The Girlfriend

"Are you saying you've never ...fucked anyone else?"

I shook my head.

"No."

"Jesus wept.

You're more a mouse than I thought you were."

She looked up at the ceiling and muttered another curse.

"Scratch that.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.

I always hated that he called you Mouse. Your name's Amanda, Mandy, right?"

"Yes. Mouse was his pet name for me."

Now she snapped at me.

"No, it wasn't. It was a fucking insult. It's what he thought of you."

"That's not true. He loved me."

"Then why did he fuck me?"

"Because you..."

"No, I didn't. He came on to me. Christ. He's not even my type. Not by a long shot."

She turned away and went to sit on one of her sofas.

"I'm sorry." She said in a calmer voice.

"Come and sit down."

I took the sofa opposite her and held my mug as though it was a comfort blanket. I couldn't help but look to where her skirt had ridden up. Long sleek thighs that she'd wrapped around Ray in her...

"You look at me and see someone you think wanted to take your husband away from you."

"You did."

"No. You never had him. Not really. And neither did I. He married you because he wanted an obedient little wifey to go home to. Me. I was just the dumb Secretary who had her head turned by his position over me. Drawn in by being too frightened to say no. I'm not the princess you think I am. That's the best job I've ever had and I didn't want to lose it, so I was nice to him when he flirted with me."

She looked into her coffee and her voice quietened.

"One thing led to another and... Well. Here we are.

I'm not some devious femme fatale. I'm just dumb. It was just as much a mistake for me as it's a betrayal for you."

That left me shocked. In my mind, I'd painted her as conniving. A slut that turned Ray's head and led him astray. Now here she was presenting herself as some kind of idiot. A victim.

"How long has it been going on?"

"A few months. That's all."

"And how many times did you do it in my bed?"

"Just that once. You were supposed to be at your mother's.

I'm not proud of that.

It was Ray's idea. I think... it was his way of stamping ownership on you. On both of us. Showing how powerful and untouchable he was. That he could do as he liked and no one would know.

Didn't quite work out that way though."

Again I looked her over. Assessing and comparing. The pristine face and immaculate hair.

"You know I hated you. Every time I came to the office I hated you. Always sitting there all smart and beautiful. It was always in my head that he looked at you all day. That he would decide you were better than me."

"I don't know. Perhaps he did. But not because I was better. Because I was there. Available in his eyes. It could have been anyone with a half-decent figure."

She studied me again.

"You really want to know what I have that you don't?

Look in a mirror."

I felt my body shaking.

"He called you Mouse because you look like one."

The truth hurt. I was mousy.

"Dowdy clothing. Dull hair.

And you want to know the really sad thing?

Underneath it all. You're actually quite a hottie. You just don't know it."

Words formed in my mouth that shocked me as they slipped over my quivering lips.

"I wish I was like you.

Show me how to be sexy."

Ophelia studied me again. Like I was a specimen insect under a microscope.

"Really?"

"Yes.

I'm tired of being the pathetic one. I just don't know how to be anything else.

Show me.

Show me how to be ... like you."

She smiled.

"I can do that.

Come with me."

She took me to the bedroom and started hunting through her wardrobe.

"We're about the same same size so this shouldn't be too difficult."

I avoided looking at the bed as I glanced around. Again her walls were populated with large prints of young ladies. Here, in more private surroundings they were less discrete. They still carried that same period look, but the featured subjects were more openly sexual. Bare breasts or exposed buttocks. One portrayed two women engaged in some sort of sexual behaviour.

Another was of a blonde stretched back on a bed. Her feet were held up in the air and she wore heels. Nothing else. She was completely naked and I could see her breasts hanging below where her head and shoulders were held up. It was pornography disguised as art in my mind.

One I did sort of like though I didn't know why, was of a girl sitting with her legs crossed and an arm held up to hold a cigarette. It was in one of those long holders popular in the nineteen twenties. Black gloves reached to her just below her elbows. Other than that she was naked, but her pose just hid her private parts.

"Undress."

My attention shot back to Ophelia. I hesitated as she stared at me like my mother.

"I can't dress you if you're still in that outfit. Now undress."

Then she smirked before muttering.

"Fairs fair. You've seen me naked."

"You have a perfect body. Mine..."

"Is way better than you give it credit for." She butted in.

"Now undress. We're all girls together."

I did as I was told. Slipping off my shoes I pulled the jumper over my head and stepped out of my skirt.

Ophelia stared.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

I looked down at my underwear. Cotton knickers and a mismatched sports bra that covered my breasts completely. I guess it wasn't the best look.

"My eighty-year-old granny wouldn't be seen in that."

"It's comfortable." I protested.

"You must be joking. Get those off as well."

I hadn't moved when she turned back from raking about in a drawer. She was holding up a floral lace lingerie set in a richly coloured blue.

She glared at me and I protested.

"I can't get naked in front of you."

"Mandy. You don't have anything I don't have. Now get granny's underwear off and let's make you feel sexy."

I'd asked for this I reminded myself. I looked at the underwear she was holding up. It did look ... sexy. It looked like Ophelia should be wearing it. It didn't look as though I should.

"Perhaps I should just go."

She was losing patience with me.

"No. You shouldn't. It's time you bloody well joined the twenty-first century."

She stepped forward, forcibly turning me. Before I knew what was happening she had my bra unclipped and my knickers were pulled to my ankles. I squeaked in alarm and tried to cover myself as she looked down at my naked body.

"It gets worse.

Do you even shave?"

"I do my legs and armpits."

My hand was over my bush as I flushed crimson.

Ophelia dropped the underwear on the bed.

"For fucks sake."

To my horror, she started undressing.

"What are you doing?"

"You're not going to let me do this if you're embarrassed being naked.

This way we're equal. You can see I'm not some magical perfect princess you can never measure up to."

I was stunned and horrified as she pulled her clothing away until she stood unashamedly naked in front of me. I stared at her. I'd seen it all before but it hadn't been my priority at the time to take it in. Now I did. She was stunning.

"Take a look. I don't mind. I'm no different to you. I'm not magical or perfect. My belly sticks out too much if I slouch and I've got too much weight on my hips."

Not that I saw. To me, she was still that perfect female. A model in any other life.

I looked at the one thing where we truly differed.

"You shave your vagina." I muttered at the sight of her most secret place.

She laughed at me.

"Pussy. It's called a pussy. No one calls it a vagina. Not unless they're a doctor doing your smear test."

I kept staring at her. She was beautiful. So perfect. I'd never seen a girl's breasts before, other than my own. And Mindy's. They didn't count. Truthfully, Ophelia's weren't that different. Only slightly larger, and with pale pink nipples. Mine were deeper coloured.

"And before you say breasts. They're called tits."

She flipped them with her hands and I stared in amazement at how they moved. A firm bounce that only a girls bre... tits could do.

For a moment my hands became a little less determined to cover myself. Then with a final acceptance, they slipped to my sides.

Ophelia looked happier.

"Now let's sort you out from the garden up."

She took my hand and I was dragged to the bathroom.

"Sit on the side of the bath and open your legs."

"Oh my god."

I was frozen with shock as she knelt in front of me with scissors.

"I need to trim it first."

Hands went to my knees and pushed them apart.

"Keep still."

I stared down as she snipped my pubic hair short. Dark strands fell to the tiles between my feet while a woman I hardly knew had her face close to my sex. Only Ray had seen me in this much detail, and even that had been uncomfortable for me.

"I feel like your mother. Shaving you, dressing you. I've even got to teach you a whole new vocabulary."

Next came shaving gel.

"You ever watch porn?"

"No. Of course not. That's..."

"Disgusting?" She stared up at me.

"Yes."

She laughed as she took a new razor from its packet.

"No, it's not. It's educational.

Okay. Most of it's a bit over the top. But it's healthy. That's your homework when you leave here. Go home and watch some porn."

She carefully began drawing the blade over my skin.

"Next time you come here I want a detailed description of what you've watched."

"Do I have to be rude to be sexy?"

"You mean use words like pussy and tits?"

"Yes. I mean that's just dirty."

"Christ. I can see why you've never fucked anyone other than Ray."

"That's another word I wouldn't use."

She stopped for a moment and stared up at me again.

"So what is it? What is it when Ray sticks his dick in your pussy?"

"Making love." I replied innocently.

She was laughing.

"Love. Really.

No its not. It's fucking. That's what men do. They don't make love. They fuck. That's what he was doing to me. He was fucking me. And it's what he does... did with you. Love doesn't come into it."

Ophelia returned to her work. I sat rigid with my legs apart, looking on in horror as the naked blade was drawn carefully and slowly around the most delicate flesh on my body. I quivered at the gentle touch of her fingers.

"If he'd been making love with you, he wouldn't have gone with me."

She took a towel and wiped me down. The brush of her hand, even through the towel, over my most private parts sent noticeable quakes through my legs and torso. I felt ashamed that Ophelia would have sensed them.

"Now let me hear you say it. Say fuck."

I looked at her hoping to escape the embarrassment.

"Come on."

"Fuck." A tiny pathetic whisper of the word.

"So I can hear it. Shout it."

I accepted she would keep on until I did.

"Fuck." I shouted.

"Better.

That's what you scream when you cum.

Not 'Oh thank you, darling. That was such a delightful orgasm'." She mocked.

"I don't say that."

Crikey. I did say 'thank you' though.

"Ophelia sat back on her legs with her hands on her thighs. An image of naked perfection just like the pictures that populated her walls.

I've no idea why I told her the next part. But I did.

"I don't say anything really. He doesn't... I never orgasm with him."

Was that pity on her face?

"Cum. The word is cum." She said avoiding the real sadness in what I'd admitted.

"Stand up."

She got to her feet and I did the same. This time I let her look at me properly.

She brushed her hands over the tops of my thighs and around my vag... my pussy.

"Uhh." I gasped at her touch and went crimson.

Again she ignored the reaction she'd caused. I looked around trying to distract myself. That's when I saw the shower over the bath. Was I the only one who hadn't...

"That's better. Nice and smooth."

My fingers went there, touching myself as her hand lingered for what seemed an age. The smoothness did feel nice.

"You know you're actually very pretty."

"I'm not." I said self-depreciatingly.

Her hand glided over my thigh and I felt myself tingling.

"Yes, you are. You've got gorgeous legs. Smooth and well-shaped. Heels will accentuate your calves so well.

A flat stomach."

Her hand moved upwards, over my hips to circle my belly. I quivered when it passed low near to my... pussy.

"And your tits are perfect."

Her voice was becoming husky as she cupped a breast and lifted it as if assessing its weight. Her eyes hovered just a few inches away.

"Uhh."

I gasped with a confused arousal. Ophelia stepped away with an unexpected sharpness.

"You can put the underwear on now."

We went back to the bedroom and as I pulled on the unfamiliar feeling lingerie she wrapped herself in a dressing gown.

Next came a dress. Short. It ended halfway down my thighs. Much higher than anything I would normally wear.

"What size feet are you?"

"A five."

"Perfect"

A pair of low heels she pulled from the bottom of the wardrobe sharpened the line of my calves as she'd promised and my posture improved. I felt instantly better.

Ophelia was standing back. Looking me over.

"You've nice hair. Silky. A gentle colour would help. You can do that at home, something with a hint of red. Other than that it's fine.

Just ..."

I waited. Something else that needed fixing?

"I've never seen you wear make-up." She said turning her attention to my face.

"I don't. Never have."

"What never?"

"No. Not really."

"Can you even do it?"

I looked at all her creams and powders.

"No. Not really. A bit of lipgloss, and some blusher if we go somewhere posh. That's about it."

"Well, it's way time that changed. How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Christ. Twenty-eight and I'm going to have to teach you something I learned as an eight-year-old."

She picked up a small tub.

"We'll start with this. Foundation."

I think she was actually enjoying my naive discomfort as she explained step by step what she was doing.

I looked at the image in the mirror, watching her build my face layer by layer. When she'd finished I didn't recognise the person looking back. She was slimmer, younger, and prettier than I'd ever seen.

"Stunning."

Ophelia stood behind me rubbing her hands down my sides and letting them rest at my waist.

"That's the girl you've hidden away for all those years.

You're Mandy.

Never Mouse."

I stood up and looked at myself properly. In the clothes. With the makeup. I truly did look as beautiful as Ophelia.

"My sister used to look like this. Before she had a baby. Still manages it most of the time."

Mindy had. She'd been the beautiful one in our family. She'd never had a shortage of boyfriends. Just seemed she chose the wrong one to settle down with.

"You should have paid more attention to your sister."

I smiled at the reflection looking back at me. A few hours earlier it would have been impossible for me to comprehend, but I had a woman I hated with a passion, and with good reason, to thank. I said it anyway.

"Thank you."

I reached up to unzip myself and a hand stopped me.

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to change back."

"Keep them."

I looked at her.

"You're giving me your clothes?"

"Yeah.

New Mandy from today."

She was looking me over. I sensed a whole new warmth in her. Perhaps she wasn't the person who'd destroyed my marriage. Perhaps that was Ray, and Ophelia was as much a victim as I was.

"Do you still have Ray's credit card?"

"Yes. He hasn't cut me off. Not yet."

"He's rich. He can afford to treat you to a new wardrobe. Owes you that.

It's Saturday tomorrow. Come shopping with me."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes.

But try not to look too dowdy. Wear something casual. I don't want people to think I'm with my mother.

And something easy to take off. You'll be spending a lot of time in the changing rooms. So much to try on."

As I left Ophelia's I felt strangely renewed. It'd stopped raining and I left my coat open to billow around my sides. Perhaps it was the heels but I was more upright. My head held higher.

It felt good to be seen in my new clothes. I felt like a whole new person.

I stopped at Boots on the way home a bought a hair colour. One with a hint of red to it.

Six

Ophelia was as good as her word. She did meet me for shopping the next morning. Even in jeans and a pullover, she managed to look sexy and sophisticated. Everything was tight and seemed to fit just right. The jacket she wore over the top followed the line of her waist. She exuded the look of a model, managing to be a mannequin for her clothing in a way few could ever match in reality.

I'd done my best. Flat shoes, a wraparound skirt and a jumper. All hidden under a big coat to keep the flip-flopping autumn weather at bay.

Ophelia glanced me up and down. I knew she didn't approve but she didn't pass comment apart for my hair.

"That's nice."

She touched it and I smiled coyly.

Richer."

"Ready to hit the shops?"

She was different today. Warmer. All smiles. Genuine ones as though she really wanted to be my friend.

"I have his card if that's what you mean."

I actually smirked. I felt mischievous at what I was about to do. It was like I was participating in a heist.

"Good. Let's max it out. Consider it part of a divorce settlement."

She looped my arm and marched me towards the big department store.

"So. Did you do your homework?"

I felt a surge of adrenaline.

"You meant it? No."

"Oh, Mandy.

I wanted to hear you use all your new words to describe fucking."

I looked around nervously.

"I'm not going to talk about sex in public."

"Mmm. Perhaps too soon. But before I'm done with you, you're going to describe how to give the perfect blow job."

"I don't do that. Not if I can help it."

"You don't like it?"

"No. It's horrid."

She gave me a puzzled look but didn't say anything else about it.

I settled into the excitement of looking at all the brightly coloured clothes. Of looking at Ophelia holding them against herself and posing. Of imagining how I would look in tight jeans or a long dress that showed off my tits. Yes, I was using that word now. And others. It still felt naughty when they passed my lips, but also liberating. As though a weight had been lifted from me.

Ophelia was showing me the underwear. Rows of bras and knickers on hanging rails. All sizes, all colours, and all shapes. She insisted I only chose matching sets. Flimsy garments in lace.

"You should try them on."

"They're my size. They'll be fine."

I was happy to just buy them. Ophelia had other ideas.

"Size isn't everything. It's the fit, how they look.

Come on."

She bundled me into a changing cubicle, following me in much to the disdain of a shop assistant dutifully overseeing the area.

"You don't have to come in with me." I protested.

"Yes, I do.

Someone has to be the judge."

She was pulling at my clothes again.

"Everything off."

For the second time, I found myself naked in front of Ophelia. This time it was less of a shock and I sort of enjoyed the excited tingle that raced through me as my tits bounced freely into her view. I couldn't explain why but it felt good to have her eyes on me. Someone who did genuinely think I was beautiful.

I tried each bra on in turn. I giggled as Ophelia insisted on ensuring I was fitted comfortably into the cups.

"You keep touching me." I giggled.

"Sorry.

Try this."

This one was a basque type in satin lace and rose print. Suspender straps hung down my thighs.

"I have one like this. I wear it as a top with leggings or jeans in the summer."

I couldn't imagine going out in my underwear.

"It's tight." I complained as she clipped me up at the back.

"It has side boning. Gives you a waist."

I wriggled to get more comfortable and tugged at the cups.