Pushing Buttons

I got an email from Emily just after lunch today with these pics and links to some dresses.

"Why'd you send me these," I replied.

"Wanted to know what you thought of them. You know I love your fashion eye."

"Depends on what they are for...or who is wearing them, you or me."

"For me," she emailed back.

"Boo. I thought you had a dress for that wedding next month, what do you want a dress for?"

"To wear to dinner with Evan on Friday," she sent back.

It was a good thing I had my office door closed. I'm wearing a garter belt today, not a girdle, so the immediate swelling in my pants and panties, small that I am, would be quite apparent to anyone walking by.

Hands shaking, I typed. "They are all kind of...risque isn't the right word...a tad on the sexy side?"

"He's taking me to dinner to out to a nice restaurant, so I thought I'd get a new dress and I have not seen him since May and wanted to look pretty."

"...'he's taking me out to a nice restaurant'...are you trying to make it sound like my girlfriend is going on a date???"

"Are you trying to make it sound like you don't fantasize about me going on a date?"

I did not answer. What could I say to that. Fuck, it was true, wasn't it? That was all I was thinking about all day. Emily on a date, Emily on the arm of a handsome man, Emily dancing with him, even kissing him.

"So, which dress? Come on, put on your sissy or girlie hat and tell me which dress you like. Pretend you're a man, which dress would you like to see your date wearing...OMG, I didn't mean it like that...laugh...maybe a little...seriously, which one?"

I bit my lip, replied. "If you want color, the second one or the pink one (6th one). Black, the last one."

"I was thinking the second one, but I'll have to go try some one. I like the pink one, too. Want to come with tonight after work and help me pick?"

Help her pick a dress to wear on a 'date' with a man. Hell no I did not want to do that!

"Yes," I answered, hands shaking, body surging from the hormones racing through me.

"Cool. If I get one of the colored ones, I'll probably get something new to wear underneath it, so we could do some lingerie shopping, too."

She fucking knew what she was doing to me, of course she knew what she was doing to me. But it was my fantasy, it was the fantasy I confessed to her. Fantasy or not, real or not, whether I wanted it or not, it was still shocking, still humiliating, and yet, still, so incredibly thrilling.