Elizabeth guessed, that she wouldn ’t be dropping much cash. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said, eyes already back on the screen.
“ Uh-huh.” Elizabeth picked a bra off the rack. It was pale peach satin with black lace trim. Elizabeth thought about the plain black bra and panties she was wearing, the cotton so faded it was almost gray. She looked at the price and had to stop herself gasping. One hundred and fifteen dollars for a bra. She picked up the matching panties. Forty-nine fifty. Elizabeth had grudgingly paid seven dollars a pair for what she considered her good panties, the ones with the elastic lace she had gotten at Victoria’s Secret. Reflexively, she started to put the lingerie back, but a sudden impulse stopped her. She turned to the woman at the computer.
“ I’d like to try these,” she said.
*
Back in her room at the Mercer, she carefully pulled her purchases out of their tissue nests and laid them on the bed. She had spent a thousand dollars on lingerie, she realized, with a thrill. She stripped out of her clothes and slipped on a pair of black lace panties, cut high on the cheeks. Cheekies, the woman at the store had called them. Elizabeth examined her rear view in the mirror and smiled, remembering what her mother had jokingly said to jolly Elizabeth out of her morbid teenaged body obsession: “When they were handing out breasts, you thought they said tests and said, ‘No thanks.’ But when they were handing out bums, you thought they said plums and said, ‘Oh, yes, the more the better.’ Years of experience with men hadn’t exactly made her love her curvy butt or her small breasts, but she had at least come to accept them.
She hooked the mat ching bra on and struck a Heidi Klum pose, looking in the mirror. It was a definite improvement, she thought, pitching her old panties at the garbage bin. Elizabeth rifled through the drawers, picking out all the disreputable undies and replacing them with her new purchases.
She had just pulled on her jeans and turtleneck when her phone trilled. She answered it as she grabbed her laptop and walked out the door. It was Emily.
“Hey, you,” she said in her deep purr. “How’s the Big Apple?”
“ Do they still call it that, Grandma Em?” Elizabeth teased, walking down the hall to the elevator.
“ Whatever. I saw Keenan and Gwen at the school with your mom.”
“ Oh, how did they look?” Elizabeth felt that guilty twinge again. She’d call them from the set.
“ Totally fine. Don’t worry. But how are you doing? Drew, Avery, would you guys stop teasing the dog? I swear one day he’s going to bite you and then we’ll spend the night at the emergency room and you’ll miss Ben Ten.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh.
“Sorry,” Emily apologized.
“ Don’t worry about it. I’m Keenan’s mom, remember?” Elizabeth said, watching the numbers above the elevator light up. She lowered her voice. “I just spent a thousand bucks on underwear.”
Emily inhaled sharply. “Elizabeth! I knew it. You are having an affair.”
“ What? No. Why would you say that?” Elizabeth tugged at the neck of her sweater, feeling too warm all of a sudden.
“ Come on,” Emily said, “a thousand bucks on underwear? Remember that show I did on cheating? I had that doctor on who wrote Women Who Stray and the Men Who Love Them ? A man called in, suspecting his wife was having an affair. He wanted to know how he could tell. She said, oh what was her name? Dr. Berry? She told him to look in her lingerie drawer. If there were any secret sexy wisps of lace hidden under the sturdy cotton granny pants ... bingo!”
“ Oh, please, Em. I am not cheating. I bought them for me.”
“ Uh-huh,” Emily said, not convinced.
“ I haven’t felt sexy since before Keenan was born.” She ran a hand over her sweater, beneath which she knew was the delicate ribbon of a strap. “Nobody can see them, but they give me a little lift. Pun
“ Uh-huh.” Elizabeth picked a bra off the rack. It was pale peach satin with black lace trim. Elizabeth thought about the plain black bra and panties she was wearing, the cotton so faded it was almost gray. She looked at the price and had to stop herself gasping. One hundred and fifteen dollars for a bra. She picked up the matching panties. Forty-nine fifty. Elizabeth had grudgingly paid seven dollars a pair for what she considered her good panties, the ones with the elastic lace she had gotten at Victoria’s Secret. Reflexively, she started to put the lingerie back, but a sudden impulse stopped her. She turned to the woman at the computer.
“ I’d like to try these,” she said.
*
Back in her room at the Mercer, she carefully pulled her purchases out of their tissue nests and laid them on the bed. She had spent a thousand dollars on lingerie, she realized, with a thrill. She stripped out of her clothes and slipped on a pair of black lace panties, cut high on the cheeks. Cheekies, the woman at the store had called them. Elizabeth examined her rear view in the mirror and smiled, remembering what her mother had jokingly said to jolly Elizabeth out of her morbid teenaged body obsession: “When they were handing out breasts, you thought they said tests and said, ‘No thanks.’ But when they were handing out bums, you thought they said plums and said, ‘Oh, yes, the more the better.’ Years of experience with men hadn’t exactly made her love her curvy butt or her small breasts, but she had at least come to accept them.
She hooked the mat ching bra on and struck a Heidi Klum pose, looking in the mirror. It was a definite improvement, she thought, pitching her old panties at the garbage bin. Elizabeth rifled through the drawers, picking out all the disreputable undies and replacing them with her new purchases.
She had just pulled on her jeans and turtleneck when her phone trilled. She answered it as she grabbed her laptop and walked out the door. It was Emily.
“Hey, you,” she said in her deep purr. “How’s the Big Apple?”
“ Do they still call it that, Grandma Em?” Elizabeth teased, walking down the hall to the elevator.
“ Whatever. I saw Keenan and Gwen at the school with your mom.”
“ Oh, how did they look?” Elizabeth felt that guilty twinge again. She’d call them from the set.
“ Totally fine. Don’t worry. But how are you doing? Drew, Avery, would you guys stop teasing the dog? I swear one day he’s going to bite you and then we’ll spend the night at the emergency room and you’ll miss Ben Ten.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh.
“Sorry,” Emily apologized.
“ Don’t worry about it. I’m Keenan’s mom, remember?” Elizabeth said, watching the numbers above the elevator light up. She lowered her voice. “I just spent a thousand bucks on underwear.”
Emily inhaled sharply. “Elizabeth! I knew it. You are having an affair.”
“ What? No. Why would you say that?” Elizabeth tugged at the neck of her sweater, feeling too warm all of a sudden.
“ Come on,” Emily said, “a thousand bucks on underwear? Remember that show I did on cheating? I had that doctor on who wrote Women Who Stray and the Men Who Love Them ? A man called in, suspecting his wife was having an affair. He wanted to know how he could tell. She said, oh what was her name? Dr. Berry? She told him to look in her lingerie drawer. If there were any secret sexy wisps of lace hidden under the sturdy cotton granny pants ... bingo!”
“ Oh, please, Em. I am not cheating. I bought them for me.”
“ Uh-huh,” Emily said, not convinced.
“ I haven’t felt sexy since before Keenan was born.” She ran a hand over her sweater, beneath which she knew was the delicate ribbon of a strap. “Nobody can see them, but they give me a little lift. Pun
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