The next few days and evenings were a whirl of feminine preparation for Josie. A new pair of shiny black shoes with 5-inch stiletto heels and new fully-fashioned stockings with beautiful seams. Trimming her pubic hair; waxing her legs and underarms at the salon; doing her hair differently; practice in applying new make-up; lacquering her finger and toe nails in a bright red. She had jitters in her stomach and felt like a teenager going on her first date; although she could not remember feeling this way ever before.
Josie's store-search for classic and firm foundation-wear failed completely. No store in Melbourne, or even in Victoria State, seemed to sell that kind of firm-control underwear any more. She delved further into her undies-drawers, searching for a particular set of corsetry but couldn't find it. Then she remembered: 15 years before, she'd put her latest purchases into a suitcase which was now on top of the wardrobe in her spare room. After a tricky moment standing on a kitchen stool, she got down the suitcase and found what she wanted. A black high-waist zip-side girdle with many bones and five suspenders for each stocking. And a matching black longline bra, also boned down the front and sides, with panelled and underwired cups. And a pair of shiny black nylon-Lycra panties that would press firmly between her legs, holding the bottom edge of the girdle and reaching up into her waist, exaggerated as it was by her corsetry. She'd bought these clothes in a final attempt to interest Peter, the week before he left, and he had mocked her.
"More armour to protect yourself from me and turn me off? Is that it?" He'd missed the point totally and that demonstrated to perfection the failure of their marriage.
Now she thought she'd found a man who would understand and appreciate her efforts. Or had he found her? She didn't care and was prepared mentally, emotionally and physically for anything this man wanted. This man had made her feel like a woman again after just one evening of kissing and cuddling.
Josie felt just one twinge of worry: despite her age, she was inexperienced in matters sexual. The 6-month fling ten years earlier had shown her a few new things but, really and truly, she was a beginner at "this sex business" as she described it to herself.
"I must be weird," she thought, "getting myself ready for anything this man wants to do with me, dressing to excite myself more than ever before; but thinking and feeling and worrying like a virgin. What am I doing?"
She had no answer for herself, but she knew that she was going to go through with this assignation. Whatever it led to or required her to do.
"Other women know more than me and they're OK; so here goes before it's too late for me."
It was arranged that David would arrive at her apartment and Josie would cook a supper for them at 7.30pm. She left work an hour early and spent the extra time dressing for the evening. The corsetry was new and firm; and she struggled again to get it into place and fastened. She remembered again the trick of getting her stockings attached to so many suspenders, and with straight seams. The tighter panties pressed onto her pubic area and she was aware of warmth and moisture between her legs: in anticipation, of course. Hooking up the long bra, at the back, was another skill she had to re-learn quickly. She did, but it took a long time and she longed for a man to help her dress like that.
When she was fully enclosed in her clothing, she paraded herself in front of the long mirror on her wardrobe. She looked at her contained and shaped figure and ran her hands over her curves; from her shoulders all the way to her thighs and stocking tops. Starting at her breasts, she appreciated herself and moved down over her ribs and her now-flattened abdomen. She lingered with her fingers tracing down the bones over the front of the girdle and at the sides, and those at the back. She had always liked bones in her underwear, and had toyed with the idea many times of dressing in a hard-laced boned corset; to reduce her waist to Victorian proportions. She felt sure that she could wear such a corset and would enjoy the control and the shaping. But had never had the opportunity -- nor the corset, for that matter.
Her hands moved round the sides, to feel her hip-bones and the smooth transition from front to back. The super smoothness of the girdle panel over her bottom and the feeling down to her thighs excited her. She felt especially at her stocking tops and the tautness of the ten suspenders.
She was becoming excited and realised that her old fetish was as strong as ever.
"Why haven't I pleased myself with these things, after all these years?" she actually asked herself out loud ,while looking at her image in the mirror. Twisting this way and that, to appreciate again her figure and the black tightness of the underwear.
She became aware of the moisture between her legs. She resisted the temptation to feel and press on her vaginal area; not wishing to disturb the knickers, or cause a wet patch to show.
"Let him do that," she giggled silently to herself, "I hope he likes these clothes. I want him to get to me like this -- and enjoy me. I wonder if he likes tight-laced corsets?"
Still dressed only in her underwear, she put on an apron and spent an hour making a light supper for them both. Fresh cold fish salad, new potatoes, green leaves. All covered and placed in the cooler at the bottom of the fridge. For dessert, she planned simple vanilla ice-cream with a shot of Maraschino over it; a culinary trick she'd learned on a visit to UK many years before.
"Nice and easy for me, being all trussed up like this," she giggled to herself, "and not so much to put him to sleep."
As the clock moved towards 7.15pm, she struggled with her panties and emptied her bladder.
"Just to be sure," she thought and then her bowel opened as well and she gratefully dropped a good-sized turd also. "Probably a good idea as well," she continued her thought. She spent a few minutes cleaning up and perfuming herself.
After donning a new shorter dress with a broad belt, she stood into her high heels and practiced walking around the apartment. That part wasn't easy but she persevered and felt more confident to meet David at her front door without toppling over! She surveyed herself once more in her long mirror and decided she had done all she could. More care and thought than she could recall from 10 years earlier, she felt utterly confined and contained in her underwear; shapely and smooth and ultra-feminine.
David arrived punctually, which seemed to be his habit, and they kissed passionately on her doorstep. He held her waist and squeezed as he pressed his lips onto hers and played just briefly with his tongue between them. This time, his squeeze did not cause any further compression of her girdle and bra. She was packed in already pretty-much as far as her body would take; and he noticed it.
"You look and feel wonderful," he said.
"Specially for you," she replied with the coy sideways look she'd practiced beforehand. But thinking to herself, "....and for me, too...."
She took his jacket; dark blue linen; and hung it over a hook on her hall-stand. Holding hands, they walked slowly though into her living-diner and sat on her sofa, looking into each other's eyes.
Josie was aware of the restriction in her movement and her sitting, from her firm underwear and the high heels. She needed to sit on the edge of the sofa, not lounge back as she would have done a week earlier.
David spoke first, "I'm not hungry yet, except to be with you and for us to discover each other. Can we eat later?"