Lane was nearly donedressing and could finish by himself. "Don't forget that wig now," Tedmentioned as he left.A lavish, lace trimmed white nylon ful... slip came next. It fit over thenew brassiere perfectly, the feminine lace brimming at the top of thebra cups. He added a crisp half slip next, this one in gleaming whitetaffeta. The fabric sure to make rustling and swishing noises, soundsthat Ted really seemed to enjoy. Lane slipped into the ladiestranslucent white polyester blouse, he. I gasped and he repeated in a much firmer voice, "Tell me about those stories."In a breathless voice, almost a whisper, I asked, "Tell you what? What do you want to know?"He loosened his grip on my thigh and said, "What was the first story that you read? Tell me about it."Oh god! Could I really do this?! Could I have this conversation with this strong, virile man who now seemed to be totally in control? But then, could I not?I knew though, that the minute I started telling him about that story. More

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