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All three of them have wildly different takes on what makes a pair of excellent underwear.
Regina enjoys her laces and silks—sultry, but elegant, worn close to the skin for minimal disruption on the lines of her skirts and suits. She matches black and purple bra and panty sets—always matches—and prefers soft cups and materials to anything push-up or flashy.
Emma, on the other hand, is prone to anything purely comfortable. She buys packs of men’s briefs at Target in basic reds or whites. She only has two bras—one plain cotton and one a sports bra. Both have seen better days, and Regina has to remind her to wash them once a week.
And Ruby…well, Ruby is an entirely different story.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Emma nudges Regina’s foot with her own at the breakfast table, nodding towards their girlfriend, who is bending over at the oven to take out a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls. Her little red nightie is riding up to reveal pink, frilled panties, the froth of ruffles and lace and bows looking both absurd and adorable on her upturned bottom. The panties are cut high on her ass, revealing the swell of her cheeks.
“I should spank you for teasing us like that,” Regina says archly, coffee in hand, eyes still on the paper. But her hand visibly trembles with unbidden arousal.
“That’s the idea,” Ruby says, turning around with the cinnamon rolls and a smile on her face.