me could become a reality.

When I showed up at work the next day with my hair newly coifed, a bit of makeup and wearing sexy undies I felt as though I was being stared at constantly. I hadn't been brave enough to wear one of the shorter skirts or silk blouses the girls had picked out while shopping. Nope, not everyday Evie, she was dressed outside as she always had. It had to be they were noticing a new look for me, and I wasn't sure I liked the response. I just knew they could see through my clothes and know I was scantily dressed. The next day I was back in granny panties and cotton bras.

When the girls were juniors I encouraged them to find a job of some sort, they griped because all they could find at that time was working a fast food place. They complained about *flipping burgers* as they called it. Ironically neither of them worked in the kitchen, they both worked the counter and never touched a burger that wasn't already wrapped. When they would complain I would remind them that they were driving a reliable car and had money of their own because they worked at the *burger flipping* place. I told them they didn't have to have a part time job, but then that would be the end of having a car to share, cell phones, and other goodies that came along with a steady paycheck.

When they graduated high school, I insisted that one of the gifts from me be opened with only we three in the room. I'd purchased each a white garter belt and two pair of expensive silk stockings, in no time at all they were modeling their belts and stockings. I pointed out they might want to wear the panties outside the belt or they'd have to unhook their stockings each time they peed. The *ah-hah* light came on immediately on each girl's face, for as smart as they were they still didn't know it all.

The girls were in a junior college a few hours away living together in the dorm, Travis was out of my life for good and I was feeling free again for the first time in a long time.

This is where my story returns to the beginning.

Travis had accepted me in granny panties as long as he could take them off and screw me. With him now gone I felt a weight being lifted from my shoulders. I was in no hurry to date or even have a one-night stand. And yet, I felt as though the next chapter of my life was about to begin. When the girls and I had the conversation about me being *Everyday Evie* those years ago I foolishly shared the story with a few girls from work over lunch. I immediately had a nickname without even knowing about it for two days.

Standing in my doorway with a smirk on his face Roger knocked, when I looked up he chortled, "Good morning Everyday."

I responded with less brevity, "That isn't my name and you know it."

He laughed, "It is now, the entire facility is talking about Everyday Evie, don't be alarmed if they start calling you that. They mean no harm, in fact in their eyes it will be badge of honor, not everyone gets such a nice moniker. Just go with it Ev."

He was right, it became a badge of honor instead of something of ridicule. *Everyday*, had become something most people at the facility called me. Kind of like the teen girl on the Adams Family show who was named Wednesday. That lasted about six months before everyone was back to calling me Evie, or Ev.

The entire admin section of the business consisted of four offices which had little wear and tear on a daily basis. It made no sense financially to have a cleaning crew come in every night to empty the trash and do a bit of dusting. I presented a solution to Roger that a cleaning crew once a week on Saturday morning when we were out of the offices would be enough.

I continued to explain that during the week people could set their trash bag in the hallway by three o'clock in the afternoon, maintenance could grab and toss them. With the savings we could buy the better bags with the tie strings built in and keep a spare bag or two in the bottom of the trash can. Having cleaners come in once a week was a cost savings of several hundred dollars a week. If setting a trash bag outside the door was beneath whoever worked in that office, it was time to find a new job. Somewhere their superior talents would be put to better use. He agreed to it on the spot.

This worked well to begin with but more and more the bags were being forgotten, which made the hallways look unkempt. I was making a trip to maintenance to chew on somebody at least once a week, I didn't like it and neither did they. They finally designated the job to one guy who begrudgingly mumbled his way through the hall around four in the afternoon, then it suddenly changed. Each day just before three an older guy, (I say older, he looked to be slightly older than me, probably mid to late forties) would stick his head in each office and ask if we had trash. If so, he would take it, put a new bag in the trash can and go his way. I had a ton of paperwork that was shredded daily and filled my bins quickly. It wasn't unusual for me to have two bags to get rid of every day, something the other guy complained about constantly.

People came and went all year long depending on whether they were students or simply found other work. It was nothing new for me to see a new name every so often, therefore I paid no attention to who the new guy collecting our trash bags might be. On the fourth day of the new guy picking up my trash and placing new bags in the bins I went to Roger.

"How did you manage to get picking up trash on time across to the maintenance department? And who is this new guy? I only recall one new name on the payroll, Artimus something, and he doesn't look like an Artimus to me."

"You're right Ev, his name is Artimus, he prefers Art or Artie. I added him to the maintenance crew a month ago, he noticed the mess in the hall each night and asked me if he could be in charge of that along with his other work. Considering I hired him to work from ten in the morning until eight thirty to cover the plant after Earl and his ornery crew leave at four it made sense. He's twice the mechanic Earl ever was, if Earl's attitude doesn't change soon he'll be out on his ear. Earl seems to think he's irreplaceable."

I was curious, "Well how did he come to be here? I wasn't aware you were looking for another maintenance guy."

Roger rubbed his chin, "His is an interesting story. Lost his wife and daughter in a horrible hit and run accident seven years ago, they found the guy and buried his ass in jail. But the aftermath was devastating on Art. He tried to drink himself to death the first year. He quit drinking, moved to Alaska where he lived in a cabin he built by hand and made a living trapping, which wasn't necessary considering the settlement he received after his family was killed. Mom read a story about him in the Times Courier and called me, seems he'd been trying to find a decent job after moving back but since he'd been off the grid so long no one wanted to hire him. The article mentioned he'd worked maintenance before the tragedy. I was wanting to hire someone for maintenance after the part time shift ended at six and thought what the hell, I'll give him a chance."

"The Times Courier, that paper is fifty miles away. Is he living in town?" I asked.

"Yep, he lives in those rent by the month apartments over on Maple. He's got a decent truck, is never late, always clean, and unlike some others we've tried in the past, he knows his way around tools and machinery. I think he'll work out well."

I began to pay closer attention to Art. Strong, his demeanor was always pleasant, he was quick with a smile and kind words. I felt comfortable and at ease when he stopped in for trash, we'd even begun to chat a little. How are you doing, do you like the community, comments about the weather, what were each other's likes or dislikes. You know, it's the stuff you use to fill a void between two people without looking desperate or being forward. It also became the impetus to start thinking that maybe it was time for everyday Evie to morph into something more appealable. Who knows, maybe Art is the guy I've been waiting for.

His face had a weathered look, his hands were calloused and had multiple small scars, I assumed from years of hard labor, trapping and everything else that goes along with living in the bush. In spite of all those things I found him to be handsome for his age. Considering I'd stepped over the threshold of forty only a few years prior I started to think I might be ready for a meaningful relationship. If Art was everything he seemed to be, it just might be him. On a Saturday afternoon I made an executive decision I would never regret. Sitting on the couch I was multitasking by halfheartedly watching a Hallmark chick flick and folding laundry. As I sat the last piece of clothing on the coffee table in front of me I saw a pile of older worn out granny panties and next to them a few washed out grey looking bras.

It was as if my mind snapped, I picked up the bras and panties, walked out the kitchen door and put them in the trash. In the bedroom I stripped, tossing the underwear I'd had on in the trash can next to the toilet. There were still a few pair of old undies in the drawer which I immediately threw out. With nothing left but silk panties and bras before my eyes I began to run my fingers over the delicate fabric. I knew it would take some adjustments getting used to a different cut of undies and bras, but in my mind I was done being Everyday Evie. I wasn't about to become Evie the slut, but there was nothing saying I couldn't dress provocatively under my clothes. No one but me would see them, but they might make me feel more desirable.

Sliding on a pair of boy shorts I'd never worn I giggled to myself, ran a hand over my mound as I turned sideways in the mirror. They were much tighter than my old undies, a feeling I found exciting as they snuggly hugged my crotch and clung to my derriere. The edges were soft, there'd be scant panty line if any at all. Running my hands down the front and then around to the back I patted each cheek with a smile. I'd been trimming the edges of my bush for years, it was as if these panties were made for a puss such as mine.

Reaching for the bras I suddenly realized I'd bought one with a front clip. Pulling it over my shoulders I held the cups away from my body and hesitated to close the clip. I let go of the bra and cupped my breasts, oh how I had longed for that feeling again. The feeling that comes from a good man tenderly caressing my breasts from behind, playing with the erect nipples, lightly pinching them before turning me around, his lips encircling a nipple. I squeezed each breast then closed the bra. The material felt wonderful, soft and yet held the girls in place nicely. The cups far enough apart to afford a view of cleavage should I desire to show it.

Feeling racy I slowly rolled a pair of stay ups over one leg, then the other. The lacy top looked sexy and inviting. It was as if those 2" of lace were the boundary between sexy silk stockings and the warm inviting skin a few inches below my sex. As though that tiny bit of thigh above the stocking was the final boundary before reaching a pussy that longed to be felt and desired by the right man. Staring at myself in the mirror I snorted and then giggled with my hands on either side of my face.

"My god Evie, you look like a slut. I'd do you if I was a man."

I wore that outfit under a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to the local pub known for its burgers and fries. I knew it was only me, but I felt as though others could see through my clothes and frankly, it didn't seem to bother me this time. Sunday evening before bed I laid out a pair of yellow silk hip huggers, a matching bra and a pair of black fishnet stay ups to go under the skirt and blouse hanging on the closet door for the next day.

To say I was excited about going to work in take me home and screw me undies would be an understatement. I wasn't quite ready to wear a shorter skirt, so I chose one of the trusty knee length hanging in the closet. I couldn't keep my hands off myself as I dressed, rubbing across my mound, cupping my breasts and making the nipples hard. When I finally closed the clasp on my skirt and slid the zipper up I smiled in the mirror.

"Go get um girl." I heard myself say. Today was going to be the first day of the rest of my life.

I wasn't sure why, but I felt lighter on my feet and attractive in ways I hadn't for years. Walking through the plant I received a wolf whistle which was supposed to be a no-no, I didn't care. I smiled at the guy and wagged my finger at him. Then I heard a loud yell from somewhere on the assembly line.

"I love the new look Evie. Keep it up."

I had no idea who said it and didn't care. A year ago I may have called it sexual harassment, not today. No. Today was an affirmation of the past weekend's decision, it was time for everyday boring Evie to begin seeing life through a different lens. Roger's wife had stopped by to talk with him later that morning and do what we girls do so well, get more money. As she walked down the hall past my office she stopped, backed up a few steps and looked in my door.

"Damn girl. You look gorgeous, I love the new look Ev. It suits you well. Are you on the prowl, or just tired of the old look?"

I laughed, "I think I'm beyond the "prowl" stage of life. I got tired of being everyday boring Evie. Come inside and close the door."

She gave me an odd look as she raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'm in and the door is closed. What gives?"

I threw caution to the wind, "I put all my old bras and underwear in the trash yesterday. I'm a new somebody from the skin out and it excites the heck out of me. The girls took me shopping for silk stuff years ago, but I've seldom worn it."