Diva in Disguise 4

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Diva in Disguise Chapter 4

Knowing that as ever, Rachel was likely to be right, I promised that I would be cautious. The doubts she had raised lingered in my mind. So much so that after I’d replaced the receiver, I recollected that I’d meant to seek her advice on what I should wear when going 'dfor cocktails. This was an area where I had little experience. Also the thought of borrowing something of Karen’s was not altogether reassuring. Former experience of the unpredictability of her nature led me to worry that I would be assigned some dowdy cast-off. If so, then were I to raise an objection it would seem churlish, no matter what she'd foisted off on me. The end result would probably be that by her side I would look a complete frump.

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Not that I really cared what I wore of course. I had no desire to be the centre of attention, but… it might be kind of cool to be on trend… and it was always nice to get a compliment or two. I sighed discontentedly. I even toyed with the idea of driving home to change before rejecting it. There just wouldn’t be time. As I made my way upstairs to Karen’s room I pictured the kind of dress I would choose… if I had unlimited choice in the matter.

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Sadly, that was never going to happen!

Karen’s bedroom was tastefully decorated, and the theme was a sombre pink. The choice of colour seemed to reflect her personality, very feminine but with a darker side. The young woman was already halfway through getting changed and was revealed to be wearing only lacy satin lingerie under sheer dark pantyhose. She invited me to sit, so I perched on her bed, not knowing where to look, or at least trying not to!

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“Now, now! Concentrate!” she laughed teasingly, remarking on the way my gaze was wandering. “We’re behind time as it is.”

I became aware that the girl was drawing my attention to what appeared to be a teensy piece of shiny red material.

“Here’s what you will be wearing” she announced.

I gaped as she held it up for me to see. The dress featured a strapless bodice, its skirt was tiny and the whole thing appeared much too small to clothe an adult. Remember that this was years before the mini-skirt had made its impact on the fashion scene.

“Don’t look so worried” she chided. “It’s quite a stretchy little number so it’s sure to fit you really well.”

Hesitantly I held it against me. Little was the operative word! Before I could make any protest, however, Karen handed me a cellophane packet. “Now. Stockings just don’t work with this style. You will have to borrow a pair of my pantyhose.”

I couldn’t argue. I’d have to follow her suggestion. I took off my jeans and top, then removed the tights from their wrapping and slipped my hand inside. The material was very sheer. It would be easy to snag the delicate fabric. Seated on her bed I gathered them carefully before easing one foot inside then the other. Gently I pulled the unaccustomed hosiery up my legs. These were still a novelty around that time and I had only worn them once or twice before this.

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It took quite some wriggling before finally I had the pantyhose over my butt and positioned as intended. My exertions were hindered by my one-time sweetheart standing over me and smirking at my efforts.

Being in such intimate proximity to the body which had been the focus of so many of my childhood daydreams was proving a major distraction for me, especially in its half-clad state. My gaze kept being drawn back to those long, long limbs of hers. The provocative sight of the tall, elegant figure before my eyes had given rise to a tingling between my legs and I felt sure from the glint in Karen’s eye that she understood only too well what was running though my disturbed brain. I found that knowledge even more embarrassing.

“Want some help?” she offered mischievously.

No way!

Now for the dress. As I stooped to pick it up, the teasing girl moved in even closer. “That cute little body of yours has really filled out nicely in the last couple of years. Even in those old jeans, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Her hand fondled my nylon encompassed rear end. She allowed her fingers to wander over my hips as I straightened up.

“You know, you really have developed some great curves!” she murmured dreamily. “All this talk about movie stars who have hour-glass figures! I think yours is one of the sexiest I’ve seen. I quite envy you.”

“Thanks” I blurted. What else could I say?

“And to think all this could have been mine, whenever I wanted!” she mused out loud.

I didn’t like where her train of thought seemed to be heading. To try and derail it I became practical.

“How much time have we got” I asked innocently.

Karen checked her watch in alarm. “None at all!”

Hastily I unzipped the frock and stepped into it. The thing was tight, and more gyrations were required to get it up over my hips. I could see that its top half had sewn-in cups. To preserve my modesty I turned away from my over-attentive friend, unhooked my bra, and letting it fall to the floor, squeezed my bosom into the dress’s bodice. All very demure!

“Neat!” commented my companion admiringly. “I can see that I won’t need to teach you anything. We’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight. Exhale!” She took hold of the dress’s zipper and yanked it up.

“Aargh!” I gasped. By taking shallow breaths I found that respiration was just possible, though to my dismay my boobs rose and fell visibly and uncontrollably in the process. Glancing further downwards and I was surprised to see how much of me was showing below my waist. The top of my legs were barely covered. Yes, ‘barely’ was correct!

It was now my companion’s turn to complete her preparations. Her own dress was in a stylish black design with much more coverage than was provided by mine. She pulled it up over her hips with an elegant wiggle, then slipped her arms through and turned for me to close the zip. That done, she pirouetted around in front of the glass. “What do you think?” she grinned.

Her confidence was justified. My former heartthrob looked effortlessly stylish. I stuttered whatever compliment came into my head.

“Okay, that’s me. We need to hurry now and get you finished.” She handed me a pair of pumps in a bright shade of red. They fit me fairly well, and the colour went with my skimpy dress perfectly. There was even a matching purse to complete the ensemble. I turned to check my appearance in the mirror. My reflection revealed what I’d expected, a degree of exposure that bordered on the criminal.

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“This is far too short, Karen. I might as well be wearing a swimsuit!”

The young woman’s response was typically high-handed. “Ordinarily I would agree, but wearing pantyhose makes all the difference with this sort of style. Even the shortest skirt becomes quite respectable. You’ll see.”

Taking note of my look of disbelief, she sympathised “You know you really look something else! If it makes you feel better, I’ve a long jacket you can borrow to wear over everything. Happy?”

Mollified by this concession, I nodded assent.

My mentor picked up a bottle from the dresser and sprayed some perfume on herself. “Do you like this?”

“Mmm, it’s lovely.” I complimented. The aroma was very pleasant though heavier than something I would wear myself.

“Glad you approve. Stand still!”

Before I knew it Karen had applied a healthy dose onto my wrists and behind my ears. “Now you’ll be irresistible” she grinned. For good measure she added a spritz of the musky fragrance behind my knees and between my breasts. Now there would be no escape from her scent filling my nostrils for the rest of the night, and likely all of tomorrow as well. A twinkle in her eye hinted that might have been the intention.

“Come on, we’re late!” She hustled me down and out into her car. As if trying to reclaim lost time, Karen drove us disconcertingly fast. I was so preoccupied with hanging onto the strap above the door, that what I was wearing became the least of my concerns. By the time we alighted I was even more breathless from the excitement occasioned by her mode of progress.

My companion led me into the bar. It looked a classy place. The décor was plush and the room was softly illuminated by what used to be termed mood lighting. She sat me down on a padded bar-stool. “They do the most delicious highballs here. You must try the one which is my all-time favourite.” She turned and ordered the cocktail from the woman behind the counter.

“Aren’t you going to have one too?”

“Oh, I haven’t decided what I want. I have to go and collect the guys first. Ah! Here’s your drink. Just lend me that jacket. It could be chilly out there and I may have to wait. Don't be alarmed. I’ll be as quick as I can. If you get bored, I’m sure that the tall dark stranger over there will keep you company” she giggled.

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With an airy “See you later!” Karen turned on her heel and waltzed out into the night, the loaned jacket over her arm.

I was speechless. My initial feeling of surprise at being deserted was soon superseded by another. Total vulnerability! I was alone in a strange bar, wearing a low-cut dress whose skirt barely covered my minimal underwear. Pantyhose or no pantyhose, there was only one word for me.

Conspicuous!

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Comments

There's Another Word

joannebarbarella's picture

Sexy! Mind you our girl can't help it, and it seems obvious that she's been set up by Karen. I can't wait to see what happens next, and, as always, the story is enhanced by your delectable illustrations.

Lost for words...

No, I'm really not! The so-called "friend" is a nasty, evil, spiteful and vile bitch who has deliberately abandoned her in a place where she could easily get into the kind of trouble that will leave her hospitalised or dead.

She should leave right now and, if she ever sees Karen again - cross the street and walk away. But then that would spoil the drama in this story. Just one more evil person in our heroine's life, starting with her mother.

You must be doing something right in this tale if it makes me want to get into it and slap some faces!!

/rant :)