Charlotte Krieg stood in front of the beveled mirror, staring breathlessly at her reflection. It wasn’t just the grip of the corset that made it hard to breathe; it was also how she looked in it.

This was the real deal; Miriam Waterhouse, the woman who custom-made the corset,  knew her stuff. Charlotte ran her hand down the taught, silky fabric that made up the outer layer. Her fingers traced the ridges that ran the length of the undergarment. The busk inside the casings was made of real bone, not the flimsy plastic of the modern-day corsets. The corset was paired with a pair of soft linen pantaloons with sweet eyelet lace edging the hem of each leg.

“You look beautiful; like you stepped out of time.” Miriam Waterhouse circled her, peering at Charlotte over the top of her ornate horn-rimmed glasses. “I get a lot of women coming in this time of year looking for something custom made; not all of them have the body to carry it off. You do. I’d even go so far to say you could model this type of thing professionally.”

It was not an idle compliment. Before Miriam Waterhouse came out of retirement to start her custom reproduction clothing business she’d been an award-winning costume designer for both stage and screen with a reputation for historical accuracy and attention to detail.

This appealed to Charlotte, who hoped the corset she now wore would be just the very thing to jump-start her relationship with Daniel. They’d met in grad school when she was doing her thesis on the affect of Darwinism on Victorian culture. She’d met Daniel, a teacher who had double-majored in history and biology, at a workshop on Darwin open to both students and those seeking credit through the university’s continuing education program.

During a break he approached Charlotte to tell her he’d overheard her discussing her thesis with another student, and was fascinated with her topic, which combined both of his areas of study. Charlotte always suspected that his interest in her that day had gone beyond academic, but she’d not minded. Daniel was attractive, with curly brown hair and a ready smile. He wore a nice suit, even though most everyone else at the workshop was dressed casually. She liked that. Charlotte was a romantic at heart and had been drawn to a study of Victorian history because she secretly longed for a return to the days when men were men and women were women. She liked men who were dapper, formal even and Daniel had impressed her as that kind of man.

She’d surprised herself by accepting his request for a date the following night; normally she played harder to get. But Daniel was so cordial, asking if she would grant him the pleasure of her company; how could she have said no?

Charlotte wore a Jessica McClintock lace dress to their dinner at the little French café he chose for their first date. Daniel smiled when he saw her, telling her she was a “vision splendid.”

He confided over dinner that he loved her ultra-feminine style and she told him she was impressed with his look, too. That night Daniel had worn a hounds tooth jacket with suede patches at the elbows, tan pants and brown loafers. He looked every inch the gentleman and acted it, too  -  opening doors for her, pulling her chair out, even holding the umbrella over her head in the light sprinkle that started when they left the restaurant.

“Can I call on you again?” he asked when he stood by her front door. Rain was falling harder by then, but Charlotte was too charmed to notice. No man had ever asked for a second date quite like that.

“You may,” she said, and he too her hand then and kissed it gently.

“I’ll call you.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and would have felt silly at her reply had he not smiled.

Inside the house she’d leaned against the door, smiling as she surveyed her room with its rose-colored claw-foot sofa, fainting couch, beaded lamp – all antiques or reproductions of her favorite time period. Daniel was all she thought of that night, his face still floating in front of her eyes as she tucked herself under the crazy quilt on her feather bed.

The dates had continued – each more charming than the last. Bike rides and picnic lunches at the park, trips to the art gallery, romantic dinners followed by moonlit strolls. He’d read Tennyson and Browing to her on Sunday afternoons as they cuddled in the swing on her wrap-around porch. Afterwards they’d discuss moving in together before deciding to wait until marriage.

Daniel had proposed to Charlotte six months after they’d met. Their June wedding the following year had been everything she’d dreamed of. The theme had been all Victorian; she’d even found an antique wedding dress that fit like it had been made for her.

Daniel had moved from his flat to the house she’d inherited from her parents; even though she was teaching at the university by then, money was still tight and she’d not minded. She loved the house and the addition of Daniel’s preserved insect collection and antiques complemented her décor.

The only thing Charlotte wasn’t crazy about was her husband’s electronic equipment. For such an old-fashioned guy, he loved his flat-screen television, stereo system and computer. Charlotte refused to have any of it in the main room; she didn’t even own a television only used a laptop which could be put out of sight when she was finished working.

Daniel had wanted the television, at least, to be in the living room but Charlotte had resisted. The compromise had been for Daniel to have the entire basement to himself – his man cave, he jokingly called it. Charlotte, who had always been something of a packrat was forced to sale most of what she’d been storing down there – old books, vintage treadle sewing machines or broken music boxes she’d hoped to have restored.

She reluctantly sold most of her treasures; the rest she put in storage. Charlotte and Daniel used the proceeds to install a tile floor, paneling and bookshelves in the basement. The also bought a secondhand recliner, sofa and computer desk off of Craigslist. By the time they were finished they had a husband’s retreat that looked like the living room of any middle America family.

Charlotte hated it. In fact, the first time she saw it all finished she didn’t think it was possible for her to hate it any more than she did at that moment. But that had been a year ago and now she hated it even more. It seemed that the room had somehow consumed Daniel, transforming him into a regular guy instead of the modern-day Victorian gentleman she though she had married.

It was his friends from work who were partially to blame. Male teachers tended to stick together and two of Daniel’s colleagues – Martin Phelps and Gary Ranshaw – had introduced him first to football and then fantasy football.

At first he had resisted. “I’ve never been a sports fan,” he confided in Charlotte. And that was just fine to her. She’d never understood the back-slapping, testosterone driven camaraderie of sports fans and as perfect happily with a man who preferred adding to his exotic beetle collection or – even better – cultivating the orchids they’d started purchasing a year earlier.

But there was something about teaching high school that can nearly emasculate a man and after enduring a particularly difficult six months Daniel started spending more time with Martin and Gary, first attending high school football games to be polite – where he developed an interest in the sport – and then going to their house to watch NFL. Some nights he’d come home with beer on his breath, apologizing for already having eaten with “the guys” even though she’d cooked dinner.

Soon he was neglecting his insect collection and the orchids. Even his physical appearance changed. Gone were the suits he wore almost everywhere. Now he wore jeans and team jerseys that hung loosely over his growing pot belly. They stopped going to the museum and library. He stopped complimenting her on her pretty dresses and even complained that the living room needed to be “updated.” On this, Charlotte completely stood her ground.

“You may have changed,” she said. “But I haven’t. This was my house before I met you and I’m not going to redecorate it simply because you’ve become someone else.”

“Someone else?” Daniel had scowled at her from over his glasses, the only thing he wore that reminded her of how he used to look. “So I’m not supposed to change or make friends?”

“I never said you couldn’t change or make friends,” Charlotte had wearily replied. “It would just be nice if it felt like we had something in common.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from coming with me to the games,” he said. “Or from hanging out with me over at the guys’. Their wives do it.” He sounded almost envious.

Their wives. Charlotte had seen them. Martin’s wife was a dowdy homemaker who had the constantly harried look that three-year-old twins tend to give a woman. Gary’s wife Susan was as big a sports fan as her husband – literally. She weighed close to 220 pounds and stood at nearly six feet tall. Her loud laugh and frizzy blonde hair made her a conspicuous character and she prided herself on being one of the guys.

Charlotte didn’t really know what to say. Daniel had a point. No, he wasn’t trying to make her happy but she wasn’t going out of her way to make him happier either. Still, she couldn’t help but feel she was the one who had been wronged. Daniel had changed so drastically; it was as if he’d forgotten what had originally brought them together – their love of history, old traditions and customs, an appreciation for old-fashioned courtly behaviors, the excitement of living their respective gender roles.

Now as she ran her hands over the beautifully authentic corset, saw how pleasantly it molded her already small waist, how it accentuated the natural, feminine curve of her hips she could not help but feel hopeful. Once Daniel walked into their bedroom to find her laid out in this, he’d remember both what had drawn them together and what had attracted him to her. He’d remember his love for the authentic, genuine past, for a time when men of the house came home at the end of the day to be pampered by and make love to their wives. He’d see her in this and remember, and then everything would be as it was

Or, she hoped, perhaps even better. One of the things she’d always loved about Daniel was his natural assertiveness. When they’d been dating they’d discussed, and agreed, that he would take the lead in their relationship. Charlotte had not minded deferring to her husband because she felt that this was how it should be. But as he changed from an old-fashioned gentleman to a modern guy-next-door it became harder and harder for her to be the submissive wife she wanted to be.

If she could turn him around, remind him that he had a soft, sweet wife who was more interesting and fun than football then perhaps he would retake the reins. Perhaps he would become even more dominant. Under the right circumstances, Charlotte knew she would like that. In Victorian households the husband’s word was law and it was not uncommon, she knew, for them to even use corporal punishment on an errant wife.

She’d never gotten up the nerve to ask Daniel how he felt about this and had hoped their relationship may just evolve to that point on its own. But the influence of his friends, and his willingness to assimilate into their culture had scuttled that. Now it was up to her and her corsetry to get him back on track.

Charlotte asked Miriam if she would be willing to lace the corset up for her on Saturday, the day before Valentine’s Day. That was the day she planned to surprise Daniel with her outfit. Although Valentine’s Day was actually Sunday they were both overwhelmed on Mondays with work – hers at the university and his at the local middle school.  She’d mentioned to him the week before that she preferred to celebrate the holiday a day early although she did not tell him why.

She smiled as she wrote the check, the ridiculous amount she was tendering well worth it if he reacted as she fantasized he would.

Charlotte imagined her husband walking into the bedroom to find her laying on the bed, her sensuous body presented like a present wrapped in the most remarkably realistic packaging. She’d look like something from the pages of a history book herself, and in her dream he’d tell her just that as he approached, removing the tie he’d worn that night because she asked him to.

“My god, Charlotte. You look lovely,” he’d say. “How on earth could I have become so distracted by sports when I had something like this waiting for me?”

She’d smile at him.

“I knew you’d come back,” she’d say. “And now I’m all yours, to do with as you will.”

He’d hold his hand out and raise her from the bed. Then he’d run his hands down her sides, his palms skimming the tight satin corset before moving onto the pantaloons. His eyes would open in surprise as he encountered the string at the back. As he untied it, they’d fall open in the back.

“What’s this?”

Daniel would turn her around then, making an appreciative sound as he stared at her round bottom. He’d always told her what a beautiful ass she had, and on this night, seeing it framed by the fine linen of her custom pantaloons would stir the fire in his blood.

Gently he’d bend her over and tell her it was about time he remembered what his role was, and that she remembered hers. He’d gently spank her bottom, smiling as she moaned under each stinging slap and then he’d release his swollen cock and drive it into her with exquisite slowness as his hands played with the laces on her corset.

“Mrs. Kreig?”

Miriam Waterhouse’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charlotte said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I was lost in thought there.”

“I was just asking you what time Saturday.”

“Around six? Would that be too late?” Daniel was going to be watching a game with his friends but had promised to be home by eight. Having the corset fitted at six would give her plenty of time to get home, light candles, set the mood…

“Six would be fine,” the older woman said.

“Are you sure? I hate to impose.”

The seamstress smiled. “One of the advantages of working from your own house is that you can set your own hours. Six won’t be an imposition at all.”

Charlotte took her package and left, feeling more positive than she’d felt in a long time. The night was going to be so special. In fact, the whole scenario she’d formed in her mind inspired her to go an extra step. On the way home she stopped by Temptations, an upscale gourmet deli and eatery, and ordered a pre-cooked Valentine’s dinner for two she decided she’d pick up on her way home after the fitting on Saturday.

She pored over the menu choices before deciding on steamed oysters to start, followed by Chateaubriand with Portobello mushrooms in Madeira wine sauce, steamed asparagus and tiramisu.

“Champagne?” the woman asked her in a tone that suggested anyone ordering such a meal would most certainly order champagne as well.

“Of course,” Charlotte said, and ordered a bottle of Bollinger’s.

She called home from the car and when she didn’t get an answer she called Daniel’s cell. He picked up on the third ring; she could hear laughter and the background sound of television on the other end.

“Daniel?”

“Hi honey, you home yet?”

She frowned. “No. I was out..running errands. Where are you?”

“Over at Gary’s. We were watching some highlights of the Super Bowl.”

She rolled her eyes. “What time will you be home?”

“I’m leaving in a few,” he said.

Charlotte knew a few could mean a few minutes or a few hours. But with Valentine’s Day so close  - and with so much invested in it – she decided to pick her battles.

“I’ll see you when you get home, then,” she said. “But just in case I’m asleep, you remember that Valentine’s Day is this weekend, right?”

There was a roar on the television in the room.

“Daniel?”

“Yeah, honey. I know. Valentine’s Day this weekend.”

“Right. So don’t make any plans for Saturday because that’s when we’re celebrating. You’ll be home right after your afternoon poker match, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Soon as the match is over. You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

She sighed with relief. “Good, because I’ve got a surprise for you.”

She smiled and waited for him to ask what. He’d always been so curious.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he said without even trying to find out the nature of the surprise. Charlotte tried to swallow the disappointment which rose in the form of a lump in her throat.

“I…I hope so,” she replied.

Another cheer erupted from the television. Someone in the room said something, a female, Susan probably. She was asking Daniel if he wanted another beer.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said.

“C’mon, Danny. Just one more…”

“Sure, OK.”

Charlotte knew she’d be asleep when he got home. She told him her husband she’d see him layer and clicked off the cell phone. Tears stung the corner of her eyes. Her Valentine’s Day plan had to work. It just had to. The man she’d just spoken to wasn’t someone she recognized. He wasn’t the old Daniel. He’d turned into someone else and she was more determined than ever to see that her Valentine’s magic won him back once and for all.