Stephanie's Scheme part 2
www.alamo-preacher.com
I hurried to my room where I was relieved to dump all my lovely new underwear on the bed and collapse onto the pile of sweet smelling panties. I lay there for a while, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. After a minute I heard Steph's boots on the stairs and moments later, the front door slam. I jumped up and looked out the window to catch a glimpse of her as she got into her car and tore out of the gravel drive. I was alone. Times past, in this situation, I would have wondered about going into her room to sneak a pair of her panties or her hose, or even a silky top or short skirt to try on. Now, there was no need. She'd given me everything I'd need to get myself up as a proper sissy.
Of course, I shouldn't have been delighted with this turn of events. I should have perhaps suspected some ulterior plan on Steph's part but I was entranced by the underwear and the delicious sensation of rolling around on the huge mound of soft, feminine fabric. I wondered what sort of underwear Chérie had. I wondered if she would be careful or sloppy in how she'd pack it away in drawers and on shelves. I wondered what she'd look like half-dressed. I wondered what her pussy looked like. I was hard again.
By the time Dad, and later, Steph returned, all the lingerie was carefully stored away and hidden in my room, and I was back downstairs, watching TV. Dad stayed and chatted with us both for a little while. He thanked us both for being so welcoming to Chérie and said how much he was looking forward to the wedding, and her moving in and us "being a family again." Then he pretty much went straight to bed, with a happy smile on his face.
After he'd gone, Steph slumped on the couch. "Idiot." She said.
I didn't say anything. Steph looked over at me. She'd lost her earlier kindness and returned to her usual bitchy self.
"I can see the bags under your eyes." She said. "How many times did you pull yourself off while I was gone? Did you get your chocolate all over again and again?" She smiled cruelly. I was determined not to rise to her challenge but I flushed all the same. She knew she was getting to me, of course. She was just bored enough to make me suffer for a while. I couldn't understand why one minute she could be so nice, and the next so horrible.
She pouted like a child. "Oooh! Poor baby. Is the nasty sister cruel to diddums? Is he embarrassed that she knows his icky little secwet?" She laughed at me. I felt my cheeks burn in shame. Suddenly she seemed tender again. She reached over and put her soft, cool hand on my face. I flinched away but she shushed me and held her hand against my burning cheek.
"Fffft. So hot. So much shame." She said, drawing in breath through her teeth, and then snatching her hand away, as though I was literally burning. She mused for a moment, as if pondering something.
"I'll make you a deal." She said, at last. "You know, I could probably get you to do anything I wanted." She paused again.
I gulped. "What do you mean Steph?"
She grinned. "Come on Ken, don't pretend to be stupider than you are. How would you like people to know about your secret panty stash? How would you like your lovely Chérie to know?" She giggled evilly - a high-pitched, liquid, throaty sound. She threw back her head, and spun round on the settee to face me side on. "Your face is such a picture of fear, Ken. Really, it's priceless. You looked like you were going to wet yourself when I said that." She laughed again. I hung my head. There was nothing to say. She had me cold, and we both knew it. My only hope lay in making myself seem so pathetic that she wouldn't have any reason to humiliate me further.
"Please Steph." I begged, letting a whining note enter my voice. "Please..." But she cut me off.
"Stop whimpering Ken, for fuck's sake." She hissed. "I told you before, you need to shape up. Show some fucking backbone you little wimp, even if you don't have any. I'm not going to tell anyone our embarrassing little secret. I don't want people to realize what a pansy I have for a brother any more than you do. In fact, if you manage to do what I say, I will get you what you want more than anything else in the world"
She wasn't shouting but her body shook with fury as she said this. Her abrupt change shocked me into silence. I didn't know what to do. Steph calmed herself - a visible act of will. "Look Ken." She began." I need you to do something for me, and I'm not going to explain why, at least not now. I want you to just obey me and carry out my instructions to the best of your ability. Do you understand?"
I nodded dumbly. This seemed to irritate her even more.
"Speak up dummy. The first thing I need you to do is to get smart, and fast. Do you understand?"
"I think so Steph, but..."
"But what?"
"I don't know what you want me to do and I don't see how I can get cleverer than I am. I am smart. You always say I'm stupid, and maybe I'm not as smart as you but I am smarter than lots of people, and I get good grades, better grades than you...."
Steph held up her hand in my face like a policeman halting a flow of traffic.
"Okay Ken. You're smart. I'll explain what you need to do." She looked into my eyes, as if searching for something. In the moment before she began speaking I realized that I loved my sister with all my heart. I probably always had. She was often cruel to me, but I loved her all the same. I wondered if it had anything to do with my mother being absent for most of my teens, or if it was just because Steph was special.
She was rolling her eyes. I tried to look more alert. I straightened up. Steph gave me a look. .From upstairs we heard the sound of our Dad closing the door of his room. He had gone to bed.
"Okay. There is a man called Simon Field. He is a lawyer, and has offices in the Davies Street building. I want you to spy on him, in disguise. I want you to get a job in his office and snoop around. I want you to report to me anything that might be of interest to me. No, I don't know exactly what, you'll have to use your own initiative and intuition, such as it is. You'll know what when you see it."
She paused. I had no idea what she was talking about. I had so many questions that I didn't know where to begin. I opened my mouth. She held up her hand again.
"I will arrange for you to get a job there as an office assistant. All you have to do is turn up at the William's agency office in three weeks time. Look presentable. They'll take it from there. In the meantime, I want you to do three things, number one, get your haircut. Go to my hairdressers - Image - tomorrow morning. Tell them I sent you. I will pay later. Then, go to the drugstore next door. Tell them you want a product called 'Alatell.' It is an anti-acne treatment. Then, meet me at Duignan's department store at twelve thirty, just inside the main doors. Have you got all that?"
I nodded. I knew there was no point in arguing and that I would do anything that she told me to. Even as she had spoken I was wondering at the change in our relationship. She hadn't exactly taken me into her confidence, but Stephanie seemed to want to treat me differently than she had before. It was as if the imminent arrival of Chérie made me into a kind of ally in a way.
Steph smiled at me. It was such a contrast to the flash of anger that my heart melted. I really did love her. All I had to do, was to do everything and anything that she said.
"Don't you want to ask what this is all for?" She asked.
"Ehhhh...." I began. "Well, I suppose you'll tell me in time."
Steph gave me a bigger smile. "Yes. I will. Now off you go." Said my sister and she gave me a small kiss on the cheek.
I got up off the sofa and headed for the doorway. Before I left I turned and asked. "What is it that I most want in the whole world?"
Steph laughed. "Don't you know? Go to bed. You'll know it when you see it."
In the morning I got up and dressed myself, wondering what it was that Steph wanted me to do. I was nervous about going to her hairdressers, it wasn't the sort of place guys usually went. As I dressed in jeans and check shirt, it occurred to me that I had had very few new clothes since Mom left. She would normally have bought clothes for me, and it was just one of her roles that Dad had kind-of failed to take up. Steph bought her own clothes of course, and I was dimly aware that Dad gave her an extra allowance for clothes, which they sometimes argued about. Like all fathers he couldn't believe how much she spent on her clothes and shoes. Was Steph. going to buy new clothes for me in Duignan's? Clothes for this new job? I mulled over this thought at breakfast - it wasn't an unpleasant idea. Dad was there, finishing his breakfast. He said that Steph had already gone out very early.
"She told me that you're getting a job." He said.
"Yeah." I replied. "Steph has arranged it through the Williams agency."
"Williams - the office temp place?" Mused Dad. "What are you gonna be Ken? An office girl? A receptionist?" He teased.
I must have looked genuinely shocked, as he suddenly laughed. "Don't worry Ken, I'm sure they won't make you wear a skirt." He laughed again, and started to clean up the breakfast things. He was playing golf later and he went to get ready, leaving me in silence at the kitchen table, my toast halfway to my mouth.
She wouldn't do this to me would she? But it all added up. Woman's hair stylist. New clothes. 'Look presentable' she'd said.' In disguise', she'd said. Oh my God! I was getting an erection as I thought about it! No. I shook my head. This was nuts. It was a kind of perverse wishful thinking. I got ready to go.
As I stepped out the door it occurred to me to just not go. What if Steph did intend to dress me as a girl? I could just refuse. I could simply not turn up. Or could I?
I put one foot in front of the other down our driveway. And another. And another. I was on my way.
In half an hour I was at Image. I looked through the huge plate glass window. It was a large, open salon. Black and white tiled floor, mirrors everywhere, gleaming chrome and black marble, very modern. Inside a couple of women were in the middle of what looked like extensive hair and beauty treatments, wrapped in smocks, their hair hanging limply, coated in chemicals, while waiting for manicures or whatever. It was one of those places where women ruled. A feminine domain. Three young women, immaculately made-up, fabulous skin, gleaming hair in tight knots on top of their heads, stalked their scented realm, ministering to their dowdy middle-aged customers. Could I enter this place? Talk to these creatures? What the hell was I going to say?
When I gingerly opened the door it loudly rang an appalling jangly bell, hidden above the doorframe. I cringed at the sound and all eyes in the salon turned to me. The bell jangled again, loudly, as I closed the door behind me. The customers looked back to their magazines, and the hairdressers to their tasks. I walked over to the podium-type desk in the corner - a kind of reception area I guessed. There was no-one there, the three women were busy in the main part of the salon. I waited, and waited. I didn't dare to approach anyone. Eventually, the nearest woman, looked over at me. I guessed she was about twenty five, she was very beautiful. She wore what seemed to be the standard outfit - a white blouse, and short black skirt, sheer black hose, black heels. She frowned in annoyance at my grubby teenage male presence. "Can I help you?" She asked loudly, her irritation clearly audible in her voice. "Do you have an appointment?" She asked again, haughtily, before I could answer.
I was sweating profusely from embarrassment. I considered making a bolt for it at this point, but I managed to blurt out "Ehhhh. I'm not sure. My, eh, my sister sent me, Stephanie Carter, she might have eh, made an appointment, I'm not sure, eh, I think."
The woman seemed to relent a little. She called to one of the others. "Carol, will you check the book for this, eh, gentleman."
Carol clicked her over to the desk from the back of the salon. She was, younger, maybe twenty, and also achingly gorgeous. Blond, tall, with huge baby blue eyes and a generous chest. She gave me a reassuring smile as she approached and I fell in love with her immediately from gratitude. She flicked through the appointment book. It seemed to take forever, and I couldn't see what she was looking at because of the tall podium. I was convinced she was going to say that there was no record of anything to do with me there and I was already readying my excuses and preparing to leave when she said. "Okay Ken, lets get started." And flipping the book shut, proceeded to the rear or the salon. After a few steps she turned back to me, and I hurried after her. Carol indicated a chair, thankfully, right at the back of the salon and I sat, facing myself in a gleaming mirror. She came round behind me and twirled a plastic cape over me. She gave me a huge smile in the mirror. I tried to smile back confidently, but I could see in the mirror that the effect was just goofy.
"Right. Let's get your wig fitted first." Said Carol, and she disappeared for a minute.
Wig? What had Stephanie asked them to do? I was sort of relieved though. If Stephanie intended to disguise me as a girl, then I could at least remove the wig. I had thought I was about to get an unmistakably feminine haircut. Carol returned with several wigs. They were made of real hair, and all somewhat like my own hair co lour. She selected the one most like my own hair co lour and hen put it on me. It fit rather snugly, covering my own hair with a rather unshaven mop. Carol seemed pleased.
"Good, its a perfect fit, we won't need to adjust it. Now, lets wash it. It's easier to do this while it's on your head actually, so bend into the sink please Ken."
She was all brisk efficiency now, and I bent into the sink and she washed the wig as if it were my own hair. It was odd, but I kind of liked being ministered to by this gorgeous girl. The feel of her fingers massaging my scalp, even through the fabric of the hairpiece was wonderful. Soon I was back in the chair, and after a brisk toweling, Carol was cutting the wig. She shaped and styled it so it looked identical to my own hair. As she did so, I allowed myself to fantasize about the two of us together, getting to know each other better. The smell of her, her scent and her closeness was intoxicating and I imagined what she must look like underneath her crisp white blouse and figure-hugging skirt. If I'd been more alert I might have realized earlier the implication of what she was doing. Only when she was finished did it come home to me what was happening.
"There, perfect." Said Carol and carefully pulled off the hairpiece and placed it on a stand.
"I'll get a box for you to take it home in later. Now, on with the real job." She said.
I groaned inwardly. Carol must have noticed my expression. She gave me a reassuring smile.
"Oh don't look so miserable. Lie back and try to enjoy it. It'll be lovely."
Then it was back into the basin. I did relax as she kneaded in the shampoo and then conditioner and then rinsed off my hair. Soon I was drifting off again, lost in her perfume and basking in the glow that seemed to come from her beauty. It took longer than I thought, but the time passed quickly it seemed. First Carol put some sort of bleach into my hair and let it sit for a while. Then she rinsed that out and added a dye.
"This will take a while, so in the meantime, I'm going to give you a facial." She said.
I shrugged. I didn't really know what was involved.
"It's just a cream, it will exfoliate and depilate. I'll need to leave it on for half an hour or so."
I shrugged again. I didn't know what 'depilate' meant. I should have guessed. Carol smeared a thick, unpleasant-smelling cream onto my face, including my eyelids and then draped a damp cloth over my whole head.
"Relax." She said. "I'll wake you up when it's done. Try not to move." And she was gone.
I lay back in the chair. I was sleepy. I wondered what Stephanie had said to this woman. I wondered what she intended - did she think I would be able to pass as a girl. It was frightening but also kind of exciting. I could admit to myself that the idea of being a girl was arousing in a weird sort of way. I slept, imagining myself as a girl, in fact as a hairdresser, wearing Carol's outfit. Having Carol's lovely legs....
"Now, lets see how you look."
Carol woke me with a soft hand on my shoulder. She lifted off the cloth, and I felt her wipe away some of the cream from above my eyes.
"Hmmm. This may need a second application." She said. I felt her wipe it from my eyebrows, and then apply some more of the cream.
"Let's see how that does while I rinse out the dye. Try not to let the cream go in the water Ken."
She guided me to the sink again and she gingerly rinsed off my hair. Once I was sitting back again she carefully combed and parted my hair and then I felt her cut again, carefully, slowly, almost a hair at a time it seemed, not like the rapid clips that my own barber would use. After a while she seemed more happy.
"I'd better stop there. Your sister was insistent that you should learn to style this yourself." She said. "Now, lets see how that cream worked."
She wiped most of the cream off and then applied some different cream and then carefully removed it all, being very gentle around my eyes.
"You can open your eyes now, if you're not too frightened." She said at last, with a laugh.
I blinked and let my eyes adjust to the light again. At first, the only thing I noticed was my new blond hair. It was cut in a short, but still slightly feminine style, but just lying flat on my head for the moment. It took a moment for me to notice that the really striking effect on my face was the absence of eyebrows. No, they were there, but very bleached and thin. Was my skin different. Maybe, it certainly felt different, raw and tender.
Carol smiled over my shoulder. "What do you think? I think you need plucking." She said suggestively and giggled. She brought over a stool and looked into my face. "Close your eyes Ken." She said.
This was going too far. What was I doing? People would notice. I shook my head furiously. "No, no, the wig can cover my hair, but my eyebrows, they're they're..."
To my surprise, Carol just smiled and placed one perfect fingertip on my startled lips. She shook her head, and still smiling, picked a small box from the counter behind her. Wordlessly she opened it. Inside were two fake eyebrows, not unlike the shape my own had been. I guessed they were made by the same people who made the wig.
"They attach with gum." She said, and, closing the box, put it back on the counter.
"Now, close your eyes." She repeated and, despite my misgivings, I did so. It wasn't as painful as I'd thought it would be, and Carol didn't pluck all of my eyebrows, just thinned them out and shaped them. As she did so she spoke to me. Whispered actually, as if she didn't want anyone to overhear.
"I've always wanted to do this." She said conspiratorially. "I was pleased when your sister rang. I'd love to do the same thing to my boyfriend. He's a lot bigger build than you of course, but he has soft features too and a narrow jaw like yours. He has quite long hair, he's into heavy metal music, but I'd love to give him a nice straight cut, like Cameron Diaz in that film, you know? And Ooooh, I'd love to pluck his eyebrows and get him all made up. Is that too weird? Because I'm not like, you know, into girls, you know? But still, the thought of getting him all made up is like, really exciting. Maybe I'm just a wacko. What do you think? No, wait, why am I asking you?" She laughed. I'm not sure why.
"All done." She said. "Now, pay attention, because your sister want's you to be able to do this yourself. She's not handing over a hundred and twenty pounds for your hair every week."
A hundred and twenty? Steph. said she was paying for this but I'd no idea it was going to be so much.
"You look surprised. That's what it costs dear. And that's not including the wig, or the eyebrows. They're nearly six hundred." Said Carol, matter-of-factly. I nearly fell out of the chair, but there was no time for that.
First, Carol sprayed a fine mist of a setting agent into my still damp hair. Then, with a thin round brush, she rolled a thin flap of hair and, using a large dryer with a narrow slit nozzle attachment dried it at an angle to my head. Then she did another, and another, explaining what she was doing all the time. Then she selected another, thicker brush and moved along the side of my head. As she continued, I could see the style take shape, it was feminine, short, but with a parting on the side. When she was done she took a jar of hair wax and worked it in at the fringe and the parting. She combed and brushed it out again. Now the style was set. She beamed at me in the mirror.
"Aren't you lovely." She said, and to my surprise, bent down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She beamed at me again. "It seems a shame to have to take it all down again, and I'd love to start making up your eyes, but that's not for today."
To my relief she brushed my hair flat again, and picked up the wig. Once it was on, I looked almost normal again, and when she'd glued the eyebrows back on, I was almost as I was when I came in, if a little cleaner, with a better haircut and clearer complexion. I stood up.
"How do you feel?" Asked Carol. She had never once asked why I was doing this. I wondered what Stephanie had told her.
"Fine, good actually. It was kind of fun. Now I sort of feel like I'm in disguise as myself."
Carol laughed again. "In disguise! Yes, you are."
She walked me back to the podium at the front of the salon. She put all the lotions, shampoo, conditioners and other jars and bottles in a big bag, along with the eyebrow box, gum and the stand for the wig. At last it was done and I was finished. I almost didn't want to go.
"Good-bye Ken." Said Carol. "I hope we'll see you again soon."
"Thanks Carol." I said. "Thanks for making this so easy. And fun." I added.
I waved to her through the window after I was outside and she blew me a kiss. It was weird, but I felt empowered by the whole experience. I thought of how nervous I'd been when I went in, and now I felt great. I smiled to myself as I walked down the street to Duignans.
I almost forgot to get the acne cream from the chemists.
At 12:30 exactly I was at the entrance to Duignans. Stephanie came up behind me and I jumped when she said my name. I whirled round and she immediately began inspecting my face and hair.
"Oooooh it's good. I might notice, but I bet no one else would. Dad's the real test but I bet he'll flunk it. The real question is, will Chérie be able to tell?" She looked at me. I didn't know if she expected me to answer or not. She didn't. She looked me over again, getting me to turn round so she could see the sides and back of the wig. "No. It's too good. The eyebrows are perfect as well. She did do your eyebrows, right?"
I nodded.
"Wow." Said Stephanie. "It's worth the money."
"Steph, Where are you getting all this money? Why are you doing this? What..."
She held up her hand in my face.
"Don't start blathering Ken. I'll explain when you need to know. Now, we've got a lot of shopping to do." She turned and strode into the store.
I followed, and wasn't surprised when she lead me into ladies fashions. She had done some shopping already. She had some bags with her. She saw me looking at them,
"Yes, stuff for you." She said. "I got some things already, but some things you will just have to try on, and I need to be sure that it will match your coloring."
We were walking in the skirt section. Stephanie was looking down the rows of garments. "Try on?" I whispered desperately. "I can't try things on in here."
Steph spoke o me over her shoulder, with a tone of irritation. "Yes you can. Duignan's has gone unisex, that's why we're here."
She indicated the changing room area. It seemed to be made up of large booths with the usual curtains.
I just looked blank.
"Oh for fuck's sake Ken. Think about it. We go in together, people will assume we're girlfriend, boyfriend, not brother sister. They'll think you're buying me a present." She explained in her exasperated tone.
She was already taking skirts off the racks. She held a couple up to me to check size, surreptitiously. When she'd chosen a few we went to blouses. It seemed I was getting a fairly conservative wardrobe from the selections she made there.
"Now, what else." Mused Steph. "Tights!"
She selected some packets from a stand.
"No need for lingerie." She smirked. "I think you have an ample supply there."
"Shoes?" I suggested.
"Already covered. I have them in my bags." She patted one of her bulging sacks.
"Scarves. You need to cover your throat when you're in your blouses."
She picked out some silk neck scarves and then lead me over to the fitting rooms. No-one looked at us twice. An assistant counted the garments and gave us tags to take in to the cubicle. Once inside Steph dumped the bags on the floor and hung up the prospective purchases on some hooks.
"Well, let's see." She said.
"See what?" I asked.
Steph. rolled her eyes. "Your hair dummy."
"Oh, right." I said, and gingerly lifted off my wig. "It's not as it should be." I said, indicating the flattened hair. "Give me a minute."
I took out a brush and got it back to something approaching what it had been. "Obviously, this isn't perfect, but I'd need a bit of time and the wax to get it back to the way Carol had it." I said. I stopped. A strange smile was playing on Stephanie's mouth.
"What?" I asked. Steph just smiled more and walked over to me. She patted my new blond hair and gave me a little kiss on the cheek, just like Carol had done.
"Nothing." She said. "Now, get those trainers and jeans off and let's see how you look in these shoes."
It took ages. She made me try on several different skirts until she was happy. I wasn't keen on the scarves that she liked and we almost started an argument over the blouses. I didn't like the ones she was picking out and was suggesting a different one, a blue one with a high collar.
"Look, Ken." She said at one point. "This is an office job you're going for, you'll be making coffee, filing, running out to the shops, that kind of thing. You need practical, plain stuff, not fancy blouses. Anyway they'd see your bra through that material."
Bra? This brought me back to earth again. How was I going to pull this off? I felt queasy.
"Ken, Ken, Ken. Don't look like that. It'll be okay, trust me." Said Steph. "I won't let you make a fool of yourself. You just need to get a bit of confidence, and trust me. It'll be fine. Look, I'll get you the blue blouse you like, if you want, you don't have to wear it to work."
"It's not the blouse Steph." I wailed. "It's the collar. Look, the scarves are okay, they hide my Adam's apple, but they can fall down, and they feel weird around my throat. High collars are better. And anyway, does anyone wear scarves all the time these days?"
"Hmmm. I see what you mean. " She said, gazing at my reflection in the mirror. She seemed almost impressed with my argument. "Actually, that gives me an idea."
She dashed out of the cubicle to get something else. I wondered what the assistant would think. I was beginning not to care. While Steph was gone, I regarded myself in the mirror. It wouldn't work. Quite simply, I was the wrong shape. No-one would be fooled. Then why was I doing this? I cringed. Because I liked it. Steph had been polite enough not to mention my obvious boner. It would have been pointless. We both knew this turned me on. I had as much as admitted that I wanted this lovely blue blouse. But Steph wasn't doing this for my kinky thrill. She seemed to really believe I could pass for a girl. Despite myself I found myself hoping she was right.
"Ta daaa."
She was back and she had a soft blue angora sweater with a very high collar in one hand and a white cotton top with a very high, floppy roll-neck in the other.
"Oh lovely." I gushed, without thinking and Steph laughed again and gave me another peck on the cheek.
Twenty minutes later we were at the till and the assistant was ringing up the purchases.
"My you're really splashing out aren't you." Said the girl, impressed.
She should have been. The total bill was pushing five hundred. 'My' blouse alone was eighty bucks.
As we left, heading to where Steph had parked, I asked Steph again where she was getting the money for all this. She'd paid with a cheque.
"Don't worry about it Ken." She said. "You can thank me by doing a good job."
I hadn't been thanking her, I thought. I wondered about it.
"Thanks anyway." I said finally. "Not for the clothes, but for the stuff in the hairdressers."
"Oh? Did you like that, Sissy boy? Did you like getting your hair done?" Asked Steph. suddenly kind-of cruel again.
I blushed at her words, and hung my head.
"Oh don't sulk baby." Said Steph. in a pouty tone. "You are a sissy boy and we both know it. Don't worry, nobody will know but your big sister."
I was quiet all the way home, and Steph didn't push me. As we drove in, Steph told me to bring all the clothes and other stuff up to my room and be sure to put it away carefully but hidden. She said that she had to go out again but that she'd be back later that evening.
"Then, we can get down to business." She said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"A trial run." She said. "The full get-up, clothes, bra, make-up. Oh! before I get back, have a shower, and depilate your legs. There's a bottle already in one of these bags and the instructions are on there."
I just nodded, there was no point in protesting. Also, I longed to beat off, and the thought of sliding my new pantyhose up smooth legs was just fabulous enough to drive all doubts out of my mind. I grabbed the bags out of the car.
"One more question Steph. Where are you going now?"
Steph stared straight ahead, and a look of hate came over her face. "To our prospective Stepmom's bridal shower." She said, and with that she gunned the engine and roared out of the drive, leaving me holding the bags.