She Loves, White

I made a conscious effort to put the humiliating experience to one side - still close enough that I could pick it up and obsessively play the memory of it over and over again later - and turned to the task in hand. They really were quite lovely clothes.

I am terrible at trying on new clothes. Numerous friends have remarked on it over the years. They got very frustrated with my impatience - the way that I wouldn't take enough time, either in the selecting or the trying-on, and would be satisfied with "just okay" - to the point that they stopped inviting me along. I pretended to wear it as a badge of honor - as though I had for more important things to worry about than clothes - but the truth is that I was hurt at being excluded.

Ray had gone to so much trouble, and really had picked some of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. I decided, in that moment, to trust his judgment and go with it. Partly because it was rational - he did this for a living and of course knew better than me - but partly because I didn't want to disappoint him.

*Christ he's good looking.*

I checked to make sure he wasn't still on the stairs and, finding myself completely alone, stripped down to my underwear. The stark contrast between what I was wearing - functional, boring, big underpants and a tired old bra, both beige, that was almost certainly not the right size - and the sexy, delicate lingerie hanging from the rail was not lost on me. Baby steps, I thought, reaching for a playful yellow dress and leaving the more intimidating stuff for later.

It was a vintage tea length dress of soft cotton, yellow with white polka dots and a cute little bow at the waist. The neck was square and low enough to hint at cleavage without exposing it. It made me think of Audrey Hepburn, wearing those big sunglasses, and of picnics in the country, and of strawberries and iced tea.

It looked great. I looked great in it. The material was soft and cool against my skin, and Ray had picked out my exact size. I couldn't believe how well it suited me, and yet - in some way - it didn't suit me at all. I stood in front of that mirror for some minutes, checking different angles, twirling around so the hem fanned out, like a child does, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Technically, it was flawless. The dress was stunning and suited my size and shape perfectly. It complemented my complexion, emphasized my chest without being at all slutty, and suggested at my curvy body shape without exposing it. It truly was lovely.

*Look at your self.*

I caught Constance's gaze in the mirror and held it there.

Ray was right. She looked sad. Tired, lonely, and sad. I immediately forgave him for what he'd said earlier - he was only telling the truth. As I stood there, contemplating the sad girl in the mirror and where things had started to go wrong for her, that voice that had been hibernating for so long started up again, whispering in my mind's ear.

*God I'd love to fuck him.*

The abruptness and ridiculousness of it made me burst out laughing, and had me covering my mouth for fear that Ray would hear me downstairs. It was as though a naughty friend had whispered something deliciously rude in my ear during class. It has come so suddenly and unbidden, I stood there shuddering with laughter.

When I finally composed myself and took my hands away from my mouth, I froze, noticing something. Something that I hadn't seen for some time. Years, possibly. Something that suddenly made the dress make perfect sense. I didn't dare move a single muscle for fear of losing that moment, but stood stock still.

I was smiling.

It was a pretty smile. Beautiful, even. But it wasn't just the smile - it was everything. It was as though the entire look - the outfit, my face, my body - had been unlocked by that smile and suddenly it all made sense.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I made sense.

It was like a stopper had been removed from a bottle of champagne. I fizzed and bubbled with joyous energy as I unzipped and pulled off the dress, desperate to try on the next one, a short blue sweater dress with a big daisy print on the front.

It was like wearing a hug. The baby blue cashmere so cozy and comforting, offering a very pleasing contrast with my pale skin, mirroring the blue of my eyes - a bright blue that I was noticing for the first time in years.

It was gorgeous. It was much higher than the yellow dress, showing a very pleasing amount of milky white thigh, and I loved the way it hung loosely from my shoulders, exposing my freckled skin there and exaggerating my slender neck - a neck so often hidden by the collar of a suffocating suit jacket.

The more I looked, the more I smiled, and the more I smiled, the more I liked was I saw. I was like a perpetual motion machine. It was intoxicating.

It didn't take me long to work my way along the rail. I felt giddy with excitement. Even now, I can't remember everything I tried on - but I do remember that I loved every single thing Ray had picked for me. There wasn't a single thing that didn't make me feel alive in a way that I can't explain.

Before I knew it, I'd worked my way to end of the rail and the three sets of lingerie. Even with this new-found positive energy thrumming inside me, I hesitated. I simply didn't wear stuff like this. It wasn't me.

*Why not?*

Because I'm not like that. I'm not sexy.

*You used to be.*

That was a long time ago. I have more important things to focus on now.

*Then why do you think about it all the time? Why do you dream about it?*

Because I'm lonely. I haven't been fucked in over a year. What was the point in wearing stuff like this if there was nobody to share it with?

*There could be.*

I looked over my shoulder. There was still no sign of Ray. Outside, the rain was still hammering down, turning the windows into running rivers and preventing anybody in the windows across the street from being able to see me.

Taking a deep breath, I unclasped my bra and let it drop to the floor. Bending over, I slid down my big, boring panties and stepped out of them, before kicking both bra and panties across the floor. It felt good - almost symbolic - to reject them like that. They slid satisfyingly far away on the polished, hardwood floorboards.

I hadn't looked at myself naked - really looked at myself - in a long time. Although the self-conscious Connie was still there, buzzing away irritatingly in the background, the newly-awakened Connie - who now seemed to be in control - purred contentedly at what she saw.

I could have stood there much longer, admiring myself, but the fear that Ray might come back upstairs at any moment compelled me to grab the white set from the hangar and start putting it on.

The moment that delicate lace touched my skin, it felt like something passed from it into me. Like some sexual demon had been bound within the material, locked away, until it came into contact with a warm body that it could take as a new host.

My heart was racing as I put on the sexy little thong. My skin tingled as I drew the soft, elegant garter stockings up my legs and into place. The beautiful sheer bra - which I couldn't help noticing was exactly the right size - made me shudder when I pulled it over my nipples. I couldn't help myself from rubbing them through the fabric a little bit, feeling them stiffen at the touch. It felt good.

It was like some wonderful aphrodisiac had been injected into my system, though I didn't know it yet. I was breathless by the time I was ready to look back in the mirror.

I honestly couldn't tell you how long I stood there, looking at Connie and her white underwear in the mirror. All the dizzy excitement of trying on the dresses and the shoes and the shirts had worn off, replaced by something more serious. More sensual. More grown up. If somebody told me it had been hours, I would have believed them.

It felt like the two sides of myself were peering into each other, neither one able to recognize its counterpart. Here I was - hesitant, doubtful, scared - while the Connie in the mirror oozed confidence and sexuality. It felt like she was looking back at me with confusion and pity, wondering how she could have ever ended up like me. I wanted to be her, but was it really possible? Could so many years of withdrawal and surrender and denial really be reversed so quickly?

I can't quite put it into words, even in retrospect, but something happened to me in that reflection. Something changed. I knew that things were never going to be the same again.

"Is something wrong? You don't like it?"

I didn't turn to look at Ray. His voice sounded far away, barely penetrating my contemplative bubble.

"I do like it. It just... doesn't look right. Or feel right. I don't know. I never wear stuff like this."

Even my own voice sounded distant.

"Constance. You look..." Ray stepped closer and stopped to properly take me in. Watching him in the mirror, I sensed that he hadn't been quite prepared to find me like this. When no more words came, I looked back at my own conflicted reflection.

"I told you, my friends call me Connie."

He relaxed, moving to stand next to me. I could feel the warmth of his body radiating off him, his delicious cologne coiling around us and intertwining with my own sweet perfume. I watched his reflection look me up and down again before looking me dead in the eyes.

"Connie. You look fine as hell."

I turned to face the real him.

"You like it?"

He nodded.

*He likes it.*

Our bodies were so close, there was barely an inch preventing us from being pressed up against one another.

"How does it make you feel? Wearing that?" he asked, wetting his lips. Was he nervous?

I turned to look at myself in the mirror again.

"Sad," I eventually replied. "Like you said."

"Why sad?" He seemed genuinely surprised by my answer.

"It has just been such a long time since I thought about myself this way. Or anybody else thought about me this way for that matter. That Connie - a confident, sexy Connie - feels like a different person now. It makes me sad because part of me wishes I was still like that. I miss it, but..."

"But what?"

"It doesn't fit."

His eyes ran up and down my body and he raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like it fits to me."

"That's not what I mean," I said, trying not to smile. "I mean it doesn't fit with my life."

He looked intensely thoughtful for a few moments before speaking again.

"That might just be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. Ray was smiling too.

"You look in that mirror and tell me what you see."

"Constance," I said flatly, deliberately trying to provoke him.

"Come on now, look properly. Tell me what you see."

I sighed, then made a show of studying myself again, even though I didn't need to. I knew what the problem was. There were two people vying for control of the same body. It wasn't that the clothes didn't fit me, it was that I couldn't fit two people into the clothes.

Ray waited patiently for an answer.

"Well, I see Constance." He opened his mouth to protest but stopped when I continued. "AND I don't really know who she is anymore."

This seemed to satisfy him enough that he closed his mouth and waited for me to continue.

"I thought I knew, but tonight... I've been feeling things I haven't felt in years. Remembered things about myself that I thought were gone."

He was listening intently, silently urging me to continue.

"I haven't thought about these things for years, and I don't know why. They're important to me - important to what I want to be. I just neglected them all this time."

I'm quite proud that I managed to keep from crying in that moment. God knows that I wanted to. There was so much that I wanted to say, but one thing stood out among all others.

"Thank you Ray. You're very good at your job."

He laughed. It was a rich, warm laugh - the kind of laugh you just can't help joining in with, so I did.

"You've given me so much to think about," I said when I caught my breath back.

"My pleasure," he replied.

It may sound strange, but looking back I think I felt time split into two paths at that very moment.

Down one path, I would have thanked Ray profusely, put my clothes back on, bought every single thing that he'd picked out for me - this was an expensive place but I would have paid ten times as much, and it would have been worth every penny - and taken a taxi home. At home, I'd have drunk half a bottle of good wine, changed back into the white lingerie, got straight into bed, and touched myself until I was numb, making myself come over and over while thinking about Ray and his shining eyes and his disarming smile and the bulge in his pants.

I didn't take that path. I took the other path that time offered me, and I'm glad I did.

"Alright, now tell me what *you* see."

Ray had started collecting up clothes from the rail and seemed surprised by the question. A half-smile flashed on his face as he put the dresses back.

He moved around to my other side, never taking his eyes off my reflection. It was a strange sensation, like there were two of him in the room with me. I've given countless presentations in front of executives - people who have the power to snuff my career out in an instant - but I've never felt as exposed and as scrutinized as I did right then. I felt completely naked. I liked it.

"I don't see sadness." An improvement from earlier, at least.

He moved back around to the other side again, putting a hand up to his strong, bearded chin while he considered me.

"I see a beautiful, sensual woman who has forgotten how to love herself."

"Well, it's been a year since anybody else loved me." I didn't have time to think or stop myself - the words just came out. Ray raised an eyebrow.

"A year huh?"

I gave him a resigned smile.

"Hard to believe?"

"No. Just a real waste."

My heart skipped a beat. It was pounding by now. The way Ray stalked around me, like a panther, was exhilarating. That was the first moment that my conscious mind became aware of what might be happening. I felt myself start to get wet.

"I see a woman who can have it both ways. Who is ambitious and fierce and competitive, but who is also sensitive and warm and sexual. I see a woman who is ready to stop apologizing for what she doesn't have, and ready to start taking what she wants."

*I want you.*

"You really see all that?" I asked.

"I do. But in the end, it doesn't really matter what I see."

"It matters to me," I said.

*Fuck, I want you so badly.*

"I want to see myself the way that you see me. The way I used to see myself."

I turned to look at him - the real him - and he turned to face the real me. Our reflections were gone and for the first time all evening, it was just the two of us.

"Will you help me?" I asked.

He nodded. My body thrummed with nervous excitement as he shrugged out of his waistcoat, letting it drop to the floor, never taking his eyes off me. He stepped towards me, our faces and chests inches apart, placed a warm, gentle hand on my cheek, and kissed me.

*What do you need?*

I'd never been kissed like that before. Maybe I'll never be kissed like that again. It was a kiss that changed my life, and against which I would compare all future kisses. It was gentle, but firm. Warm. Slow. It drew my arms in around him and enveloped me in his. It was a total kiss.

He ended it - too soon but also at the perfect time - and took my hand in his. He raised it to his lips, kissed it, and then lifted into the air, twirling me slowly around as though we were dancing. With my back to him, he stopped me, drawing me back into an embrace. His arms closed around my waist and I could feel his breath on my neck.

"You know, I made this myself - what you're wearing," he whispered in my ear. "Even in my dreams, I never imagined it could look as good as it does on you."

He ran a hand slowly along the band of the thong, making sure to brush my skin gently at the same time. He brought his other hand up to my breast, massaging it through the sheer material of the bra.

I closed my eyes, focusing on his hands. I began to move my hips slowly in time to the distant music that was still playing downstairs. Whether by chance or by design, it sounded like sex music. I felt him grow hard against my ass as we swayed together to the rhythm.

"You told me to start taking what I want," I said quietly.

"I did," he purred into my ear, sending a ripple of excitement through me.

*I want you.*

"I want you."

Reaching down, his fingers traced the outline of my pussy, running between my lips and opening me up like a flower. He planted a line of long, wet kisses down my bare neck, making me shiver, as his hand slipped inside the white thong and made its way down, down, through the soft tangle of my pubic hair, to rest one warm finger on the tip of my clit.

I gasped, then nodded in case he took discouragement from the sound.

"Yes," I breathed.

His other hand had worked my breast out of the cup of the bra and was tracing faint, delicious circles around a now exposed nipple, coaxing it into full erection.

I shifted my legs apart, inviting him to move his fingers even lower and feel how wet I was. He obliged, two fingers gently spreading my lips apart before a third ran down the full length of me and back up, spreading my growing wetness all around.

"Mmmm," he growled, kissing me just below the ear. He approved. I could feel his cock straining to be free of his pants at this point, throbbing against my ass as I gyrated against him.

He continued to brush his finger up and down inside my thong, taking care to tap gently on my clit each time he reached the top. Each tap was like a flicker of electricity through me. I felt the muscles in my thighs start to get tight and my breathing start to speed up.

"Feel good?" he whispered, making me shiver. I could only nod in response. "Good. I want you to come for me Connie."

"Okay," I managed back.

He quickened the pace of his hand movement and resumed kissing my neck. The pressure started to built inside me - that seeping warmth of a pending orgasm started spreading out from my throbbing clit. I knew I was close.

"Okay. Okay," I said breathlessly. As his hand came back up to tap me again, I grabbed it and held it in place. "Here," I pleaded.

He knew exactly what I wanted. He took my clit between two fingers and started massaging me firmly, stimulating the area all around as well as my clitoris itself. It was like magic. Before I even knew it, I was coming.

I managed to form my moans of pleasure into the words - "Don't stop" - as I reached behind me and started fumbling at his belt buckle and zipper. It took a moment, but I was still mid-orgasm when I managed to unfasten him and get my first feel of his hard dick. It was smooth and hot in my hands. He was so fucking hard.

I started jerking his cock behind my back while his hands worked their magic inside my thong. After my shuddering orgasm eventually came to a stop, Ray slowed right down until his movements were almost imperceptible, and then slowly, inexorably, the pace of his fingers quickened and I felt the first rumblings of another orgasm start to rise and swell within me. I've never known anything like it, how easily he could manipulate my body - I think if I hadn't stopped him, I could have come like that all night.

On the edge of losing control, I took his hand and held it still. His cock was pulsating in my hand now and his breathing had quickened. I could tell he wanted to fuck me but I wanted something else first. I reached down below his dick and cradled his balls as lightly as I could. He stopped breathing altogether.

I turned around and pulled my bra up to cover my boobs again, glancing at his dick as I did so.