The full treatment was a wise choice as she felt so relaxed. After a massage and a waxing she sat enjoying the attention, having her nails and hair attended to. She sat there blissfully unaware of the world around her letting them get on with it.
Her blond hair was being teased into something a bimbo would be proud of. The extensions to her nails were a little gaudy but they did suit the new look. Walking out she took a deep breath in an attempt to shift the absent-minded state she had fallen into after the luxurious pampering.
She usually kept her hair in check and would never wear such gaudy make up preferring a more mature look. This whole new image was untypical but she justified it as being a surprise for her husband.
A store she hadn’t noticed before held promise. There was nothing on display in the window which indicated it was an expensive designer shop. Walking in she didn’t notice much until right by a rack of what appeared to be sports wear. “Strange.” She said. ‘Who would wear a rubber diving suit designed like a dress?’ She thought.
“Anything special or are you just browsing?” The assistant asked.
“I want a dress for my husband.” She murmured when that muzzy feeling overcame her again.
“What size is he?” She asked.
‘Where do they get these people?’ She thought. “For me I meant.” She always went for elegant and staid but was about to ask for something elegant and provocative instead. She remembered disappointing him last night and how he would have liked her to be his little wife at home.
“Do you have something feminine and girly?” She asked, not quiet sure what she meant.
“Are you sure it’s not for him?” The woman sounded bored.
“Something he will like to see me in.” She said, ignoring the flippant remark.
“You mean you want something sexy to wear for him.” She said, at last being helpful.
“Exactly, but I’m not sure what.” Helen agreed.
The woman raised her eyebrows in disbelief at yet another wife without a clue trying to spice up a marriage. They often came into this sex shop from the wealthy side of town, always with their noses in the air as though she were beneath them.
She looked at her from head to toe. The customer was wearing an elegant expensive two piece outfit that seemed incongruous with the make up and hair that looked rather slutty.
‘What do I have that’s feminine and expensive?’ She pondered. “Walk this way I have something that looks the part.”
‘I’d need very high heels to walk that way.’ Helen thought.
“This is popular.” She said, trying to raise some enthusiasm for some stock that needed clearing.
Looking at a flouncy shepherdess outfit brought on a giggle. “I don’t think so, but close. What’s that? I like basic black.” Helen pointed out something generating a little thrill that ran up her spine.
“A French Maid outfit, a good choice.” The woman smiled. ‘Very expensive too why didn’t I think of that?’ Instead she said. “A lot of wealthy women buy this little number. Try it on and see the effect, I guarantee he’ll be drooling for you. It is just the right thing for a husband.” She smiled.
“What do you think?” Helen asked.
“What can I say? It’s made for you. Excuse the pun.” She chortled which turned into an inelegant smokers cough.
Helen looked at herself in a mirror and turned this way and that. The bustier squeezed her waist and pushed the breasts up into a deep cleavage that the black silk dress struggled to contain. She felt as though leaning forward would spill them out.
The hem floated on layers of light taffeta which lifted and fell as she twirled. The tight suspenders clasped her thighs holding the sheer black stockings smooth as silk over a pair of shapely legs.
When she took a step in the high heels the dress bounced in waves showing off the tight white panties. The starched white apron, cap, and frills at her wrists set the ensemble off wonderfully.
She wondered about the leg garter thinking it might be a bit too much.
Although the panties fit tightly between her cheeks and pulled between her lips she preferred them. The thong and the cup were comfortable but didn’t cover much. That’s what the assistant called it, a cup. The description made sense for that’s all it was; it merely cupped her sex in a fine piece of silk held in place by thin flesh coloured ribbons.
She would take them together with the black see-through panties and an even higher pair of heels.
The assistant looked her over with amusement. ‘It’s funny how this same outfit is purchased by men to wear.’ She was even more amused totalling the bill.
“No need to wrap this I’ll wear it home.” Helen said.
“Your coat won’t cover all those petticoats. May I suggest this cloak?” She asked, with dollar signs lighting her eyes.
It was from a naughty nurse outfit but would do to cover the silly woman. She had to admit it was quite a transformation, from staid housewife to sexy maid with a nice profit, all in just under an hour.
Helen felt naughty and sexy and liberated. She decided to drop in on a friend who might be shocked but hoped she would share in the daring fun of it.
That fuzzy feeling was interfering with her sense of direction which wasn’t all that difficult. Where was number twenty-five she seemed to have driven in the wrong end of the street so didn’t recognise where she was. Pulling into the driveway a sense of fun and adventure gripped her.
With the doorbell fading away in the distance she looked at the highly polished oak door wondering if it had been changed as it didn’t seem familiar. When it opened she took a deep breath and swept in swirling the cloak off her bare shoulders.
The entrance hall was decorated by someone with tasteful elegance. A strong male influence dominated the room with a leather wing back chair and sculptured art-deco nudes looked over by racehorse prints.
She was looking forward to visiting a woman friend but on seeing a man waiting for her the idea melted away. Looking at him holding her cloak something started to seep into memory like fog clearing to reveal a ravaged landscape.
‘It’s Roger, what is he doing here? Why am I visiting him?’ She thought. ‘I should leave immediately.’ Her feet refused to obey instead they followed him further into the house.
A feeling of anxiety was building as to why she was there, it didn’t seem right, though an inner voice told her she had arrived as planned.
It started to make sense although it sill felt wrong. Her hair had been re-styled and clothes purchased for a man, this man. The hypnosis entertainment of last night came to mind then the dance with him but just as the two ideas were connecting a fog clouded her thoughts. Did he have something to do with the shopping trip? Had he ordered her to visit him?