Reluctant Diva 24
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 24 – In the mood
It took some days to become acclimatised to my new sleeping arrangements. More than once I found myself running up to my old room by mistake. It seemed there were some other changes which were harder to get used to if, in my mother’s eyes, I were to lead the life of a young woman as fully as possible. One which was less welcome was that my constricting corset should be a permanent feature of my night attire.

My mother was insistent however. “Your two weeks with Madeleine have done wonders for your figure, Jennifer dear. We mustn’t let that slip.” We?! I didn’t like where this was going.
Ignoring my look of concern, she continued “Now I don’t think it’s realistic for you to be laced into a corset all day; not if you are to lead the active life of the young miss you have become. A cincher or panty-girdle will have to do in school time.”

My relief at hearing this was short-lived. Picking up one of the corsets, “At night however, there’s no reason that you can’t continue to sleep in these to maintain that pretty waist. You have gained such lovely curves now, it would be a pity to lose them. You will thank me when you have some special date to go to and find you can wear just whatever you like.”

No argument came to my mind to counter my mother’s logic and she went on, “I will show you how to fan-lace it to help you put it on without assistance. How does that sound?”

The novelty of being asked rather than told came as such a welcome surprise that I didn’t take the opportunity of raising an objection. This new degree of curtesy I was being treated to stopped me in my tracks and when I saw the modified garment, I had to admit that lacing it up by myself would be child’s play. My curiosity got the better of me and I allowed Mom to go ahead and show me how to fit it on.

When I got ready for bed that evening, I found that once I had looped the corset around me and clipped the front together there were just two straps to pull and fasten off in order to tighten the laces. Simple! What was less to my liking was that its degree of tightness was out of my control. Mom came in to assist and laced me as tight as I thought possible and then some. She marked the straps off accordingly. I knew she would be able to check against these marks all too easily, so with a sinking heart, I realised there would be no relaxing its steel-boned grip.

Another change was in the nature of my employment. I was informed that as a ‘woman’ I would be expected to contribute something towards the household expenses. I was to look for an all-day Saturday job. Mom felt sure there would be no shortage of suitable vacancies available. I could give up one of my cleaning jobs, but keep on with the other one working three evenings a week instead of two. That would give me time to keep up with all my chores at home and do my schoolwork as well. Really?!

She pointed out that as Mrs Martin paid the best, I might want to continue with her and stop cleaning for Mrs Bennett. That suggestion was welcome as I’d always dreaded the chance of Chris seeing me dressed as a maid. So far I’d avoided letting him do so and had worried how long that state of affairs might continue, even though Mom had thoughtfully provided me with a new uniform dress. I was pleased to see it was in a more dignified style than its skimpy predecessor, perhaps in keeping with how I was now regarded as a ‘woman’.

During our prolonged break, I’d reconciled myself to the likelihood that Marty would have lost interest in me. It had been nearly a month since I’d seen him. However he had remembered to send me a birthday gift which was thoughtful. An unexpected thrill ran through me when I opened the parcel and found it to contain some pretty lingerie. It was elegant if a little on the naughty side and I couldn’t fault his choice. It must have cost plenty. From Mom’s arch smile when I showed it to her, I guessed that he’d had some help selecting it, especially as the bra was in exactly my new size!

I wasn’t too surprised therefore, on the Monday a week after my party, to find him waiting in the usual spot to give me a ride home after work. I was feeling quite confident in my looks. My hair, nails and make-up still bore the benefit of my visit to the salon. Predictably, however, what most caught my paramour’s attention was the alteration in my figure.

“Hey Jennifer! Missed you!” he grinned as he got out of the car to open my door for me.

The day was warm and I wasn’t wearing anything over my new uniform dress. In plain black trimmed with a modicum of lace, it had a full skirt and fitted bodice which showed off my curves. After we’d hugged, he stood back and with undisguised astonishment ran his eyes up and down me from head to toe. Smilingly, I basked in the unqualified approval that my figure was getting. After all, it had taken a lot of work to achieve the waist and bust-line I was now blessed with.

“Now Marty!” I laughed in mock reproof. “Were you never told, it’s rude to stare?”

My boyfriend seemed uncharacteristically dumbstruck. He couldn’t take his eyes off my boobs and continued to gape at them goggle-eyed. “How did you get…?”

I slipped into the seat, laughing at his gaucheness. “I’ve missed you too!” I was surprised to discover how much I had. It felt so nice to be with him.
Then overconfidence led to my downfall. “They are real, you know! You can touch them if you want to!”

The words slipped out unintentionally but then I thought, why not? We hadn’t seen each other for more than three weeks and I had prepared myself to allow him a little more licence than usual. Recovering more swiftly than I could have imagined, Marty needed no second bidding and while I was enjoying his kisses, I could feel his hand massaging my chest. That was okay, but next thing I knew, the zipper on my dress was undone and its bodice was down around my waist. That was no more than I was expecting, though things were happening way too fast!

In getting changed for work that evening, I’d decided on wearing his birthday gift under my uniform. It wasn’t a difficult choice. I’d become accustomed to wearing some of Madeleine’s exotic underwear and I loved the sensual feel of satin against my skin. My boyfriend had chosen a set in that material; a push-up bra, with garters and French knickers to match. The colour was a vibrant red and the style made the most of my curvy bust.

I’d chosen to wear it on the principle that knowing I was sexy underneath would give me confidence, while my companion needn’t be any the wiser. The problem was that now my boyfriend could see my erotic underpinnings he was bound to get the wrong impression! Actually it was the right impression but not the one I wanted him to get. I think. You know what I mean!

Even when we came up for air he couldn’t take his hand from my satin clad breasts.
“Wow!” he cried in delight. Then “Are you’re wearing the rest…?”

I nodded and immediately could almost see what was going on in his mind. He was thinking that Christmas had come early. I felt some irritation at the question. Men are so predictable!

He managed to stammer out “Baby, are you hot?!”

I wasn’t in disagreement. I was hot in more senses of the word than the one he was meaning but I was more concerned that he himself might be getting too hot to handle. I needed desperately to cool things down again. Although I had been prepared to allow a little more intimacy than normal this evening, now it came to it I really wasn’t in the mood.

I heard myself remark in a conversational tone “Oh yes, thanks again for this pretty underwear! You were clever to choose it. Now let me think, who helped you? Was it my mom?”

Marty looked taken aback by my directness and his sheepish expression confirmed the accuracy of my guess. “Your mom?”

“Yes, I could tell, but don’t worry. I do like it! You should see the stuff she wears, though. So matronly!”

If I was hoping to keep his ardour in check by conjuring up some dampening images in his mind, it seemed to be working. Managing the situation might have been tricky but I couldn’t believe how easy I was finding it. From the stunned silence that ensued, I decided that things were back under some kind of control and I could cut Marty a little more slack. All I had to do was to reach behind me, unfasten my bra and let its contents spill across him to rekindle the flame. That wasn’t going to happen.

Instead I smiled encouragingly at my deflated boyfriend. “Well, as we’ve been missing each other so much… I did say you are allowed to touch. Nothing below the waist, mind!”

It was later than usual by the time I had made myself decent again. I set to work to restore my make-up and hair. Marty’s eyes had a glazed look as he drove me home. Secretly I took satisfaction in the awareness that I could be enough of a ‘woman’ for him. I knew that I could have provided for his needs if I chose, but it was better to keep him guessing. However this feeling of elation was diluted by the realisation that I wasn’t fully into this relationship. Perhaps it would be fairer to end it. I couldn’t decide.

As I entered the house another concern hit me. What would my mother’s reaction be?

I needn’t have worried. When I walked in she was smirking all over her face at my tardiness. As I was about to head upstairs to change, she called knowingly to me. “You and Marty had a lot to ‘say’ to each other, then?”

My face flushed as I guessed her meaning and her smirk became a delighted laugh. She clearly assumed more to have happened than actually had. I was happy not to enlighten her and to avoid giving a direct answer I lifted the hem of my dress to show her that I was wearing the birthday gift my boyfriend had given me.

“Very exotic!” she laughed. “How thoughtful of him to buy you that set” she gloated. “You seem to have got him just where you want him, Jennifer!”

I had to agree with her, before escaping to my room. Once alone I started to change out of my working dress. My eye was caught by a blaze of red reflected in the mirror. I stood and gazed at the image. In a deep crimson satin of liquid glossiness, the lingerie framed my curvy body in a way that was certainly startling. I twirled provocatively before the glass. If I had been in the right mood I would have loved to have shown it off. But this evening that had eluded me.

Why hadn’t I wanted to let my boyfriend see me this way? It was curious. My emotions had been widely different to those I’d experienced only one week before. On that occasion part of me wanted to go much further, but not now, even with a companion I found much more acceptable than the amorous librarian. What came to my mind was the term Madeleine had used; “mood swings”. Yes, that must be the reason.

The following afternoon I had a job interview after school. It seemed that my mother had been overly optimistic, underestimating the difficulty of securing part-time work. In actuality there was a lot of competition about for a limited number of positions. After trying and failing all week to get anything, I was reduced to applying for a vacancy at, yes, you guessed it, the library! Yes, I know, but it was my last resort.

Very tentatively I sent in my application and it was with no little trepidation that I heard that I was on their shortlist. When I told Rachel, she immediately renewed her promise to come with me for moral support. Perhaps I wouldn’t be successful and part of me hoped for that outcome. However, being interviewed by Mrs Harris and Mr McShane, who both knew me, inevitably worked in my favour. The former of my prospective employers was the aunt that Dennis and Sandra lived with and I knew would be predisposed towards me. And the latter? After my latest visit there, it was no surprise to me that he was agreeable to having me around; or maybe just having me!

When we were completing the formalities my friend was careful to make one thing clear. When I was asked my age, Rachel interrupted with “Jennifer is fifteen. Just fifteen, although she looks older. I hope that’s understood.”

Her tone was much sterner than I could have believed my sweet natured friend capable of delivering. It was also accompanied by a significant look in the man’s direction. He was more than twice my age, and his look of confusion showed that her intended meaning had struck a chord. In the meantime his colleague seemed to be hiding a smile. I was offered the job there and then. Surely I would be okay with Mrs Harris around. I accepted.

On top of the expense of my new uniform for my work as a maid, my mom had determined that my new Saturday job would require yet another purchase. The dress we settled on was similar in style to the black one but in a bright polka dot pattern. Fun and flirty, I loved wearing it. Both dresses were full skirted and a little shorter than the norm but as Mom pointed out, I had good legs and ought to make the most of my ‘assets’.

I was relieved when my first day working at the library went well, with nothing that I couldn’t cope with. The building was fairly quiet, I didn’t have a lot to do and the time dragged a little. As the weeks went by the library got busier. Besides the scattering of borrowers, there were a number of regulars who called in to sit at the tables reading. I was often singled out to assist finding what they wanted. With my lack of experience I couldn’t always help, but that didn’t seem to deter them from asking and some became quite familiar faces.

I was determined to make a success of my role so was always happy to search high and low when required. True, the brevity of my dress often meant that the tops of my hose must have been on display but I remembered what my mother had said about my legs. Knowing they might be seen to advantage gave me no end of satisfaction.

One of my regular tasks was to take a turn in replacing the returned books on the shelves in their proper places. Unaccountably it seemed that when Adrian, as Mr McShane preferred me to call him, was on duty, most of the ones that fell to my lot to deal with were for subjects occupying the top rows of the shelves.

Just the luck of the draw I guess! My efforts always attracted attention from the male readers, but again, I didn’t mind too much. Although generally I tried to be a model, and modest, employee, knowing my legs and ass were getting favourably noticed was some compensation for a boy with the weird lifestyle I’d settled for. I imagine I can’t have been the only ‘girl’ to be reassured by the knowledge she was appreciated by the male sex!