"Uh, no. Be on my way in five minutes though."
Her parents lived about a quarter of an hour's walk away. Cassie tried to walk everywhere, and it was easy enough. She'd grown up in the neighbourhood, moving back to put her own children through the school she'd gone to as a child, to be near her parents for support and babysitting with the twins. It felt like she'd come full circle, back to where she began.
"Good," her mother continued. "Look, the stylist had a cancellation. Do you mind if we...?"
"No, that's fine. You go. I know he's a nightmare to get into."
"Thank you, let's maybe do Thursday instead?"
"Sure. Love you."
"Love you too."
The phone went silent, and Cassie found herself standing at the school gates on her own. She turned, but Tia had already left. No matter: Cassie could always call her later to find out where all the mothers were gathering for coffee.
Cassie looked around, suddenly feeling lost and adrift with her Tuesday plans cancelled. Thursday was out because she would be working: she had a counselling session booked with a new client, a woman referred to her through one of the mothers at school. Suddenly the thought of sitting through a stranger's relationship problems for an hour seemed very appealing compared to lunch with her mother. She would probably be complaining about her neighbour most of the time, or Cassie's father. Maybe it was going to be a counselling session either way.
Just through the school gates she could see the caretaker's shed and the memory came back to her from well over twenty years ago, of Billy Hargraves taking her by the hand into the secluded area between the shed and the school fence.
He'd been quite rational about it: he didn't have sisters and Cassie, being an only child, didn't have any brothers. If she wanted to see boy bits, or he wanted to see girl bits, there was only one way that was going to happen. Cassie remembered the terror and the thrill. She'd insisted that Billy went first, feeling like a master negotiator at the age of eight. He's undone his school shorts and pushed them down only as far as his knees, then repeated the process nervously with his underwear.
Billy had counted to ten, letting Cassie stare, then hurriedly pulled his clothes back up. She'd nearly backed out, but eventually had the nerve to raise her dress and pull down her knickers, counting to ten in a soft voice as her gaze fixed on Billy's face, watching the boy staring at the space between her legs.
Cassie shivered, recalling the feeling it had given her, the ghost of a thrill she could explain only decades later, as a grown woman, the way her body had riveted Billy to the spot and captured his devoted attention, the empowerment. She blinked, running her hand though her hair, pulling her thoughts back to the present. She turned for home.
Cassie spent the morning on chores, stripping the twins' beds and sorting through the washing. Ten o'clock came and went, but something stopped Cassie from calling to organise coffee. Tia's kiss, the way that her husband's hands had settled on her hips as her body had angled close to his, still stuck in her mind, an itch that she needed to scratch.
She put in the last load of washing and stepped back from the machine. Yes, she had an itch. Her husband hadn't scratched it in over a week; maybe she should do something about that.
Cassie climbed the stairs to the master bedroom and began to peel off her activewear, feeling a faint flush building inside her. She pulled off her top and unhitched her bra, rubbing her fingers across the skin of the underside of her breasts, relishing the sensation of freeing her body from the constraint of the tight clothing. She turns to appraise herself in the full-length mirror set into the walk-in wardrobe, dropping her discarded clothing into the washing hamper. She wouldn't be needing that for the rest of the day.
Looking back at her was a familiar figure. Late thirties with shoulder-length hair, dyed blonde and styled by the same person who did her mother. She turned her head slightly for a better look. Good cheekbones, blue eyes, soft lips. Good looking, though not Tia-level, still able to turn heads in a crowd if she and her husband were out at one of his work functions with Cassie all made up in that little black cocktail dress and three-inch heels to give her the necessary extra kick of height.
Her breasts were average-sized, thick nipples from breastfeeding, but otherwise much the same as when she'd been in her twenties. Lower now, though, not quite as pert and firm as when she'd stripped for her now-husband that very first time on the beach ten years ago. She stood sideways, her hand exploring the curve of her abdomen, seeing the result that carrying twins had on her body; then down to her legs, her best feature: shapely and strong from the running she was doing, from the walking everywhere, the first steps towards maybe one day getting back in trim. Cassie stood up on her tiptoes, watching her toned calves form into shapely curves, just like when she wore the high heels.
Cassie turned front-on, meeting her own gaze in the reflection. A thirty-something woman stared back at face, then down past her breasts to the dark, trim patch of hair between her legs, the tingle that had been running through her all morning. Her fingers toyed with the tight curls of her pubic hair. No, she resolved: save it for tonight.
She walked over to her dressing table, opened a drawer and rifled through it for what she needed. At the back, hopefully far enough away from the inquisitive fingers of six-year-olds, she found what she was looking for and pulled out a soft bundle wrapped in tissue paper. She set it down on top of the drawers and opened it.
Cassie's excitement spiked looking at the lingerie, her little surprise for her husband: a black lace bustier with matching g-string, suspender straps dangling down from the intricately-patterned top with tiny black bows over the fasteners. Folded up neatly beneath: a pair of thigh-high sheer stockings. Her fingers caressed the soft fabric, feeling the friction of the material against her skin. This sensation was enough in itself to send a delicious little shiver through her, as she envisioned standing in front of her husband later tonight, dressed like his own hot, personal lingerie model.
Cassie began to imagine how the night would unfold as she began to slip the stockings over her legs, tugging up the black, translucent fabric, feeling the sensation of the sleek material against her silky, shaven legs. This was all he would see when he came home, a plain ankle-length dress with just the hint of the black stockings underneath. She would be sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, feeding the boys. He would come in and she would cross her legs, hitching up her hem until her noticed her shapely legs enveloped in the stockings. Cassie felt her crotch warming as she pictured herself: demure, the perfect mother, but showing her husband a tantalising glimpse of the wanton harlot lurking beneath. She ran a hand over her stockings, smoothing out the wrinkles, making sure the tops sat neatly on the soft skin of her upper thighs. She reached for the bustier and leaned forward to cup her breasts with the lacy garment before pulling it tightly around her.
After the boys were fed, she would fix her husband with a smouldering look and slowly hitch the hem of her dress up until she revealed her stocking top, tracing her finger along the suspender strap, just enough to get his full attention. Cassie began to feed the hooks of the bustier into the loops behind her back, enclosing her breasts and her torso in the black lace, feeling its tightness against her body and enjoying the way the bustier pushed and shaped her into full-breasted cleavage.
She fingered the dangling straps and began to attach them to her stockings, one by one, taking her time to make sure they were absolutely straight. Eventually, she was satisfied and she picked up the g-string, running the material across her palm, feeling the abrasion of the lace against her fingers. Cassie looped the garment over one foot and then the other, pulling it up her stocking-clad legs until the dark triangle of fabric nestled snugly over her crotch. She traced a finger along the waistband and then down the back to settle the thin strap of the back of the g-string between the cheeks of her bottom. She opened the louvred door to the walk-in wardrobe, threading her fingers between the horizontal slats, and stepped inside, hunting for her black leather heels.
At last, Cassie stood in the middle of her bedroom, taking in the reflection in the mirror. This was how her husband was going to see her tonight, once she'd put the boys to bed, standing in front of him in her finest lingerie. She'd do her make up: soft red lips, smoky eyeshadow to offset her bright blue eyes, blonde hair falling loose to her shoulders, her body on display for him. Cassie felt herself yearning for it already: that first touch of his hand on her body. She felt herself begin to moisten, contemplating the prospect.
No, that wouldn't help, she scolded herself. The idea of being in the lingerie was exciting her powerfully, but she realised that she'd committed herself to spending the rest of the day like this. She'd be running errands, standing around at school pick up, cooking the family dinner, all the while knowing her body was wrapped in the outrageously sexy lingerie concealed under her dress. Cassie caressed herself, luxuriating in the way she'd dressed herself up. The rest of the day was going to be hell.
