Carol sat at her desk, working on her open-to-buy. She was going to New York on a buying trip in a week to see the summer lines. The deathly quiet was broken only by the 'braaat' from her adding machine and the gurgle of the coffee maker. The peace and calm made it hard for her to work, but she had to get a fix on how much she could order. There would be very few moments like this in New York.
"Monday, so soon!" she thought to herself. "What a week that was, and what a weekend! How lucky I am to have friends like that. The girls were magnificent, and so was Steve. And what a pleasant surprise Ben was. I must remember to take time to talk to him more. He's so curious. Oh, to be eighteen again, but knowing what I know now."
During the drive in to work she had been thinking about Nancy, and she found her mind drifting back to that chain of thought.
"Hmm. Yes, I really should figure out a way to use Nan at the club. She and Teddi would make a great team, and it would mean a lot more money for her. What a surprise to discover that the two were such close friends. I bet a lot of customers would love to see them doing what they did last night. Teddi's ready, I'm sure, but Nan is still, well, innocent? That's what I thought, until last night. Now I'm not so sure. Innocent but eager to learn? I guess I'll wait and see."
As Carol assembled the week's sell-through data she noted with pleasure that the new line of bell bottom pants had been the hottest item in the store. On Sunday alone Mary had sold eight pair. All of the black and dark blue were gone, and most of the brown. She made a note to call the rep and order a new shipment, rush delivery, and this time she would order twice as many and in more colors.
The matching tops had not done quite as well. She thought about Ginger's comment, that younger women would love the pants but not the tops. She made another note, to order more tops from her seamstress and to put up a display showing the combination.
Just thinking about the Ginger and the pants made her a little horny. She glanced down at her lap, gazing at the little furrow her own pair dug between her legs. Despite Ginger's opinion, she had worn a complete ensemble to work -- the blue pants with matching shell top and a long sleeved open front jacket. It was not something you'd expect a coed to wear, but it was perfect for the owner of a store like hers. And it felt so good on.
Wearing one of her crotch teasers had been out of the question. Her cunt still ached from its prolonged suffering in the tight grip of her latex underwear, followed by what had seemed like hours of good fucking with Steve after they went to bed. She had no idea where he found the energy, but he had been wildly passionate. Her breasts too were still sore. Now both areas felt nothing but the cold, sensuous touch of her outfit, just enough to drive her crazy.
The party had been such a success that she was eager to do it all again. Only this time, she would invite each of the other women to come alone. After dinner, she and Steve could explore the endless possibilities of such a combination, especially since it meant that Steve could enjoy tickling a beautiful young lady while she watched. In fact, she found the idea of tickling them herself rather appealing. Watching Steve doing his thing had driven her wild with lust. Later, while making love with Steve, the image of running her long nails lightly along the inseam of Lynn's pants the way Nancy had, only with Lynn tied up the way Steve had done Nancy, had pushed to incredible peaks of pleasure. Carol was certain that Steve would like to do the same, and decided that Lynn would be their first guest.
Her plans for the future took another turn, to the possibilities of playing with Steve in the store. She had been against the idea of using the store as a sex palace, but after last night she had started to soften her resolution. One interesting image floated into her thoughts, that of Steve tied up in her office dressed in a skirt like she had sold Ginger. She would position him next to the small one-way mirror that looked out onto the floor, so that he could watch customers while they shopped. From time to time she or Nancy would come in and tease him the way she had so often at home, reaching down through the waist and grabbing his cock, then swirling it around against the heavy nylon jersey. Perhaps she could use a vibrating cock ring on him even while he was alone, and wondered if there was a way to connect it to a timer so that it would turn on and off automatically, driving him crazy and not letting him come.
The party had produced many surprises, not the least of which was what was done to Teddi and Steve on her dining table. Carol's idea about the automated cock ring made her think of a different kind of sex machine, a spin-off of the table, set up perhaps right there in her office. Steve would be tied down just as he had ben on her table, lying on his back with his ass hanging out and his legs drawn up and wide apart. His cock would be held out by a sturdy leather cock sheath, supported somehow so that it would not wobble around. A motor driven mechanism connected to a pivoted arm extending out over his chest would cause the arm to move up and down, sort of like an oil well pump. She would have a collection of things to attach to the arm, the same kinds of things they had used on him the night before. Not only would the motor assume the job of dragging the sensuous stuff over his cock, it could be set to cycle on and off in a variety of patterns.
Carol found it impossible to sit still. She rose from her chair and began to pace around her little office, bathing her body in the arousing feel of her outfit. The air conditioning made the sensation especially strong. The nylon felt so cold against her skin that she shivered. It reminded her of standing next to her car on Friday night, only then she had been worn down by a long and busy day and nervous about the S&M party at the club. And only her legs had felt the erotic kiss of the heavy nylon that now covered her entire body, un-hindered by underwear of any kind. Now it was quite different, infinitely better than it had been on Friday. If Steve had been there she would have pulled him down to the floor and fucked him silly, sore cunt or not. As it was, she fought back the urge to play with herself, both to keep her pants crotch from getting wet and because she was so sore there.
Her frustration spilled back into her daydream. Carol wondered if it was too cruel to want to use a machine like that on Steve. Her idea was to give him as much pleasure as he could stand while not allowing him to come, forcing him to endure it for an hour or more. Teasing him with the kinds of clothes that he had dreamed about for so long, clothes that at the very least felt sexy to the woman wearing them, and that in his most far-out fantasies tickled her unbearably.
Until last night the only thing they had played with was nylon, the best being the qiana that most of the gowns she sold were made of. Recalling what had happened at the party, she realized that if her goal was to blow his mind with pleasure and withhold his orgasm while tickling his ass and balls, noting could be better than a silky pleated skirt. Suddenly she regretted giving away everything she had that was pleated, and wished especially for the long chiffon skirt she had given Ginger. The shivers that still coursed through her from the cold touch of nylon against her skin were joined by more as she tried to imagine what it would feel like to Steve as the very light, yet slightly scratchy chiffon rubbed against his cock while the edges of the pleats tickled his ass and balls. She hadn't been close enough to see much when Teddi and Ginger had been doing that, but she did recall how he had screamed.
Perhaps, she thought, chiffon would be too rough. There was no end to the variety of weights it came in, and that skirt had been unusually soft and smooth for chiffon. Still, she guessed that something made of lightweight satin or rayon might work even better. Then, too, Lynn and Ginger had asked about pleated skirts. Carol promised herself to scour the markets and bring in some the best that she could find.
She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down to add in a budget item on her buying plan for the skirts, but the connection with Lynn made her thoughts drift back to sex. From some casual remarks at the party she got the impression that Lynn was between boyfriends, as difficult as that was to believe given the way she looked. If it were true, she couldn't imagine a better match-up than Ben. The thought of getting them together filled her with delight, but when she tried to think of a way to do it without being obvious she drew a blank, so she parked the thought and turned back to her work.
This time she managed a good fifteen minute stretch before sex crept back into her thoughts. It began by feeling a little regret that she might lose Ben to Lynn. That thought was quickly replaced by the pleasant memory of their Saturday morning together. It had been a long time since she had seen a man lust so transparently for her and to end up having sex with him. Her satisfaction had not been complete, due to her unwillingness to have him spank her, but it had been very good even so. She found herself wanting to do it again, only with him on the table the way Steve had been, and decided to set Saturday morning aside just for him.
Spanking. It was the one thing she desired the most yet found so hard to get. Ben was still too young -- he was struggling with fantasies that hurt women and she wanted him to experience anything but that. Steve was a very good partner, but she knew that deep inside his adoration of women kept him from enjoying the beatings that roused her so. With Ginger and Lynn it had been entirely different. She was still not entirely comfortable having sex with other women, but what they had done to her at the party had sent her higher than anything ever had. She decided that if she had any luck enticing Lynn or Ginger back to her house for tickling games with Steve, it would only be fair if she got another chance too.
The lingering ache between her legs made her think of the one thing she really craved but had never tried. She had never read about it, or seen it depicted, but the idea thrilled her more than anything else. She longed to be spanked to orgasm. To be tied down and have her cunt spanked with a riding crop until she came. Her entire body flushed with warmth as she thought about it. She had no idea if it was even possible, but if she was ever going to try it she couldn't image a better situation than to have Ginger or Lynn do it.
She heard the sound of a key unlocking the back door, and in stepped Nancy, carrying a bunch of cut flowers wrapped in green paper. She was ravishingly beautiful this morning, wearing one of the dresses she had given her last night, looking like she was ready to go to a fancy dinner or nightclub. Her long gown was creamy white, her hair was up, and her dangling earrings sparkled like cold fire. She tried to guess how much Nancy had on under that slinky gown, but could only assume that it was very little, if anything at all.
"Good morning, Nancy. How are you feeling?"
Nancy was bent down, slipping off a pair of pumps with five inch heels.
"Well enough, except that these shoes pinch my toes. I sure wanted to sleep in this morning!"
"Me too. Listen, I really enjoyed last night. I think we all did. It's just that, well, I don't want you to think that just because you work here you have to ..."
"Oh no, Carol. I don't feel that way at all. I enjoyed it immensely. Really. It was fantastic! I'd like to do it again sometime. Teddi too, I'm sure!"
"Oh good! You know, I had no idea it was going to turn out that way. All I had planned was a nice dinner party. I guess we all just sort of hit it off. I know Steve had the time of his life!"
"Carol, did you know about that? I mean, his, uh, unusual preferences?"
Carol chuckled. "Oh yes, of course! We've been together for quite some time. But I did learn a few new things about him last night. Nothing really different, but it helps me to understand him."
"Are very many men like that?" Nancy asked.
"Well, if you mean are there many men who connect something like silky clothes with sex, I should say yes. There are many variations in the kinds of things that men get off on, and the degree to which it affects them. If you think of clothing as a type of adornment, instead of a puritanical need to hide our naked bodies, it explains better why this is so."
"Gee, I thought I wore what I wore to keep the mosquitoes from eating me all over! Actually, I think I see your point."
Carol leaned forward, eager for the opportunity to talk.
"Humans have an intrinsic desire to adorn themselves, to enhance their appearance and to express something of themselves, their personality. Or, how they want others to think of them. History is full of examples of how women have adorned themselves to attract the attention of men. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with that. I feel sorry for these bra burning feminists who would have women wear sweat shirts and blue jeans, and go without makeup."
"Does Steve ever dress up, like a girl?"
"Not really. But it depends on what you mean by 'dress up.'
"It does? I mean, what's the difference?"
"Being in this business, I've met a lot of cross dressers. And to me there are distinctions worth making. At one extreme there's what we call a transvestite, a man who wants to appear as a woman, to be accepted as a woman, to function in a female role. They are as careful as we are about every last detail. Hair, makeup, shoes, the whole bit. Most dress much better than many women. Some go out and mix in public, whereas others do all of this in private, alone or with a lover."
"Is that what local people call a mahu?"
"Well, Nancy, that's close enough. Actually, some people use mahu to mean gay, and transvestites can be straight or gay, so the meaning is not always clear. Anyway, then there's the man who likes to put on women's clothes specifically for their sexual meaning. Usually nightgowns, I've noticed. He doesn't try to look like a woman; in fact these men are usually virile, straight males who love women and have otherwise normal relationships. It's just that they have associated women's clothing with sex, and get a big kick out of coming home from work and slipping into a sexy nylon nightgown.
"And different again are the men who enjoy wearing women's panties under their street clothes. That's so common that some enterprising companies have started making panties just for men. Cut to fit their bodies, without the lace. But a true panty lover still prefers women's panties. Lots of these men never, or almost never, dress in anything more feminine than that. They get aroused by the feel of nylon against their skin. I don't know if it's really the nylon, or that they associate the feeling with a women, like having a girl in your pants. Whatever. It's really, really common, and nothing to feel uncomfortable about."
"So what about Steve?"
"Ah yes. Steve, as far as I know, doesn't fit into any of these categories. I mean, he doesn't wear the clothes he likes. He enjoys seeing women dressed that way, to play with them, and, most of all, the feel of it rubbing his dick. I would say he has a fetish for nylon, the heavy knits like you have on more so than underwear."
"A fetish?"
"I know that word has a pretty heavy charge on it. But a fetish can be used to great advantage, as long as it's not so far out as to be distasteful for the other person. I mean, like, if I met a man who just had to rub raw eggs all over my body to get off, well, I might have a problem with that. But qiana? It feels too good to not enjoy. Some women get put off by the idea of their mate getting a charge off of something other than their simple, naked body. Everybody has to make up their own mind about that."
Nancy giggled, then said, "You know, I really like the feel of clothes like this. Do women get fetishes too?"
"Nan, I think that's great! And yes, women can too, although it's much more common in men. Perhaps you just enjoy the sensual feeling, which is perfectly normal. Too many people are out of touch with their tactile awareness. A keen sense of what feels good is a big asset in having good sex. When it comes to sensual clothing, it seems that the female brings it to the game, enjoying how it feels to wear while the male enjoys looking at it, then touching it as they snuggle and touch. It's just that when a man chooses to enjoy it himself people suddenly think it's perverted. And that seems like such an arbitrary distinction."
"You know, Carol, I never thought of it like that. Perhaps it's just the, how do you say, stigma, the stigma about masturbation."
"Yes. But with Steve there's even something different. You know, he told me once that when he was around eleven or twelve he and some boys used to talk about girls. All of the other boys were telling stories about how much they wanted to undress a girl, lifting her skirt and slipping off her panties. Steve felt so different, because what he wanted to do most was lift up her skirt and see that she was wearing a pair of nylon panties, and then stroke the nylon very gently, so that it tickled unbearably. That was a fantasy he had for years, somehow talking a girl into letting him tie her up, then surprising her by tickling her panties."
"Gee, that's what my girlfriend and I used to do to each other, when we were that age. We didn't understand what sex was, at first, but we sure found out!"
"Too bad he didn't meet you back then. But that was back home, yeah? You know what else he told me? He used to take a Sears catalog to bed and masturbate looking at the pictures of the girls modeling underwear, stroking the page with his finger and imagining that he was tickling them. And later, when he discovered Playboy, he rarely cared for the centerfolds because they were naked. What he liked most were the Alberto Varges paintings, because he usually had his women wearing very shear nylon outfits."
"Carol, would you believe I've never seen a Playboy?"
"You're kidding! Really? Go and buy one, just for fun. And while you're at it, pick up one of those small magazines that are full of letters from readers. You can read about all sorts of things you'd never imagine."
"OK. I promise I will. But now I think I'd better go and get the floor ready."
She left the office carrying the long green package in one hand and hiking up her dress with the other.
Carol poured herself a cup of coffee and went back to her report. The store's sell through had been very good these last few months, with less than average markdowns and damages. That translated into a good supply of cash to go to market with, enough even to open her lingerie line without borrowing.
She hadn't always been so lucky. There had been seasons when most of what she had bought had died on the racks. Things that were trendy back east often never caught on with island women. And the fall lines were just about useless. Luckily she had the cash flow from the bar to live on, or she might have gone the way of so many little shops.
She was looking forward to having a lingerie section. Nothing but the finest, most sensual items. Perhaps a few g-strings and crotchless panties, but not that tacky stuff that was sold in catalogs. Lots of European silk, the best quality nylon. Things that women would want for themselves, to enjoy secretly under their office clothes, or for a special date. And, of course, loungewear that felt as good as it looked.
She knew that Steve would enjoy it tremendously. She was hoping to do some by-invitation-only showings with live models, and was sure that Steve would come to those.
It was nearly opening time. First there would be hordes of mainland tourists, up since dawn and eager to shop. Fat old ladies from the Midwest who sniffed at her clothes but rarely bought. Noisy east coast Jewish women who did buy from her, if they could find something that fit. Tall young black women with voluptuous bodies that filled the qiana gowns in a way that took her breath away.
The bar hostesses came in the early afternoon. She did very well with this group. There were countless dozens of hostess bars in Honolulu, and every hostess owned several of these slinky gowns. They tended to be rather crass, but that was mostly a front that came with the job, and they were eager to buy if she made them a deal. Best of all, they always paid in cash.
For her, the real fun started after three, when the school girls came in. Lithe young women trying on clothes that just a few years ago they were dressing their Barbie dolls in. They were so cute, so timid and shy. Many tried things on, and quite a few bought something, but they rarely came out of the dressing room in it.
A few hours later and the working women would arrive, doing some shopping after a day at the office. Older and wiser, but young enough to get away with dressing sexy for a party.
And there would be the young couples, going steady or newlyweds. Sometimes it was the guy who wanted to see his girl in something sexy. Sometimes it was the woman trying to get the attention of her man. Not so many sales, as they were saving their money, but it was fun to watch their playful courting rituals.
And there were men who came in alone. Some just looked, perhaps to get as close as they could to the sensual, feminine mystique her clothes exuded. A few no doubt bought for their own pleasure, a fact that she held no grudge against. It was hard to imagine a more sensual fetish than silky clothes.
Still, it was much more joyful to wait on a man who was buying a sexy dress for his special lady. Their excitement was obvious, and contagious. Nan would be especially good at waiting on these customers. If they came in with any doubts about going through with it, all it would take would be a few minutes standing next to her pulling things off the racks, dressed the way they wanted their lady to look and cooing softly about how sexy it looked and how good it felt to wear, and their objections would just melt away.
Carol set aside her calculations and picked up a catalog from one of her smaller vendors. They were very avant-garde, and where everyone else was showing things soft and slinky, they were getting into a less fluid, more structured style, featuring heavier fabrics. Would this, she wondered, be the next hot look? Too bad for Steve.
She pondered the fickleness of women's fashions, and the impact it had on men who liked certain specific looks in a female. What do men who love long hair do when fashion dictates that it be short? Those who prefer dainty, spiked high heels must hate the heavy platform shoes now so much in vogue. And, as sure as winter follows autumn, platforms will pass, leaving in their wake another group of men without any easy way to experience the focal point of their eroticism. What will Steve do, she wondered, when all of this nylon jersey falls out of fashion?
Carol went out to help Nan open, and to her surprise she saw Nan arranging a bunch of peacock feathers in one of the display vases.
"Is that what you brought in? I thought they were flowers."
"I picked them up just now, at a little place I pass every day on my way in. I thought they would be, well, nice to look at."
Carol squirmed as a shiver ran through her body. "Yes, they're lovely. And I'm sure we will enjoy, ah, looking at them."
The End