Girlfriends

I did not get a chance to blog about Saturday. Emily dragged me shopping Saturday afternoon, a precursor to the teasing the other morning in a way.

"I want to get a new duvet cover for my bed and I saw some things at Nordstrom's that I'd like you eye for."

Well, there is no question I have an eye for design. Sure, not every woman's boyfriend is going to be helpful in picking put a new duvet cover, but that's one of the benefits of a boyfriend that's part girlfriend, too.

After an hours of looking at bedding, we found a lovely duvet set with some adorable pillows:

We bought it, took it out to the car, but were not done.

"I want to run back in and look at something else I want your eye for," she said, batting hers in that way that makes me melt and do anything she wants.

"Okay." I guess I assumed something else in bedding, so was somewhat surprised when we wound up in the dress department.

"What do you need a dress for," I asked, my brain about half a second behind my mouth.

"For Memorial Day Weekend, silly," she said, touching my arm. "Evan said there is some fancy thing at his country club on Saturday night."

"Oh," I said, the jealously part dominating anything else. Of course. Evan. Her weekend. With him. I was pouting, I don't know why, it wasn't as if I was an innocent in all this, as if I did not play along, even encourage her, as if I didn't enjoy it, toeing the line, as much as she. As if I didn't fantasize about her with him, whether I wanted it to happen or not.

Given her own hesitancy, her own enjoyment in playing around that forbidden line, looking at it, approaching it, testing it, she wanted lightheartedness, I sensed, by the look in her eyes.

To this day, I do not know if she has slept with him.

Wait, no that isn't right. I'm certain she slept with him.

I just don't know if she slept with him since we've been together.

She has gone to visit him twice now, once in late 2007, last Memorial Day Weekend. He has been at her house once.

I don't think she has had sex with him since we have been together. But I'm not entirely certain.

Does she want to?

Don't know.

She teases me about it.

She fantasizes about it.

But is the teasing all?

"Sara," she looked at me using my feminine name in public, her soft voice melting away all of my masculinity, melting away the "boy" clothes I was wearing, mentally uncovering the lingerie I had on underneath, mentally transforming me from boy to girl.

"You don't have to dress shop with me, I just thought it would be more fun doing this with my favorite girlfriend. I can ask Jill or Erin if they would rather..."

I swallowed. Feminine. Girlfriend. Dress shopping for a weekend away. A date, even.

"I..."

She smiled, widened her eyes, asking.

"Okay," I said, slipping so easily into girlfriend, only in the back of my mind knowing that I was helping the love of my life shop for a dress to wear on what was basically a date with Evan.

I'm on Nordstrom's web site, trying to find pictures of things we looked at:

"Really cute," she said, "but a bit too prom like. I don't want to feel like I'm someone's college age daughter."

"This," I asked.

"Better, if I'm going strapless, a bit more age appropriate. Pretty."

We both love the lavender, but they did not have her size to even try on.

She loved how this one could be tied behind the neck, halter style, or lower, like in the picture.

A little black dress she loved. "I could wear stockings with this one."

Yes, she said stockings. Not pantyhose. Yes I noticed.

"Too much of a 'I'm going to get fucked later tonight' don't you think," I asked.

"Maybe that's the message I want to send," she chuckled, putting it back on the rack.

The runner up, which we both decided was a tad too short, though lovely.

Above, is the winner. The length was more age appropriate, yet still above the knee. She loved the bodice. I agreed. It showed off her breasts, without having them spill all over. The empire waist gave her the illusion of curve that she does not have the most of.

Simply, on her, it was beautiful.

Walking back towards the entrance we came in through, we walked by the lingerie shop. Yes, of course.

"You...you want to look, don't you," I asked, my own eyes drawn to the racks of nighties and pajamas lining the aisle.

"I really don't want to sleep naked," she said shyly.

I picked up a set of the nearest rack, half joking, but in a way, not entirely. "Something like this?"

She frowned. "For summer? No."

"This, then?"

"Kind of plain."

"This is cute."

"Yea, I suppose. I don't know, I guess I prefer something like this, or this."

We looked around for awhile, she bought both.

So, this was the prelude to her masturbating the other morning, teasing me about her upcoming weekend. She shopped with me as her girlfriend, she teased me as her sissy.