Vanessa found the other things she needed. Butter. A little cream. She took a look at the green dress she was wearing. No way she was going to ruin it with cooking oils. She never wore clothes while cooking at home, so why start now? She lifted her dress over her head and tossed it onto her book bag. She was wearing a thin, see-through crimson lace bra that held her breasts perfectly.  Her cheeky matching lace panties held her curves like a second skin, and the full roundness of her ass fell right out of them. She left her thigh-high, cream-colored cable-knit tights on. "So when are you going to tell them that your future husband is actually your future wife?" She reached for pots and pans, and utensils. "Do you have an apron?"