"...I suppose...it's just one of those things...it happens as a relationship ...well, as is progresses, develops into other aspects!" Alanna said, almost shyly, to her sister.

"I don't think so, Alanna, at least not to me,...oh, God, I hope that never occurs. Really bad sex? Just say NO!" Louise sneered.

Alanna screwed her brown eyes up mockingly and shook her head.

"Oh, Damn, Louise. Shoot me, now!"

"That's better, sis! You could shoot Paul...but he's such a stud! Fill his tea with testosterone? Iknow..., sex him out! Some serious shopping is in order. You'll be so hot he'll be hopping home for ‘nooners' every day because you'll be a total vamp!"

Alanna sipped her Zeisson, mineral water and gazed discretely about the wine bar. The large white clock indicated it was after 1.30 p.m.

"Louise, why don't you stand on the table and shout it out...my sister's life sucks - big time! Keep your voice down to a dull roar, please...there might be someone here who knows me!"

The sisters stared at one another and dissolved into a helpless fit of the giggles. They resembled one another, despite the contrasting fashion sense. Alanna was a chic woman in a dark, two piece Ferratti suit which, despite being designed to be business like, presented an acceptable amount of fleshy cleavage to be distracting. She wore dark, semi opaque tights, shiny black shoes, matching clutch bag and only minimal accessories, discrete little gold hoop ear-rings and a thin gold chain about her left wrist. Somehow she looked too young in her outfit to be convincing in the role.

Louise was quite different, she too was dark haired but had long ago chosen to become blonde. Her boyish Eton crop really complimented her sharp, seductive features just as her clothes reflected her personality. Steel, stiletto heels, pale knee stockings that left a span of tanned thigh before the metallic hem line of her brief, silver, Paco Rabanne dress. Beneath the flimsy material, which shimmered seductively each time her bust shifted, Louise's nudity showed through - just enough.

Large, metallic, zigzag ear-rings that matched her dress and were the only accessory she sported. Beside her lay a battered, heavy leather, Biker jacket and a small, steel handbag resembling a little flight case.

"Okay – I'm convinced, after this drink I'm going shopping...is there a shop called 'Vamp'?"

Louise smiled and shook her head before she sipped at her gin and orange.

"No, and there isn't a shop called 'Black Underwear' either, but it's what we have to get for you!"

"I like white, usually"

"Ho-hum! Men don't want white, Virgin wear - well, they do just before they get married but that's

not the issue. No, it has to be black...it's instinctive, they're drawn to it like moths to a flame."

"Red is nice!"

"Too tarty, Alanna! You're beginning to worry me, now!"

"Blue, pale blue?"

"Black!"

"Pastel, Paisley, or maybe fluorescent? What do you think?"

"Black!" Louise said finally.

"Black!" Alanna agreed.

The sisters smiled at each other and took a final sip at their drinks when someone moved out from the next booth and stood beside their table. It was a distinguished looking woman with greying temples and wearing an unusual black dress and coat. She looked much younger than she undoubtedly was.

"Forgive me interrupting, ladies, but I couldn't help overhearing you ...you have such lovely voices! May I suggest that you visit 'Nouveau-Deco'. They stock specialist wear from the 1920's and 1930's ...it's very chic and they have a rather special lingerie department that every woman should visit once in her life. I used to go regularly when I was...more in need of that sort of thing! Trust me, you won't be disappointed – it might even change your life. Here's a little card with the address on it, do have a look! Black is their speciality...and you seem just perfect for their garments. Perhaps you can buy your little sister something...I think she probably needs something in the foundation department - you must be so chilly, my dear! Good luck and good-bye!" she stated in a refined tone, smiled and left the astounded sisters before they could make any reply.

They were momentarily speechless before they began to giggle like infants.

"My, God! Talk about personal, as if I need underwear!"

"Louise, when were you last speechless? She was a class act…now let's shop!"

The quartz clock on the dashboard revealed it was approaching 6.00 p.m. and the two women sat in the stationery, blue B.M.W., gaudy carrier bags scattered randomly about the back seat.

"Oh, Christ, what a bust!" Louise moaned.

"You boastful, little bitch!"

"Lame! Lame! Lame! I mean the lack of success of today's expedition. How can so many shops

have so little?"

"Maybe you're too fussy?"

"Trust me, you need my help! If it was left to you we'd have bags of…well. The type of thing you

usually buy! We desperately need something...special. You could take me over to Paris for the

day?" Louise laughed as she lipsticked her blood red lips again.

"Not today, my little parasite, I've had it, I'm heading home!"

"We can't give up...it's immoral! I don't believe I'm about to say this...but - what about trying that

place the 'Crazy Woman' suggested? Maybe it'll change your life."

The sisters laughed as the Beamer kicked into a lively purr running to a new destination.

It took almost half an hour to locate the shop and the dimness of twilight was dressing the quiet street in a cloak of rich shadows. The two women almost passed 'Nouveau-Deco' before they realised it was there. The tiny window, crammed with clothing of an incredible quality, showed the interior lights being extinguished. Alanna cursed in irritation, still clutching the card in her hand. Louise moved swiftly to the wide, dark door and began to rap aggressively on the glass.

Initially there was no response until a willowy, mature woman appeared as if from nowhere, behind the door. Her sharp features and arrogant demeanour revealed a healthy irritation as she pointed at the 'closed' sign. Louise feigned an expression of supplicant pleading as the shopkeeper pointed again to the sign as if explaining something to a child - until she saw the card in Alanna's hand and began to unlock the door.

"Do come in, ladies, as you can see we have closed for the evening but since you have one of our

'specialist referral cards' I'm happy to make an exception and assist you!" the grey haired woman

stated with a broad smile, ushering the sisters into the dark interior.

The atmosphere carried a rich, warm scent in the air reflecting the panorama of authentic and intricately crafted, vintage clothing. Alanna and Louise found themselves consumed by the numerous distractions the antiquated products inspired. It took a little time before they moved to the lingerie section at the rear. Time vanished as they investigated the stimulating clothing on display. Soon the sisters found themselves with a little clutch of intimate lingerie on the counter. All the while the grey haired woman watched patiently and without conversation. It was almost seven p.m. before she spoke to them.

"I think you're looking for something special, aren't you? Which of you is it? No...it isn't you - I

think it's you, my dear." the shopkeeper said, staring at Alanna.

"See," Louise whispered "even an Old Maid can see that you need help in the spice department!"

Alanna kicked her sister's steel heels and nodded in agreement to the smiling, grey haired woman.

"There is something in particular you're looking for, aside from the selection on the counter?" she asked, but it only half sounded like a question.

Louise leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone to the gaunt figure.

"She needs...something guaranteed to stun, something that carries drop dead seduction from

every stitch! Of course, it has to be black!"

"Indeed! Seductive glamour? I do have something rather special that I've been saving for...just

the right person. It is very expensive but absolutely unique...if you'll wait a moment, I'll bring it

out." the old woman intoned as she disappeared through a tiny door behind a clutch of mannequins draped in Coco Chanel originals.

Alanna's face was quizzical and she didn't seem to hear Louise speak.

"I'll bet it's expensive, incredible – but expensive…but - can't pay - don't play!" Louise said as she ran her hands over the underwear.

The woman returned clutching a large, dark box which she placed on the far end of the counter. With a crook of her finger she beckoned them further into the dimness.

"Have you ever heard of an actress called Catria Helios? Mmmm, well she was famous, infamous actually, in France during the late 1920's and early 1930's when the press christened her as 'Hellcat' because of her...wild, abandoned attitude to life. Aside from being in a class of her own within the acting profession she was also one of the most notably liberated women of the time... but her sexual promiscuity and legendary insatiability were her eventual downfall, some say. It appeared she cared little for fame or finance, living only for experience! Her friends included Cocteau, Nin, Miller, Verlaine, Benrhardt, Crowley, Shaw and even Einstein, Pabst and many other glittering figures...some of them were her lovers, both male and female. They talked with admiration of her scandalous lingerie which was believed to have been crafted by Crowley's Scarlet Woman and fashioned from the Devil's soul - but that's probably mere hyperbole."

Louise gazed at the woman and then at Alanna who was rigidly attentive. The box was still firmly closed. They all stood in silence. Finally the oldest woman lifted the lid and a waft of scent filled their heads, a unique and multi-ranged perfume which set their skin tingling.

"Touch it," the shopkeeper suggested, "feel the sheer quality and notice the incredible intricacy of the lace, netting, black pearl and metallic threading - isn't it beautiful? Silks, gauze, lace and gossamer mesh - it's all perfect and heavenly against the skin...to the touch, even! I think it should fit you quite well. You may try them on in the back, if you care to. Perhaps your sister can help you ...so many things to try - but they must be sold as a single purchase...all or nothing. Oh, yes...I think there are some newspaper clippings about Catria in the box too! Please, try any of the lingerie – it's all the same, perfectly matching, tone of black!"

Alanna touched the Basque breathlessly and instantly took it to the little changing booth without gazing back at Louise who ran after her with a flicker of irritation. Inside the small, mirrored booth, Alanna had already tossed her jacket aside and was stepping out of her skirt and tights until she was naked. Louise watched the nude woman who was obliviously touching the delicate, black material – fascinated at its complexity.

"Hello, Earth calling Alanna - come in, Alanna!" Louise muttered.

"Help me with this!" the other said.

Louise half smiled, ignoring the similarity of her sibling's shape, the firm breasts which rose from her chest without a significant fleshy overhang, the narrow little waist and pert bottom which led the eye to the smooth thighs. There was little difference between them.

As Alanna moulded her torso into the intricate front her sister gently grasped the back and began to lace it up from where the naked, rounded buttocks became apparent.

"Christ, Alanna, this 'Hellcat' must have had ribs removed...the waist on this is minuscule – neither

of us could fit into it!"

"I will! Hurry up - and be careful! Wow, it feels great, the bust moulds to your own and the tiny

lace appliqué contours to my nipples...My God, look at this...it's hundreds of seamstress hours!"

"So, you like it?"

"I never knew I could want something so much in my whole life!"

"Breathe in a little more, that's it! Listen, A., does any of this strike you as odd...I don't mean the

sales fable about the Hellcat...I mean the woman herself, did you notice? I said, did you notice it?

- She referred to us as sisters. We didn't mention it!"

"We look alike...it's obvious to a blind man! But I'm much more...desirable and sophisticated."

"Alanna," Louise sighed "get real! Try to exhale and condense your tummy...Gggnnnrr, yes! I'm

glad this is for your torso and not your hips because with your bottom we'd never get it laced up!"

The dark haired woman ignored her witticism, watching only herself in the mirror and noting how the material condensed to her underlying body - especially how tiny her waist now looked. Louise continued the lacing while Alanna watched the bust adhere and mould to her own. When Louise finished she stared at her sister. The Basque was magnificent as it completely reconstructed the dark haired woman into a narrow waisted, swollen bosomed, beauty.

Louise found herself stroking the Basque with a tender reverence as Alanna slipped on the dark silk stockings.

"You look incredible, totally transformed. Maybe the old boiler wasn't kidding about the soul of the

devil - even I find you attractive! You have to take this whatever the price...if you don't, I certainly will!"

Alanna checked her reflection in the mirror, pulled her skirt up, slipped into her heels and tossed her jacket on. She walked out the little booth leaving her Woolford tights on the floor, smiling as she felt the six, metal tipped, stocking suspenders coolly kiss her thighs and bottom with every step. The short haired blonde picked up the abandoned garments and went back to find the vendor grinning and her sister clutching the already wrapped box of lingerie. The old woman was holding the referral card supplied in the bar that afternoon - it seemed that the transaction was completed in the blink of an eye. Louise swiftly followed her sister to the door only to find the shopkeeper right behind her, silently bidding them farewell.

Outside, in the dusk, Alanna walked on ahead forcing Louise to run after her, a clutch of discarded lycra tights whistling in the breeze. Passing cars seemed to slow down to stare at them.

"Wait, Alanna, remember me - the one who suggested black underwear? Dammit! I forgot to buy all those bits and pieces we had left on the counter…all the best stuff that…ALANNA! I know you're keen to get home to Paul but I'd like a lift home first, thank you!"

"Sorry, I'm in a bit of a haze. I know this sounds stupid," the pretty, dark haired woman stated "...but I feel fantastic! The tightness, the crushing grip is...incredible. This feels better than sex!"

"It is probably better than most of the sex you've had for the past few years - but that isn't saying much, is it?" laughed Louise as they walked closely together. "So, tell me - what was the damage? Just how much does it cost to feel this good?"

"Actually," the other replied "it wasn't much...just my soul!"

The pair giggled idiotically and slipped away round the corner to the car, leaving the darkened street in a dusky stillness.

Beyond the window was a pleasant urban vista of flickering, changing lights stretching far into the distance. Alanna stood in the middle of the large room gazing out from the dimness into the darkness of the city sky. The room was silent except for the quartz pulsing of the chiming clock beating out 7 tones. Even without motion she could feel the seductive rapture her clothes instilled deep inside her, stimulating something new within her. Her reflection in the glass was only vague, like a stranger...a beautiful stranger.

Alanna breathed in and felt her breasts unable to move out and instead felt a swelling tidal wave of rounded tissue rising upwards, spilling over the top of the hard breast cups of the Basque. There was a secret pleasure in the liberating sensation of her thick brown nipples outward thrust, confined by no more a little teat of intricate, webbed gauze. Her eyes strained in the dimness of the unlit room as if she could see the shiny, black, stiletto heeled shoes, just as clearly as she could see the slinky sheen of the black stockings which, a lifetime ago, the 'Hellcat' had worn... with the same seductive intent which was now rushing through Alanna's own mind.

She folded her arms, enjoying the feel of the transparent darkness of her chiffon lounge coat billowing gently in the caressing influence of the air conditioner. Alanna walked to the picture window, thinking about her beauty, Paul and the city beyond. Far below the Boulevard was still busy, well dressed figures moving and shifting with an irregular monotony - she wished she were down there now, walking amongst them like some 'Love Goddess' ripped into life from the silver screen.

The bare patches of flesh reflected back brightly from the window glass, thighs, chest, hands and head...but her gaze was held by the dark 'V' of downy hair between her legs. The little trickle of moist dew bubbled out from her puffy labia in a sweet, spreading contamination of erotic sensation. With the gentle movement of her left arm Alanna caught a whiff of her own perfume as she awkwardly parted her thighs, allowing her fingers to barely run along the underside of her torso, just stroking and disturbing the disposition of her vaginal lips before running her index finger between the two in an erotic cleaving of tissue. The finger slipped about, unimpeded, around the half opened mouth of her sex, round and round the rim until the black nailed digit was heavy with the damp juice of her interior. A finger pressed and rubbed around the outside of her urethra, revelling in the strange, unnatural ripples of delight it created. It was an instinctive pause, not theatrical or preconceived, but as she did so she became aware of being watched from the building across the Boulevard. Alanna pressed her right palm against the window and began to make a long exaggerated stroke against her crotch with her driving left arm, tossing her hair about in a wave of vulgar gratification. Thrusting more and more quickly, her fingers gripped and caressed her genitalia with a hunger more at home in a sex show.

She suddenly cared little for the audience and ceased to be delighted in the awareness of the voyeuristic sensations she elicited, for now she was close to the tingling edge of gratifying pleasure. Her only sound was that of billowing fabric, damp flesh and a hardly audible mutter of occasional moaning. The fingers clenched the hard, bloated, clitoral bud as they tugged and encouraged it to trigger the sensation she hungered for. With a shocking ripple she felt the heavenly familiarity of the internal tightening that signalled the onset of orgasm. Alanna's fingers worked faster and harder, coaxing the point of flesh until her muscles were rigid and her teeth clenched...it was so close.

And then there was nothing, sensation stopped and the ministration of her fingers became pointless. She turned from the window angrily, feeling moist streaks slip down her thighs. The odd experience brought new meaning to the term 'frustration', where the hell was Paul when she needed him?

"Lights" she called and the system automatically illuminated the corners of the open plan living area, revealing the sculptures, foliage and furniture which created an environment instead of a mere living space. On a mirrored wall opposite she caught sight of herself and all anger slipped away, the image seduced itself - sheer, stunning beauty. She found herself wondering if any man could resist her, surely any man would be happy...no, lucky to be her concubine. Perhaps now she was too good for most men, but certainly too good for that miserable insect she knew as Paul! After all, it was probably his influence that caused her to miss her orgasm - he was the source of her sexual problem...but, she asked herself, how do you solve a problem like that?

The 9 tones had hardly stopped reverberating through the room as the large, front door opened and a handsome, dark haired man in a chic, grey, Paul Smith suit strode into the gently lit room.

"I've been waiting!" Alanna said from the middle of the room.

He turned immediately to see the dark vision, glass in hand, stunned by the violent transformation of the creature he momentarily doubted as his wife.

"Alanna!" he said, rather unimaginatively.

"Yes."

Paul moved forward, quickly moving towards her with an expression of carnal desire painted all over his face.

"My God, Alanna - you look fabulous, utterly fabulous! Are we celebrating something?" he asked.

"Sort of...Liberty...sexual freedom - sexual abandon, desire, lust...even my sexuality. This is for you...no! Not me, the drink, darling!"

"Thanks." he replied before taking a hefty belt of the dark liquid.

Alanna's tight body was a seductive mix of the exposed and the unexposed as she made a point of posing and shifting her frame to let him see the strange, black clothes while she straightened the seams of her sheer, gossamer, silk stockings. For a few moments she played with her clothing, as if fixing and altering it for his pleasure, but only long enough to ensure that he was unable to remove his eyes from her after finishing his drink. Alanna allowed her left hand to slip between her thighs and she moaned aloud as she made an obvious, but seductive, play of pushing her fingers into a damp walled maw of sexual hunger. Dramatically she dragged her hand away and offered the wet fingers to Paul, mere inches from his wide mouth.

He breathed in the sexual scent of his wife, a scent he thought had become all too familiar in the recent past, but, from the harsh stick of flesh ruining the cut of his suit, he was mistaken just as he was wrong about the familiarity of her scent, the moist fingers seemed to carry the heady scent of someone else...a very pleasant someone else. Paul's tongue popped out and caressed Alanna's damp fingers as the pink flesh retracted with its delicious payload of vaginal juices.

"We've had a problem, Paul, and I'm going to fix it! Sit down, over there!" Alanna stated coldly and in a tone of disapproval which he found arousing.

Paul rested on the seat she had indicated, facing the sofa and beside the table which held an identical copy of the first drink she had created for him. Her hard buttocks flashed entrancingly at him through the dark chiffon, almost revealing the neat pelt of dark, pubic hair he hadn't caressed in some time.

"Listen, Alanna, maybe I should explain!" he said awkwardly but unable to take his eyes from her rising breasts and naked thighs - views which had become all the more desirable when exposed from amidst the dark, seductive influence of the black underwear. His wife was like a stranger with a waist that made her appear as if she's had ribs removed - none of it was like her, neither the clothes nor the woman. It struck Paul that someone else was wearing her body the way she seemed to be wearing someone else's clothes or identity - but at least it was a beautiful, sexual someone.

"Explain why you had lost interest in me? Is that what you mean? I think I've managed to work out the reason why for myself - not very long ago, in fact." she replied.

"And you aren't angry?"

"Angry?" she asked in a monotone.

"About Lynne and I...it just happened, but she could never compare to you, she didn't mean anything, not like this - not in any way. Nothing happened, we just found each other attractive – friends, but you're the only one for me! I'd never leave you – I love you, Baby! Anybody else might go crazy, misunderstand, drive their partner away – but not you. You've made me realise how lucky I am and how much I care for you...and want you...really want you, Alanna!"

Oh, I think I realise how much you care for me, Paul, quite clearly. Take your drink, darling, I don't want you having any inhibitions or misunderstandings."

The dark eyed man grasped the glass and took a sip or two before speaking again.

"One last thing, Baby, I'll never even look at another woman again!"

"You'll look at me, in fact I'm going to be on your mind for the rest of your life!"

The woman moved past him in a billow of black chiffon and perfumed scent, discarding the lounge coat carefully before sitting down on the soft, white leather, sofa opposite. Alanna's nudity was hidden only by the intricate, waist nipping Basque, silk hose and black heels. She left her thighs parted as she reached across to lift the little scrap-book of antiquated press clippings on the table between them, crossing her long, smooth legs with a movement that curtailed the voyeuristic gratification he was currently experiencing.

"Do you think it's true?" she asked

"What? Do I think 'what' is true?"

"That all men love black underwear?"

"Well, I certainly do - especially on you!"

"Mmmm!" she replied thoughtfully. "Drink up, I'm going to tell you about the woman whose clothes I'm wearing - she was quite notorious! While I talk you can imagine what we're going to do together, the things we're going to do tonight – Wild things! You can watch me but don't touch, understand?

"You're the boss!"

"Yes...I am, just like Catria. She was a film star in the days when the glamour on screen was played out equally in private life. This one if from...let me see, a 1950's 'social directory By the way, would you unzip your trousers and pull your organ out, I like to see the goods before I buy them! Very good! Listen!

BLACK UNDERWEAR © Anthro 1999 : All Rights Reserved.