Rebeccah gets ready for her date

"I just said that stuff to see if I could make you come," says Rebeccah, smirking. "Although talking about it seemed to really get you off, I don't plan on doing any of it, and I will do my best to keep Brad at arms length."

"His name is Brad?" you ask. It feels surreal that your fiance is going on a date with this guy tonight and you are just now learning his name.

Rebeccah blushes and nods.

"He's a junior partner at the firm," she says.

"What does he look like?" you ask, suddenly curious about what kind of man Brad is.

"Do you really want to know details like that?" she asks, biting her lip nervously. "Won't it just make it harder for you to wait for me while I'm out with him?"

"Maybe it will make me feel better," you say, shrugging.

"Okay," she says. "He's over six feet, I would guess. He wears nice tailored suits and

an expensive watch. He has short, dark hair. Hazel eyes. A nice smile. And I think he probably works out a lot."

Rebeccah suddenly blushes even deeper, probably realizing how she sounds, and peters out.

"And that's pretty much it," she says lamely, then adding hastily, "And that he's kind of arrogant, and kind of a jerk."

Your mouth is suddenly dry, but you try to come across as being unbothered.

"Hey," she says suddenly, changing the subject. "Do you want to help me pick out something to wear?"

"Sure," you say.

She lays three dresses out on the bed, and you look them over while she searches through her underwear drawer.

As you look the dresses over, you have a strange feeling come over you. For some reason the excitement of going out on a first date seems to be infecting you, and you find yourself looking at the dresses from the point of view of Brad, and you wonder which one he would like Rebeccah in the best.

The blue one on the left has the highest neckline, and the ruffles make it feel too stuffy and conservative for a date. The white one on the right is a little more fun, but it was a wraparound and seems like it would be more at home at a cocktail party. The one in the middle is black and made of stretchy material. It also has the lowest neckline. You realize you want to see Rebeccah wearing it.

"How about the middle one?" you ask. She turns around, surprised.

"Really? That one?" she says, picking it up. "I figured you would want me to be more covered up."

You feel embarassed and a little confused.

"This is so weird," you observe. "I feel more like I'm one of your girlfriends helping you get ready for a date than your fiance. Part of me feels jealous and angsty, but a another part of me is excited for you and wants you to have fun."

"Which side is winning?" Rebeccah asks. "Anxious fiance, or best girlfriend?"

You feel yourself blush.

"Best girlfriend, I guess," you find yourself saying.

"Yay!" she exclaims. "That's going to make this so much more fun."

She removes the clothes she is currently wearing, then pulls the little black dress over her head and pulls it down. You can see that it is tight as she wiggles into it, and the hem of the skirt ends up at the top of her thighs. You admire her as she adjusts it, tugging it in various places.

"I can't wear a bra with this," she says absently, as she tries to pull the dress to cover the strap and edges of her bra, but to no avail.

Rebeccah pulls down the top of her dress, then deftly removes her bra, exposing her perfect breasts. Her nipples are stiff and you wonder if it's from being exposed to the cool air, or anticipation for her date. She jiggles them back into the top of her dress and tuggs at the elastic material to get them in the right place.

"Better, right?" she asks.

"Better," you confirm.

"Okay, how does my butt look?" she asks, turning around and glancing at herself in the mirror.

"It looks great," you say, because it does.

"No, I need best girlfriend right now," she says to you. "Not pervy fiance."

You look again, and notice lines from her panties under her dress.

"I guess you have panty lines?" you suggest.

"Good job," she says approvingly. "What should I do about it?"

You think about her solution with the bra.

"Go without panties?" you ask with trepidation.

"Did you just suggest I go on my date without panties?" she asks, laughing. "As interesting as that sounds, I have another solution: No-show panties."

She goes to her dresser and pulls out a pair of panties that are made of some thin stretchy material, with no leg or waist elastic. She reaches under her skirt and lowers her lace panties and replaces them with the new ones. The lines are gone.

"Come sit with me while I put on my makup," she says, sitting at her vanity. You pull up a chair as she sorts through her bushes.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, while applying light color to different places on her skin.. You've never watched her put on makeup and you find it kind of interesting.

"Okay, I guess," you say, but you can't hide the gloom you are feeling.

"Just okay, huh?" she says. "I guess I can understand you not being enthusiastic about it."

"I know we talked about it, but I guess I still don't understand why you need to go out on a date with someone else," you say.

"Hmm," she says, brushing some new, lighter makup evenly over her face. "Mommy has some strong ideas about how a successful relationship works. First, she thinks the relationship should be lead by the woman. She just thinks women are usually better at being in control, and although I might not feel as strongly about it as she does, I see some truth to it."

"Why can't we just be equal?" you ask.

She looks over at you in the mirror and gives you look that makes you feel like you just said something naive and adorable.

"Well, I think someone usually ends up being on top in a relationship. That's just how relationships are. And based on our experience so far, who do you think that will be?" she asks gently.

"You," you admit with a sigh.

She pats your hand affectionately, then starts applying some powder to her cheeks and forehead.

"Second:" she continues, "mommy believes one man is not enough for a strong woman, and that there are different kinds of men. There's the kind of man you settle down with and share your life with. He should be kind and gentle and put you on a pedestal."

She looks over at you in the mirror and adds, "That's you, by the way."

"The other kind of man, is the one that takes care of your 'other' needs, and he isn't so kind and gentle," she says, turning her head in the light to make sure her makeup is applied evenly.

"And for the record, I believe you are enough for me," she says, searching through her brushes. "I am just going on this date to appease mommy and also Brad. I need my job and I don't want him to make waves for me. It may seem like I'm captiulating to a sexist jerk, but mommy always says 'a woman has to use the weapons at her disposal', so that's what I'm doing."

"Why can't you just get a job somewhere else?" you ask.

"The job market is terrible right now," she says, looking at you with sadness that transforms into resolve. "Also, it would feel like a defeat to just give up. I've worked hard there, and I can't quit now."

You both sit in silence as she applies eyeshodow, eyeliner and mascara.

"So are you going to be okay?" she asks. You can hear the concern and affection in her voice.

"Yes, I think so," you say, trying to sound brave.

Soon the makeup is applied and the final touches are added: A pendant necklace and some perfume, then you are standing by the front door.

"Give me a little kiss, but don't smudge my lipstick," she says leaning toward you.

You give her the lightest peck on her lips and then the is turning. Mommy is behind you with her hands resting on your shoulders.

"Don't worry about sweet boy," she says. "I have lots of plans for him while you are out. To start off, we are going to make cookies together. Won't that be fun?"

You can see that a porsche has pulled up in front of the house and your beautiful fiance hurries out and gets in, then she is gone.