He sent her the underwear as a joke---at least that was his excuse. A very twisted joke, he insisted, but a joke nevertheless. The truth was he did it to attract her attention. Like a little boy who hits the girl he likes because it's the only way he knows to get her to notice him, he sent her the rather intimate gift knowing she would call him. And when she did call, that's what he said: "It was a joke."
"A joke?"
"A sick, twisted one."
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know," he said with a shrug. He made the motion despite the fact they were speaking by phone. It was as though the words could not be spoken without a body language accompaniment. "Maybe I'm looking to disrupt your love life."
"And how is this supposed to do that?"
He could feel her smile through the phone. It had worked. She was intrigued. Now all he had to do was to sustain it.
"Well, I figure during a rather intimate moment he's going to comment on how lovely your new underthings are and quite unconsciously ask you when you got them. You, also very unconsciously---after all, you both have other things on your mind---reply they were a gift from me. Bam! Everything comes to a screeching halt!"
"Oh, god," she laughed and he laughed along with her, while trying in vain to suppress the images of her in a heated embrace with Him that had arisen in his brief description. He hated not just the thought of Him having sex with her, but the fact that he found it arousing nonetheless.
"Then he'll ask you why I'm sending you underwear. You'll say it was just a joke and you and I are just friends. He'll ask you what kind of friends sends you lingerie. After all, even he doesn't do that."
"How do you know that?"
"Excuse me?"
"How do you know he doesn't buy me lingerie?"
He felt a warm satisfied glow begin the in heart of his ego. He had one up on Mr. Wonderful.
"Well, he doesn't seem the type and you don't seem the type to allow it if asked. And bonehead probably did."
"You're right. You know me well."
"As well as you know me."
"I don't know about that. I don't think I could decipher your social life as well as you do mine."
"That's because I don't have one."
"What happened?"
"The usual. I kept comparing her to my beautiful, intelligent friends and she just didn't measure up."
"Aww, you're so sweet." Her voice was so tender he imagined her warm breath sliding on his ear.
"No, just honest. And let me take another stab at it: bonehead has no taste."
"That's not true. What he liked was very pretty."
"But?"
"But what?"
"But something. I bet it was impractical and uncomfortable as hell."
"We never found out, but it sure as hell looked that way." She paused, "So who helped you pick this out?"
"No one," he said casually, not wanting her to know just how pleased with himself he was for having done it on his own.
"Come on."
"It's true. You should know me well enough by now to know my thoughts on what sexy is aren't that conventional. After all, I like you."
She laughed and he could hear her minor exhalations indicating she was getting comfortable on her living room couch. She was settling in to talk to him. She wanted to talk to him for a long time. He was beginning to get excited.
"So what are your thoughts on what sexy is? Maybe this will help me get a line on you."
"Casualness. I feel a woman is sexiest when she's not trying to be; when she's just being herself. I think a woman looks her best when she's in her favorite pair of jeans and a T-shirt; no make-up and hair pulled back with a rubber band. But this is not to say the effects of a black leather micro-mini skirt, fishnet stocking and a pair of spiked heels are lost on me."
"Oh, no."
"And to be perfectly honest, there shouldn't be anything under that T-shirt. After all, we are talking total casualness."
"Uh-huh. Beneath every so-called sensitive enlightened man, there exists a tit-man."
"I blame society for my crimes."
They were silent for a moment while he tried to figure out a way to direct the conversation back to the underwear. If he didn't do it soon, she would take the lull as an end to the conversation. Finally he decided to just ask her what she thought of it, but was sure to put enough shy hesitation in his voice so she would be moved by his supposed awkwardness than repulsed by his actual titillation.
"Well, to be honest, it's really nice. Thank you. That's why I asked you who helped you. I didn't think a man had any idea how to do this. You seem to know what women want."
He held the phone from his mouth as the backdraft from the flock of butterflies rushing through his stomach forced its way out of him with a shuddering sigh. He was beyond titillation and excitement. He had an erection.
"I try," he said with a forced calm, but his voice betrayed him with a crack.
Another pause. This time he asked if she was wearing any of it.
"Yes," she said softly. He could picture her cocking her head to the side in a coy fashion as she wrapped the phone cord around her finger.
"Which ones?"
"Well, I'm wearing the black bra and panties set. It's actually very comfortable for something so cute."
He had tried to picture her in it when he bought it, but the image was weak. Now it came to him clearly, the signal bolstered somehow by his lust. While she spoke, he unzipped his pants and began to stroke his erection.
"What about the rest? Have you tried it on?"
"Yes. Last night. I like that fact that you sent me matching sets. I'm even more impressed that the pattern of each set is different. I can't believe you actually noticed."
"I did. I figured if I coordinate my underwear with mood and clothing, then you might also."
"Really? What type of underwear do you wear?"
If the question alone hadn't sped up his stroking, then the soft sigh at the end of it would have.
"Well, boxers mostly, but I have a few things in there that I regularly mistake for dental floss."
"Really? I'd never imagine."
"What can I say? Some days I feel like Eurotrash, so I break out the black bikini briefs. If nothing else, they force me to keep doing my sit-ups."
"So, how about the other days?"
Her voice slipped out of the phone and caressed its way down his body, causing every hair to stand on end. He had to slow his stroking. There would be no way to explain the grunts of pleasure he was approaching.
"Well, most days I just want to be comfortable in my cotton boxers in various colors and designs. But there are those days when I really want to look good, and to lay that foundation I break out the silk.
"No!"
"Yes."
"Silk boxers?"
"You got it!"
She squealed with delight and he unconsciously picked up his speed again.
"Yes. I've got a pair of purple paisleys that I look so good in that I feel bad putting pants on them. I go through the day just hoping for a reason to strip so I can show everyone how great I look."
"I know what you mean."
"You do? From what I bought you or some of your own stuff?"
"Some of your stuff, but my own as well. Do you know what I really like?"
"What?" he asked, not trying to contain his eagerness.
"The pink set."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"That was really a joke because of the thong."
"Really? I really like it. It's very comfortable."
"Really? I can't see how. I can't imagine having my butt flossed constantly."
She laughed, "It's not like that at all. It's very comfortable and I feel very.....I don't know."
"Euro-Trash-ean?"
"Yeah," she giggled. "I feel like I'm some tall, gorgeous French woman slinking through a room trying to decide which man I want for the night."
He was getting close. Any moment now he was going to have to excuse himself so he could put the phone down and come.
"Oh, god," she laughed. "Listen to us. It's like phone sex or something."
>
"It's probably how it started. People ordering from a Victoria Secrets catalog." He slipped into a mock breathy voice, "Hi, I'm Mandy. What will you be ordering today?"
She joined him: "Hi, Mandy. I'm looking for some underthings."
"Well, we have what you need."
"Could you suggest something? I'm rich and beautiful and built like a brick shit house, but my husband doesn't notice me anymore."
"Well, our most popular husband-retriever is our sheer net lingerie decorated with a delicate flocked floral pattern. The satin piping adds a special finish. Matching bikini problems are available."
"Go on."
"Then there's our lace bodysuit. Under a suit it adds softness as well as versatility. Just take off your jacket and you're ready. "
"French cut?"
"Is there any other way? Then, we have our babydoll nightgown in black and white floral print. Retro design, stretch lace cups and flowing chiffon, circular cut skirt makes it a prize. Daddy won't be able to ignore his little girl anymore---especially when she's being this naughty."
"Is a spanking in order?" she giggled.
"Oooh. Would you like a job here? Sounds like you're our type of girl."
"No thanks. I like to limit my oral sex to the non-spoken form."
A tingle of pleasure shot down his spine and he had to make a conscious effort to release himself. He then placed the image of her with an anonymous penis in her mouth in his memory for later use.
"Anything more for me?"
"Well, might I suggest our stretch lace bra with a U-wire shaped center between its demi underwire cups, doubled slim straps and scalloped edging?"
"Oh, don't stop! I'm almost there!" she said between mock, exaggerated pants.
"It has a matching bikini panty and comes in," he paused, then dragged the word out, "Fuchsia---!"
"Oooh, baby."
"---Chartreuse---"
"Oh, yes!"
"---And, of course, Heather!"
"Oh god! Yes, yes, yes!"
Her false cries of pleasure were too much for him. He wrapped his fingers around the mouthpiece as the familiar sensations enveloped him. He rolled on his back as he came so the semen would land on his naked stomach and not on his freshly washed sheets. He pumped his orgasm out quickly before she could miss him.
"Will there be anything more?" he said more breathlessly than he would've liked.
"No, thank you. You were wonderful."
"Remember: our operators are always standing by."
She began to laugh, which gave him a few seconds to relax.
"Well, maybe one day I'll see you in your purple paisleys."
"Hey, show me yours, I'll show you mine."
"It's a deal," she laughed.
They made their farewells soon afterward and very quickly he was alone, half-naked on a bed with a navel full of sperm.