The ivory satin negligee was luminescent like a glowing cultured pearl. Too soft and pliant to wrinkle, the flowing satin reflected the slightest movement with shimmering iridescence. The delicate floral lace trim and thin ribbons of shoulder straps made it the gown of a princess. I had found it folded neatly beneath laundered bath towels in a wicker basket. The basket rested in the new bedroom awaiting the transfer of towels to the linen closet.
I often saw my mother wearing this negligee in the evening as my bedtime loomed or, worn with a matching robe, early in the morning. It glowed and glimmered with ethereal light and flowed with her as if a veil of wispy smoke. My sister wore homey flannel nightgowns and pajamas. I liked them and ocassionally had tried them on. But they did not enchant me. When I saw the negligee, I thought of fairy tales and the glamourous actresses in old Hollywood movies.
In the playroom of our basement, we had an old blanket chest stuffed with 'dress up' clothes. Though there were a few jackets and ties and a bedraggled suit, most of the clothes were remnants of Holloween costumes and a miscellany of my mother's discards. My favorite costume was a long nylon slip. I was delighted by the sensations I discovered when I dressed in it. Often I was willing to be the girl in our playing, just to wear it. But the allure of the slip paled before the radiance of the negligee. I yearned to try it on, to look in the mirror and see it shimmering on me.
When I noticed the negligee buried beneath the bath towels, I realized with joy that I could borrow it without being noticed. I would be able to try it on and safely return it. That evening, after determining that the second floor hallway was empty, I scurried to find the laundry basket still unloaded and I grabbed the nightgown. I climbed up into my bunk bed and placed my pillow over the airy, gathered satin to keep it secret. My brother had moved to a room of his own so the the room was mine.
Soon ready for bed, I said my 'Goodnights' and awaited the turning out of the lights. I had no trouble staying awake until the faint light reaching my doorway from my parents' bedroom disappeared and I heard their door close. I read in bed with a flashlight, patiently passing the time until I felt sure I would not be disturbed. When I was sure the house was asleep, I put away my book.
Alone with the night, I deftly climbed down the bunk ladder holding the satin gown lightly in my hand. I listened for the sound of water running in the bathrooms and the murmmer of my parents' conversation. No one was up and about. Quickly, my flannel pajamas fell in a heap on the carpet. In the intimate glow of my night light, I held up the negligee by its delicate straps. Was I to hold it open by the straps and step into it and then gradually draw it up? Or did I slide my hands and arms up through the straps as I wiggled to free the gown to slowly loft down around me? I did not know how my mother put it on. As there would be less chance of possibly tearing the straps if I first slipped my arms through them, I slithered into the gown. It was easier than I expected.
I shivered standing there, feeling the cool silken satin flirting with my skin. Never had I experienced such sensations. I was vividly conscious of my bare skin, the light touch of soft satin and the slight clinging of the shoulder straps. When worn by my mother, the negligee fell to slightly below the knees. On me, it became an ankle-length, full, gossamer gown. I was now remarkably aware of all my senses. Caressed by the delicate embrace of swaying satin, I felt marvelously awake. I was captivated and wanted to see the gown on me, wanted then to keep the negligee on and go to sleep in it.
The kid's bathroom, midway down the carpeted hall, had a wide mirror above the double sinks. Sometimes, even in the far reaches of night, one had only to flick on the bathroom light and one of my parents would awaken, even though their door was closed. This would not be the night when their concern was welcome. Discovered wearing my mother's nightgown, I would shrink into the shadows, frightened and too startled to improvise an explanation, let alone be able to utter it. But, the bathroom offered the only large mirror other than the one on the back of my parents' closet door. I longed to see the negligee on me. Yielding to temptation, I ventured out into the dark hall. With the satin swishing like a gentle breeze on my skin, I slowly reached the bathroom. The door closed without squeaking. I turned on the lights and faced the mirror.
Before me appeared a smiling, cherubic boy with a crewcut dressed in a long, ivory satin nightgown, glowing with radiance. In my eyes, I looked as much like a girl as like a boy. I grinned, delighted. Shifting from one stance to another, I studied the nascent girl in the mirror. Her iridescent gown was mesmerizing. She might be a princess. My skin was warm, as if bathing in summer's sun. Surprisingly aware of my limbs, my body, I felt unnaturally graceful as I moved. I was a dancer learning new movements and, by turns, a model, consciously striking a pose. I was profoundly awake, relishing a sensuality I had not known.
I wished I could wear the negligee freely in the evenings rather than spending the hours before bedtime in my pajamas. I knew I would not even attempt to make this longing a reality. The negligee was an extravagant garment created for a woman. I was a boy. The negligee suited my desire, perfectly. But it would not be hanging in my closet. After a last, long gaze at the girlish boy in the mirror, I tiptoed to my room, closed the door and climbed up to my bunk.
I pulled back the blankets. Preparing to snuggle in my gown, I unfurled the gathered satin and smoothed it down to my calves. I lay down on the smoothed satin on my belly and pulled the winter blankets over me. I recognized the scent lingering in the gown. I had discovered its source, a perfumed sachet, in one of my mother's lingerie drawers. I hugged my firm pillow with both arms, kneading it with my fingers. Again I was surprised by the sleek satin so slippery on my skin. I was wonderfully warm, as if bathing in a summer sun. Hugging my pillow, I instinctively pulled myself up toward the head of my bed - drawing my bare skin across the smooth satin - and then pushed myself back down toward the foot of the bed. This motion proved irresitably pleasurable. With the rhythm of my pulling and pushing, I felt myself becoming aroused. I huggged the firm pillow tightly beneath my chest. As I began slipping back and forth and back and forth on the velvety satin, I was captivated by the beguiling sensuality. My face felt warm as if radiating fever.
I pulled and pushed my body across the silky satin with a quickening rhythm. The thin shoulder straps pulled against my bare shoulders. I was accustomed to this instinctive activity but now felt impelled to continue it as I never had before. The sensation drew me on. I was possessed by this marvelous pleasure that grew ever more intense with my moving. And, I had to know where this bliss would lead. Though my eyes were closed to the dark, I saw a radiant glowing like that of a fireplace ember. As my rhythm increased, I breathed deeper. I surrendered to the growing intesity of my pleasure.
With a quickening of my movements, I sensed I was nearing the edge of something wonderful, something powerful that I felt impelled to discover. My breathing was short and shallow. I was consumed with my quickening motion and lost to everything else.
Faster, and faster, and...Oh my God! I imploded with ecstacy, shuddering and shivering as waves of pleasure swept me away. Oh my God! What is this? In the instant, I lost my bearings. Stunned by the intensity of my experience, I knew only that I had found ecstacy. I shivered as tremors of pleasure flowed within for minutes afterward, only slowly becoming conscious of how completely I had abandoned myself to my instincts. I was langorous and deeply peaceful. Sleep would come easy.
My body, now at rest, seemed wonderfully fatgued. It was just way I felt lying on a sunny chaise lounge after hours playing in the pool. I lay there in the dark, in awe. Oh my God! What was that? Whatever it was, it was incredible. So enveloping, so intense, it was unlike anything I had ever known. Many minutes passed as I lay there, acutely aware of the satin embracing me. I was utterly at ease. Though dumbfounded by my experience, I did not think. I savored my sensations of bliss.
Aware I could so easily yield to sleep, I roused myself from the warm womb of my blankets. Could I allow myself to sleep in the negligee? Or would that be inviting discovery in the morning? I knew I did not want to return the gown to its wicker basket, not yet. If it had enchanted me before my marvelous experience, it possessed me now. Usually, I woke up early in the morning, without prompting. If I lingered in my bunk, someone would shout my name from down stairs. I needed little reason to stay dressed in my gown. I must have slipped very quickly to sleep.
The next morning, my brother's shout for breakfast awoke me. I first realized I was aroused. And then, remembering my magical evening, I discovered I was still wearing the negligee. I was not ready to surrender it. Still in my bunk, I slipped out of it, gathered it up, and stuffed it safely beneath my pillow. I had found a way to ecstasy. I would, at very least, see again how it looked on me, after breakfast. Descending to the carpet, I vowed I would wear the negligee to sleep again. As I put on my pajamas, vividly aware of the soft flannel, I wished they were made of satin.
Possessed by the satin gown, I tracked where it was in the cycle of being worn, laundered or stored in one of the bureau drawers of lingerie. Sometimes I would risk borrowing it from the bureau drawer. I would slip into it and delight in seeing my reflection in the mirror. Then, it would be carefully folded and returned to lay among the exotic silks and satins and nylons. If I were fortunate enough to find it in the laundry, I would put it on and sleep in it.
I have just acquired a new negligee that is very similar to that of long ago. It is satin, with thin shoulder straps, floral lace bodice and flowing skirt that finishes below the knees. This lovely night gown, in a delicious salmon tint, is by Jones New York. Thanks to Marshall's, the once expensive elegant negligee was mine for pennies on the dollar. I slept with it the very night it possessed me. I am rather romantic.