You look crestfallen as you wake up in my bed in a bridal gown. Perhaps you hoped that your first strap-on experience had been a torrid dream.
You shudder inwardly as you recall coming to my flat to comfort me after my abandoned wedding and learning why my would-be husband had refused to go through with the ceremony. It was because I had arranged for him to be dressed a pretty wedding gown.
You wonder how I could have thought that your attempt to console me was an offer to try on the dress, or why you felt it would be less awkward to fulfil my wishes than let me down.
And why did that embolden me, your "best friend", to bend you over and take you like I did?
"Good morning, darling," I say. I am dressed and sitting on the end of the bed. You realise I have been watching you.
I make small talk before offering to unzip your dress so you can have a shower. You look so relieved as you gather your skirts and make your way to the bathroom. You resolve, as you unfasten your suspenders and roll down your stockings, to put things right, to get your own clothes back and to get out.
It is only when you come out of the shower cubicle that your fears are realised. I have other ideas.
The chair where you left your wedding gown is now draped with an outlandish pink satin dress with frills and bows. You remember me describing such a dress as something I bought to break in my boyfriend. There are matching knickers and stockings but you do not examine the outfit closely.
You reason that you can walk out of the house in a towel, if necessary, but you see that the only one I have left for you is a square hand towel too small even to wrap around your waist without having to hold it up.
As you venture out into the corridor you hear me in the sitting room. You creep to the bedroom and decide to find the least girly clothing in my closet. It is slim pickings.
The trousers you find are too tight to slip over your legs and it is a similar story with my tops. Eventually you settle on a pair of black lycra leggings that might pass for men's sportswear if they weren't so shiny and a white stretch satin blouse that seems a bit more like a man's shirt after you tuck the pussy-bow ties inside.