Eight or ten gorgeous 'girls' were in various stages of dress, from fully costumed to not at all. Dianna paid no mind to their modesty – or complete lack thereof – any more than they seemed to mind my presence. Of course, everyone had to drool over my lover's dress, shoes, jewelry, and especially her fabulous fur coat. They guessed the source of her newfound beneficence and turned to me appreciatively.
"He's cute," one girl opined, giving me an appreciative once-over. "Sharp dresser, too, although it doesn't seem to fit him very well. What's his name, Honey?"
"His name is Taken," my sweetheart replied cattily.
"Is he your latest husband, Dianna?"
"Not for long, Sugar," Dianna responded sweetly. "Girls, meet Lisa Layne. She is about to become my latest wife. Ladies, a little help, please."
The shrieks and catcalls came fast and furiously. Fully a half-dozen pairs of hands whisked my coat, shirt, tie, shoes, and pants off in the blink of an eye, leaving me in my lingerie, standing in the middle of a hen party.
"Not bad, Dianna," another girl clucked. "No wonder the suit didn't fit. You've already got her in drag. She's got some shape to her."
The girl squeezed one of my fake boobies playfully.
"Oh yeah, she's gonna be a cutie! How do you do it? If you can bottle it, we'll all be rich!"
"In your dreams, Chantal," Dianna countered with a grin. "I just know how to pick 'em. I don't chase everything and anything in pants – like some people I know."
That drew another raucous round of catcalls.
"Now, help me get her dressed and out front," my lover bid them. "We have to start teaching her the ropes."
"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed.
Dianna turned to me, smiling.
"Wait what, Sweetheart?" she trilled.
"Don't I get to say something about this?"
The seductive siren wrapped her arms around my neck and nuzzled my nose with hers.
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