Little Miss Retro, by Mary Beth Sanford

[Alana]

She began to dictate:

"Dear Alan,

I think you make a delightfully feminine young woman and believe you'll go far in this company, given your willingness to honor women in this way. I'd like to discuss that very thing at my place over a drink and, perhaps, dinner. In fact, I have a very pretty baby doll set that would look lovely on you while we get to know each other better.

Sign that yours truly, Helen Grove."
   

[Alana]

Ms. Grove said this as she moved a hand gently over Alan's silken knee. Those last words he wrote on the pad were not nearly as legible as the ones in the beginning, and Alan nodded a second before her kiss.

That following morning, driving back to his place in amazement over the night before, he mused over his new title as Little Miss Retro, given to him just before Helen slipped the baby doll top over his head. As it happens, he actually didn't wear the panties to that set for more than a few minutes.
   

[Alana]

Post Script:

Alan met his landlady on his way into his apartment, and wasn't sure how to explain why he was still dressed that following day. His reluctance to give up what he had on was his only thought in those minutes.

At least, he thought that until his landlady mentioned that she was fixing breakfast, and wouldn't mind him joining her if he didn't mind staying dressed for a bit longer. Alan, of course, didn't mind at all, and discovered when he entered her place that she'd been going through a number of things she had from back then.

She offered him a shower while she did the bacon, and a quilted pink robe to wear over his nightgown if he didn't mind. She had said that last part while moving in close enough to offer him a kiss before he could answer no.

He was drying himself off while looking at the outfit he was going to put on, wondering over that night's and this day's events. His smile formed, once again, as he powdered himself before gathering the light pink nightgown into his hands.

The Seventies and those ladies growing up in those times were certainly different from the girls he knew of now. He was glad of that, he mused, as the nightgown fell to his knees.
   
THE END
   
This story was written by Mary Beth Sanford, based on a dress of mine. It was gone from online until now, and I am restoring it from a printed copy. I was unable to contact Mary Beth Sanford to get permission.