Betrayed, Chapter Two free porn video

Betrayed Chapter 02 By Cherysse St. Claire © Chapter 2: Shop 'Till You Pop The sex was torrid and went all night. I worshipped every inch of her magnificent body with my lips, tongue, fingertips. She did the same to me. I took her from behind, entered her doggy-style. I fucked her pussy with long, languid strokes even as I was stroking her meaty clitty with one hand. I willed her to cum, dared her not to, challenged her to hold out against the sensual assault that always drove Susan crazy. Dianna did cum; loudly, passionately, and more than once. Throughout the night, she teased, taunted, tempted my puckered hole with her fingertip, searching for an opening in more than the physical sense. My mind had struggled with exactly that the past seven days. Why had I allowed it to happen the first time? My shame and humiliation came back to me, reminding me. I was a cuckold, it said. After last weekend, I was also a sissy; Dianna's punk bitch. True, I had been a little drunk then and hadn't seen it coming. Now that she was making the overture once again, when I was in complete control of my senses and no longer taken by surprise, what would I do? Complete control? What a joke! For more than a week, I had been presented with evidence heaped upon evidence that my personal life was completely out of my control. Cuckold. Sissy. Punk Bitch. Okay, Lance; get a grip. A commodities trader deals in options every day. What were my options? I could continue to fight; that was the American Way. I could persist in my scorched-earth campaign of spite, malice, and revenge. Susan certainly deserved that for what she did ? but did I? Was I ready to allow my thirst for vengeance to consume me, even as I sought to devour her? I could just walk away from everything in my personal life and start over; flip that old Etch-a-Sketch over, give it a shake, and Presto! Start with a clean slate. I had my career, a spectacular income, a new home, a future. What did that future contain? Again and again, my thoughts returned to Dianna. She was more woman than I had ever known before in my life. A lot more than ANY woman, Buddy; think about it... I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind all week. I certainly couldn't now, with her body pressed intimately against mine. It felt good. It felt right. Being with her presented a tantalizing third option: what if I neither fought, nor ran? What if I just... gave in? She had certainly indicated she wanted me that way. Hadn't I cum in buckets that first time? Hadn't she? Had not my surrender to her been the most intense personal and emotional connection I had had with any human in my entire life? Where was the harm in just letting go, and seeing where the current took me? Cuckold. Sissy. Punk Bitch. Those were just words... I responded to my own soul-searching by spreading my legs just a bit. Dianna took that cue, then took me. We watched the sun come up over the lake, then slept like the dead until noon. It felt good to shower with someone again. It felt better to have sex in the shower. We reprised our reciprocal roles; she took my meat, then I took hers. Being with her this way, I didn't feel the guilt or shame of becoming a 'switch- hitter' I would have felt ? had felt - even a week before. As we were toweling each other dry, she kissed me tenderly on the lips. "Happy Valentine's Day, Lover," she purred sweetly. "I generally don't do holidays because I don't have anyone really special to do them with. Thank you for making this the most special day I have had in a long time." Damn! With all I had had swimming around in my head in the past week, I had completely forgotten what day this was. I didn't even have a card for her. The thought just suddenly popped into my mind. I somehow knew she would ask the question and wanted to be prepared for it when she did. I dashed into the bedroom, grabbed my cell phone, dialed the number I knew by heart, and started pulling strings... Dianna followed me into the bedroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around her lush physique. She embraced me and kissed me warmly. Then, she gazed into my eyes with a twinkle in hers. "So," she began teasingly, "what's next? I mean, what do you do for an encore after this?" "Gee, I dunno," I teased back. "I mean, what can I do to keep a gorgeous woman like you coming back? I had given a thought to taking you out for dinner tonight; someplace really nice. I don't know what you have in your closet, so I suppose I'll just have to take you shopping." Her eyes lit up like klieg lights at a Hollywood premier. She hugged me so hard, I thought she would crush my ribcage. "Oh, Baby," she breathed lustily in my ear. "You know how to push all a girl's buttons. Let's go get dressed." Our first task was to retrieve my clothes from wherever they had landed in Dianna's frenzy to disrobe me the night before. A problem became immediately apparent as my enchantress gingerly held up my briefs - or what was left of them - between her thumb and forefinger. They were still drenched with pre-cum from the long anticipatory drive from the office. Then, in the heat of passion, she had literally ripped them from my body. She silently arched one eyebrow quizzically and smiled bemusedly. I returned the smile and shrugged my shoulders just a little. She laughed. "I guess I'll just have to do without," I observed. She pressed her body against mine and gently massaged my cock with one hand. "While it would be hot to have you so... accessible inside your pants," she cooed, "I think we will try for something a bit more modest for now. If you oozed that much last night, before you even got here, you would ruin that beautiful suit today. I promise you that." She went to her dresser drawer, rummaged around for a moment, then returned. "These will do the trick," she chirped with a grin. I beheld the pink satin bikini panties with ruffled lace trim which she held against my crotch with two fingers from each hand. My mind swam in a confused tangle of thoughts. "That's modest?" was all I could think to say. The look in her eyes was pure seduction. "You like the way I look in my panties, don't you?" she asked in a tone of faux innocence. I could hardly deny it. "Well, being with you all day, thinking of you in a pair of my panties while we shop, will drive me to distraction. That's really hot, Sugar. Do it just for me... please?" Just give in, and see where the current takes me... She helped me into the panties, sliding them up my toned, hairless legs, and nestling them snugly around my hips. Gazing directly into my eyes, she reached her hand into the panties, cupped my manhood, and tucked it down and back between my thighs. "Now that I think of it," she postulated, "we are probably going to need a little extra protection. Wait here." She glided into the bathroom and returned a moment later with several folds of toilet tissue in her hand. She reached inside my panties and positioned the tissue under my cockhead. "There, that's much better," she mused. "We girls always do that to protect ourselves from leaks." Removing her hand, she cupped my pantied crotch from the outside and massaged it gently. "I have a hunch you are going to be leaking heavily today, Sweetie," she whispered in my ear. "At least, you will if I have anything to say about it." Next, she had me help her into a heavily-boned, lace-up black satin corset. "If you are taking me someplace special," she purred, "I want to make sure I look special. Corseting is so sexy, I just can't help but feel like the most beautiful woman in the world." I couldn't imagine her looking or feeling like anything but. After she showed me how to fasten the front busk for her, she placed both palms against the wall, leaned into it, and taught me how to pull the laces a little at a time from the top and bottom, working towards the middle. After some effort on my part, I had the garment laced as tightly as it would go, then tied the laces off and tucked them in the way Dianna instructed. My companion displayed the most gorgeous hand-span waist I could imagine. Her full, firm breasts stood out prominently. Her hips and tush were spread out even more provocatively than before. She made the picture even more erotic by rolling a pair of suntan stockings up her shapely legs and attaching them to the corset's garters. She made a show of donning a semi-sheer black chiffon blouse, waist-length, snug-fitting lavender suede motorcycle-style jacket and micro- miniskirt, and matching open-toed, lavender suede platform mules. The high stiletto heels arched her legs and caused her to thrust out her tush and braless breasts alluringly. The jacket was left unzipped, yielding a tantalizing glimpse of her prodigious charms. She made up her face accordingly; a bit heavier than I normally associated with daywear, but attractively so and totally in keeping with the personality of this exciting woman. She rummaged around in her closet for a few moments, returning with a matching lavender suede clutch purse and an oversized black leather Capezio bag. "Two purses?" I questioned. She gave me a quick buss on the lips. "You're taking me shopping for a dress for tonight, aren't you?" she inquired bemusedly. "What do you intend for me to do with what I'm wearing now; throw it out? Forget that, Lover; I adore this outfit. Plus, I think it looks really sexy on me. Don't you agree?" At least one part of my anatomy certainly did. She pressed her body against mine, cupping my angry manhood with one hand. Her silent, knowing smile spoke volumes. I had to get us out of here before hormones took over and we had to start from scratch. Makeup essentials and her identification went into the clutch; her bulky wallet and keys went into the bag. Then, she flashed me a dazzling smile. "All set," she chirped. "Let's go. I can't wait." I'm sure for Dianna, a hot day of shopping meant visiting the little shops along Clark Street or maybe Century Mall. Her eyes glazed over as we pulled into the underground lot at Water Tower Place. She affirmed she had been there before, adored its atrium design, brass and marble ambience, glass elevators, and seven levels of snob-appeal department stores and specialty shops, but had never been able to afford much more than looking. I avowed we would do a whole lot more than that before the afternoon was over. My black Yves St. Laurent trenchcoat was stored safely away in the trunk; I wouldn't need it until we returned. I took my companion's arm in mine and steered her towards the elevator alcove. Lingerie shopping came first. While Dianna alone might have drawn the interest of the sales staff, Dianna in the company of a man wearing a designer suit and tie drew them like flies to honey. My lover allowed the associates to steer us to the appropriate displays and locate her preferred styles, sizes and colors. She demurred on their offers of assistance in the dressing room, avowing her boyfriend was all the help she needed. Before I could utter a word, she scooped up garments in one hand, my wrist in the other, and headed for the changing room. When she said I would be all the help she needed, it was no idle boast. I was fastening hooks and adjusting straps the entire time. Each time she tried on a different set, she admired it in the mirror and asked what I thought. What could I say? She made everything look good. I had originally anticipated finding something just for that evening, but she found matching three-piece sets ? bra, panties, and garter belt - in Winter White, Navy, Emerald, Hot Pink, Lilac, Crimson, and Black. She liked them all so much and they looked so good on her, how could I make her choose just one? Of course, my decision was heavily influenced by Dianna rubbing my crotch suggestively each time she asked my opinion. The sensation of her ministrations on my satin-and-lace-encased manhood was indescribable. My cock was so hard, and stayed that way. "You know," she cooed, "you seem to like me in this corset so much, I just might have to wear it more often. That, and all those garter belts, means, I will also need..." "More stockings?" I inquired, smiling. "I think I can arrange that." I slipped out of the changing room and located the associate we had been working with. After a brief interval, I returned to my girlfriend with two dozen pair of assorted ultra-sheer hosiery. By the time we returned to the check-out stand, Dianna was wearing a lilac lace underwired push-up bra, matching bikinis, and Jet Black seamed stockings with French heels under her outfit. I was sporting a raging hard-on inside my satin panties. "I'm in a 'red' mood today," she whispered in my ear. "I feel really hot when I'm with you. Let's find something to match; something scorching." It took another hour and visits to several high-end retailers to find the right dress. There were several she liked or I liked. We finally found one we both liked. It was a dazzling red sequined sleeveless sheath with a halter neck. The deeply-plunging sweetheart bodice revealed a breathtaking amount of cleavage. The scooped back just hid the upper edge of her corset. The hem hugged her thighs tightly, just covering the tops of her stockings. Dear God, it was exquisite on her! We spotted the display in the window of a jewelry store. It was a set; diamond- and-ruby pendant earrings, multi-tiered necklace and multi-strand bracelet. I looked at her; she, at me. Our shared smile told the tale. It was my turn to grab her wrist and whisk her inside. The gems were perfect, exquisite on her. The associate, perceiving a ripe opportunity, withdrew another box from a drawer beneath the display case and opened it. Within lay a single-strand diamond-and- ruby bracelet that obviously was meant to complete the set. Dianna stared at it quizzically for a moment, then at her other, un-adorned wrist. I knew immediately what the second span had been intended for. "May I?" I inquired of the associate. "Please," he consented, beaming his delight. I lifted the delicate strand with both hands, knelt before Dianna's feet, encircled her trim left ankle and deftly clasped the clasp. She trembled slightly at the intimacy. "Oh, Lance," she gushed, "it's perfect ? just perfect." The platinum card was out in a flash and the beaming associate began tallying the sale. The smile on Dianna's face froze as she watched the figures add up on the invoice. She grabbed me by my lapels and pulled me aside. "They're... real?" she whispered hoarsely. "We can't... I couldn't..." "So... what," I responded earnestly, "this whole, magical experience should be fake, just like my sham of a marriage? Dianna, we are going to do this; if not for you, for me. I'm not expecting you to commit to me for a lifetime. This whole weekend, starting from when I walked through your door last night, is shaping up to be exactly that; Magic. When it's over, I want to be able to look back and say: 'This was real.'" "But Baby," she protested, "I'm not real. You don't know anything about me..." I shushed her with a fingertip to her plush, inviting lips. "Eyes of the beholder, Baby Girl," I responded softly. "You're real to me. This moment in time, if only a moment, is real. Let's enjoy it together and let tomorrow take care of itself." Her second assault on my ribcage was more impassioned than the first. Still, she took great care in folding the receipt and insisted it went safely into my wallet. The shoes happened by pure serendipity. We were on our way to Mrs. Field's to buy some Nibblers to tide us over until dinner and saw the exquisite sandals in the window of a specialty shoe store. They were nothing more than thin soles and series of narrow, red sequined straps, revealing rather than concealing the foot and wrapping, then buckling around the ankle. All of it was perched on pencil- thin five-and-one-half-inch stiletto heels. Dianna almost ripped my arm out of its socket dragging me into the shop. There was no question these were the right shoes for the dress, or that they were ideally suited for Dianna's mesmerizing strut. My companion was no slouch when it came to makeup. In fact, she could have gotten a job in Hollywood anytime she chose. Still, this was an afternoon of pampering, so I had made an appointment for her at the salon next door in the Ritz Carlton to do her hair, makeup and nails for her. She was fussy about the right 'look' and insisted on changing into the dress and heels to achieve the right effect. In honor of the occasion and my all-too-willing assent, she had the nail technician do a full set in an ultra-glamour length, ruby-red with gold nail art, and gently curving downward. Her toenails were done to match. Her street clothes had gone into her shoulder bag. The jewelry went on, along with a few spritzes of perfume, and she was done! My already-stunning escort had become an otherworldly blend of elegance, glamour, and pure carnal desire. The bewitching brunette insisted on a final 'walk-through' of the mall ? specifically, to show off. We used the enclosed skywalk to return to the mall, which turned out to be a Godsend. Winter still held its grip on the Windy City; snow was whipping sideways on the side streets that intersected Michigan Avenue, as it so often did. I strode determinedly into the mall, my gorgeous companion in tow, and headed for one final, impromptu stop. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently; Silver Fox is stunning on an attractive brunette. The instant the associate held up the coat, Dianna began trembling like a leaf in a Nor'easter. She didn't slip into it so much as the coat enveloped her in its comforting warmth, all the way to her trim ankles. The glazed look in her eyes was better than Sex; it lasted longer. She looked down and around, trying to take it all in. When she lifted the right sleeve, she noted the attached tag and read it. I steadied her as she shook uncontrollably. "Baby, you could by a car for this!" she protested. "Don't be silly," I quipped. "What would a coat do with a car?" She punched my shoulder for that. "Besides," I continued, "I already have a car. You don't have one of these. At least, you didn't until now." Full-length couturier Silver Fox coat: if you have to ask, you can't afford it. Look of utter adoration on the face of the recipient: priceless. Dianna was torn; whether to wear the coat or drape it over her arm for our final walk-through. Sheer wretched excess won out. She left it on, open, and draping slightly off her shoulders to allow a mostly-unhindered view of what was underneath. Imagine the absolute silence of an empty shopping mall in the dead of night. Now, picture that same silence on an early Saturday evening, in the midst of seven hundred gawking shoppers on multiple levels of an atrium, gaping unabashedly at the vision on your arm. Okay, it wasn't absolute silence. One could plainly hear the unmistakable click-click-click of Dianna's heels echoing through the atrium and an occasional wolf whistle. I can only imagine the exhilaration she felt at that moment. There was a polished marble bench against the wall, near the alcove leading to the public restrooms. My delectable companion placed one taloned hand on my chest and thrust me back against the wall, right next to the bench. She spread her fur coat, lifted one sandal-clad foot and rested it lightly on the bench. She took my right hand in her left and guided it to her panty-clad snatch. In the meantime, she used her right hand to massage my own rock-hard, panty-clad bone. She leaned forward, placing her lips right next to my ear. "Tell me, Lover," she whispered, "am I the most totally fuckable playtoy you have ever seen in your life?" She punctuated her question by darting the tip of her tongue into my ear, then biting oh-so-gently on my earlobe. The moment, the public venue, the completely uninhibited display of raw sexual intensity was more than I could control. My only verbal response was a series of guttural grunts. The rest of my answer came in a spontaneous flood of jism that filled my panties. Dianna felt each successive jet with her fingertips. She smiled slyly and kissed me lightly on the lips. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," she smirked. "Now, let's get you into the bathroom and cleaned up before you stain your suit." My escort grabbed me by the lapels and unceremoniously dragged me into one of the two restrooms. The regular stalls were too small to suit her, so she pulled me into the spacious Handicapped stall at the end of the row and slammed the latch closed. "Strip," she commanded, "and hand me your panties." I took off my shoes, pants and the soiled panties, handing the latter to her. "All of it," she barked authoritatively I hastened to comply, stripping out of my socks, suit coat, shirt, and T-shirt. "That's better," she purred smugly. Dianna pushed me down onto the toilet seat, then straddled my lap. She held my soiled panties up over our heads, watching the cum slowly settle towards the edge. The folds of toilet tissue had been no match for the deluge of creamy spunk from my cock. She shifted her gaze to meet mine. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," she smirked, "that is one very large load. These panties were really expensive; I would hate to just throw them out. We can put them in one of our plastic bags and take them home, but not like this. They would ruin whatever else was in the bag. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have thought twice about sucking you off and none of this would have happened. But you just spent a really obscene amount of money to get me looking like this. It would be a shame to ruin it before you even take me out and show me off. What are we to do?" She glanced again at the panties, then at me. Then, she pressed them into my face, smiling. I silently lapped up, then sucked my cum from within the panties I had been wearing only moments before. The flavor was slightly more bitter than Dianna's cum, but not altogether unpleasant. She scooped up as much of the cum on my cock and in my pubic hair as she could, then made me lick her hand clean. Then, she leaned over and kissed me deeply, sharing the aftermath of this most intense experience with me. "Mmmm, that was wonderful," she intoned melodically. "You are so kinky." She blotted up the remnants with toilet paper, then dropped it into the bowl between our thighs. "That will do for now. But we still have to find you some underwear. What am I talking about? We have a whole bag of underwear right here!" She rummaged through one of the bags at her feet for a moment. With a broad smile, she snatched up the lilac panties she had only recently been wearing. "Here we are!" she pronounced triumphantly. Let's see these on you." Dianna rose gracefully from my lap, helped me step into the new panties, then slid them up my thighs. She gently tucked my private parts down and back, added a few folds of toilet tissue, then nestled the panties snugly on my hips. "There, good as new!" she exclaimed. Then, she just looked at me for a moment, lost in thought. "You know, Baby," she pronounced, smiling mischievously. "I was thinking; you got me all dressed up for you. Now, I want you to dress up a little for me. Fair is fair." "Define 'dress up a little'," I replied. She traced one fingernail lazily down my naked chest. "I was just thinking it would be a shame to wear just the panties when it is part of a complete set," she responded. "This is something I would really like to share with you." "Complete set?" I gulped. "You mean..." Dianna nodded her head. Then, she reached into the bag, withdrew the matching lilac lace bra and dangled it before my eyes with one finger. "Aren't I missing something really important?" I asked bemusedly. "Actually, two things?" "Indulge me, Sweetie," she responded. "Please?" Before I had a chance to answer, she spun me around, placed the bra around my chest, hooked the closure in back, slipped the straps over my shoulders, then turned me to face her once more. I looked down at my flat chest and the large, empty bra cups. "It loses something in the translation," I observed dryly. "I can fix that," she responded brightly. She rummaged through her shoulder bag for a moment, the fished out a pair of lifelike silicone breast forms. "You carry those around with you in case of emergencies?" I asked sarcastically. She shrugged her shoulders just a little. "Ya never know," she smirked. "I wore these before I got my own titties. Now..." "Dianna, I don't think I can do this," I interrupted warily. "I mean, the lingerie is one thing, but this..." She kissed me again softly. "Do it for me, Lover," she intoned breathily. "It won't really show under your suit, and thinking of you all night, all dressed up for me and me alone is gonna make me so hot." Just let go... "Well," I replied cautiously, "if this is what you really want..." She hugged me tightly, then inserted the oversized prosthetics in my bra cups. They fit snugly against my chest wall and filled out the voluminous bra cups perfectly. "Oh, thank you Sweetie! You are the sexiest man I have ever met. Now, let's get the garter belt on you." In a flash, the matching garter belt was fastened around my trim waist. The empty garter tabs flopped distractingly against my thighs. I gazed at my charming escort with obvious confusion written all over my face. That mischievous smile on her lips spoke volumes. "Oh, that looks fabulous!" she murmured appreciatively. "I can't wait to see a pair of stockings on those long, shapely legs of yours." Clothes or no clothes, I think most guys would have been running for the exit by that point. I guess I wasn't most guys. This was merely the latest in an endless stream of erotic experiences with the most bewitching woman I had ever met. Dianna selected a pair of black seamed stockings like hers, then taught me how to bunch each one up into a doughnut, slip it over my foot and roll it carefully up my leg. She smoothed them into position with the palms of her hands, showing me how to align the seams arrow-straight. Dianna snaked the garters through my panties, then showed me how to attach my stocking tops to the four garter tabs. Then, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Oh, God, that is so hot! You are going to drive me to distraction all night. Now, hurry up and get your suit on. I'm famished!" While I was dressing, Dianna scooped up my soiled panties and rinsed them out in the sink. Returning to the stall, she stuffed them into the plastic pouch in which the stockings had been packed, resealed the tape, and dropped them into the shopping bag. Once I was together, she adjusted my tie, taking time to gently caress my thrusting new tits through my suit coat. She kissed me lightly on the lips, winked, then led me out of the stall. She paused at the sink to wash her hands, then freshen her lipstick. She bent over the countertop, ostensibly to get a better view of her task in the mirror. I knew full well it was a calculated move for my benefit. Even through the heavy fur coat, I could visualize her long, shapely, stocking-clad legs and broad, firm, shapely bottom. I stepped up to her, pressed my groin against that tempting target, and massaged her bottom with both hands. At that moment, a pair of women entered the restroom. While the door was open, I noticed the torso-in-a-skirt symbol on the door and realized Dianna had dragged me into the Ladies restroom. I didn't think they could see my lilac lingerie and stockings under my suit; at least, I hoped they couldn't. Still, their looks of scorn for my invasion of their sanctum sanctorum were obvious. Their appraisal of the fetching vamp at the vanity, allowing herself to be pawed so shamelessly, was no better. Dianna glanced at me in the mirror and winked in obvious pleasure. She tucked her lipstick back in her purse, turned, beamed a dazzling smile, and slipped her arm through mine. "I think we're done here, Sweetheart," she cooed. "We will leave these ladies to their business ? and wishing they were me right now, with a lover like you." We made our way to the parking lot. Dianna strutted regally, like a queen on the arm of her king. I didn't want to dwell on the irony of that comparison, nor the fact that my lingerie and bouncing breasts made me feel anything by kingly. The bags went into the trunk and out came my trenchcoat. I opened the passenger door of the silver E500 for her. She slid appreciatively into the seat, looking up at me with a smile that spoke volumes. After I seated myself, she snuggled up next to me and gently massaged the back of my neck with her crimson talons, sending shivers down my spine. As we made our way up the Avenue through the early-evening traffic, she furrowed her brow in thought. "Sugar," she intoned in a seductive tone. "How much time do we have before our reservation?" "A couple of hours. Why?" Her manual ministrations switched from my neck to my inner thigh. I could almost see the wheels turning in that devious little mind. "You have indulged me so shamelessly already," she began. "Would you grant me one more request?" "I can't imagine not giving you anything you asked for," I responded. She squeezed my thigh and smiled coyly at that. "I may remind you of those words at a later time," she trilled. "It's just that... well, this whole outfit is so perfect, from the skin out ? except for one little detail." "What would that be, Baby?" I inquired. "I know this sounds petty," she continued, "but it really deserves a red corset, not a black one. I know, I know; no one will see it. But you and I will know, and that you made me absolutely perfect for you, on this most perfect of evenings." "It sounds wonderful," I agreed, "but where can we find one this late on a Saturday?" "I know just the place," she exclaimed. "He's a specialty custom corsetiere on the North Side. I get all my corsets from him. In fact, I'm his favorite model when he does shows. If we can call him, I'm certain he will be more than happy to see us." For sheer eroticism, this was something I couldn't pass up. I lent her my cell phone and she dialed the number from memory. She spoke animatedly to the person on the other end for a few minutes, then terminated the call with a smug smile on her lips. "He will be waiting for us, just as I promised," she pronounced. "I'll give you directions." It took a while; the address was a three-flat brownstone in Rogers Park. The wiry, bespectacled man with the mustache and goatee hugged Dianna warmly. She introduced me to her friend Paul, who led us to his basement workshop/showroom. "You look more ravishing than ever," Paul extolled. "When you described what you were wearing, I remembered I had something that would be perfect. You remember; you modeled it for me in the last show." Dianna's eyes grew as big as saucers. "It's still here?" she gasped. "I had tried so hard to put it out of my mind. I loved it! It almost killed me when you told me someone bought it right off my back." "The woman who bid for it changed her mind," he replied. "It's been sitting here for months, just waiting for someone who could do it justice. To be honest, I always thought you were the one. Ah, here it is..." 'It' was a heavily-boned, butter-soft, lipstick-red calfskin corset with underwired demi cups. I helped my companion out of her coat, then unzipped her dress and carefully removed it. Paul took over, helping her remove her bra, corset and panties, then helped her into the new corset with exquisite care. I felt no jealousy at his intimate contact; the erotic appeal of the process was a joy to behold. Her stockings were affixed to the eight garter tabs. Then, he helped her into the matching thong which laced at the hips. Finally, he turned her to face me for my approval. She looked absolutely ravishing in corset, stockings and heels. Her full breasts were gloriously thrust up and out by the diminutive shelf cups. Her eyes met mine with tentative hope. "Please, Sweetheart?" she beseeched quietly. "I know it's a lot, but it looks so good on me and I couldn't bear to walk away from it a second time..." "You had me as soon as I saw it on you," I avowed. I handed my credit card to Paul. "Don't bother to wrap it," I said with a wink. "I think she'll wear it." He left the room to call in the authorization and fill out the sales slip. Dianna was in my arms in a flash, smothering me with kisses. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Baby," she gushed. "You are the best! How am I ever going to..." She glanced down at the discarded black satin corset, now lying on the work bench next to us, then looked around in vain. Of course, we had left her Capezio bag, plus all the shopping bags, in the trunk of the Mercedes. Then she glanced up at me, a devilish glint in her eyes. "Come here, you," she growled, as she whipped off my suit coat. In a flash, she had me down to lingerie and stockings again. Off came the garter belt and on went the corset before I could utter a peep. Perhaps I was just too stunned. "Here, let me help with that," came the male voice behind me. "After all, I made that for her. I take pride in my work ? and those who wear it well." I blushed bright crimson at Paul's discovery of me in nothing but lingerie and thrusting 'breasts'. He seemed completely nonplussed about it, taking over for my girlfriend and tightening the laces. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he pronounced reassuringly. "I have customers of both genders..." He glanced and Dianna appreciatively and winked. "... and delightfully in-between. As it happens, you will be much more attractive in this than most of my male patrons. Dianna certainly knows how to pick her men." I blushed again, this time in gratitude. "Normally," Paul continued, "I would only cinch a first-timer down a couple of inches. You are already so trim, in such good shape and obviously take care of yourself, I think we'll try going all the way down." I gasped in more than surprise as he cinched off the laces with a final tug, then tucked them in as he had done with Dianna. It felt like a vise had closed around my torso, preventing me from drawing a full breath. The corsetiere tucked the garters through my panties, re-attached them to my stocking tops, the stood back, next to Dianna, to appraise me with a critical stare. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You know," he speculated out loud, "you wear it very well. It's a real shame to hide a figure like that under a suit ? at least, a men's suit. With a little work and some figure-training, you could be a model in my next show with Dianna." I was about to stammer out an embarrassed refusal when Dianna leapt to my side and snaked her arm through mine. "We would adore that, wouldn't we, Lisa?" she exclaimed, winking at me. "I approached her on the subject in the car on the way over here tonight. She is just as excited as I am at the prospect and can't wait to begin her training. I know what a generous discount you give to your models ? especially the ones who have the customers lining up at the end of the show, credit cards in hand. A girl can never get too much of a good thing ? isn't that right, Sweetheart?" I was about to exclaim no way when the subtle pressure of Dianna's pencil-thin stiletto heel on my instep prompted me to alter my response. "It sounds... heavenly," I responded carefully. She subtly squeezed my hand in silent appreciation. "We're doing our next show at the Hilton, in conjunction with the Mr. Gay Leather pageant," Paul explained. "That's Memorial Day weekend. Dianna, do you think you can have her ready by then?" "No problem," my lover avowed. "You know I have been Drag Mother for a half- dozen girls working at Ringers. Some of them were real 'rocks' when they began. Compared to them, my Lisa will be a piece of cake." I signed the charge slip and receipt, noting the amount with casual interest. Only six hundred fifty dollars, plus tax? I had spent many times that on the rest of her wardrobe, including that fabulous coat. She was worth every penny, and then some. With Paul's expert assistance, we re-dressed each other. Dianna's newly-enhanced bustline enticingly overflowed the dress's delecoutage. My own thrusting titties tented the front of my suit coat more than a little. I had to cinch my belt all the way to the last notch. Even then, my pants were loose at the waist and tight at the hips and tush. Paul usurped my prerogative, helping Dianna into her sumptuous fur. Curiously, I was not the least bit offended by the unintended slight. It just seemed natural for a gentleman to help a lady with her coat. A gentleman? Wait a second... "Let's go to dinner, Lover," Dianna interrupted. "My tummy is screaming Bloody Murder ? and I'm suddenly in the mood for a big piece of meat."