One recent summer evening, on my way home after a long client meeting, I scanned radio stations hoping to find some music to lift my mood, or at least keep me awake. The Public Radio station's current events program might have held my interest any other evening, but my tired mind merged the voices into one monotonous drone. Jazz? "Classic" rock? Ah, classical. No that might be too relaxing. Okay. Rock. Loud!
It was just after 6:00 p.m. when I parked in my driveway. The earliest I had been home in ages.
When I opened the car door, I was smothered by the muggy heat of the day and blinded by the sun, still blazing in the evening sky.
Fatigued by a stressful Monday and sleep deprived from a week of insomnia, I leaned my head back against the neck rest, slammed the door shut again, turned up the air conditioner, and switched the dial to classical music.
I'll just rest my eyes for a few minutes before I go in. The seat felt so comfortable, the car was still cool and I just didn't seem to have even enough energy to climb my front steps to go inside. Besides, what had I to look forward to at home anyway? Michael was away at a conference all week and, with the way things were between us right now, who could say whether he would have come over tonight anyway.
As the music played in the background, I began to doze.
When I awakened, I felt a cool breeze against my skin and, as my eyes slowly opened, a bright mist surrounded me. The sun filtered through the mist causing each tiny droplet to reflect glints of sparkling gold and sky blue light.
I was lying there, draped over the front steps of the house where my lover had been staying after he left his wife. My head gently resting on my crossed arms perched at the top of the steps. Instead of the business suit I had worn all day, I was wrapped in a long, sheer, pale, rose skirt tied just above my hip. My left leg exposed, bare from my waist. A scarf, of the same fabric, was wrapped around my breasts and held by a single knot.
My legs extended, down, across the steps. I was wearing a single pale, rose satin slipper on my left foot. The right shoe was missing. I gently rubbed my bare toes against the other slipper to make sure that I felt a sensation. This couldn't be real.
The mist surrounding me covered the lawn all the way to the sidewalk. I could see no pedestrians and, likely, no one could see me.
As I glanced around, I realized that no one was home. The house was quiet and dark. When I raised myself up, back against the stairs, I realized that my arms had been resting on the spot where I had dropped my lace panties, for my lover to find, that special evening I surprised him on the porch.
Despite having responsibility for millions of dollars and large staffs during most of my career, I had never before felt safe enough and loved enough to express my sexuality so boldly. On that evening, I had waited for Michael there, on his brother's porch. His brother had taken his family away on vacation, so we would have the house to ourselves. Michael had recently left his wife, after years of putting up with her infidelities, and had not yet decided whether to move in with me or get a place of his own.
That night I had told Michael he needed to be at his brother's place by 7:00 p.m. I told him that dinner was being delivered from a new café that I had just discovered and that I would be late because of a last minute client demand. In fact, I was waiting for him on the porch swing, wearing only the sundress he liked so much. When he arrived, I sat there on the porch swing, my right leg bent, my foot resting on the bench, my other leg extended onto the porch where my toes pushed gently against the wood to keep the swing moving slowly.
As Michael stepped onto the porch, he found the panties; at first thinking that someone had dropped a handkerchief. But when he saw me, he raised the lace up to his face to smell my scent as he walked toward me. I had placed pillows at my feet so that he could comfortably kneel.
Within moments, he began tasting the sweet nectar that was already flowing from me.
That was the first time I had ever opened myself completely to someone. After Michael left his wife and moved in with his brother, we had finally begun to explore the true feelings we had for each other. But knowing the trauma I had experienced earlier in life and the caution with which I approached every relationship, he had said we could take things as slowly as I needed. We would spend hours together touching, tasting and caressing. My first, gentle orgasms arose from his sweet lips and moist tongue making love to my sensitive breasts.
