He sat in the car. Nervous, anxious, early.
They had been friends for years. Colleagues, nothing more. She was recently widowed, he in the throes of an almost amicable divorce. A simple conversation, an exchange of pleasantries, an unguarded moment of vulnerability on both their parts had changed their lives forever. Now this.
He remembered the call telling him simply that her husband had passed on. She mentioned the loneliness and the fear that she would never find a love that would be passionate about her. He didn't laugh. Instead he told her that she was beautiful. How the sound of her voice was music in his ears. He spoke about the softness of her skin, its glow and luminescence. Her eyes were a deep pool that he loved to look into. He remembered her. He saw her. Now he was waiting for her at the Corset shop.
She appeared out of no where in a peach colored print summer dress. Tall, she was very tall, statuesque and as always luminous. His heart stopped as it always had when he saw her. She had a small overnight type bag with her and she smiled when she saw him look at her. He looked first at her face, the wonderful smile and the eyes that were excited and nervous. Nervous to know if he approved. Nervous to know if he meant it when he said she was loved.
They hadn't seen each other in over a year. They had been friends and friends with each other's spouses. They had each been attracted to the other from the moment they met, yet had never done more than shake hands politely. She had more than once planned her wardrobe to be enticing for him; designed an outfit to especially turn him on. She never saw a reaction from him, she felt like a failure. He hadn't shown any interest, just the same friendly demeanor and safe respectable distance.
Little did she know that every time they met he had to plaster a look of indifference on his face to avoid leering at her and getting an immediate erection. After all she was his friend's wife. But now his friend was dead, and he was finally getting divorced. Everything was different. His comforting her on the phone had led to each of them opening up about how they had felt for years. He described a dress she wore, where they were when she wore it, how it fit, how she looked beautiful, like a glowing lighthouse in a sea of fog.
Their greeting was sweet and discrete a two handed handshake and a peck on the cheek. She pointed out the Corset Shoppe and they entered.
It was like many shops of yester year; a proprietor and a clerk. It sold specialty garments for woman. She was greeted affectionately and respectfully. She had been coming here for years. He was viewed with surprise, curiosity and that mild trepidation that is reserved for unknown black men; but, since he was obviously with her, treated respectfully. She had made the appointment weeks in advance without mentioning an observer.
She handed the proprietor pictures of what she wanted made and he studied them and a smile crossed his face. He understood from the drawings the presence of the man with her. He invited them to look at some of the fabrics available and when they agreed on a black with red lace piece, he sent her to the dressing room and led the man through the door to the fitting room.
He sat in the seat offered by the proprietor who watched him with an amused look. When she entered the room he gasped aloud. She wore a share one piece fishnet garment that fit her form exactly. He could hardly believe what he was seeing: A perfect woman's body, round and soft with an underlying element of strength. Through the sheer material he could see the shape and color of her areolas, large round and incredibly dark against her golden caramel skin. Large shapely breasts that were round and perfectly placed on her frame. Her nipples were incredibly tight and erect. As he looked down her body her rounded tummy came into view, a tummy not a stomach. It was, like her breasts, perfectly womanly. He thought to himself how skinny, broken, stick women might be the rage with fashion designers but give him a woman built for comfort not speed any day of the week and twice on Sunday.
His eyes moved to her hips and he drank her into his eyes greedily, lovingly, wantingly wishing that he could look at her forever. Her long legs, thick full thighs and strong calves gave way to beautiful feet that almost made him swoon. He was glad to be sitting. Had he not been sitting he would have slumped to the floor overtaken by the beauty before him. He looked and saw the look in her eyes and realized that she had been watching his reaction. She had been afraid that he would think her gross or overweight or past her prime. She carried the insecurity of a woman who felt her flaws too great to ever be considered desirable. Yet he saw the smile and the dawning awareness that he considered her perfect; a prize to be cherished and admired. Her eyes darted quickly to his crotch which only served to cause his pants to feel tighter, more restricting as his erection was now fully formed and throbbing. She smiled and giggled and his heart filled with a desire he had not felt in many years. They stared into each other's eyes until a gentle clearing of the proprietors throat caused them to remember: they were not alone.
She moved into position at the instructions of the craftsman and raised her arms. She had done this before and always found it thrilling and very erotic to be exposed before the older pink man. She had no interest in him but her latent exhibitionism always was awakened by his kindly, professional instructions. The brief time of being able to not be in control, not be a leader, not be the person who others were depending on was always a relief and release for her. She had asked him to share it with her and the thought of him watching her increased her excitement. Being told what to do and being watched by a man she desired who desired her made her tingle and her lower lips open like the flower blossoms they were.
