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Chapter 1: The Window Display

The panties positively shone behind the shop window, sheer green fabric woven through with glistening threads of gold. They were embroidered with delicate floral lace that spilled out across them, pinks and yellows and blues in tight flower buds. There was a matching bra and a garment I didn't recognize — something that sat on the mannequin's waist and had dangling straps — but my eye was drawn to the panties every time we passed.

"See something you like?" my wife grinned, nudging me in the ribs with her elbow.

"I'd like to see them on you," I winked, and it was true.

Though she had packed a seemingly endless series of nightly lingerie looks for our honeymoon, something about that matching green set in the window drew my attention — and my fantasies.

"Would you?" she chirped. "Have the last few nights not be enough for you?"

I shrugged, unsure if I had wandered into sensitive territory. I had enjoyed the lingerie she wore very much. Pastels and neons and simple white garments in all styles. One evening it was a long, sweeping gown that was just sheer enough to give me a teasing look of the gorgeous woman inside, the next it was a barely-there thong and a bra that was little more than a ribbon tied around her chest.

But none of them were quite like that.

"They've been incredible, Katrina," I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Naked, you are as lovely as a painting. In lingerie…"

I bit my lip and dipped my chin towards her. She stood on her tip-toes and kissed me, her lips soft and sweet.

"I don't really think I need any more lingerie," she shrugged as we pulled back apart and resumed our walk down the misty high street. "I have enough to last me a lifetime."

"Is that really true?" I asked sarcastically. "Of all people, you think you have enough clothes?"

She shoved me playfully, grinning broadly at me. "I've never heard you complain!"

"Oh, I'm not. So what's stopping you from getting those right now?"

"I have a plan! A nightly schedule!"

"And this would throw it off?"

"As a matter of fact, it would."

She gave me a mock pout, a smile playing at the corners of her full lips. I was actually starting to care about it now. What had been an idle appreciation was turning into something more important and real.

"You wouldn’t get them even if I told you how much I liked them?"

"I might," she said, and suddenly, her demeanor shifted into something almost shy.

The same way she was that first night together, I noted, feeling myself stir at the memory.

"What would it take to convince you?"

She grimaced, suddenly becoming very interested in the toe of her boot. She swayed her body side to side, brow furrowed. In an instant, she had transformed: all the flirtatious playfulness had drained from her. She seemed like she was struggling with something.

"Darling," I said, brow knitting together as I wrapped her in my arms. "Are you upset?"

"No," she said softly. "No, it's — I should have told you this sooner."

"Told me what sooner?" My stomach was suddenly tightening.

"I —" she looked up at me with wide, nervous eyes. "I'll get the panties, James."

Why would that make her so upset?

"But I want you to wear them."