Thrown By the Garter

"I was like her once, you know. I thought of my body and the clothes I wore on it in terms of what I had to put on. A role I had to play. Whether it was career girl or bedroom vixen, I dressed in what I thought was expected of me. A uniform. And people could tell it wasn't real-- that the clothes were what I hid myself in.

"But now, Geoffrey... now... I've embraced the sensuousness of this... this... lifestyle? I dress like a sophisticated lady at all times, not just when it's expected of me. Because I want to... do you have any idea how freeing that is? To know it's my decision, that I am not doing this for someone else? I wake up in the morning, and I can't wait to get into my girdles, my waist cinchers, my garter belts. I can't wait to hook the clasps, to feel the gentle hold on my body, the pull of stocking against garter, the feeling as I straighten the seams and slide my foot into heels. Because it feels sensuous for me. Mmmmmmm... I can see I'm arousing you, baby, but believe me when I tell you I'm arousing me, too. I'm changed. Maybe it's age. Maybe it's confidence. Whatever it is, it's hot.

"And I just know that it's what you want. I know you want my body held tight in silks, satins. In nylons. I know you want to touch and stroke, to feel the spring of the girdle against the pressure of my skin. Tight beneath your fingertips. I know you want more than the smell and taste I've just given you. That you want to lick my body, bury yourself in me until I scream and come on your tongue... you want to taste my lust and fuck me as I lick myself off your cheeks. Sound about right, darling? I know and understand your fantasies like no one else could.

"So I know I can seduce you, baby. Can make you want me. But I know you too well. I know you're a gentleman, and dedicated to your morality, and would pull back at the last minute, remembering your betrothal. And I can't have that, Geoffrey. I need you to be mine just once, so you'll see how it can be and never accept anything less. I had to use the drug, darling, to overcome your pesky ethics. It will wear off later, but for now it's overcoming your resistance to my commands. My demands.

"And once you take me? I am confident I can keep you, because I'm exactly what you've always desired. I love my body, and I want you to love it, too. I love to dress in the beautiful things you love to see me in. Love their feel on my skin, love to feel your hands on my body through them. Hell, I even grew so enamored that I love to feel my hands on my body through them." She matched word to deed by sliding both palms over the slick sheen of her thighs, sighing with pleasure, then arched an eyebrow at him as she dipped her gloves under the welt of the the stockings to caress her flesh beneath. Limning them, to the wrist, with a dash of beige silken hue. She inhaled rapidly at the feel, and didn't let her gaze leave his.

It was intensely erotic. He throbbed against his slacks and almost came from that alone. Her words were taking him to a dark place. A place where he threw aside dedication to the woman he'd wooed for several years, who had been with him through good times and bad... Where he cast that all away and gave himself to the moment, to the sensuality of this woman before him, to the way she knew so well what he found erotic and how to use it against him. She was teasing him the way a leg slut should tease him. Taking joy in his responses, nostrils flaring in arousal while she watched him squirm. God, he wanted this woman!

"I know you're unable to resist, baby. And I know, even without the drug, that you really don't want to, deep inside. And that's the part of you I'm taking the time to reach, Geoffrey. The part that feels pure lust for me and isn't burdened by your silly promises to someone who can't appreciate who you are and what you are capable of doing to her. That's the part of you that I want. Because I know that's the man who is going to ravish me and make the way I'm fingering my cunt right now seem paltry by comparison. Though I will admit, it will be a difficult competition. I love fingering myself, and watching you watch me do it makes it... even... hotter... uhmmmmmmmm... No. Not yet. You see? I have self-control. Some, at least. But only because I know you'll do better, and I want to save my orgasms for your mouth and cock.

"So you see, Geoffrey, I do know what you want. What you desire. Need. You see it before you, in my parted thighs, in the thin fabric that coats my knees and ankles and beckons you upward. Follow it, Geoffrey. Follow it all the way up to where you belong. Your choice is made already, in your heart. Be with me."

His face moved into her lap of its own accord, though it was assisted in its journey by his hands and knees. When his mouth reached it's destination, he gave himself over to the pungence of her raw, deeply-aroused smell. Her nyloned calves criss-crossed on his back as he applied his tongue to her sex, and he heard their frictive sizzle as they rubbed against one another in greedy response. He stroked the thighs on his shoulders, feeling the soft, slippery sheen of the hosiery under his palms. This was where he belonged, he knew then in delight.

The silken fingers guiding the back of his head very obviously agreed.

* * *

The bride wore tears.

Collapsed by the altar, yards of overpriced taffeta losing their white to the dinge of the floor, she sobbed into a Kleenex provided by her matron of honor. Standing in the atrium, Marie couldn't hear what she had to say, but she caught the occasional "humiliated" and "betrayed" and "embarrassed". She could fill in the blanks on the rest well enough. She knew the self-pitying tirade as if born to it.

Marie looked with pity on that weakling, that idiot who six years from now would have had her ego boosted by the attentions of a handsome coworker and would succumb to his advances, only to find that he was not worth the betrayal she bought him with. The foolish girl who would spend the next fifteen years being a plague on Geoffrey, berating and deriding him until his good nature was not enough anymore and she finally lost him. That person who would become the woman who would look back then and see what she'd done to him, and who would regret. Whose mind could grasp the intricacies of temporal wavefunctions but who had not yet learned to realize just how special the man who agreed to spend the rest of his life with her actually was.

Marie was not that woman, though she had been. In another year with this year's number. Another life. A loop in spacetime, now closed forever with the disruption of this conjugal event. Before the construction of the Time Displacer in a lab funded with taxpayer dollars for a purpose no congressman ever approved. Before the subtle cosmetic surgery and the not-so-subtle hair and eye coloring.

I won't let that happen to you again, Geoffrey. Won't do that to you again. You're mine, and this time I'll cherish you. And take care of your happiness. And make love to you every night. I want that so much, and you deserve it.

You'll get over it, you insipid twit, she thought bitterly at the girl who sat amidst the shrapnel of bridesmaids and floral arrangements. The more fool, you. Marie turned away from the spectacle in disdain, feeling the firmness of the girdle enclose her as she strode confidently back to her waiting car. It was like being held tightly, she thought. Embraced. And when she brought herself to her fancy new townhouse (acquired within the past year with the proceeds of knowing just how the stock market would unfold), home to Geoffrey, her love, always... she would give him that embrace.

She would enfold him in her gloved arms and stocking-clad legs and make him want, of his own free will, to stay forever.