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Chapter 3

It was almost embarrassing to admit how good it felt to wear. From the second I pulled the panties up my legs, I had been harder than I could ever remember. Kate's panties had always been at least one size too small — having my own pair was a dream. The satin felt divine against my skin, the lace trim along the edges extra feminine in a way I had always wanted. They were high-waisted, completely covering my manhood and pushing it straight up against my belly.

I had watched enough videos to know how stockings worked. With a mixture of pride and self-consciousness, I rolled each of the sheer red pairs into little donuts and stuck my toes into them before pulling them up my legs. The sensation was powerful and immediate on my freshly shaved skin: silky gossamer squeezed and stroked my legs. I gasped as they settled onto my skin.

"Everything okay in there?" came Kate's voice through the door.

Was it my imagination, or did she sound excited too?

"Yeah!" I called back, voice high. "How come girls aren't wearing stockings all the time? These feel great!"

I heard a laugh that I knew was paired with an eye roll.

"Just get dressed, honey."

Next came the garter belt; a tall, arched garment with ruffled trim that covered my navel and assertively nipped in my waist. I clipped the tabs to my stockings with, the results improving with each tab — the first ones were crooked, but I almost got the hang of it by the last one.

Finally, I slipped on the bra, clasping it in front before sliding it around my torso and slipping my arms through the straps. The idea that someone could put it on and clasp it from behind seemed ludicrous to me. Arms were not meant to bend that way.

I glanced in the bathroom mirror before I opened the door to present myself to Kate. I had to force myself to do it. I expected to see a gangly guy awkwardly wearing lingerie. Instead I saw myself — but sexy. To my shock, the lingerie looked good on me. Really good. I popped out a hip and threw my best impression of a coquettish look to myself.

And then I pushed open the door.

"Wow, Reed. Look at you!"

I could feel my cheeks turn the color of my lingerie. Kate was staring at me lasciviously, mouth slightly open. A lock of hair had slipped out from behind her ear and was brushing against her cheek.

"Yeah?" I asked nervously. "Looks good?"

"Uh, yes," she answered. "Way better than my panties did on you."

My cheeks turned redder. She cocked her head and gave me a sympathetic pout.

"Don't worry about that. Now you have your own stuff to dress up in."

"I still feel bad."

"Well, Reed can feel bad about it. But you… you're someone else."

"Not your boyfriend?" I asked in surprise.

"Boys don't wear bras, honey," she grinned. "I still love you, whoever you are. But you're not a 'Reed' anymore."

"Rita?" I suggested.

"No, that's awful!" she laughed. "Evangeline?"

"Am I in a depressing play about a southern belle?" I snorted.

She walked over to me, sliding her hands around my garter belt-defined waist and brushing her lips against my neck. I shivered, sucking in air between my teeth. She nibbled my earlobe, then pulled back to give me a long, soft kiss.

"You know," she murmured. "I think this is French lingerie."

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "Does that mean you could paint me like one of your French girls?"

Her giggle turned into a laugh, and then we were both laughing.

"Exactly," she said when we finally stopped. "I guess that makes you Rose."

"'Rose,'" I replied, testing the name. "Yeah. I like that."

"Me too. Now, Rose?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Shut up and fuck me."