Reprise: Anita knows Robert has been purchasing himself Ladies’ Underwear under a false name.
Before I had a chance to deny knowing anything about Miss R. Yardley’s lingerie purchases, Anita gently grabbed me by the arm.
“It’s okay Robert. You don’t have to lie, I won’t tell anyone. I think it’s good for men to acknowledge their feminine side.”
Whilst that was very reassuring, I still wasn’t sure if I should try and deny it was really me who’d made the purchases. How did she work it out? How could I counter her reasoning? But I never got the chance to question her about it.
“It was you Robert wasn’t it? Don’t lie; I’ll know if you lie.”
“What makes you think I’m this Yardley woman?”
“I’ve been looking through the sales ledger covering the last 3 or so months, just to see which items were popular in case it maybe helped me make a few more sales in the shop. Every so often, I came across an entry for ‘Miss R. Yardley’ and always in your handwriting…”
“So what? I must have made hundreds of entries in the ledger.”
“But what intrigued me was this was one of the few for someone living here, in this town. Why would anyone who lived locally order things through the post when they could simply come in to the store?”
I shrugged my shoulders as I tried to think of a valid reason why someone might do just that.
“Maybe they live on the other side of town and maybe they’re disabled, maybe that’s why.”
“Well, I did wonder if that might be so, but then I decided to check where her address was in the local street guide and guess what?”
I knew already what she was going to say, the address I’d made up didn’t actually exist.
“There’s no such place as ‘Abercrombie Road’, at least not in this town. And then there were a couple of other things that made me conclude it was probably you. Firstly, the purchases were always made on the same day of the week – Wednesday – so you’d be at home when they would be delivered, right? And payment was always by Postal Order, never a cheque and to cap it all you’d never made out a card for her in the card-index and you’re always so careful to do that. So Robert – or should that be Roberta – just admit it. I promise I’ll keep it a secret. I don’t think any the less of you, honest. Did Angie know about this side of you?”
The game was up; there was no point in lying and I suppose Anita’s understanding tone helped in that if anyone was to find out about my desire to cross-dress, it was best that it was her.
“No, Angie never knew a thing and you won’t tell her will you, promise?”
“Look, I’ve said I’ll not tell anyone and I mean it, so stop worrying okay. Just bear in mind that my silence is the bigger favour and I might just want it repaying sometime.”
She smiled as she said this and then headed back up to the shop floor before I could ask just what she meant by that.
It wasn’t long before I was to find out. As closing time approached, Anita came over to me and, after making sure no one else was nearby, handed me a small, still warm object.
“Here, take these, they’re my panties that I’ve been wearing. I want you to come in to work tomorrow wearing them, got that? I’ll check on you at the first opportunity. I know you wouldn’t want me to mention to mum or Mrs Ferguson that we seem to be missing a card-index for a Miss Yardley would you?”
The smile as she gave me my instructions was oh-so-sweet but still managed to convey her deadly serious threat.
“But they’ll be too small for me Anita, have a heart,” I pleaded like a puppy asking its’ master for a favour.
She pondered that a while before agreeing.
“Tell you what, you take them home with you and you can have a wank over them, you’d like that yes?”
I blushed but nodded.
“But don’t worry, I’ll bring in something for you to wear tomorrow,” she added, still grinning.
I wasn’t sure what she meant by that and was just about to ask her when we heard the door to the basement open and footsteps, so I never got to ask her. Anita just finished off by asking me why I hadn’t just ordered this stuff by post from another shop. I just shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to explain about labels and mailing lists and anonymity before Yvonne was downstairs with us.
“Well done Anita,” she beamed. “I’ve just seen that sale you put through. Fantastic, Joyce will be chuffed.”
“Thanks. I guess I just got lucky that’s all,” Anita said with as much modesty as she could muster. I made my exit, saying my farewells to both and could hear Yvonne telling Anita that selling was just a matter of confidence and that – after that sale – her confidence would grow. It did as a matter of fact and her sales figures showed a marked improvement from then on. I liked to think it was because she’d learned from me.
That evening, I took Anita’s little panties home with me and did try to wrestle into them but, as I’d expected, they were much too small and I never persisted with trying them on, not wanting to risk tearing them. I did jerk off over them though.
The next morning, I half-dreaded seeing Anita in work, knowing that she knew of my secret fetish and also that I’d jacked-off over her panties, but there was no use my denying I’d done that; she had me sussed out for the closet cross-dresser I was.
Edna and Anita arrived together after I’d been in the shop for nearly an hour restocking the “Cross-Your-Heart” bras on the top floor and the luxury French knickers on the ground floor as Yvonne had ordered me to.
I’d started opening the post when Edna joined me and asked me if there was anything interesting in the mail: any large orders.
I wondered if this was because she’d been told by that minx of a daughter about my ordering panties for my own use, but it was just a general greeting: “smalls” talk one might term it.
Nearly an hour had gone by before Anita was able to pop down to the basement when I was there on my own.
“Well,” she grinned, “did you try mine on? Were they too small?”
Heck, I must have turned as red as a beetroot and that told her all she needed to know.
“You did didn’t you! And I bet you sniffed them and jerked off in them too you little perv.”
She could sense my extreme unease.
“But look Robert, that’s fine. I understand. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about, not with me anyway. I get turned on by knowing all this about you and what turns you on. And hey, I’ll give you some more thrills – you’ll love me for it.”
“I’ll wash the panties and bring them in for you later this week if that’s okay.”
“Sure it is,” she answered and started to fish something out of her handbag which she was retrieving from her locker.
“Here, put these on. Put them on now; go and change in the toilet and then – if we’re still on our own – just lower the waist on your trousers to let me see you’ve got them on.”
She handed me a pair of larger, lavender-coloured cotton briefs. They fitted higher up my bottom than the panties I’d been buying or the ones Anita had lent me. Their strong elasticated grip meant they were of the “flatten-the-tummy” variety; the front having a lacy decorative panel with a little bow at the top.
“They’re mum’s. Oh, don’t worry,” Anita assured me, “mum won’t know they’re missing. How do they feel? Better?”
I nodded; they were much more comfortable and held my stomach in a little. The stronger gusset too was evident, especially when walking around in them.
“Now don’t go taking them off when I’m not here, I’ll check again on and off and you know what will happen if you disobey me.”
“I know, I know,” I cussed, but deep down, was actually getting slightly aroused.
“Oh, and another thing Robert, as I know you’ve been buying panties, I want you to wear a pair to work from now on: every day do you hear? No excuses. You can give me mum’s briefs back when you return mine – you’ll have to wash them too.”
She was luxuriating in my discomfort but in spite of my wishing none of this had happened, I was sort of relieved that it had and that my cross-dressing urge was being ministered to by someone who appreciated just how sexy lingerie felt on a man; so much nicer that the drab, functional Y-fronts that men had to wear.
The rest of that day was excruciatingly erotic. There I was working besides Edna whilst – unknown to her – I was wearing a pair of her knickers! I couldn’t wait to get home and, well, do I need to spell it out?
Thereafter, I complied with Anita’s order to always wear panties to work, even arranging for her to buy some more for me from the store (using her staff discount of course), to ensure I always had a sufficient number of briefs to put a clean pair on each morning. She didn’t always check I had them on; she liked to keep me guessing like that and I admit, I got a kick when she called me over to display the briefs I was wearing.
Since that day, even if Anita wasn’t working, I always wore panties to work. I just had to make sure no one else ever got to know. Surely I could manage that!