She dressed carefully to meet him. She always did. Not because it pleased him, but because it excited her to show up and tell him just enough to tantalize him and keep at least part of his constantly active brain distracted by what he might find if he peeled back her always-conservative clothing to see what was underneath. It was just a perk that he got off on it too.
Every time they were together was like a rematch of the same game they'd been playing for years. As she fastened her black lace pushup bra, she wondered for the umpteenth time why it was that neither of them ever tired of it. Nothing new to see once the clothes and such were gone...by now, each was so effortlessly familiar with the other that she was amazed he still found thrill in the process. But he insisted he did, and his eyes seconded it every time, so she had no choice but to believe him.
Adding a pair of pink lace panties and garters to the ensemble, she surveyed the finished product in the full-length mirror on the bedroom door. Hmmm, she thought, and then laughed aloud...she could look at herself nearly naked now and think that she looked damn good...something else he had worked like mad to convince her was true. She still didn't believe him most of the time, much to his frustration. She was far too focused on the bits of her she wished were different to see what he saw and commented on approvingly so often. But tonight...tonight she was more than enough.
Turning her back on her reflection, she faced the open closet, and pondered the camouflage. What she wore was again more for her than for him. They were spending the bulk of the evening in a very public place, and it was not her style to dress in a way that hinted to anyone but him that the under was vastly different than the over. She settled on jeans and a green sweater that would change the color of her eyes from their usual blue to emerald...and the stripes across her chest didn't hurt either. A pair of tennis shoes and a frayed baseball cap completed the outfit. She tied her long blond hair back in a low ponytail and freshened her makeup with the subtle but sparkling eyeshadow she favored. Her long lashes needed only a light brushing of mascara, and her lips only a touch of flavored gloss, and she was ready to go.
It was only then that she allowed the sigh she'd been holding back to burst from her lips, since she hadn't heard from him yet and wasn't even sure he'd get to see the fruits of her labors. His job was unpredictable enough that it often trumped any plans they made, and she'd long since made her peace with that...mostly. Some nights were harder than others, especially when she felt the way she did tonight. Given a choice, once they were in the same venue, she'd start with...
The quiet ringing of her phone interrupted the beginning of yet another brilliant fantasy with him as the star. She smiled, recognizing his ringtone. "Hello there," she said softly.
"Hey baby. What are you doing?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
"I'm sorry...what?" His tone was instantly icicle-cold, edgy. Oh, she thought, so you want to play it that way, hmmm? All right.
Matching his chilly tone, she responded, "I said, wouldn't you like to know? Perhaps we have a bad connection, because I'm certain I didn't hear what I thought I heard just now...did I, little one?"
