The Package

by Northerner Mon Feb 08, 2021 2:23 pm

I happened to be closest to the front door when the package arrived, but since it required Kriss’ signature I could only watch with mounting curiosity as she made a half-hearted attempt to sneak it past me. Which given the size was a silly idea, so I decided some teasing was in order.
   “More sex toys?”
“As if I’d buy something this big without asking you.”
I snorted. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
   “Awfully nice box anyway.”
“Should be, at the rate I paid.” Then her secretive face cracked in a huge grin. “It’s the stuff from London!”
I might have lost my cool too. That shipment had been heavily anticipated, but we’d been disappointed by too many musical gizmos and studio knickknacks preceding it to dare hope any given delivery would be from there.
   “What are we waiting for?”
The rush to the master bedroom with the full-length mirrors was giddy and giggly enough to be better suited for girls less than half our age, but we’d both long since decided on giving ‘growing up’ a hard pass. At least in some respects.
Kriss set the oblong box down on the bed and looked around for something to cut through the tape. The black matte finish on the thick cardboard made a classy impression, doubled by the gilt letters spelling out the name of the firm and the place of origin. Nothing more, nothing less. It would be hard to guess the contents, but I had a pretty good notion. The visit to that tailoring emporium was still fresh in my mind.
My wife gave up the search and took out her house keys to split the wide plastic strip enough to separate the lid, and then she lifted the top as reverently as any treasure hunter has ever opened a chest full of riches.
The white sheen within was almost blinding. The only thing obstructing it was an envelope, likely containing such formalities as the receipt and invoice. It was quickly tossed aside to reveal the even more formal clothes below. Half a dozen shirts for us each - their minimum order for bespoke ones, although with a choice of collar. I suppose it was an attempt at catering to the merely rich instead of the obscenely wealthy patronizing other Savile Row institutions. At any rate, we’d settled on two regular turndowns, two wider ones, and two wingtips. The lady taking our measurements had approved.
“A sensible choice for a basic selection.”
“Good wardrobe staples, right?” Kriss asked.
The smile was slight but not patronizing. “Quite.”
Her own was a very light yellow, going well with the burgundy base of her tie with silver stripes and a massive windsor knot. Her black waistcoat was embroidered with flowers in shades of grey and the shapely jacket had served as excellent advertising while she wore it. It had been transferred to a hanger for the measuring session, but even draped like that the craftsmanship was evident.
   I had never been so thoroughly fitted - sure, I had an idea of my basic numbers, but shirt-making apparently involved more details than I’d imagined. And while they were at it I got my leg stats noted as well. I couldn’t help a chuckle during the inseam part.
“I’ve heard you have to account for men’s...anatomical placements.”
“It’s true”, she confirmed. “My colleague usually handles that, though.”
The man with the notepad smiled. “Some customers are uncomfortable with those details.”
“Better uncomfortable questions than uncomfortable trousers”, Kriss guessed.
I was just happy it wouldn’t be a concern for us. Truth to be told, my chest felt tighter than usual from anticipation. I couldn’t quite grasp I was about to order a tailored tuxedo - or dinner jacket, as the case may be. My first made-to-measure suit.
It wasn’t without a twinge of guilt at the expense - if it hadn’t been for my preferences we’d probably never have come here. But Kriss was adamant. Since we were in London and Nita’s clothes looked so goddamn nice on her we just had to visit her tailor. And do it properly - getting matching shirts, waistcoats, trousers, jackets and ties.
   Trying out different cuts and lengths wasn’t too hard and in the end it turned out the biggest decision was the lapel style. We already owned off-the-rack jackets with shawl collars, so something else would be nice. Peaked ones were probably the only real option, but we disagreed on the width. Kriss wanted more shine while I was happy with a narrower version.
The saleswoman came to our rescue.
“It depends on whether you’re planning to wear ties with them.”
“‘Course we are”, Kriss stated, somehow avoiding to scoff at the notion.
The attendant went on. “The general rule is the wider the tie, the wider the lapels should be.”
Fortunately we had a clear idea about that - two and a half inch at most - and asked them to go with the widest that’d match. For the rest of the details we just went with what was already on the best model in the store. Then only some paperwork remained and Kriss spared me the boredom of that.
“Go look at the ties while I settle the bill.”
She obviously meant the regular ones, as we’d already chosen the black bow ties most to our liking. I must admit they had a nice selection, but mainly business-like patterns. The quality and shine was top notch though, and I picked out a couple I thought would go nicely with our eyes - solid aqua blue for Kriss and a sort of grey-green for me. Or rather a sand green (is that even a color? Not quite moss-green, anyway.) with tiny silvery polka dots. Same difference at a distance. Since we weren’t about to wear them on the trip they were set aside for the main delivery.

Which had finally arrived, after being manufactured and sent all the way across the Atlantic and half the continent. But this was no time to wonder at long-distance shipping - inspecting the goods was at the top of the agenda.
There were two stacks of crisp white shirts side by side, professionally folded in a way I knew they’d never be again. The discreet size labels told us which were which and my wife, being who she is, shook out the top one without delay. Then she pulled off her v-neck while shooting me a glance as if to ask why I wasn’t already undressed. Well, no use waiting. I undid some buttons on my everyday blouse and removed it, but didn’t let Kriss start closing up her new garment before I’d kissed her bare shoulder - because some things are important. She pressed her lips against the skin above my heart, and then focused completely on buttoning up.
I followed her example and marveled at how nice the fabric felt all over, and just how well it enfolded my body. The sleeves were just the right length and the stiff cuffs not uncomfortable at all. They were a little wider than I’d expected, at least the part holding the button, and added just a touch of masculinity. I can’t say why it struck me that way, but I didn’t mind. Gender-bending was after all part of the idea.
The turndown collar closed around my neck with just a fraction of an inch to spare, and once secured rested snugly against my throat. It felt amazing, and sneaking a glance in the mirror I saw it was about a perfect fit all over. I didn’t want any preview of Kriss’ new look so I made myself busy tucking the whole thing into my slacks until I was sure she too was done. Hearing a soft “Wow…” behind me sorta clinched that.
   I’ve never been a fan of the white shirt look - I mean, without any accessories or other tops - but this sight changed my mind. Kriss looked so incredibly nice in just that and her blue jeans my heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was the way it fell off her shoulders, or the style and slant of the splendid collar, or a combination of that and everything else. The end result was that my fingers went unbidden to touch and fondle and smooth out the inevitable creases, and hers did the same for me.
“Paying for quality pays off”, she smiled.
Then she gently popped my collar and reached for the silken roll I’d selected back at the store. She hooped it around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss before stepping back to work on a knot. I closed my eyes to simply listen to the sounds of smooth fabric wrapping around and rubbing against itself, then raised my chin and sighed as the tightening sensation filled my entire being. I love being dressed up by someone who’ll really appreciate the final look, and Kriss most certainly would. She spent a long time fiddling and pulling at the knot before restoring the collar to the proper position, and then adjusted everything some more.
“Gods, Chellie…” she breathed. “A jacket, any jacket…”
I’d already decided on one and took my long dark tan blazer from the wardrobe without so much as a peek at my reflection. I wanted the full effect all at once. But I did pull it on as fast as I ever could and let my mate adjust the front before turning to face the mirror. It was hard not to gasp.
As the collar was of the wider kind, Kriss had gone for a half-windsor and the fat triangle ended at a smooth crease that made the tie look even thicker than it was, hanging down to an inch or two above my belt buckle.
I’m no narcissist, but I felt pretty damn smart in that simple yet elaborate ensemble. I buttoned the lower part of the coat and whaddya know, it still looked real good. The hands running along my sides told me the clothes wouldn’t stay on for long if Kriss had her way.
“My turn?” she pleaded and those puppy-dog eyes were completely unnecessary. There was no way I’d let her off without trying the same look.
   Just two years before I’d known nothing beyond a simple four-in-hand, but now I had no problems replicating Kriss handiwork for her and in minutes her shirtfront was adorned with a tie similar to mine, although in a brilliant blue. She’d stop an entire office dead in its tracks showing up at work like that, so it was just as well she was in a different line of business. Still...
   “You should do the bills in this”, I said.
“You know I suck at maths.”
   “Be my secretary then. All that’s required is sitting on my knee.”
I reflected that if Kriss planted herself in my lap wearing that and a nice black skirt no work would get done, and all the papers would either get crumpled or swept to the floor. She looked beyond yummy but before I could show some proper appreciation she’d walked over to the row of hangers to fetch an off-white double-breasted jacket. The wide notch lapels and generous shoulder pads weren’t as old-fashioned or out of style as some might have thought them. It was a timeless look and on her, sexy. Even with those jeans.
I pulled the tie up, wrapped it around my hand and yanked her into my arms. Her fingers ran through my hair as we kissed for what seemed like ages, yet couldn’t have been more than a minute. Then Kriss began to unbutton my jacket.
“A good start”, she said. “What do you say we move on to the main course?”
Her glance at the package on the bed made clear she wasn’t talking about second base.

...

by N00144119 Mon Feb 08, 2021 3:15 pm

Very nice story. Love the detail

by SuaveDragon Mon Feb 08, 2021 4:23 pm

Keep this story going, please!

by Northerner Mon Feb 08, 2021 4:28 pm

SuaveDragon wrote:Keep this story going, please!

Oh, I will. The package isn't empty yet, is it? Wink

More tomorrow night!

by Northerner Tue Feb 09, 2021 11:55 am

A shiver went through me from my feet up to suddenly flushed cheeks. For some reason I felt nervous about the whole thing. The shirts were excellent, but what if the suits weren’t? And how would I look in one? That was formal wear, and my daytime face seemed...inadequate. Or at least a bad match.
   “Guess we should. But Krissie...mind if I go for a quick touch-up?”
She lit up like a flashlight. “What a great idea, Chel! I’ll join you. After all…”
A finger ran along my jawline. “...evening dress calls for evening makeup.”
   “It’s barely past noon.”
“Thought you liked playing pretend.”
That I did, but I needed to compose myself for the next outfit. I didn’t want to have to pretend it looked nice.
   “The suits are in there, right?”
“You think that black stuff was padding?”
I’d only glimpsed what lay below the shirts, but now Kriss lifted the garments out one by one.
“Look”, she said as she held up the first jacket.
It was an imposing sight, seemingly made to our specifications. The lapels caught the light just right and the black buttons gleamed against the dull, dark fabric. I’d worried they would have been all wrinkled up in the transport but nothing of the kind was visible. Nothing noteworthy, at any rate.
Kriss laid it out on the bed followed by its twin and proceeded to produce the matching waistcoats and trousers. As a grand finale she dangled the black, shiny bow ties in front of her.
“Ta-daa!” she grinned and closed the box.
   I smiled in relief. “Well, that’s something at least.”
“It’s something all right! Can’t wait to try it on!”
   “First things first” I said and helped her undress before undoing my tie and carefully removing the shirt. “I want coffee. Yes, you can have a choccy donut, but I need the caffeine. Then a shower or bath, your choice. And that makeover you agreed to.”
Kriss put her tee back on, more out of habit than any sense of decency. “I’ll have a cup too, and a donut, bath and shower plus all the cuddles you can spare. But save some for later.”

It was later. Apart from somewhat more than just cuddles in the shower we’d followed the schedule and now I was putting some final touches on the warpaint. Or so I thought. Kriss sidled over and blew into my ear, nearly making me drop the brush.
“Let’s go all in, Cherry. Smoky eyes...full lashes...the works. Jewelry”, she added.
   “Could have said that before we started.”
“Was still dizzy.”
   “Or ditzy.”
Kriss nuzzled my neck and made her whisper even huskier. “Come on, Cherilyn. I’ll do your hair if you want.”
That was an offer I couldn’t refuse. If being dressed is pampering, having my hair styled to her liking makes me feel outright spoiled.
   “On one condition”, I said. “We go all in. As in special date night in.”
“Goes without saying.”
   So it was even later when we returned to the tryout, my brown hair loosely tied back and curled past the shoulders and Kriss’ blonde tresses collected in a black band at her neck. Well, some of them at least. Just enough to keep her face uncovered.
Entering the bedroom in nothing but satin lingerie and diamond studs in our ears felt like a prelude to removing even more - but we were about to do the opposite, which seemed somewhat backwards. At least we’d had the forethought to put everything on hangers to let gravity help out with any creases. The black suits were almost menacing in their severity while still being nearly sinfully inviting.
   “So…” I began. “What order?”
“Lessee...socks, shirt, pants…”
   “Socks?” I hadn’t thought of that detail.
Kriss had, though. “Oh yeah, black socks with black tie, right? Got us some new ones!”
She quickly dug out two pairs from the box and slammed the lid back down. It felt really odd wearing them with panties and bra, but it was a simple way to get started. Then we hit a speed bump.
“Which collar?” Kriss asked.
   For being tux owners and sometimes wearers, we’d gone easy on shirts. As in never really worn any. I love the way a bow tie sits against and wraps around a bare neck, to see the taut band ensuring a tight fit and looking real elegant in the bargain. Wingtips would be my obvious choice for that reason, and I was just about to say so when my darling wife went on.
“I’m kinda curious how it looks with this”, she said and held up the other turndown, the one better suited for bows.
Ah, what the hell. I’m open for experimentation and we would have to try those on at some point anyway. If it was a dud I was sure I could persuade her to change.
   “As you wish” I said and let her hold it out for me. My arms slipped easily into the sleeves and Kriss sweetened the deal by kissing the backs of my hands after buttoning the cuffs. Then she did the front buttons too and finished with pressing her lips against mine.
“Relax, Chel. You’re gonna look fantastic, ‘cause you already do.”
I returned the favor and soon had Kriss done up all the way. Getting her collar to close properly was a chore but if she found it uncomfortable she didn’t show it. Then the turn had come to the trousers and this was where we had cheated a little. Or made full use of one of the perks of womanhood, take your pick. Anyway, the waist wasn’t made for either a belt or suspenders, but buttoned in the back high enough above the hips to be kept in place by them. The material stretched ever so slightly to make sure the fit was secure and almost corset-like, which made for a flattering figure as well. I suppose even tailors have to move with the times and we’d jumped at the chance when we were told this was an option. As an added bonus, the front had been covered in silk folds and would serve as a built-in cummerbund. Might be nice at some point, but for now we’d go with the waistcoats. They needed to be tried on too, and we were going all in. I called a brief halt.
   “Okay, this is great. Looks great, feels great. Except I could only reach one button - mind helping a girl out?”
“What a coincidence”, Kriss said, revealing either a slight design flaw or a shared ineptitude. But fully closing each other’s waistbands from behind gave us a chance to look at the trousers from all angles. Apart from the sharply pressed creases running down the front there were thin silk stripes along the sides, just as ordered. Wouldn’t feel like proper tux pants without’em.
With those properly fastened I looked for the next part and hit another snag.
   “This is the one thing I’ve always wondered about. Does the tie go on before the waistcoat or the other way around?”
“Don’t think it matters.”
   I sighed in exasperation. “Kriss, aren’t we supposed to learn how to do this right?”
“I can go first if you like and you could check if it looks wrong. Which one’s better for you?”
   “Waistcoat first”, I said without hesitating.
She simply grinned, put it on and had me adjust the buckle in the back until it looked like a really formal bustier. I reluctantly had to tell her it did look wrong and she called me a spoilsport.
   “Believe me, I wish that would be the right way”, I said and made the fit more appropriate for a high-class occasion.
Then Kriss turned up the collar and extended a hand like a surgeon requesting the next implement. I draped the silken band over it and stepped back to watch.

This might be the point where a confession’s in order. I have a kink for ladies in bow ties, and you can blame the one wearing my ring for that. Years and years ago she chose to wear a shirtless - but not tieless - tuxedo while performing at a classical soiree, winning a scholarship in the bargain. Our all-night celebration had been intense, wonderful, absolutely amazing and not fully undressed, leaving certain associations deeply imprinted on me. If she’d taken the time to remove her bow we might have been doing something completely different at the moment.
   But she hadn’t and we weren’t and I noticed my breathing had grown heavier in anticipation. Watching my lover put on a bow tie is always exciting, but it’s better when she ties them herself because it lasts longer. Which she’s fully aware of. She went at it slowly and methodically, almost like an inverted strip-tease, if that makes sense. And since she knows I prefer a nice and tight fit she made sure it was, turning the collar back down before pinching and pulling and adjusting the already immaculate knot. Her smile would have been pretty enough on its own, but on top of that…
“So how does it look?”
While I adore the smooth perfection of a pre-tied with a single crease on each side, it couldn’t hold a candle to those luxurious bulges of fabric in deepest black. How something could be so dark and so shiny at once seemed a mystery to me. The thick silk was smooth to the touch and I couldn’t resist fingering it, toying with the wings and testing the tightness. The lovely butterfly shape hardly budged and felt like a solid, integral part of the outfit - as it should.
   “Don’t think words can do it justice”, I managed. “If you were a waitress I’d overtip an indecent amount.”
Kriss cocked an hopeful eyebrow. “And write your number on a bill?”
   “That’s the opposite of class. But I might ask if you were free after work.”
“Oh, really? Not when I...get off?” She was almost leering.
   “That’s something I’d be happy to assist with. And speaking of assist…do the honors?”
I held up the still unused black tie intended for me. Kriss took it almost tenderly and put it in its proper place. My heart skipped a beat as she pulled it tight and then expertly finished the knot. I had two reasons for asking her to. One - the silly little overachiever had secretly spent an untold amount of time on learning how to tie one just right to surprise me and is therefore better at it, and two - wouldn’t you?
I was basking in the sensation of having my appearance tended to, and all too soon Kriss stepped back with a satisfied look on her face.
“Gorgeous darling.”
She leaned in and caressed my face with her breath as if she didn’t want to mess up the makeup and as nice as that was I yearned to see the result of her efforts.
   It was incredible. That’s how a bow tie should look - neat, even and just a little separated at the ends to show it’s been crafted and not manufactured. Much better than the haphazard efforts on display at any red carpet event, thrown together on what can only be described as general principle. The shirt might have helped too, because while the combination might have been worn by any bartender or casino dealer, I didn’t feel like one in the slightest. I turned for a side view and that was at least as good - the hand-tied look was even more apparent at an angle. A glass of brandy would fit right in and go down a treat right about now.
Then Kriss broke the spell.
“Shoes! Those should definitely have followed the trousers.”
We had enough of that to find a good match, going with the black heels that worked so well with our other tuxedos.
“Just one thing left”, she announced and picked up her jacket.
   This was it. The finishing touch, albeit a big one. I watched Kriss shake the garment out with evident anticipation and found I was holding my breath waiting to see her in it.
Not that I really had any time to look. I had my hands full with my own coat and making sure it went on just like it was supposed to. The sound of cotton sliding along the satin lining accompanied my hands navigating the sleeves and then the whole thing simply fell into place. The tailoring ensured it couldn’t very well sit askew, not without some telltale discomfort. Still, I tugged here and there to check if it had made a false landing by accident, but any attempts to move it made it worse.
I had to take it off and slip in on again just to experience that once more, the feeling of getting instantly wrapped up in sartorial perfection. It was comfortable beyond description. And looking really, really good.
The shoulders were padded just enough to give them a more flattering slant and the sleeves came down to the shirt cuffs, neither covering or exposing them too much. I stretched out an arm and the black fabric stayed in place - mostly - and that felt like performing a magic trick. There wasn’t even any straining around the armpit and at that moment I fell in love with a piece of clothing. I wondered what other outfits I could get away with wearing it over.
   I tried closing the single-breasted front and of course it looked amazing like that as well, although a little bit too serious for the occasion. If I were ever called on to present some kind of award it might come in handy, though. Or wanted to emphasize my curves. It seemed figure-hugging and relaxed all at once.
But the waistcoat did the same job, so I opened the buttons to reveal it and wow, did I ever love the look. For some reason the word ‘opulent’ floated through my head, closely followed by ‘resplendent’. It was probably just my mind grasping for superlatives, because ‘damn fine’ and ‘fantastic’ didn’t seem like enough.
A voice came from beside me. “How does it feel?”
   “Incredible. It’s like the best…”
Then I caught sight of Kriss and lost the ability to speak. If I’d been holding something I would have dropped it.
If the tuxedo looked awesome on me, my wife was absolutely flawless in it. Her wider shoulders and expansive chest were somehow reduced by the cut, giving her an even more ladylike appearance. And she’s feminine enough to begin with. That traditional menswear could have that effect made for a powerful contrast.
My Kriss was suddenly a complete beauty queen, and greedy, greedy Cheryl immediately wondered how she’d look in a wingtip shirt - or without one. I was glad I’d had enough to tide me over, because otherwise I would have had to jump her and that would have wrinkled everything right up. If not outright torn something.
Instead I just took her in my arms, pressed my forehead against hers. Held her close and felt her heartbeat next to mine.
   “I love you. Love you so much, Kissie.”
“I love you, Chellie. Dressed up or not. But right now I’m just a teensy bit more infatuated than usual…”
That was an understatement, if the way she expressed it was anything to go by. Let’s just say she wasn’t very careful about the makeup anymore. And neither was I, for that matter.

Then we were inspecting, marveling at, touching and commenting every little detail of our suits, from the decorative cuff buttons to the way the lapels swept over the shoulders. And the lack of those slits at the back - ‘vents’? We probably made fools of ourselves through our ignorance of terms and materials, but finding examples and saying ‘this’ worked perfectly well. There had been many styles to browse, but now it was clear we had made the right choices. If it could be better I didn’t want to hear about it.
   I turned away with some difficulty to check our reflections. We were almost ridiculously matched and for some reason that made me tingle all over. I saw Kriss’ gaze follow mine and smile almost as inanenly as me at the mirror. I could only shake my head at the spectacle.
   “Look at us. A quarter to four and already in full evening dress.”
“No, we’re not”, Kriss said, looking infuriatingly smug. “But we’re getting there.”
I could think of a couple of things she might mean, none of which were usually associated with black tie. Or any clothes, really.
   I stuck to the plausible. “So what’s missing? Gloves? Hats? Opera capes?”
Kriss shrugged. “One out of three ain’t bad. Chellie, promise you won’t get mad at me?”
It was then I realized how careful she’d been about keeping the package closed, and I felt my hand cover my eyes on its own accord.
   “Oh, god. What did you buy?”
“Well, since they already had our numbers and knew how to make’em and everything… Have a look!”

...

by jropika Thu Feb 11, 2021 1:45 pm

Please continue the story, you write very well and in detail! I hope the characters will also wear a white tie and tailcoat with all the accessories.^^

by Northerner Thu Feb 11, 2021 6:03 pm

There was no triumphant ‘ta-daa’ this time, but she flung the lid open in a decidedly magnanimous way. I hardly dared peeking, but my mounting suspicions proved true.
What had been hidden beneath all the rest appeared to be tailcoats and all the things traditionally related to them. I didn’t think of the cost as much as the possible use - and whether they’d fit as nicely as the tuxedos. It would be hard to top them.
I picked up one of the jackets by the shoulders and more felt than saw it unfold, the coat tails hanging limply below and behind the sleek tapering cut of the front. The gleaming peaks of the lapels were wider than the ones we were wearing and pointed nearly straight at the seams connecting the sleeves, and the buttonhole and breast pocket almost seemed to be begging for accessories.
There was nothing to do but state the obvious.
   “Now I know what you saved the wingtips for.”
“There’s no evidence”, Kriss replied as per usual.
I just indicated Exhibit A and lifted the next part, which kinda surprised me. The white waistcoat was not backless, and I raised an eyebrow at the purchaser.
   “Thought these were full frontal only?”
Kriss gave a wry, dismissive grin. “I’ve tried that, with the rental for that album cover. It was more like an apron - felt fake. Like cheating in the dress-up department.” She sighed. “And yes, there were suspenders.”
   “Not that I mind, just had the notion there were standards.”
“That’s the best part of made-to-order.”
   “So when did you order these?”
“While you were browsing the ties. Go on, take out the rest!”
I have to say this about my mate - when she goes all in, it’s all in. The white socks, gloves and pocketchiefs were only to be expected, as were the smooth white bow ties, but a second pair of trousers seemed like overkill. Although these were slightly different, sporting wider silk stripes down the sides and no faux-cummerbund at the front. The pleats were still there, but didn’t seem as sharply pressed.
All at once I began to tremble and Kriss must have noticed since she caught me in a firm and slightly concerned embrace.
“Whatsa matter?”
   “It’s a bit much is all. Not sure it’s my kind of look.”
“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, Chellie.”
   “I want to… it’s just that…”
How could I put it? I’d only encountered the stage version before and while my wards wearing that hadn’t exactly been played for laughs, it hadn’t been very serious either. And involved fishnets. The one time I’d appeared in tails myself it had just been the coat thrown on over a corset and miniskirt, with a top hat added for that extra cabaret touch. These ensembles were much more dignified and I wasn’t sure if I could do them justice.
My doubts about my current outfit had been bad enough - what I felt about this pinnacle of formality was approaching fear. And yet the clothes were beautiful. Alluring. Just waiting to be worn…
   “I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed in me.”
Kriss burst into laughter and that wonderful sound washed away most of my misgivings. It couldn’t be worse than my first time in the latex catsuit, and that had turned out just fine in the end.
“I doubt they’ll have much to say. And I promise I won’t be.”
   And so we set about taking off our glorious tuxes a bit earlier than I’d imagined. Or maybe not - it was an awkward time of the day for them. I had to remind myself we were merely trying them on. Still, it seemed a shame to remove the lovely ties but I made sure to unravel Kriss’ bow right away to get a view of it hanging loosely down her chest with the top buttons open. I couldn’t say what was more tempting - helping her retie it or keep peeling absolutely everything off her body.
I had to stop at the underwear and told her she’d better hang it all up nicely while I undressed. She’s prone to throwing clothes wherever happens to be convenient and that just wouldn’t do with these.

Then we started over with the last of the new shirts and almost at once I noted something was off with the sleeves. They were far too long. I must have looked puzzled as Kriss giggled at me.
“I see you’ve discovered the french cuffs.”
So that’s what they were called. I’d heard the word but never seen any up close. She daintily took hold of one of mine and folded it back neatly, then began to button it and basically froze mid-movement. She looked so stupid I had to laugh.
   “Don’t tell me you forgot these need links.”
“I was in kind of a hurry.”
It was great to see Kriss had been her usual self. Her grand schemes typically have at least one glaring flaw, but seldom something crucial...just instantly noticeable to anyone else. I was happy this one was so inconsequential.
   A discreet piece of string kept our cuffs closed for the moment and they made for an imposing feeling around the wrists. Heavy and elegant all at once. And the collar held great promise for the future, the wings opening wide in a call for company.
Ties would have to wait a little though. The new trousers felt much the same as the others and this time Kriss managed to close hers on her own. I didn’t even try but asked for help right away - a small penance for the missing links.
   I swapped my socks for the white ones and suggested a different pair of pumps, with lower heels but no straps and a wider opening, making the bright cotton somewhat resemble spats. Things were going well. So far I felt good about the change.
Then Kriss slipped the tie into my hand and gently pushed me towards the mirror.
“Put it on before the waistcoat this time.”
I hesitated and she went on: “They’re self-tie after all. And I wanna make sure you want to wear it. Not gonna make you in any way.”
Flawless logic, but the knot might not be. At least Kriss had remembered what I’d once said about white bow ties.
   “Piqué may look nice at a distance but up close it’s not too hot. And you can’t snuggle against one. They chafe.”
I knew. Back when I dated Hank he had worn one as the best man at a wedding.
So what I was holding now was another silk one, albeit of a less shiny weave. My heart was pounding like a hammer as I went through the motions - I was sure I was going to make a mess of it and naturally I did. I had to start over twice and then a reassuring arm wrapped around my waist.
“You’ve got this, Chel.”
To my surprise she was right. The bow seemed to snap into place as I gave the wings a final pull and stayed just right while I adjusted the collar. Kriss gave low whistle.
“Nice work.”
I muttered a coy thank-you but was secretly proud and pleased as punch. I’d seen so many worse attempts at the look. And white shirt and white tie is a lovely combo with high-waisted pants. It felt very formal and very casual at the same time, which was confusing but something I’d be happy to wear at the end of an evening.
Pulling the waistcoat on after that felt like small victory, the final preparation before the piece de resistance.
The jacket didn’t in fact resist at all but settled neatly on my shoulders with the satisfaction of finishing a jigsaw puzzle. Of having completed the picture and being done. I looked into the mirror and felt my cheeks flush. I looked great. Sticking my fingers into the soft white gloves felt almost like an afterthought, but gave the whole thing an extra note of finality. Who would’ve known?
Kriss, evidently. “Just like I’d pictured it”, she sighed. “Just one more thing.”
She swiftly folded the swath of white fabric into a neat point and slipped it into my chest pocket. Then she closed her eyes.
“Can hardly watch. It’s so damn nice.”
   “I wouldn’t know”, I teased.
That got her started, and going carefully but without stopping once she finished dressing. I immediately knew what she’d meant. It was so strict and so sexy I wondered why professional dominatrixes don’t wear that more often. I’d take that over the headmistress look any day.
Not that I’m particularly into that, but I do love to watch. And watching my wife at that moment beat any filmed entertainment.
   “Looking handsome, Mrs. Mackenzie”, I grinned.
“You too, Mrs. Silvers”, Kriss purred. “Very handsome.”
   “Should have taken your name”, I said.
“Should have let me wear this to the wedding. Or worn it yourself, because right now I wanna marry you.”
   “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time. But you may kiss the bride.”
She did, and I felt no regrets for banning tuxes from the ceremony. They were much better for more private occasions, and Kriss had been so lovely in her gown it was worth saving the other stuff for later.
   “So why did you do it?” I panted, both out of breath and excited. “Get us these, I mean.”
“I wanna wear all kinds of bowtie outfits for you. And let you match if you want.”
   “That all?” Maybe I’d be less suspicious if she hadn’t a history of hidden intentions.
“Well...I wanted to see how you’d feel about me being out and about like this. As your date.”
   “You know I love to show you off”, I said. “Love going out with you in a tux. But where would tails fit in?” There was after all a fine line between dressing up and playing dress-up.
“The Thermidor”, she half-shrugged. “The last Saturday of each month they have this almost ridiculous dress code. Strictly white tie. And gowns of course.”
   “I knew it was a fancy joint, but not that fancy.”
“Call it events. Usually they just have the old jacket n’ tie routine.”
   “And people still come?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Wanna go?”
   I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “Like this? Wouldn’t gowns be expected...or required?”
“Women in tails are welcome, men in gowns - not so much. I blame Marlene.” Then she put on a half playful, half pleading face. “So will you come with me? Dining, dancing, ogling each other quite shamelessly? You can wear a gown if you want.”
   “Well, I’ve done worse”, I said, remembering Halloween. “Besides, I’ve never been there and I hear it’s one of the places. If you care about keeping up appearances.”
“Let’s stick to caring about our appearances.”
I pretended to give it some thought even if I’d already made up my mind.
“Ok, I’m on. On yet another condition.”
“Any”, Kriss agreed, maybe a little too quickly.
   “That we go shopping for cufflinks." I held up my sleeves to demonstrate. "Can’t very well show myself like this, can I?”
“Of course we will”, she smiled. “And lapel flowers. The works. You mentioned opera capes?”
“Let’s save them for an actual opera.”

We undressed once more and Kriss made dinner reservations for that weekend. Either they weren’t as fully booked as she’d made them out to be or they kept a table or two free on the odd chance some celeb would happen to call or drop by. ‘Crystal Mackenzie’ was well enough known to warrant at least a little bit of VIP cred. She hung up and turned to me:
“Let’s make some food and get back into black tie”, she suggested. “Have to practice dressing for dinner…”
   “And dancing and ogling?” I said.
“Oh. Yes.”
   “Okay, but just so you know it’s the last thing I’ll put on today.”
Kriss nodded in sympathy. “As long as you take it off later. And we don’t have to wear anything at all tomorrow...”
“Sounds like a plan.”

....

Yes, there’ll be one more part. Watch this space. Smile

by Sailer1 Thu Feb 11, 2021 9:03 pm

Throw in a real cummerbund

by SuaveDragon Sat Feb 13, 2021 10:21 am

This is one of the best stories I've read on this forum in a long while. Not enough people in here write about bow ties, tuxedos, and tails anymore.

by tuxedo Sun Feb 14, 2021 5:36 am

SuaveDragon wrote:This is one of the best stories I've read on this forum in a long while. Not enough people in here write about bow ties, tuxedos, and tails anymore.

Completely agree. I like how you take care of the details in particular. cheers

by Northerner Mon Oct 04, 2021 8:27 am

*Author's note - Okay, way, way overdue but better late than never, right? I sort of lost the momentum back then and never got around to pick it back up until now. As compensation, there'll be a bit more to finish it all up. So without further delay, here's the next part! *

That Friday we drove into town, or rather I did since Kriss wasn’t exactly actively working on her license. She compensated by having looked up a good place to shop and footing the bill.
The jewelry store was well stocked and proved me wrong in thinking cufflinks might be hard to come by. They had a limited selection, but we almost immediately discarded the plain or enameled ones since there was such an obvious choice - mother-of-pearl in a round silver frame to match our waistcoat buttons and adorned with a letter in the same metal. While custom monograms could be ordered, a simple initial would do for us - the same one, for Cheryl and Christine. In a pinch the C could pass for a crescent moon as well.
   We took the opportunity to treat ourselves to some new earrings too - three sparkling crystal discs in descending sizes, connected by platinum fittings. I asked Kriss to put hers on right away to check the dangle effect, and they sparkled alluringly as I set them swinging with my breath. So what if I missed a little and made ther twitch? I owed her one and she was sure to give me some payback later. I could live with that thought.
On the way home we picked up a bouquet of carnations in pink, white and red. They would last all weekend and bring some extra cheer to the house, and we’d have a choice of color when the time came to head out.

We spent Saturday morning in the huge round bathtub, the warm water slick and scented with our favorite oil, just relaxing, making out and gently scrubbing each other from head to toe. I wanted to stay in until I was wrinkly all over.
   “You’re my favorite bath toy”, I sighed.
“And you didn’t even have to blow me up”, Kriss smiled. “Can’t say the same about the pillow, though.”
The extra-large cushion wasn’t technically a plaything, and such a nice backrest was worth the very small effort. Besides, she had helped.
   “Is it ok for me to be giddy about this whole thing?”
My wife chuckled. “‘Course it is. Would hate for you to go ‘meh, whatever’. “
If that had been what I felt I would’ve been pretty pissed about her purchases too. But I was looking forward to the night.
   Kriss had invited Mrs. Hewitt over to help us get ready and she rang the doorbell at two o’ clock sharp. A retired stylist is no less skilled than a practicing one - even more, probably - and brings the added bonus of making it partly a social visit. We spent a pleasant afternoon gossiping and laughing while she gave us a thoroughly professional makeover. She hadn’t even batted an eye at our choice of attire, just adapted the paint scheme to the clothes and the style to the occasion. The result was stunning - the perfect party look, subdued, elegant and playful all at once.
“You’re out to enjoy yourselves, right? Can’t have too much fun looking all serious.”
   “Maybe you can”, I said, “but I like this better.”
She gave our hair lots of volume while simultaneously tying it back much like we had done before, only better-looking.
“Won’t slick it back, not when it’s past the shoulders. You’d look like some kind of attendants.”
She liked our choice of earrings, though. Went well with the ‘dos, according to her. There was a final flourish at Kriss’ lashes and the stylist stepped back.
“There! What do you think?”
“It’s great. Thanks, Lou.”
“I’ve done so many girls going out on dates I kind of know what works by now”, our neighbor grinned. We hadn’t called it a date but that pretty much went without saying. “Nails too?”
That done, we gave the paintjobs a trial run by having coffee together. If that couldn’t be done, food was out of the question. But of course it worked fine. I indicated the vase on the table.
   “What color should we wear on the lapels?”
“Red would be eye-catching but it’d work better with matching lips.” They’d gotten a more natural hue for the evening. “I’d say white because pink would need a different blush.”
“Got it”, Kriss said.
As pleasant as the chat was, Lou had to get going and my wife slipped her some taxfree cash - another hobby perk for Mrs. Hewitt. Then there was nothing to do but wait - it wouldn’t do to get dressed too far ahead of time.

“Guess we’d better get started?”
Kriss beat me to the suggestion. I would’ve made it in another minute, but she likes winning. If you could call it that.
We dropped everything and put on fresh underwear before surveying the attire. One of the ways we’d kept busy was by hanging everything neatly and in the right order for dressing - that act had been almost ritualistic and incredibly exciting on its own, but stepping up for the next part had my heart turning somersaults. Kriss tilted her head and looked so adorable I could just die, which was a sure sign she had something in mind. For once, though, the request was more sweet than anything else.
“Let me dress you…”
All I could do was smile and nod. Truth to be told I’d briefly been fantasizing about it.
She went down on her knees and slipped the socks onto my feet, then held out the shirt for me. I helped a little with the arms, of course, but the buttoning was all hers. The collar tightened so nicely at her touch without putting up the awkward struggle I’d feared that I sighed with both relief and delight. Then she closed the cuffs the way they were supposed to and I had to suppress a shudder at my reflection. The links looked awesome and wearing them felt even better.
I lifted my legs into the trousers, but didn’t have to do anything more except sucking my tummy in while she fastened them in the back. By the time she was adjusting the waistcoat my breathing had grown quick and heavy.
It was a fantastic feeling - to be her mannequin for a moment, her life-size Barbie doll. I briefly wondered if there were white tie outfits for actual Barbies - and if not, why not?
Then Kriss reached out for my tie and as it went around my neck I closed my eyes in anticipation. I felt her pull at the ends and had to put in a request.
   “Tighter”, I whispered. “I want it as stiff and neat as you can make it.”
“You sure?”
   “Of course. It’s the important part.”
She obliged without actually throttling me or distending the collar, and I caught myself holding my breath listening to the sounds of the knotting. To have her fidgeting so close to my throat was downright arousing and I was almost disappointed when she finished.
“There. Okay?”
What she’d managed was close to perfection and I grinned at her face in the mirror.
   “Very much okay.”
“Good.”
She shook the coat a couple of times and as my arms went into it I couldn’t help giggling. The contrast between my full formal attire and her lingerie was just too much. Kriss, however, was dead serious.
“Not my best idea.” She plucked at her panties. “I’m way overdressed for what I wanna do now.”
   “Aw, too bad. ‘Cause I’m gonna put even more on you.”
I can’t say if dressing my wife was nicer than being dressed by her, but both were incredible. By the time I got to the cufflinks she was clearly even more into it than I had been and she actually whined as I pulled the waistcoat into place. She demanded to have her bowtie done exactly the way I wanted it, which was what I would have gone for anyway. I made the band tight enough to be held up by the knot without resting against the shoulders and angled the ends enough to emphasize that. The tie appeared to be struggling in vain to break free from the restraint looped around my lover’s neck, in turn making her look exquisitely accessorized. The jacket lapels covering the back of her shirt collar only strengthened that impression.
   “I know what you meant” I said. “But now we’re both overdressed. Not sure if that’s an improvement.”
Kriss smiled. “Not for where we’re going. But gods, you look great, Chel!”
   “So do you. Times infinity.”
“And we’re not even done.”
We’d snipped off a pair of white carnations and covered the stems in plastic wrap. Not sure if that’s the right way, but they seemed secure in their hidden threaded hoops. At least it looked very distinguished. With the handkerchiefs properly adjusted we were just about ready to head out.
“Almost forgot”, Kriss said.
She took out my gloves and gazing straight into my eyes brought one to her lips and blew a sensual puff into it, as if the fingers needed separating before holding it out for me. I didn’t mind, as slipping my hand into her breath felt incredibly sweet and intimate. I figured maybe that was the point as she repeated the procedure.
I did the same for her and then felt a bit silly for the first time that evening.
   “I was this close to ruining our makeup.”
Kriss shrugged. “Been that, oh, about five times already.”
We settled for pressing our foreheads together and rubbing noses.
   “Ready to make fools of ourselves?” I asked, half in jest.
“Ready to knock’em dead?” she replied.
Then the car pulled up outside and with a final, deep inhale I set out to see which of us had the right idea.

The black metal of our ride matched both us and the skies - Kriss was in the habit of ordering a limo whenever we needed to be driven to some event. The price wasn’t an issue with her resources and more than made up for the decidedly unimpressive act of disembarking a regular cab.
Our driver for the night made wide eyes at our outfits - I suppose they made her tuxedo appear almost casual in comparison. It was obvious she wanted to comment, but it was probably against company policy. I guessed replying would be okay, though.
   “I take it you don’t get many women in tails”, I said.
“No, not even to Saturdays at the Thermidor. Though I’ve had men dressed like that for those.”
“It’s not conventional, I give it that”, Kriss conceded. “Maybe it’s a bit more elaborate - but not so different from what you’re wearing.”
“Part of the job”, she said, “but I confess I’ve never been too comfortable in it. I mean, it doesn’t feel like work clothes.”
I could relate to that. Hospitality wear does nothing for me - maybe the choice is an important part of my kink. No matter, she looked good in her uniform and the shoulder-length brown curls were neat and well-behaved under the black cap.
   “I know a girl who used to drive one of these”, I told her, “and she says it helped thinking of it as dressing to impress. It’s not like you get to do any fancy drifting, right?”
“Damn right”, she grinned, then checked herself. “Sorry.”
“Might be a poor substitute for wheel skills”, Kriss said, “but I guess people are more comfortable seeing a stylish driver than taking part in a sideways parking.”
She lit up. “Would you like one? No extra charge.”
I cut in before our arrival had a chance to get too spectacular. “We’re good for now. Maybe on the return trip.”

by Northerner Sat Oct 09, 2021 4:31 pm

As we stepped out on the not-too-busy street I was glad to be somewhat away from The Strip. The glitziness and throng of random revelers had never really appealed to me and I would feel even less at home there in what I was wearing at the moment. But this place was surprisingly okay, especially since the nearby facade had been made up to look classy in a not-too-overwrought way.
Right away I could tell it was a special night at the restaurant as a liveried doorman opened the door for us. I hadn’t noticed one on previous passes.
   The red carpet went all the way past the cloakroom to the main dining hall and a well-attired maitre ‘d welcomed us with a courteous nod. As my wife stated her name and reservation for two I felt a flash of nervousness run down my spine and grabbed my wrist to keep it still. I didn’t feel like taking off my gloves in case we’d be turned back out into the street, but Kriss had already stuffed hers into the hidden pocket inside her coat tails. Wish I could summon that confidence off-stage.
Evidently our dress was found acceptable as we were escorted to a table. There are so many recreated styles in Vegas I wasn’t surprised at a place going for the vintage art deco look - not only in appearance but in general feel. It was like stepping into a 1930’s movie, although with considerably less cigarette smoke. A small live orchestra added to the ambience, as did the couples dancing in front of the stage. Our seating was somewhat removed from those so we only noticed the entertainment in passing.
A few curious glances turned to us but we both had enough experience with audiences to pay them no heed. Kriss shot me a quick look and the upturned corner of her mouth told me she had something to say on the subject.
   Reaching the destination we had our chairs held out for us - me first. Kriss making the reservation probably made me her guest by default.
I sat down and watching my wife nonchalantly flip her coattails through the opening in the backrest made me realize I’d screwed up. I was sitting on mine. In the car I’d pushed them to the side but here I’d completely forgotten about them.
We were asked if we wanted something to drink and Kriss called for champagne, “the kind people usually open with. Nothing too fancy.”
I wondered if they stocked more than one, but kept it to myself. The man simply nodded and went after wishing us an enjoyable evening.
“Let’s do it again and do it right”, Kriss said as she rose. I stood up and she pulled my chair out. “This is my job after all.”
I tried looking indifferent as I swept the tails back but probably focused a little too much on the task. But I got properly parked in the end so the manner didn’t matter. It was much better and I hoped it looked as neat and elegant as I felt. Especially since I was aware we were being candidly watched, at least in brief increments.
Kriss leaned forward with a suggestive smirk.
“Wonder how many of these fine gents are happy their crotches are hidden by tablecloths?”
   I decided to one-up her. “Wonder how many of the ladies on the dancefloor are happy they aren’t?”
Might be a stretch of imagination since most of the couples moving to the slow rhythms seemed quite oblivious to us, but I had to make the suggestion on general principle.

The waiter bringing our drinks and the menus was impeccably dressed and polite, his short white jacket and black tie immediately setting him apart from the guests. He poured and vanished so discreetly he might as well not have been there at all. We clinked our glasses and sipped before picking up the leather-bound folders.
The dishes all had french names, but the descriptions were in english. I suppose that’s one way of keeping up appearances without risking to embarrass the clientele.
“I’m starving”, Kriss said. “This calls for at least three courses.”
   “At least?”
“Oh, very well. Let’s stick to the classics. For starters?”
   “Soup’s out”, I said as I glanced down at my gleaming shirt front. “Spilling on this would be beyond embarrassing.”
“Isn’t that what these are for?” my wife asked, brandishing a linen napkin.
   I coyly indicated my neckwear. “After all the effort you made tying this for me I’m not about to cover it up. Best case scenario is messing it up.”
Kriss smiled in a ‘you’re so welcome’ way, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m having the toast.”
It’d be a neat way to serve up the crayfish and avocado and other goodies, but I’d eaten stuff like that before. It was a good occasion to try something new.
I decided on scallops, because in all my thirty-four years I’d never had any. I also thought it’d be a good time to remedy the lack of lamb chops during my upbringing - for some reason I couldn’t recall ever eating those. Or maybe the promise of cognac dijon cream sauce to go along made me cheat.
And of course my all-time favorite, crème brûlée, for dessert. Some things are sacred.
Kriss was set on the duck’s breast with pommes dauphinoise, which apparently was some kind of fancy gratin. It sounded yummy and I could probably sneak a bite - in a well-mannered way, of course. I wasn’t surprised she spoke about finishing with a bombe glacée and caffè mocha, as it was the most chocolatey combo on offer.
   Our server reappeared with remarkable timing and my wife placed our orders in french, the showoff. That her mother spoke the language gives her an unfair advantage, but I don’t mind. As if her awesome attire wasn’t enough, hearing those foreign syllables roll off her tongue made me even more tingly.
When asked what we wanted to drink I had to reveal my lack of expertise.
   “I’d like a glass of wine with both, but can I leave which to your judgement? I’m hopeless with names and types.”
He didn’t bat an eye but kindly provided two recommendations for each dish, to preserve the illusion of choice. Kriss, who has a somewhat better memory for wines, intervened without much hesitation.
“The Chardonnay and the Pinot Noir would be nice for mine too. How about a bottle of each to share?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
   “That sounds good.” I had no illusions about us actually finishing them, but I was happy not having to decide anything more. The food had been tricky enough.
When we were alone again I just had to check my hearing.
“Did you order from the brands he suggested? Cause they sounded nothing alike.”
   “Yep! Though I just used the grape types.”
Double showoff. But there was something about being out with someone who could both dress and act the part that almost had me blushing in awe. I just hoped the vintages wouldn’t disappoint and spoil the impression.

Then the inevitable wait set in and I began to question the wisdom of the excursion. Watching my darling across the table for god knows how long while she was looking that alluring - and unable to do anything - would probably soon be agonizing.
Because she was too fabulous for words. Her clothes seemed to have been applied by a professional costumer and the tautness of the bow against her collar added an almost unreal touch, like a movie special effect in its perfection. And I hadn’t been with someone wearing a lapel flower before. I had a sudden urge to smell both it and her up close.
Kriss’ eyes fairly sparkled as they met mine.
“How’s it feel, Chel? Hope at least half as good as you look.”
I felt the tightness of my own shirt against my throat as I swallowed.
   “Incredible. But I’d never, ever imagined going out dressed like this.”
“You should have. Trust me, it’s great. But reality’s even better.”
   “Must admit I just didn’t dare. Here and now...I’m loving it. Loving you.”
She gave me the sweetest smile. “Aww. And I love you, Chellie. You’re so hot I wanna…”
My wife slid her hand across the tablecloth and I could feel my cheeks flush as I took it. Her unspoken words were plain all over her face.
And that was absolutely everything plain about it. Lou had done a fantastic job and Kriss might as well have been at a photoshoot. For some reason I didn’t want any pictures as reminders of this occasion, because there was no way they could match up.
   We took the opportunity to do some looking of our own. The dress code was both evident and on prominent display all around, making the establishment look more like an elegant ballroom than a restaurant. The guests sampling the various dishes carried themselves with the utmost dignity, keeping up appearances in manners as well as looks. The ladies’ dresses were predominantly satin - though there were a few exceptions, mainly velvet. Most left the shoulders bare and generous cleavages were something of a rule, showing off skin and expensive necklaces to great effect.
Their dates were uniformly dressed in blacks and whites as decreed, but I saw some examples of boutineers chosen to match their companion’s colors and even a medal or two providing contrast to pristine shirt fronts. And bow ties all around, of course.
Some of the men were sporting the fabricated versions with two distinct creases on each side, making them look more like pinched napkins than proper evening wear, and I hoped those would go completely out of style at some point. As a self-tie would never look like that they make for poor imitations. Still, they complete the outfit so not a total loss, just not what I would personally choose - neither for myself or anyone else.
   The dance floor provided the best view as it wouldn’t do to stare overmuch at people simply trying to enjoy their meals. But anyone doing turns across the floor was fair game.
An auburn-haired dame in her fifties was wearing an emerald silk jacket with puffy shoulders over her matching skirt and I couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was she’d opted out of a bow tie in the same material around her bare neck. She was strikingly handsome and that final detail would have made it hard indeed to look away. Maybe she knew and had passed for that very reason. Maybe she had one at home and would wait until then to put it on for the very last dance of the evening.
Wishful thinking, I know, but I hate wasted opportunities.

The entree arrived along with the wine. After popping the cork he offered it to Kriss who gave it a brief sniff and a small nod before returning it as part of the ritual. He poured and wished us bon appetit before leaving as silently as he’d arrived.
   Eating in full evening wear proved to be an experience. At first I kept worrying about dropping stuff on my finery, and every (admittedly tasty) mouthful going down reminded me that I was wearing a rather tight band around my neck. But soon I found myself relaxing and focusing on enjoying the meal. The wine no doubt helped. I could find no fault with it, but then again I’m no connoisseur.
Naturally we had to sample both dishes, but passed small pieces between the plates with the cutlery - at home we would’ve just eaten them straight from each other’s forks. It was delicious either way and I was happy Kriss had picked something good too.
   As for the conversation, it naturally turned to the music. It might have rated a passing remark or two if my wife had only had it as a hobby, but as a multiinstrumentalist, performer and composer the Euterpean arts tend to occupy a lot of her thoughts. We agreed that if there’s a time and place for lounge tunes, this was definitely it.
I wondered if the redheaded crooner had consciously styled herself after Jessica Rabbit, or if it was just a byproduct of the 1940’s hairdo and deep burgundy dress with a modest amount of sequins. The band was old-school too, serious-looking but somewhat youthful men in black tuxedos with a half-hidden drummer backing the piano, guitar and saxophone players. The latter two were also partly concealed by music holders with the name of the quintet printed on front. Now and then the guitarist would rise and switch to an upright bass parked nearby, further adding to the vintage image.
Kriss took it in with professional approval.
“They know their stuff. Wonder who did the acoustics in here? The sound level’s amazing.”
   “You’re right”, I nodded. You’d expect an orchestra like that to be noisier, but it was remarkably subdued as befitting the locality.
“Bit lacking in brass though”, Kriss lamented, unwittingly identifying part of the cause.
  I chuckled. “You’d say that of any combo.”
“True, I guess, but there are some registers that setup can’t cover.”
My wife would be fully capable of getting into some technical talk and that wasn’t my plan for the evening, so I intercepted her with some sappiness.
   “I can’t believe we’re at a white-tie affair in actual white tie. But there’s no one I’d rather do it with. No one I’d like to see wearing it more.”
“Not even Jason Statham?”
   So much for that. “It’s not as special on a man. And you know you top him in my book.”
I anticipated some comments about topping him in other ways, but right about then the singer surprised us by remedying Kriss’ complaints. She retrieved a hitherto unseen muted trumpet and accompanied by the band began to blow the melody of ‘Days of Wine and Roses’.
Kriss, with her mouth full, indicated the stage with an outstretched hand and an expression that could only mean “See?”
The lady in red did in fact not overwhelm the room with noise, rather the opposite, and I enjoyed the vocal replacement. She wasn’t bad at all, but I was married to someone better.
  “All right. Some brass didn’t hurt. Though I still prefer your playing.”
My lover’s smile was so gratifying it was almost embarrassing, and I turned my eyes back to the musician. She didn’t just play well, she looked fantastic too. I’d kill for her posture and wondered how she’d carry herself in tails.
Posing the question to Kriss seemed only fair.
“Interesting”, she said. “Would probably look great with a top hat for the cabaret vibe. But maybe too Marlene. And those gams would suffer.”
I agreed. What could be seen of her legs through the slit in her skirt told anyone with eyes they were exceptionally nice.
“Maybe just a collar and tie with that dress, and the coat on top”, Kriss mused.
   “No”, I said firmly. “Maybe with a white gown, but red wouldn’t work.”
“What would you put on her for the stage?” The way she asked betrayed a genuine interest.
   “Let’s see…give me a moment.”
In my practical experience, fanciful and colorful (and revealing) outfits were more of a rule than an exception, but my private fantasies might have taught me even more. I took a moment to imagine the beautiful trumpeter in different getups, but finally settled on something that would match her colleagues. A black tuxedo with a long skirt slit the same way as her current one, the jacket open in front to display her lovely curves and a cummerbund with a discreet shine to emphasize them. White shirt and black bow tie, of course. The only real question was if the snug collar should be wingtip or turndown, but that would depend on what the band was wearing. At the moment it was the latter, so I added that to my personal illusion. The result was at the very least titillating, if not downright arousing.
I described it to Kriss and her sultry look told me she hadn’t been asking out of curiosity alone. She licked her lips.
“Mmm. Now I know what to put on for my next formal gig.”
   I played along in the teasing. “As long as you dress your backup ladies the same.”
“I’ll tie their bows myself if I have to.”

by Northerner Wed Oct 13, 2021 3:03 pm

Our cleaned plates were taken away and the talk turned to more mundane things. It was weird discussing general stuff with someone in that kind of clothes - heck, as well as I knew her it felt odd to watch Kriss wear them. Odd, but very, very appealing.
Sipping wine felt natural though - as I seldom drink it casually anyway - and the formal setting wouldn’t allow for anything else. At least not in my mind. I wondered how many of the other patrons were accustomed to dining like this every week, or even every day. It wouldn’t do for me though. I like keeping special occasions special.
And special it was. The crispness of Kriss’ shirt and tie was almost blinding, the sparkling of her new earrings and the brilliance of her teeth flashing as she spoke dazzled me to the core. I must be forgiven for contemplating a move across the table to kiss her cheek and play with her tie just a little.
She must have caught my gaze as she lifted her hands and daintily pulled on it, a completely unnecessary adjustment.
“Better?”
   “Same difference. But I love seeing you aware of what you’re wearing.”
“Oh, I am. And how I’m wearing it. And why.”
   “If it was just for me we would still be home, making out about now.”
“Okay, I might have had a secondary purpose. To meet the requirements for bringing you here. So I’d get to see you all dressed up for the occasion.”
   “All you had to do was ask.”
“And I did, remember?”
She had indeed, and given me a choice to boot. Though it was hardly a choice at all. I would have felt out of my league in a gown, going up against women far more experienced in wearing dresses. I’m a pants girl at heart, and while my current pair was far fancier than my regular style, there was no denying they were comfortable as all hell. Having my legs loosely draped by them in contrast to the tight waistband felt wonderful. I realized my shirt had a similar contradiction with the collar and the cuffs, the latter merely resting on my wrists while the former encircled my neck so closely I could feel it follow my every move.
I passed the time telling Kriss about each time I remembered a dress or a skirt had cramped my style or made me feel awkward. Just about every single exception was connected with her in some way or another.
“I don’t mind them at all”, she said, “but pants are more practical. Well, not in some situations, I guess, but that would require no panties.”
I reminded her a couple of those exceptions had involved just that. She just grinned and raised her glass in a mock toast before emptying it.
I drank too and pointedly moved the bottle aside.
   “Let’s leave some room for your other pick.”
“Said the girl to the miner.” Puns are not among Kriss’ foremost talents.

Eventually the main course was brought in and praising the food beyond the opening comments was unnecessary. It was delicious and Kriss’ gratin went as well with my chops as the roasted sweet potatoes I already had. The red wine was excellent too, I thought.
Although watching Kriss dab at her mouth with the thick napkin was unfamiliar. She’s not a messy eater by any means but has finished more than one breakfast with a cocoa mustache. The utmost care she now took in dining was fascinating and strangely alluring.
   We ate mostly in silence, but I never missed an opportunity to drink in the sight of my gorgeous mate dressed up beyond any reasonable standards. There was something almost naughty and forbidden about a beautiful woman wearing what was usually a male prerogative. That no one else in view was doing it added something.
She must have felt something similar as she put her utensils down.
“I think I could stand seeing you in tails every day, Chel. So happy you chose that instead of some stuffy gown.”
   “Likewise”, I said, my heart racing at the thought of walking in on her putting it on. “But there’s no way I’ll let you wear it again without me watching you dress.”
“You can always help”, Kriss sighed. “I loved that…”
The silence returned since we both knew whatever would come next was bound to be highly inappropriate. Our shared glances all but confirmed that.
   As the dessert was served Kriss surveyed the round shape in front of her and giggled, somewhat normalizing the mood.
“Ice cream bomb. That will never not be funny.”
I would probably have laughed if it had exploded on touching and spattered her immaculate evening wear all over, but as her spoon dug in it sadly failed to detonate. Or fortunately.
My own dish was as yummy as ever, with that crisp cover I never get quite right at home. I had a brandy with my coffee and whaddya know, it went just right with my clothes. I felt like slouching against the backrest with my legs carelessly crossed, but that wouldn’t have been very ladylike. Strictly speaking, neither was my outfit, though I still felt very much a woman even as I lifted my chin and straightened my tie purely for Kriss’ benefit. She was ogling me quite shamelessly, as promised.
But that was all right. I just ogled her right back.

The orchestra had announced a break and at the moment more generic muzak streamed from the speakers. Which made it all the more surprising that Kriss suggested we dance.
“As practice for the real deal. Getting the feel of it. And because I can’t stand another second without touching you.”
   “Oh all right.” I was so behind that sentiment.
She rose and offered me her hand.
“May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
As I took it she raised mine towards her lips and bent forward to kiss it just above the knuckles. The heat in my veins couldn’t be attributed to liquor alone as she led me away from the table.
   Once in the open we too were subjected to roving eyes, and I caught quite a few of our fellow dancers sneaking peeks at our attire. I might have blushed if I hadn’t spent three years presenting a burlesque troupe back in Brooklyn. I’d been exposed to far more gawking than this - more intense and lascivious, too - and had kinda liked it.
“Feeling watched?” Kriss asked.
   “Yeah, but not in a bad way. Bet they’re all jealous of me.”
“For looking so good?”
   “For having you, dummy.”
We weren’t the only ones having a dancefloor conversation. A woman in blue was whispering to her partner as well, and as they turned his surreptitious glance at us could not be more obvious. And her next whisper was just as obviously a comment.
Kriss nodded to show she’d noticed too.
“What do you think they’re saying about us?”, she leered.
I was feeling pretty giddy at the whole situation and went with the flow.
   “I’m gonna imagine they’re asking their dates to let them wear tails to their next outing.”
Kriss’ eyes glittered. “Do it, Chel”, she purred. “Picture all these ladies in white tie instead of whatever they’re wearing.”
I did, from the overstyled blonde dancing with her apparent sugar daddy to the dignified sexagenarian in the arms of her likewise apparent husband. And it was glorious. A true equal opportunity dress code like that could look incredible… or horrendous, if proper precautions weren’t taken to get it right. But considering how well they all wore their evening gowns, there was little cause for worry. Even if some went with pre-tied bows (the young ingenues likely would) it would make little difference and be infinitely preferable to careless knots.
“Nice?”, my wife asked.
   “Very”, I said, the wings of her tie brushing against my cheek as I rested my cheek on her shoulder. Her closeness and scent made my head spin and I slipped an arm under her jacket to hold her even closer. A nearby couple was sharing a brief but sweet kiss and that was all it took for me to decide it was time for one. It tasted better than all three courses combined.

The prerecorded song came to an end and the band started to reassemble. Kriss excused herself and went to the side for a word with the singer. I couldn’t hear what was said but I saw the performer’s professional expression turn to girlish enthusiasm almost at once. My wife slipped her an envelope she must have prepared in advance, but so casually it might have been a written song request or music sheet instead of what I suspected. Then she returned to my side as we waited for the accompaniment to resume.
   “So what did you say?”
“Oh, not much. Complimented her playing.”
   “And was recognized, I take it.”
“Occupational hazard. But yes. She kind of complimented my playing too.”
   “More like fawned”, I said. “What did you bribe her to do?”
“Nothing! I just suggested she might wake up the crowd with ‘Night and Day’ if she happened to know it. Or ‘Body and Soul’ if she wanted to ease back in.”
   “Don’t tell me that handout wasn’t cash, though. I might buy a letter of recommendation.”
“Just a small gratuity for the band”, she explained. “A token two hundred. I try helping fellow musicians whenever I can.”
While she’d never had to struggle much in that department it’s a regrettable fact it can be a less than stable occupation. I nodded approval.
   “Let’s hope this is a steady gig. They’ve sure done a good job tonight.”
“Oh, definitely. And she told me one more thing.”
   Memories of impromptu jams shot through my mind. “Please don’t say she invited you onto the stage.”
“No”, Kriss grinned. “Just ‘Love the outfit.’ ”
“Then I’m gonna hope she’ll be inspired by more than your play style.”

The lady in question did seem to know her standards as we were treated to her rendition of Kriss first suggestion. Maybe she wanted to prove her instrumental prowess by playing it instead of singing, or she’d been outright asked to. No matter. The pleasant tune didn’t suffer and we spun along happily, although any twirling had to sit this one out as our tails moved about enough as it was. And neither of us really know any fancy steps anyway, just enough to get by on. And that evening it was more than enough.
   Either Kriss’ contribution or her reputation bought her two requests in a row, as the players struck up the other song I mentioned. I’ve always thought it one of the more sensual evergreens and I felt that more than ever swaying to it with my wife.
“Nice”, she whispered. “Love this one.” Her voice grew husky. “But not as much as I love you, Cherilyn. Body and soul.”
   “And I you.”
We weren’t holding each other as much as squeezing by now. I could feel my pulse against the collar as Kriss’ hands stroked my back ever so slowly. My arms were once again under her coat but she still wasn’t close enough for me.
I pressed my lips against hers and exhaled into her mouth, feeling her chest expand with my breath and tightening the embrace even more. She wasn’t surprised in the least as we shared that particular intimacy whenever we could. I finished with a brief kiss and a smile.
   “Even if I don’t have to blow you up doesn’t mean I won't do it.”
Kriss smiled and rubbed the tip of her nose against mine.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way”, she sighed and returned the favor. Her warmth inside me and my rising breasts straining against the waistcoat nearly made me swoon right then and there. As wonderful as the evening had been, I knew I couldn’t handle much more.
   “Take me home?” I whispered in as seductive tones I could muster.
The hunger in my wife’s gaze belied her large dinner. “Thought you’d never ask.”

We finished the dance, settled the bill and put our gloves back on as casually as we could under the circumstances. Kriss left a rather lavish tip, which was only fair after what she’d given the band, and then we bid The Thermidor adieu for the night.
We didn’t get any spectacular driving on the way back as another - male - chauffeur handled the transport. Just as well. Neither of us was in the mood for something of the kind at that moment, but I knew a wild, exciting ride was in the cards.
As we walked hand in hand up the paved path to our home we were only missing top hats and opera cloaks to complete the image of a couple of Victorian revelers returning after a night of formal debauchery. And maybe silver-tipped walking sticks.
But any canes would have clattered to the floor the moment the door closed behind us. We’d left all dignity outside and were basically pawing at each other in a joint effort to relieve all our pent-up sensations. In vain, of course, and we half-stumbled through the house in a clumsy combination of walking and making out, all pretenses at decorum lost in a haze of desire.
   Somehow we made it all the way to the bedroom among kisses, caresses, moans and licks. Kriss took my face in both hands and pressed her forehead to mine. Her gaze was absolutely searing, her voice barely more than a growl.
“I’ve never had you in white tie but I want it more than anything right now.”
   I let out a groan of my own. “I so wish I wore a skirt!”
Kriss gasped. “Oh Chellie, you tease…!”
Thinking clearly for once she slipped her coat off and deftly hung it over the back of a chair. Then she removed mine too and put it on top, making everything worse since now we could fondle each other all over while still not getting anywhere near enough. All the deep kisses didn’t help much either, but we persevered and discovered it is possible to make love in white tie.
You just have to take off the other garments.

While being dressed to the nines feels great, wearing nothing at all can be just as good and even better - especially when snuggling and cuddling the way we were doing after waking up together. Our neckties had ended up on the nightstand, hanging forlorny over the edge and just begging to be put back on. I couldn’t resist reaching out for one and making my wife presentable once more. It also turned the twelfth kiss of the morning into something more stately, as she delivered it in a manner befitting her dress. Somehow that made it even better.
Kriss looked thoughtful as she played with a lock of my hair, then buried her nose against my neck with a happy sigh.
“I kinda want a weekly black tie affair.”
   “Once a month is enough”, I said. “Don’t want it to stop being special.”
Kriss indicated the tailcoats on the chair. “But now we have these we can alternate looks”, she tried. “Bimonthly?”
   “Every third week”, I countered. “Plus bank holidays and birthdays.”
“Deal”, Kriss said and sealed it in the nicest way possible. She fingered her bow and raised a meaningful eyebrow. “And white tie?”
“Whenever we find a suitable occasion.”

And that, my friends, is what’s called a mistake. So far I’ve had to nix ‘Look Alike Day’, ‘Wear Something Gaudy Day’ and ‘Penguin Awareness Day’.
But I am going to suggest ‘Everything You Do is Right Day’. Can’t wait to see the look on her face.
And the full outfit on the rest of her.

THE END

And that marks the finish of this particular delivery! Hope you've enjoyed it - I sure had fun writing it.
Let me know if you liked the tale - I'll probably put it together in a single file for better formatting and easier rereading. Maybe add a cover pic too. Smile

But for now, all that remains is thanking you for your time. It's been a pleasure regaling you, ladies and gentlemen!

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