Corsets and Romance

Making my way into my dressing room just off our bedroom, I began preparations for my scene of seduction, for this is exactly what I had come to think of it as. My heart was beating wildly, partly with fear of the unknown, and partly with anticipation of what I hoped would be the outcome. First freshening up, and then replenishing my makeup, I dabbed on what used to be his favourite perfume, and began to dress. Starting with what I knew to be one of the thongs he loved, I laid out all the other pieces, appreciating them anew as I did so. The suspender belt was next. It fitted me perfectly, and comfortably rested just above the lowered waistline of my thong. My waist looked narrow and slim above it, and again, the feel of the fabric on my skin was divine. Sliding on the silk fishnets, I deftly fastened the garters in the front and back, noticing how the top of my stockings draped slightly downwards on the inside and outside of my thighs, just as they would have done when worn by a 1940s femme fatale. They were soft and warm to the touch, and my legs really did look spectacular in them. Shoes next – black patent, Manolo Blahnik pointed-toed stilettoes with a 100 mm heel, definitely high, but not so high as to restrict me from walking gracefully. I had bought them six months ago, but wore them seldom after I discovered I had some difficulty manoeuvring the cracks between the cobblestones on the streets of London. Descending the steep escalators leading to the city’s extensive underground trains, known here as ‘the tube’, could be tricky at the best of times, but doing it while wearing these shoes posed an even greater challenge. For these reasons alone, I had basically elevated my Manolos to become my ‘bedroom shoes’. I loved this concept, although I had not yet had an opportunity to use them for this purpose. The thought of it, however, thrilled me. Next sliding the silk mini-slip over my head, I instantly felt my nipples harden and become alert. The fabric was cold to the touch, and I felt exhilarated as it glided down my body. Standing back to survey my progress in the huge full-length mirror leaning against the wall, I noticed that the somewhat opaque tops of my stockings were just hidden from view beneath the slip – it would not be until I moved seductively in front of Ty that he would notice I was not wearing tights, not this time. I liked the thought of his discovery. And now to the ‘pièce de résistance’ – my corset. Stroking the black, silky fabric delicately, sensually even, I was full of wonder and appreciation at its beautiful design, and the careful attention to detail in its construction. The inside was as beautifully finished as was the outside, with no raw edges anywhere in sight. The seams had been covered with a soft, pliable fabric so that the boning would not irritate delicate skin, and the eyelets in both the centre front and centre back had been expertly inserted so that they were smooth to the touch. The entire garment was a work-of-art. Making sure the centre front was laced closed and tied shut, I centred the corset on my body as I had been taught to do by the Harrods Sales Associate, and began pulling the laces at the centre back. Crossing my hands one over the other to pick up the laces at the back, I began pulling them tight on the right side with my left hand, and vice versa. I had been told that in the nineteenth century, which is the period on which this corset was based, that it was quite likely that a maid would have laced the lady into the corset. However, the design, cut and construction of this particular corset had been carried out with the modern woman in mind. Few women had personal maids today, and so it was necessary to make it possible for the wearer to lace herself in. I loved watching my body take shape as it was being laced in – the way my breasts rose as they were cupped and held into place by the intentional shaping of the seams, their exposed, accentuated curves lying just above and to the sides of the top of the corset, the way my hips took on the rounded curves of the bottom of the corset, and the magnificence of my tiny waist taking on form before my very eyes. As soon I sensed that it was correctly placed on my body, and could feel the centre backs meeting, I tied off the corset laces as I had been shown how to do, and stood looking in the mirror in gratitude and admiration of what lay before me. I had always liked my body, but now, it had taken on a whole new dimension, and it was truly beautiful. No matter what else happened tonight, I knew I had found again that confidence that had gone missing. I was elated. My heart beating faster than ever, I stood in the mirror trying to visualize the way in which I hoped the evening would unfold. Realizing that the time had come, I committed to memory the way I looked, but even more importantly, the way I felt wearing this corset and the underpinnings. I was keenly aware of the blood coursing through my veins, of that feeling of anticipatory butterflies in my tummy, of that familiar tingling sensation between my legs, and of the flush in my cheeks. Telling myself it was now or never, I left the bedroom and headed down the long hallway toward the sound of the TV. Rounding the corner, I could see Ty from the open doorway….