The Fancy Dress Party That Never Was

Angela and I bought a house together when the area was still a little rundown around two years ago, we were a late twenties career couple with no thoughts on joining the marriage club. 

The house was a sound financial decision, we had an agreement drawn up before buying the house as if some mystic force had instilled a feeling of what the future may hold. Friends who divorced or parted soon declared the relationship equivalent of war on each other. 

We had no need for such behaviour. Just like an identical twin knows what the other is thinking we both knew it was over for us before thoughts became words, we had become like students who had inadvertently slipped into adult life while still sharing the same house before our second cohabiting anniversary. 

With the wisdom of hindsight what we thought was love turned out to be something different,  something totally different - the feeling we greedily consumed and accepted as love was only lust.

Our decision to part seemed as natural as the decision to live together had been. When we sat in the solicitors office to finalise financial arrangements neither of us could, hand on heart, say who had first tabled either decision.

Practicality would be paramount we agreed, we would live in the house until it was sold, our social life would continue and we would not tell a soul until the hose sale had gone through. As we had already been celibate for several months we even continued sleeping in the same bed, the cost of buying a second bed seemed an unnecessary waste.

A party nearly created a rough point during our separation process, I said “not that keen, you should go alone” when Angela brought the invitation home. I did not want to go to her works party, let alone a fancy dress party, where I knew no one. 

“Please Riku, I don’t want to be the only singleton at the party and I don’t want to take some random man. Management from the other hotels in the chain will be there” Angela said, she was already on the head receptionist rung and keen for a step up the career ladder to under manager.

The other staff were going in the usual hire shop fancy dress outfits, Angela decided to dress as the general manager at her hotel who always wore a charcoal pinstripe three piece suit, bow tie and a fancy kerchief in his top pocket. She had searched goodwill shops and found a suit that met her requirements.

Angela walked into the living room to model her outfit for me, she had bound her breasts, used a makeup to add a beard type shadow to her face, swept her hair back tight and hidden it inside her shirt collar. 

“That is brilliant” I said “and a hint you are manager material?” Angela smiled but said nothing. “I’ll go to the fancy dress shop this week”

“No need, I have two costumes for you to choose from, come see”

I followed her to our bedroom. My costumes were also hotel based; waitress and housekeeping uniforms lay on the bed. Angela looked pleased when I smiled “try both when you get time and choose you favourite, I will pick up cheap undies and tights for you from the supermarket, others will be aardvarks, bo-peep super-heroes or Willy Wonka, I wanted to keep us hotel themed” Angela said, her smile revealed how pleased she was at alphabetizing the list of costumes on the fly.

David answered on the third ring “I wanted to ask you about when you dressed up as wonder woman David” He was an old friend and had history of female outfits even when the theme was not fancy dress. I asked him if he got any grief about it, if people ridiculed him.

“Only grief from Jennifer when I stretch out her pantyhose” David laughed “You going to a fancy dress? Go for it mate”

I waited until Angela was at work and tried on the housekeeper things, looked in the mirror, saw how ridiculous I looked in the housekeeper outfit. I looked exactly like a man wearing a grey dress with a pinafore, hardly surprising as that was what I was. My iPhone rang, one of my coworkers “just a minute I’m upstairs” as I headed down to the study I saw it was 1:30 - halfway through what should have been my lunch break. I answered the queries then we chatted about the project for a while then I settled into the account I had been working on.

“Hi” Angela said as she popped her head around the door, the afternoon had passed in an instant. She returned with a tray laid out with tea things, mock surprise-noticed what I was wearing and poured tea “I meant you to try the costumes on” she giggled “not wear them until the party”

“Tried it on at lunchtime, phone rang and I’ve been working flat out since” I smiled as I tapped ‘out of office’ on my iPhone “I’ll go change”

“Why bother, it’s late, lets have supper then turn in for the night, my turn to cook”

By the time I walked into the kitchen Angela had opened wine and had pasta bubbling away, we chatted about how we would split things. Angela suggested offering a price to buyers for contents. “We would be able to start afresh” short term Angela would stay in staff accommodation making her available for consideration for promotion at all hotels within the group. I looked at the clock, we had been chatting for three hours. I said “the night has slipped away” 

“You seem really relaxed tonight, and us chatting into the small hours like I used to with my best friend at school” Angela smirked, kissed my cheek, giggled and said “goodnight Abbi” and walked off laughing.

“Will you be a waitress when I come home tonight?” Angela asked over breakfast. I said the dress looked shorter adding that I was happy with the housekeepers outfit. “Well you certainly looked happy wearing it all day yesterday”

“Will you give me a job if accountancy does not work out?”

Angela laughed “and you’ll work all year for less than you earn in a month?”

I asked if I should hire a wig, Angela said she had been unsure if I would wear women’s clothes, “I mean you are not Dave, now I know I’ll ask a friend at work to lend you her wig. Have you tried the waitress outfit yet?” 

“No need the housekeeper one is fine”

“Typical man, wear first thing that fits…” Angela said “but it does solve a problem with shoes. Waitresses wear heels, going as a housekeeper you can wear plain sneakers” Angela sniggered “and you won’t be mistaken for a real waitress at the party”

———//———

Our master plan began to evolve fast when a bidding war broke out for the house. One of Angelas coworkers had seen the ‘for sale’ board, at work Angela dodged the bullet by saying that we would begin looking for a new home once a buyer was found.

We were both a little on edge, ready to be moving on with our lives and, at the same time, a little scared of life apart. I looked at a couple of small houses in the town taking Angela along for her opinion. Angela talked about the practicalities while my head spun with freshly thought ideas of city life anonymity, ideas that people would only know me as Riku never as ‘Angelas Ex’.

“I have the whole day off” Angela said as we breakfasted.

“Lucky you, I have a busy, busy day starting with a teleconference at 8:30.

“FaceTime or Zoom?”

“Neither, old fashioned telephone” I said. Everyone at my company preferred it that way as we could chat to coworkers or clients while casually dressed. 

“I know how late your ‘busy, busy’ days can end, lets get your costume sorted before your teleconference” Angelas iPhone rang, she had a brief conversation “and before I have to go to work for a meeting” 

Angela pulled tags from the underwear “and what was wrong with trying these on?”

The underwear felt odd, the panties were almost like workout shorts but the bra stretched and tugged even when I lifted a hand, I described the feeling to Angela.

“Oh! I never would have guessed a bra felt like that” Angela said with a theatrical look of surprise followed by giggle. She explained that was the whole idea of getting used to the entire costume “you do not want to be still pulling at your bra and arranging your balls at the party tonight. I will do quick makeup and wig for you just before we leave”

Angela arrived home after midday with sandwiches and coffee from the deli, she lay lunch out on a tray and brought it into the study, put it on a table and watched between swipes at her iPad as I worked on my iMac then took a phone call while responding to emails. I was up to date and spun in my chair “that was hectic, has been like this since first thing”

“Yet you seem really calm, have you taken anything?” Angela said finishing with a smile. I smiled back, the suggestion was one of those couple-jokes that we shared if one of us were unusually stressed or chilled. 

“Shopping?” I said pointing at the iPad on the table as my phone rang, Angela passed the minutes scrolling the iPad. I pressed ‘out of office’ and said “sorry, no lunch break for homeworkers. How did your meeting go?”

“Can’t get over how relaxed you are, I’m reading an article about wearing women’s clothes as a technique to reduce stress” Angela put the iPad down and told me about her meeting. One of the hotel directors had asked her about the house sale, she explained, in confidence, about our parting and her short-term plan to stay in staff accommodation “they offered me two months on the job training followed by an under managers position,”

I could see her excitement building with each word spoken, she would be taking over from the existing under manager when he retires “I thought your under manager was only forty something”

“They only intended to offer me the position out of politeness, us being settled here and all” Angela paused to sip her coffee and to let confusion breathe. 

I felt like a contestant on a daytime gameshow where the box was about to be opened and the prize revealed.

“They never thought I would consider a move to Dublin”

“The flagship hotel?” I said, Angela nodded, we hugged and kissed. I had news but this was no time to piss on her parade.

———//———

“Forget the party” Angela said around 7 that evening when I asked why she was not getting ready “I know you did not want to go” I did not put up any argument but stayed quiet “it may be better if we skipped the party as I will be going to Ireland alone soon. Introducing Riku to everyone for one night would only serve to confuse”

“Already thinking like management” I smiled

“Lets eat out, somewhere expensive”

“I know just the place, I’ll book while you get ready”

Are you going to stay as Abbi?” Angela said with a real laugh “did you read that article I left on the iPad?”

“My happiness nearly matches yours” I said purposely ignoring the question, using her quizzical eyebrow technique Angela raised her left eyebrow as I said “I escape makeup and wig” I punched the air “and Abbi’s public appearance - Yea!”

“Seriously Riku, I’ve seen a new side of you, the article could be written about you” Angela said as we changed.

“Were you going to call me Abbi at the party?” I said as I ignored Angela

———//———

I cannot say I woke with joy the first morning in my new build apartment, it would be a lie and if life had taught me just one thing it would be ‘never start from a lie’ — I had not slept, I had lain awake until dawn imagining what might be waiting for me in my new life.

I employed a designer to furnish the apartment that was to be the core of new me. 

I was no longer a suburbanite. 

I was a trendy young exec who dressed in designer clothes and lunched at trendy cafés.

I had no yesterdays

Everything was brand new from the apartment in the city centre right down to the moka pot that spluttered away on the hob. It felt as if I had been dropped right into the centre of someone else’s life. Outside my building millions wandered the streets and I did not even know one of them. 

Angela phoned to apologise for not sending a housewarming gift, she would post it to me soon. She had been working in Dublin for a month. Loved job, city and people. Her enthusiasm changed my mood.

I said aloud “today is the first day of the rest of my life” then headed out for a walk, there were so many coffee shops I made an unwritten rule in my head to visit a new one every morning for a month then, with assistance from Siri added it to my calendar and set an alarm. And just like that unwritten had become written.

New routines and habits formed faster than a fast thing going really, really fast. I had become, and developed the mindset of, a city slicker. My work routine settled; a few days each month visiting clients, a few days in the office and the remainder working at home or exploring the city.

A parcel for you Mr Iwasaki the concierge said as I walked through the foyer. I smiled at how different life had become, no waiting home all day for a courier, no visit to some parcel depot a hour or more drive away. I must have looked puzzled as I looked at the label, I was not expecting a large parcel.

“Dublin postmark” The Concierge helpfully said

I opened the box, a paper package and a letter, I recognised Angela’s handwriting:

Dear Riku, I puzzled for ages over a housewarming present. I hope my present helps you enjoy many hours of relaxation. Love Angela 

I squeezed the package, clothes, bathrobe I guessed. Angela had enthused over the luxury bathrobes at her Dublin hotel, she had worn one during a FaceTime when she first arrived.

Ripping open the paper I instantly recognised what Angela had sent as I touched the material, colour was different but the stiff  hardwearing fabric was the same. Burgundy with a white Peter Pan collar, the colours of the Dublin hotels staff, same hard wearing material. Tissue wrapped package that had been folded into the dress fell back into the box. I examined the dress, it was new, it had ‘Abbi’ embroidered in gold metallic thread on the right side of the chest.

As I picked up the tissue package I felt the shape of an underwired bra. Without reason I began to feel nervous, I swallowed and looked over at the window as if a passerby might, any second, look through the fifteenth floor window. 

Angela loved lingerie, she had a favourite shop near the house where she shopped, where the sales assistant knew Angela’s sizes, where the sales assistant had put by the lingerie that Angela liked for me to purchase.

Two matching panties, a suspender belt and several packs of hose kept the bra company. At the bottom of the box was a pair of rubber sole flat shoes.

Every item had a gift tag tied to it ‘our secret x’

I was still feeling nervous, I checked my watch - ten minutes until I had a client phone call scheduled. I sealed everything back in the box with parcel tape before shutting it in the bottom of the second bedroom closet. I was not sure who it needed to be hidden from only that it needed to be hidden.  

When work finally finished I reread the article bookmarked by Angela weeks ago ‘New De-Stressing Trend’

“FaceTime Angela” I said to siri

Angela declined and immediately texted ‘angry?’ 

‘About…why would I?’

FaceTime call: Angela

Angela smiled but I could see anxious in that smile “was not sure if what I sent was an appropriate gift from an ex”

“More surprise than anything”

“Angry or wearing I guessed when FaceTime call came…how wrong could I be?” Angela put a finger to her lips “we should make a pact never to name what I sent”

I held up my pinkie finger, Angela mirrored. “I read that article”

“So did I before I sent the parcel, and more there is loads online” Angela smiled “try it when you know ‘one of those days’ is going to happen” the spoken air quotes automatically wiggled her fingers. 

We both laughed as I parroted ‘one of those days’ and mirrored my fingers the way we once had in days of coupledom.

———//———

Returning from a meeting I stepped out of my street shoes and placed them in the shoe closet before shuffling into house slippers. The shoe closet had a feint, soft and not unpleasant odour of the new rubber soled shoes.

Two weeks had passed since their arrival in the apartment, five days since I unpacked them. 

I walked to the spare bedroom, looked in the closet as if to check the burgundy dress still hung from the rail, walked to the 2 over 3 chest of drawers to check the lingerie was still laid out in the exact same fashion as Angela liked to arrange hers. 

Top left: empty (everyday panties)

Top Right: stockings and pantyhose

Next down: bra and panties (bras and bra sets)

Next down: empty (corsets and shapers)

Bottom: pinafore (accessories)

I set out the chest the way Angela had had hers, even though, they were all virtually empty. Organised closets and chests had been our shared compulsion.

After setting the kettle to boil I went to the shoe cupboard, took out the rubber soled shoes, put them on and walked the apartment. They felt more grippy than my house slippers and quieter. No sloosh, sloosh, sloosh of house slippers following me as I walked about. My new rubber soled shoes were silent, so silent that, if I wished to, I could creep up on an arctic hare unheard.

I sat drinking hojicha tea, flexing my new shoes and checking notes. I added  pleasant and unpleasant hashtags to outstanding tasks before changing the mental name of the soft rubber soled shoes to ‘house shoes’ then immediately, a few minutes later, decided to rename them ‘housekeepers shoes’

Within a few minutes walk there are what I have come to designate ‘daytime’ ‘quiet drink’ and ‘clubbing’ areas of the city. I already had favourite daytime destinations and favourite quiet drink destinations, now I set myself the task of finding favourite club destinations.

It is all too easy for a thirty year old to feel like an old man in a club. I allocated a Saturday night and set off with only a pre-paid credit card, by 1am I had a mental short-list of clubs that may suit and began to revisit a couple, by 3am the card was empty and I was awash with bottled water.

As I walked home a woman was being harangued by a couple of lads, I recognised her from a club that had not been on my mental short list. “Just finished?”  She stared at me. I tried again “Riku, from the club” 

“Thought you went home early” She said, she seemed nervous, the two lads watched, waited.

We chatted for a while about clubs, cafés, weather - that sort of thing, she seemed to pick up I was sober, I had one last attempt to offer a rescue “two minutes ago I was headed home, now I’m starving. Hungry?”

“See you lads later” she said as she fell in beside me “sober and hungry at half three in the morning?”

“Not hungry” I said adding the name of the building I was headed toward, she told me her name was Julie as she paused at a junction “I’ll be fine from here” she pointed left “see ya”

After initial experiments with my housekeepers shoes I decided to expand my experiment by adding the most uncomfortable item of Angelas gift. 

I silently crossed the spare bedroom and opened first drawer down and began to put the bra on. The fastening was a simple affair, identical to bras that I had experience of removing. 

I practised, closed my eyes and practised again, put it around my chest and then struggled again for a while. Just as I was about to admit defeat both hooks slipped into place, I had read the word online and now I wanted to test its feel aloud “brassiered…Riku brassiered himself” I paused, the word felt as wicked on my tongue as it had felt on my eyes “Abbi was brassiered…Riku brassiered Abbi”

I stuffed the bra cups with kleenex that I had bought especially for bra stuffing. Angela made it look simple, my efforts looked like a lawn the morning after an illegal mole rave in Somerset. I slipped my Tee over to hide the misshapen mounds and checked the result in the hall mirror. Like a modern day Hansel a trail of scrunched up kleenex, rather than breadcrumbs, marked my route.

A few minutes online and I clicked the buy now button belonging to a pair of false breasts with free delivery. For safety sake I removed the remaining kleenex before cooking dinner. 

False breast shopping is fraught with dangers I realised when the parcel arrived. They were heavy like a kilo bag of dried chickpeas would be but made from silicone and unusually conical. They escaped the bra at a speed quicker than scrunched-up kleenex. I paid more attention and reordered what seemed to be the correct inserts, discovered that a bullet bra is designed to give a sweater girl look, a bullet bra that was the same 36 chest size as the bra I wore and the same C cup size as the pointy inserts was on sale. 

Waiting until everything had arrived I tried out the second set of false breasts with great success, I had plenty of time remaining before I would need to start work. This would be my day to extensively test the de-stress theory by singling out and tackling every single unpleasant hashtag in Notes.

With the bra sorted I put on a pair of the matching panties then, after a quick search online, I went with suggestion of pantyhose as ‘most practical’ and took the thick black pantyhose from their packet. Again a search for ‘putting on pantyhose’ and I was soon pulling them up to my waist like a seasoned wearer.

I stepped into the Burgundy dress, the material was much stiffer than usual women’s clothes of which I had some experience of touching, Angela’s ‘hardwearing fabric’ description came to mind as I twisted this way and that struggling with the back zipper.

Finally dressed I put on my housekeepers shoes and walked into the kitchen to make tea. Filled with heavy false breasts the bra tugged, not unpleasantly, at my shoulders when I walked. 

I stood in front of the mirror and went up on balls of feet, down on heels, shoulder straps tugged as my false breasts bounced in a lifelike manner, my feelings a mixture of disturbing and reassuring. 

Tights made a soft squussh, squssh, squussh, squssh as I walked. 

Hem of the dress brushed against my legs a little below my knees making a sound so soft that no words of sufficient capacity existed to write description of the sound. 

Nylon of the tights against the woven nylon inner of the housekeepers shoes made the sound of a small silver spoon being gently pushed into a bowl of brown sugar. 

I was a symphony of feminine sounds from head to toe, if I became any more relaxed I felt sure I would simply melt into a puddle of contentment.

I had tackled a rude client and a prickly tax inspector by 10:00, had knocked off another brace of unpleasant hashtags by lunchtime. I put my iPhone on ‘out of office’ and went to my spare bedroom. 

My legs felt as if an army of marching ants had paused and were now engaged in marching on the spot. 

A quick search ‘itchy legs tights’ revealed having hairs on my legs was the cause of my problem. I stepped into the bathroom and with the help of electric razor soon had them hair free.

I had quickly settled into a routine; dress before breakfast, work from home for the day, cook dinner, relax. 

The online article had been correct in that one day a week really did seem to reset my stress meter - or would have if such a meter had been invented.

In my head, and embroidered on my housekeepers outfit I was Abbi and I soon came to think of those days as ‘Abbi days’ 

For reasons unknown to me I began to think of other days as ‘Riku days’. It was almost as if every day had to have a name assigned to it.  

———//———

The bullet bra sat in the drawer unworn, I was happy having a de-stressing day once a week and had sort-of forgotten about it when an email arrived from the seller, the matching panty was on sale. I measured with the care of a stonemason and ordered my size.

The new underwear added new experiences that I had not expected, the panty was much heavier material than the panties I had become accustomed to and although stretchy they felt much tighter. When wearing the dress over them it looked as if my cock had disappeared, spirited away by the panty fairy.

Second change was how far the bullet bra projected from my chest, it really did make my chest look like a sweater girl from the 1950s and took bouncing to a new level.

Nothing could have prepared me for the final change, I was readying myself to start work and tidying the breakfast things away. As I walked across the living room I began to feel aroused, I could feel my cock straining against the new panties “oh no, oh no I chanted as I made for the bathroom while trying in vain to pull the panties down. Every step brought an unrequested level of pleasure I had not felt for months, before reaching the bathroom I began pumping my load, it felt first-time good. Lost in the moment I thrust my hips and felt my cock move against the panties. My knees began feeling week as I steadied myself.

Hot and damp filled my groin, shame filled my head but there was no stopping. Hot and damp began to spread down my leg, I was burning with shame and embarrassment. 

Removing the cum soaked panties only served to increase my feeling of shame, I had turned a stress relieving activity into some sort of sex game in which I was the sole involuntary participant.

I needed to get my thoughts in order, checking my diary confirmed there was no reason not to take an unscheduled day off. I stepped into the shower, the panties I had worn were already in the washing machine, evidence of what had occurred only lived on inside my head. 

———//———

I felt like a hipster and I looked like a hipster sitting at the window table in Café Coffee. As Napoleon would I drew a line down the centre of an imaginary sheet of paper that I always kept handy inside my head. The ‘against’ list first:

1. Men wearing a dress is wrong
2. Becoming aroused by wearing panties is fucked-up
3. I am not a housekeeper
4. Future girlfriends will be horrified
5. Normal men do not wear bras

Then I set too with the ‘for’ list:

1. I like wearing the dress

“Riku” the rising infection indicated the speaker was unsure of either the names pronunciation or fit. 

I glanced up, smiled “Hi Julie”

Julie thanked me for rescuing her as she sat and we fell into a casual strangers sharing a table type of chat. Julie was watching the street for a friend, as her eyes scanned passers by my eyes scanned her - too pretty for me, too young for me, I guessed her age to be early 20s, perhaps 22, no rings.

In direct contrast to her smart casual look I was full on business suit, trendy loose tie and jacket thrown on an empty chair as if it were from bargain row rather than Saville Row.

“You looked so deep in thought I wasn’t sure if I should speak”

“I was making a for and against list in my head” I said

“About?”

“Where to eat tonight” I lied as I let my stare settle on the street “now I’m making another”

Julie reached for her coffee “about?”

“If I should ask you to dinner”

“I’ve got a boyfriend”

“I feel such an idiot, making you think I was asking you on a date. I mean I am thirty and you are what…eighteen, nineteen…” I looked out at passers by, I could see her reflection in the glass.

Julie looked not un-pleased “twenty”

“Twenty with a boyfriend” I purposely looked embarrassed as I told Julie about being new in the city “I thought it would be nice to have a dinner companion”

“Having a boyfriend does not mean I am not allowed to go to dinner with a friend. A perfectly innocent dinner, right?”

———//———

One accident was not going to stop me, I researched ‘involuntary body reaction’ online and eventually found a useful paper on desensitising therapy. I formulated a plan and ordered two identical pairs of the stretchy panties.

My plan was simple, I would wear stretchy panties every day. My pan was too simple to succeed without improvement I realised when I ejaculated into the third pair on the second day.

Friction and compression were clearly my enemies, a condom might help to overcome friction I wrongly reasoned.

 

After more online research I took a tip from an article about premature ejaculation. Every morning I masturbated then put a pair of stretchy panties on, if they caused another orgasam then I sat in discomfort.

By keeping myself occupied with work I was able to resist the urge to take them off, able to ignore the shame I felt at wearing women’s clothes.

Wearing what had become, in my thoughts, my desensitising underwear daily worked perfectly. Once my pre-pantying wank was no longer essential being held so tightly seemed to have put my sex drive on hold. 

I wondered if calling the clothing that had I had been wearing ‘the panties’ sent signals to my subconscious in some way, I made a decision to take ownership of what I wore. Wearing female clothes is a mundane, routine, un-noteworthy way to reduce stress. 

“Wearing MY female clothes will be a mundane, routine, un-noteworthy way to reduce MY stress” I quietly chanted over and over until it became fact.

Wearing my stretchy panties, my matching bullet bra and my new white suspender belt I tried wearing stockings for the first time, girlfriends had always made a big thing of wearing stockings on special occasions and I could not see what all of the fuss was about until I was fully dressed and began experimentally walking around.

The stretch, tug, stretch I had complained of the first time I wore a bra, and since grown to like, was being replicated from waist down.

I stepped into my housekeepers dress, expertly zipped the back and added the pinafore.

I had begun taking pleasure in wearing the clothes as well as the effect they had on my stress levels. Every centimetre of my body was constantly receiving pleasurable feelings from the smallest of movements - even tensing a muscle or breathing became noticeable.

Lazy brunch over I filled the dishwasher and wiped down the counter. I was thankful to be alone - not because of what I wore but because of danger my purposeless smile might mark me as an imbecile to others “all these weeks” I said to my reflection as I shook my head. The newly cleaned bathroom mirror reflected a housekeeper, a carrier full of cleaning materials sat on the floor. I continued cleaning…

———//———

I invited Julie to a business dinner as my plus one, I knew on-one else to ask and we were casual friends. But when we went out or met in a coffee bar I liked to think people around us assumed we were a couple.

“What should I wear?”

“Will be quite a formal night, there will be six couples, half clients half colleagues” I smiled “dress allowance is 350” Julie looked confused “for the plus one”

“Are you saying I would be paid to go?” Julie smiled

“Well not paid, it’s a clothes allowance, I submit the receipts to my company. We have a night out and you get to keep the clothes so make sure to pick something you like”

“So if you took a boyfriend?”

“Same deal” I nodded “not that I am…” I said not feeling a need to complete the sentence. 

Julie asked questions about type of dress, how formal is the venue. When I answered that the venue was a hotel Julie said “who will you tell your colleagues you are bringing?”

“Julie”

“They say…and who is this Julie you are bringing?”

“My friend would be my answer, they know I am unattached and will bring a friend” I felt unsure if I was being creepy in some way.

“Are you planning we stay at the hotel?” 

I felt I had pussyfooted around long enough “it is a meal Julie, nothing else, ten minute taxi ride and you will be home”

At my suggestion we met up to go shopping “I don’t get an allowance” I said as we wandered the Nth shop of the morning. Julie asked my opinion, seemed pleased that I had not cast her adrift to choose a dress. I pointed out some styles that were ‘the sort of thing’ adding “or a LBD would be stunning”

“LBD ?” Julie laughed softly “you take me dress shopping, talk about fabrics, say things like ‘so soft, would feel nice on’. So tell me why would a LBD be stunning?”

“Its who is inside it that makes the difference”

“Are you hitting on me?” Julie locked eyes with me, smiled then said “all work makes Jack a dull boy” she giggled “…and Riku, you really should make an effort to find someone to date” as she picked out a couple of black dresses.

Julie took my hand and led me toward the changing rooms saying “I need a second opinion” to the attendant. I looked away as Julie pulled her top over her head. “Pay attention Riku, I brought you in here to look”

———//———

Housekeeper Sundays I began calling Sundays. Cleaning my apartment felt so enjoyable, better than I could have imagined and I get a sparkling, spotless apartment in the bargain.

 

Sundays are the best.

There are three other apartments on my floor, people in two apartments along the hall are here Monday to Friday - live in the country, work in the city. This left only 1502, the nearest apartment to mine that I had guessed was occupied by an elderly person as a carer came in several breakfast and dinner times each week.

I still had the kitchen and living room to clean, I wanted to take the trash out. I opened the door slightly, I put my ear to my door - silence, changing into street shoes I was ready to take the trash to the chute near the lift. 

Leaving my door open wide I stepped into the hall, lift was on ground. I walked to the lift, turned the corner and opened the trash cute. My heart rate slowed, I was outside my apartment for the first time. The lift was moving, still on 2, minutes away from my floor. I slowly walked back to my apartment. “You could have been seen at any moment - and what about the stairs” I told myself.

My expedition to the trash cute deserved a celebration, I made Earl Gray tea and began an online shopping session. I had a summer dress in mind, white with a burgundy rose design on the front that ran across one breast to the opposite hip, I had first seen the dress instore while shopping with Julie and now I had it’s buy now button within my grasp. I added a white bra and brief set to my basket, I click, click, clicked away and the matching suspender belt, 15 denier stockings, 15 denier panty hose dropped in my basket. I searched shoes and soon snagged white housekeepers shoes. With free next day delivery I would have them in time for de-stressing Wednesday.

———//———

I sent Angela an e-birthday card, the reminder had popped up on my iPhone and it seemed a little petty to ignore it. We exchanged a few emails, then had a telephone chat. She had asked about her housewarming gift in passing and just as casually I replied that I wore it on Sundays. Angela said she would be interested to see, suggested we FaceTime.

“Still as calming as ever?” Angela said after she had complimented me on my bust, I nodded “do you think a wig would complete your outfit, perhaps feel more calming do you think?”

“Never thought of it” I said and explained about the breast forms. We moved onto our new lives, Angela was still in Dublin, now she lived in an apartment and gave me the address for xmas cards. She occasionally dated, but no second dates so far. She asked if I was with someone.

“I have a friend, not dating. We meet for coffee and are plus ones”

“Tell me more, pretty, how old - spill the beans” Angela was in full blown gossip mode.

“Julie is 20, don’t judge” I laughed

Angela laughed “and pretty?”

“Not classically beautiful”

“You mean not big tits?” Angela paused the way she did when we were together, I waited for whatever was coming “does Julie see you like this?” Before I could answer “forget I asked, not any of my business”

“No secret, the only person to ever to see ‘Abbi’ is you” I wiggled my fingers “her looks are not important, Julie is nice to spend time with”

“That’s vague” Angela said, I recognised her teasing tone “don’t be embarrassed, feel free to boast away about your toy-girl”

“She is an ideal plus one and…” it was my turn to tease right back “…the sort of woman a recumbent cyclist would shout at”

———//———

Initial excitement of Housekeeper Sundays soon faded, I would walk slower, by saving recycling all week I had excuse-stroke-reason to make two trips out. I was making my way back to my apartment when I heard sounds coming from inside 1502, the sounds of a security chain being desecurityied. Before the door opened I silently closed mine and put my eye to my viewer. 

I knew Edith could not see, I had seen a fisheye view of her carer guiding her along the hall, heard her carer call her Edith, seen her carer watch as Edith counted steps to the lift, the trash cute, the recycling cute.

Eye to spy hole I watched as Edith opened her door and, trash bag in hand, begin counting. She returned a few moments later and, without fuss, unlocked her door. 

Despite ordering the same size the white bra I had bought online felt too tight, my forms spilled out as if sensing a chance of freedom. I emailed for advice, I received a returns label.

My bullet bra looks wrong beneath my new summer dress I decided. I had a day of telephone calls in two days time, my last reason to wear it for a week. I wanted to wear my new dress, I would wear my new dress.

Whenever I walked through a store lingerie department my palms would begin to sweat without even slowing pace, even if I could pluck up courage and pause to choose underwear it would surely be the temperature of a soldering iron, a security guard would surely escort me from the building, sales assistants would surely point. 

I saw the independent lingerie store every day, purely by chance I passed by on my morning run, I purposely walked past on my way to buy coffee. One woman stood behind the counter, the store was customer free first thing. Reaching for the door I silently practised my cover story for the last time - I would be buying a gift for my girlfriend, her birthday.

Only those who fail to plan fail. I had researched ‘finding a bra that fits’ - different makes are often different sizes one person wrote. I had checked out the size and brand of my burgundy set. I walked in with the confidence of ferret entering a rabbit burrow.

“Do you sell Chantelle lingerie?” I paused, briefly looked at her name badge, returned my eyes to hers “Michelle” 

I was a fish out of water and employed the ‘a stranger is using my name’ technique to redress the balance. Now I had become a fish in barely enough water, I smiled.

“Sure, what are you looking for?”

“White 36b underwired unpadded bra, well a matching set”

“Wow!” Michelle threw a wide smile “I love a customer who knows what they want, by set you mean a suspender belt and panties?”

“Please” I said. Michelle was busy laying out bras on the counter and I was feeling at ease. I picked up one, the most translucent with a heavy pattern “this bra please” 

While Michelle was busy I checked her out thoroughly enough that I would be able to pick her out in a black-friday crowd. I put her at 20-25, dress size 6 and a 8.4 on the cuteness scale that I had just invented.

“24 or 26 belt?”

“30 please, hipster style briefs size medium” if she was going to say something this would be the moment, I knew from my online research the sizes I wanted were not the sizes of one girlfriend.

Michelle did not even pause, she completed the set “would you like stockings as well?”

“Do you have light tan, 15 or 10 denier. And a second pair of panties please”

“Knowledgable AND practical” Michelle smiled as she rang me up, she looked carefully at my card “see you soon Riku”

———//———

“I saw you pass as I was coming out” Julie said. I knew the building where she lived and my new route took me right past ‘those footpaths are quieter, easier to run on’ I had told myself. Even inner me did not believe that. “Slow if you see me stretching and I’ll join you”

Our route took us through the park ending at a coffee shop that had a covered outside area where we would sit to cool. I had expected to live an anonymous life in the city but I was learning that people soon become known, recognised, just like in a small Kentish village. Third morning the Barista waved from behind the window as we stopped outside and brought out our usual.

“My boyfriend had a fit” Julie said, they had been out as a foursome, were drinking in a bar, sitting at a table, the men were talking sport, Julie was talking to her friend about our meal at the hotel, shopping for a LBD, the new shoes. She had not noticed her boyfriend had begun listening “we thought he was going to the toilet but he never came back” Julie pulled a lopsided smile “three days later he is still ghosting me”

“Understandable he feels like that, if my ex had caught me talking about you she would have cut my balls off” I blushed “sorry Julie, didn’t mean to be crude”

———//———

My new underwear set fit perfect, I dropped my new summer dress over my head, tied the back half belt in a bow and felt myself hardening, my busy day was starting in 30minutes. 

Not enough time to undress and sort it out.

Not enough confidence to ignore my cock.

I slid my panties down to mid thigh, held the front of my new dress out of the way and began stroking my cock. To get a spare hand to catch my load I would need to take my dress off, that would take too long. Standing to tiptoe I aimed into the washbasin, calf muscles tensed from being on tiptoe added a new level of intensity as I shot string after string of cum. 

The intense shame that I felt first time I came in my stretchy panties had been replaced with intense pleasure. OK some people might think it kinky, well let them. 

I did not care about imaginary opinions, when something felt that good it cannot possibly be wrong.

I checked my reflection, the pattern on my undies showed through the thin material of my summer dress, turning slightly and looking over my shoulder I saw the outline of my suspender belt, my bra. Angela called it her ‘accidentally slutty look’ now it was my ‘accidentally slutty look’. Perfect. Ready for work. 

———//———

Just as Housekeeper Sunday had a routine so did Edith, she would unlock her door and make a trip to the trash at exactly 12:05. I guessed that she listened to a radio show that finished at 12:00.

My routine was to leave my door open, do the trash, check what floor the lift was at before going into the stairwell to run up and down a floor. I had become addicted to the pleasure I felt as bra and suspender straps stretched and flexed. 

The sheer delight I felt lingered on as I slowly walked back to my apartment, closed my door, slipped my hand into my panties and stoked my way toward my second orgasam of the day. I needed to have some in the bank as I was due to fly to the Paris Office next day for five days.

That did not mean I would not have opportunity to have a little Abbi time, I had visited the lingerie shop, picked out what I thought summed up a Parisian bedroom look - a red lingerie set and red fishnet stockings that I could wear in my hotel room. 

Michelle showed me a sheer red neglige “this would look divine over” she giggled “too expensive to rip off in a rage of passion…but then it would be worth every penny” 

“Thank you for the tip” I said with a smile “do you have a bralette, slip over head type?”

“Usual size?” Michelle laid out a couple, I picked a black one, “hipster panties?” I nodded “two pairs?”

“I must be a regular”

Michelle smiled and nodded “sure…size should be fine” her voice lowered to a level that a Yorkshire terrier would think of as a quiet whisper “or you can try them on” her voice returned to normal, she looks up “will there be anything else?”

“Nothing else thanks” I held out my card unsure if I had imagined ‘or you can try them on’ Michelle rang me up. 

I felt almost certain my ears had imagined it.

———//———

The trip took longer that anticipated,I was several days late coming back from Paris, then straight into the office. I had missed Housekeeper Sunday but made up for it by wearing my bralette and panties under my clothes for Sightseeing Sunday in Paris.

We had exchanged messages while I was away but waited until Friday to tell Julie I was back. 

‘Shattered from flight?’ Julie texted

‘Mmm, coffee tomorrow?’

‘Sure let me know’ then ‘b/f being arse’ then ‘don’t read that’

I was home readying to cook pasta, a bottle of red breathing on the counter when the concierge phoned “Mr Iwasaki there is a visitor for you” his voice lowered “she did not know your family name or apartment number only your forename” his voice returned to normal “Julie, twentyish, shall I send her up?”

My mind and body raced, luckily I was in Riku mode but I still needed to make sure evidence of Abbi was removed.

Slowly since moving to the apartment the second bedroom had become Abbi’s room. So much so that I now thought of the room in that way. I was making decisions on the fly, if Julie would want to look around I would say I had a roommate, a roommate called Abbi.

Changing out of my housekeepers shoes I put on my house slippers, set a new house slippers out for Julie, set the door ajar and returned to the kitchen to make it obvious I was not nervously waiting behind the door. As the lift chimed to announce its arrival  I changed music from Raglaia to my Leo Ieriri / Miyuu playlist playing softly.

“Sorry about the cooking smell” I said as Julie walked in.

“Sorry about turning up like this” Julie said “I’m on my way to work”

“Do you have time for supper? It’s only pasta in lemon and oil with peas” I said as I poured her a glass of wine “and salad”

 

As we sat at the breakfast bar Julie began texting “can I hang for a while” 

“You needed to ask?” I nodded and smiled

“called in sick” Julies phone beeped several times “work are upset, John can be a real dick”

“Your boss?”

“John - my ex”

“I’ve only heard you call him your boyfriend…ex?” I employed a rising inflection while, at the same time, being careful not to imply air quotes.

“He slept with a girl we both know then told me to teach me a lesson” Julie absentmindedly twirled a remaining strand of linguine “he had seen us running together, in a coffee bar…it was like he had been following us”

I waited, refreshed our glasses. She drained her glass, I went to top it up, Julie held her hand over the glass to stop me.

“Enough alcohol, I want revenge sex, just hear me out” Julie said “knee jerk reaction was to let myself be picked up at work” Julie explained that she had ended it with John the day I went to Paris “I’ve never been into one night stands, I want my revenge sex to be with someone I like”

We talked about sex like we were finalising the extras list before signing the order for a new green car. The moka pot gurgled away, we drank strong black coffee, we agreed that we would have a one-off night of sex, when Julie left next morning we would go back to being platonic friends. 

We kept a sort of awkward ‘friend stopping over’ gap between us as we  wandered toward my bedroom “family bathroom”

“This door?” 

Julie pointed to the second bedroom “my roommates room” 

“Is he in?”

“She not he, Abbi is rarely here” I felt the need to dig myself in deeper “like an airBB for when she visits city”

“Can I?” Julie had a hand on the door, I nodded, she opened the door “she always this tidy?”

I knew what Julie meant, the room lacked any visible signs of occupancy “don’t know, I never open the door”

We knew what type of coffee each other drank at what time of day, favourite books, favourite colour, place, music, smell and so much more but being this close felt frightening. 

Missionary has to be the way to go I reasoned in my head as we undressed, the light was on, I threw the duvet across the room and flopped down. If I was providing revenge sex to a twenty year old I wanted an eternal record burnt into my retinas.

Julie put he arms up as I slipped between her legs, I gently gripped a wrist “Is that OK?” She nodded, I pinned her arms down, she wriggled and demanded ‘tighter’ when I loosened my grip.

Julie orgasmed, “you come?” I shook my head “good” she slipped out from beneath, briefly inspected the condom then straddled me. Seeing her in bra and panties in the changing room had not prepared me for naked Julie, her body was freshly minted young. 

Her legs gripped the sides of my body as she ground herself into me, her pert breasts had a damp feel, her head was tilted back she repeated “that’s it harder, don’t stop yet” over and over.

I was not for stopping, I needed to cum but could not for the life of me. Julie collapsed on top, I slipped a hand from her breast to the dampness of her lower back. She was hot enough for her body to almost burn when her full weight bore down.

 

Julie smiled “Still not done?” as she slowly let me out a little then slid back on as if testing me for hardness.

“Not yet” I said as I thought I should have faked it. Julie sat up straight, using her palms she took her weight on my hips. I had a sudden vision of myself as if I were on the ceiling looking back down at the scene on the bed. I was laying there, hem of my new summer dress around my waist, lacey bra and suspender belt showing through the thin material, my panties around my knees.

I moved my hands up Julie - groin, stomach, breasts. She felt in the shower wet, I ran my thumbs across her nipples, Julie responded with wriggles and moans. Looking up I saw tears streaming down her cheeks, she was gasping, gulping down air as if a slave to her sex.

I felt tears begin streaming down my own cheeks, I was gasping, gulping down air - a slave to my own genitals. My orgasam synced with Julie, my joy spliced with the same shame I had felt when cumming in the stretchy panties. 

———//———

My apartment needed cleaning I told myself. While in Paris I had missed a Sunday, I was dressed and ready for Housekeeper Sunday more completely than ever before. 

Angela’s mention of a wig had set off a nagging voice inside me. I had spotted the shop in Paris purely by chance and had the luck to be served by a distinctly un-parisian sales assistant. 

I have no idea how a hairstyle is converted into words, if pressed I would write ‘nearly shoulder length turned in bob with centre parting and bangs’ I am sure, however, that the colour of my new wig is ‘this seasons soft blonde’  

Just as the housekeepers uniform and shoes transformed me neck down my new wig has transformed me neck up. I feel it brush my neck as I move and imagine how hair will feel against my face when I walk in the hall and stairwell. Before I begin cleaning I slide my panties to mid-thigh, lift the hem of my housekeepers dress, turn my head so I look through hair at my reflection and begin to stroke my eager cock. 

Daylight seemed reluctant to give way to darkness as I watched from my spotlessly clean apartment. My midday escapades outside my apartment had become not enough. Wearing my undetectable bralette beneath my clothes had become not enough.

Shopping binge after shopping binge had resulted in Abbi’s closet having outfits for every occasion, I passed time by examining garments from the hanging rail.

Enough time had passed, I felt ready to be consumed by the anonymity of the darkness…I dressed in control panties, lilac runners leggings, a sports bra held my falsies. Next came my short electric pink crop top that barely covered my bra, then a, two shades darker, lilac zip front hoodie that completed Abbi’s running kit. By the front door a pair of ladies runners waited. Face mask on, hoodie up I checked the mirror one last time, my heart monitor was off the scale, I breathed deep and slow until heart monitor warning light blinked out, I stepped outside.

I wanted to run the second my feet touched pavement, running would put distance between me and my building but I resisted and warmed up slowly - walk, fast walk, face mask off, jog…I was ready…slowly at first I began to run, by the corner I reached Riku’s regular pace.

 

Over the music my AirPods fed to my ears I heard the familiar slap of joggers on pavement, my false breasts rose and fell in time. I ran a new route, it had been in my head when I masturbated earlier, I never thought I would have courage enough to run through the club and bar districts in real life. But there I was, in the wide brightly lit pedestrian street, dodging groups of clubbers, ignoring cat calls, running past the club where Julie would be serving drinks and out the far end. 

I was warm, bordering hot, the street stretched out empty and dark, unzip top, hood down, the cool night air blew against my bare midriff…

…it felt so right as if I had always known one day I would be this person.

———//———

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