The first wispy tendrils of sunlight were overridded by the voluminous, gunmetal clouds. It allowed for a cool breeze, but nothing requiring a jacket.
He turned over, shifting in his dozing pattern. His girlfriend was already up, coffee brewing, and she was nearly out the door. She left for work a half hour before he did, and she was more the early bird than he.
They shared their hushed "have a good day at work, babe" s, and the door clicked shut.
He was instantly up, covers flung off of his nakedness. He usually slept in the raw and kept his body hair shaven, both for comfort reasons. His girlfriend was always saying how grateful she was to not have to pick pubic hairs out of her teeth.
But, with the silken smoothness, came something else. Something he had never vocalized, and tried his best not think about. It was constantly there, though.
He knew where everything in the bedroom was; he had moved them both into the apartment they shared. And he knew where the girlfriend kept her intimates.
The fishnets and black garter belt had been what initially attracted him to her, peeking out of a pencil skirt that hugged her hips just right. The mindset of a high schooler isn't generally very complex; the basic graduate will equate "shiny" to "good", helpful to the capitalist systems in place. So, those sexy legs got them to where they were now.
But there had always been something more. Something brewing, or festering, under the surface.
Not just an admiration for how beautiful the woman in his life was, but a fundamental need to be looked at the same way. A hunger to be cherished, desired, wanted.
Everything he wasn't supposed to question as a man.
The stockings went over the feet, gently, carefully. The thin silk wouldn't stand up to the uneven, unpedicured toenails that usually lived inside work boots for very long. They measured the whole lengths of the shaven legs, stretching only a little to hook onto the garter belt.
Next, the red lace bra and panty set. Both a bit of a squeeze, but the DD cups measured up woefully slack.
But there was some small inkling, an instinctual thought to cock his hips to the right. Accent the lack of curve as best he could.
One of her most prized posessions was a full body length mirror. And in these small minutes where he was completely alone, and the hands gesticulated just right, he could almost see himself as She. As someone delicate, beautiful, someone who someone else would really want.
Walking on the balls of her feet, the closest approximation she could make to wearing heels, she poured a double sweet coffee, and ate a simple fruit breakfast. All while leaning, posing, and enjoying the feelkng of being herself. Even if she had to be he the other 23 hours of the day.
And, just as soon as the new girl had come to fruition, it was time to change and go to work. Everything was meticulously replaced, so as not to arouse suspicion. She was a practiced sneak, and an attentive girl.
It's not much, she mused, as she locked the door. The heavy clack of the lock bolt sealed the dream, the secret, and the covered tracks inside. But it's enough.
It was what she usually told herself. And it almost was enough to convince her that it was only a kink. But that masculine mask was full of cracks only she could see.
Even if she prentended not to notice.
💜 Roxy 💜
