Mary’s Jeggings

Stan woke up feeling unusually fresh and lively on Monday morning.He gently extricated himself from the bed where his cat Emile was sleeping on a pillow beside Mary his kind and gentle yet tryingly brilliant and intellectual wife.Stan took a photo of the two with his Panasonic Lumix camera and took one of Annie , his mistress, walking past in a lemon coloured light wool tweed suit
.Lemon wool is rarely seen on sheep, Stan thought to himself, though he dreamed of lemon coloured sheep once after he got food poisoning and spent half of the night on the wc or crawling to and from his bed.
He flew down the stairs because he saw the postman coming and then he opened the door quickly in case it was a  vulgar book he was expecting.
.The postman handed him a parcel wrapped in grey plastic.As it was soft it was not a book unless it had no cover on
He opened it and to his astonishment, he found two pairs of old fashioned ladies long legged bloomers or possibly they were short leggings or jeggings as we say nowadays;
He rather hoped they were bloomers as he had always found that they turned him on more than G strings and bikini panties often worn now judging by the lingerie departments of the Department Stores where he often lingered languidly, longing for more love and romance even though he was 99 years old
.
Altogether the the bloomers were a very winsome type of garment…c. as long as they were underneath a dress, perhaps a long flowing gown embroidered with daisies or roses.Stan did not find leggings and cropped tops made him desirous as he preferred some mystery in women’s appearance which gave him a fantasy [often unreal] about the perfection and shape of the body beneath
He made Mary some tea and took it upstairs on a little tray with painted naive owls decorating it.She was awake and looking very charming in a fleece nightdress with robins and butterflies embroidered onto it by her own hands
Hello, babe, Stan said winningly.I have just opened a parcel but it is for you.
What is it, she asked tentatively.
Just some big knickers, he said tactfully.
Oh, yes.They are for the play we are putting on for Xmas,,,, the Importance of being Furnished by Kasper Milde
Furnished with what?
With clothes, she said soothingly.Like women used to wear.So I shall wear a pair of whalebone corsets and these bloomers.
What about your top half?Will your bosom be bare, he teased her jocosely.
No ,dear.Not here…I’d never live it down
As an artist, I think if your art demands a bare bosom you must bare it or die.
Well, she said, I don’t think my mother had a bare top.She had a corselet with a built in bra and then a petticoat made of rayon with lace edging.And a woollen vest too.And an underdress.
Oh, dear, Stan answered sadly.I hoped you’d be half naked…
You can see me fully naked here , she informed him in a gentle and humorous manner…
I know.dear, but it’s not the same alone here as it would be on the stage.. that excites me a lot.I guess it’s my age.
You would not be able to ravish me in public, she said grinning at his reflection in the mirror opposite the bed end…..
Well, we could pop out in the interval, he mused to himself… it’s 15 minutes or so.
That’s not enough for me, she told him firmly
How very kind dear.I am so glad you’d like me for longer than that.
I am just being practical, she murmured, we older ladies take more time to get going ,as it were.And a vibrator never excited me.Where is the romance and humanity in plastic or even in vegetables?
Years it takes them to get ready for it,Stan thought dolefully.No wonder I have a mistress.Even she is only turned on about once a month…
Still, there was always a possibility that sooner or later one of them would want him to stroke their backs and call them darling or buttercup or some other tender word.How he hoped today would be the day though the lemon tweed suit made it seem unlikely Annie would be at home.He smiled at Mary and offered to make her a bacon buttie.. who knows what might happen after that… and Emile is listening and hoping for a display of human passion as long as nobody died in bed and disturbed his cosy nest

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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