Watching the way Steve was handling the garments, Geoff pondered the sexuality of the thin man. He reconsidered his earlier conclusion that Steve's discomfort was down to being unaccustomed to the company of, and being in contact with, a naked female. He was handling the lingerie with undisguised pleasure, running the stockings across his palms, rubbing the satin panties between thumb and fingers; all the time he was smiling with the delight of a kid in a sweetshop.
Further contemplation of Steve's sexual tendencies was interrupted by the return of Jean in the doorway. It was certainly a day for transformations. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. She was a study in scarlet and black. Pale skin peeked between the intricate patterned lace tops of sheer black nylon stockings and the folded black frilled skirt of a blood red satin corset. Her voluptuous breasts were squeezed to overflowing, a hint of brown areola teased from behind black lace trim. Lips pursed, full and gleaming bright red, she had the mouth of a wanton whore. She leaned against the door frame, hips tilted brazenly, her tight brown curls in shadow. In the black laced gloved fingers of her right hand she held the enamelled black rod of a riding crop, she stroked the shaft with her left hand as if its rigidity was temporary. He closed his eyes tight as a hair was plucked and when he opened them again, the vacant doorway taunted him.
Steve was returning, holding selected items in his hands and smiling broadly but avoiding looking at Geoff.
'There, that looks so much better,' said Rayanne, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
Steve glanced quickly and turned away again, nodded, still smiling, he remained silent. Geoff noticed his hands were trembling.
'Ah, I see you have chosen, let, me see...ah yes, you have exquisite taste as ever. Let me have the garter belt, excuse me Freya....I'll just slip this around your waist...'
To be continued...