'Nothing like a good orgasm followed by a nice bout of hysteria,' Beth thought wryly as she stepped out of the emptying bathtub. Toweling herself off, she replayed the look on that deliveryman's face and had to grin. She moved over to the mirror above the sink and looked herself in the eye. "You are one sexy girl, Beth, but damn, you can be a mess." The reflection winked back at her.
Suddenly it hit her: the package! She'd totally forgotten about it in her urge to clean herself up. Wrapping the towel around her body and tucking the end in, she dashed across the living room to the couch where she'd tossed the box. She couldn't even remember what it was, and the return address didn't look familiar. Inside, amidst a snowfall of tissue paper, was a crimson silk corset with black lace and embroidery. Stunned, she didn't even recognize what it was for a moment, and then more memories lashed her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was their two-year anniversary. Beth had delighted in making lavish plans to please him in every way. She had saved up her waitressing money until she could afford to take him to an exquisite restaurant, and afterwards she had let him make love to her all night. Their lovemaking always left her feeling slightly bittersweet. She was happy that she could bring him so much pleasure, yet afterwards he seemed more detached, rather than closer to her. She never let herself think about that.
At the restaurant, there had been a girl. Beth privately felt that she shouldn't have been allowed into the classy place dressed the way she was; her dress, although certainly expensive-looking, was skimpy and almost gauzy in its transparency. She sat at a table near Beth's, at an angle that permitted both of them to view her body in profile. As Beth ate, her eyes were constantly drawn to the girl, to her long exposed legs and her almost-visible body. She never thought to check if he were looking at the girl too.
The girl glanced over to Beth's table once, and a few seconds later casually crossed her legs. As she did, Beth was jolted by some primal, raw emotion. The leg-crossing had forced the frilly skirt of the dress over her thigh, revealing both her thigh-high lacy stockings and the garters attached. Beth had never owned lingerie, never even thought of it, and the sight of such private clothing articles in public had her pulse racing instantly. Her eyes locked onto the thigh, the sheer covering. Her breath sped up. It was too personal. She felt like an intruder, like she had been too intimate with the girl. She wanted to leave, wanted to get up and slap the girl, kiss her, rip the filmy clothes off her slender body and worship her. She never tasted a bite of the meal she'd saved all her money for.
As he took Beth back to their apartment and they undressed in silence, she imagined that she was the girl at the restaurant, that somehow he had taken her home instead, that he was now stroking the other girl's body, that he was penetrating the other girl and making her cry out. Afterwards, there was more silence.
She bought the corset the next day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Pain hit her, sudden and harsh, like a ripped-off scab. The corset and his face were entwined in her mind. That day merged with the days they should be having, with the days she planned to have with him and this corset. She couldn't be confronted with such a blunt reminder of him, not this soon. It hurt too much to remember. Clutching the towel to her, she stumbled to her computer, intent on emailing the company a return notice for the corset. She'd make a defect herself, if that were the only way to send it back. Signing into her mailbox, she noticed that she had a message from a close friend, one who had made the most chilling proclamations of castration after Beth's breakup. The email was giddy and tasteless and charming; it advertised a new erotic story her friend had written and wanted lots of feedback on. Beth felt herself slowly relax from her near-panic attack. Hesitating between the link and the "delete" button, she finally clicked on the link. 'What the hell.'
The "story" was nothing but shameless sex; chuckling at her friend, Beth let go of her stress and prepared for a good read. As usual, the scene came to life in her mind; she was the heroine, which in this case meant the group slut. The men were William, a leanly muscled platinum blond; Alex, a cute, brown-haired, muscular man; and Dan, a redhead who looked more like a grunge band player than a porn star. The "plot" came and went in seconds, and suddenly the four were naked in a cheap motel room, Beth on her hands and knees at the foot of the bed. William, standing to the left side of the bed, slid his hand across Beth's face and tilted her chin up for a demanding kiss. On the bed behind her, Dan squeezed her ass roughly between his hands, molding and stretching the pliable flesh. She whimpered into William's mouth, feeling him laugh mockingly in response.
