The guy signed off his message with "next time you are in the London look me up." I didn't question his intentions, I knew they were dishonorable. I didn't question myself either, I knew deep down I was going to meet this guy again. I had always just taken it for granted that I would be a faithful wife. I would never be unfaithful, I had assumed that other people did those things, not me. But after reading his message I now realized that I had already taken the first steps and, whats more, I didn't feel bad about it, I was excited.
I thought about my husband, I loved him but I resented him, I realized I wanted to punish him. That's not the whole picture though, I realize I wanted to do things that he would never do with me. So straight laced, so judgemental. I'm 28 now, not a teenager any more, my 20's are nearly over, if I don't break out and experience life now then when will I ever.
I had met the author of that message a few months earlier. My sister and me went to London for a weekend, tourist stuff, museums, shows, cocktails... We had a nice time. On the way back the airline sat us apart, I got chatting to the guy sitting next to me. We chatted and chatted and chatted about everything and nothing. The next day he added me on Linkedin. I didn't accept until several weeks later, I was scared, he was older. Scared, but also quietly brave. I wanted to broaden my horizons so why not be friends with an older guy in another city. I eventually accepted.
He replied a day later, he complimented my profile picture. I liked it when I read the compliment. Of course, I knew deep down that I shouldn't like it or shouldn't be encouraging this guy, but then again, I wasn't actually encouraging him - that much. Plausible deniability. My husband is so strict and straight laced, I like it but I resent it too, the way I reacted to a stranger complimenting my photo made me resent him for being so controlling and boring. Maybe I am missing something and maybe need someone to help me to fill in the missing pieces, maybe this is the guy. I deserve it.
I invented a conference that I had to go to. I wasn't hard to find one, there are like 1000 conferences every day in London. My husband dropped me off at the airport early on Friday morning. It was an interior design conference, I told him they always take place over the weekend. I was wearing my usual preppy jeans and jumper and converse. I told him I would be back on Sunday night.
Browsing around the shops in the airport terminal I tried on a skirt and top. I would never wear these in my home town, my husband would hate them. The skirt is way shorter than anything I own, and lighter material. The top too, lighter-tighter-shorter than anything I own. Not that it was so ridiculously short though, about 2 inch gap between the skirt and the top, nothing I haven't seen 1000 girls wearing. I've been going to the gym 4 times a week since high school, now I told myself time to finally get value for all that effort. A few times before this I had tried on these types of clothes but not had the courage to actually buy then. Maybe it was a release from the control of my husband to see myself in sexy clothes. Once I had bought a really short skirt and sexy bra top, way smaller than this one, but I lost my nerve and tossed them on the walk home. That was before I even met my husband, so he was not the only one controlling me, I was repressed or afraid or something too. I felt some determination now, I need to live a little...
The top showed the shape of my bra and the straps of the top were thin so they didn't cover the bra straps, it was kind of all-out-there as far as straps. My husband hates that, I had heard him commenting on girls with that exact look.
I bought them.
I put the skirt in my suitcase for later and took the top with me into the toilet cubicle. I came out wearing the top and my jeans, rocking that extra-strap look that my husband hates. I was determined to be brave, I resisted the urge to cover up again, I put my sweater in my suitcase to force myself to get used to feeling on display. I could feel people looking - a bit. But lets be honest, not that much. I was not actually being all that brave, as I said 1000 girls dress like this every day, its not so revealing. But, I also couldn't stop myself from looking, I wandered around the shops and checked myself in every mirror.
On board the first flight when the stewardess came I had a 10am GnT. I went to the bathroom, looking in the mirror, admiring myself, I unhooked my bra and slipped it out from under my top. My nipples protruded, it seemed like they protruded a lot, I must have been in there ages, the more I looked at my nipples poking out through my top and wondered if I had the courage to walk back to my seat like this the more I got turned on and the more erect they got. In the end I chickened out and put the bra back on before going back.
I had a stopover, stupid backwater, no direct flights to anywhere. I spent the time browsing shops again. It was nearly time to board the next flight and I spotted a shoe shop, the only shoes I had with me were my converse and some black office type flats, I needed something else. I tried on some white heels with stones. Caught myself in the mirror and instantly fancied my taller leggier self!
On the next plane had an 11am GnT. Went to the bathroom again, didn't loose my nerve this time, I guess the GnT's helped. I steadied myself and put my bra in my purse. I had always been really conscious about my nipples, my husband had reinforced it once or twice, so I never let them visibly protrude my clothes, always wore a bra with padding. My nipples were now sticking through this top like tent poles. Fuck him, who does he think he is reinforcing my self-consciousness, suppressing me. I want to be free. Look them in the eye, I told myself, see if anyone even notices. The reaction was just right, recognition from 1 or 2 game guys, tongue-tied blank stares from 1 or 2 other guys, 'what-ev-er' type looks from 1 or 2 women. In a flight with like 200 people on board that was not a massively overwhelming reaction. Just enough to ever so slightly dip a toe in the exhibitionist water. I liked the feelings, I can handle this, I thought. I want more.
As we disembarked I felt eyes on me. The guys who noticed all took a second look and a third and... I let it happen, I avoided eye contact but I didn't cover up or turn my shoulders away, allowed them to drink me in with their eyes. I felt turned on. As I walked to the passport control I realized I was wet. I had sort of thought about the idea of changing from my jeans to the new skirt before exiting airside but now I was having second thoughts, how could I be so turned on just from men looking at me. Would it show on that skirt, would Jeremy sense it?
As I walked through the airport I thought about Jeremy and all our messages. Suddenly I was unsure of myself, what was my actual plan here. I don't really know this guy, he doesn't really know me, we did not discuss what we were going to do this weekend, he just encouraged me to book the flights. This could go wrong. I felt a little panic rising but then took control of my breathing and calmed myself down and gave myself a pep talk. You 100% know what Jeremy wants this weekend, and you are 100% planning to give it to him, so long as he plays his cards right, otherwise what are you doing here. You want it so own it. He doesn't know you, that's the point, you can try out being any version of yourself that you want. The version of yourself that your husband would never allow you to explore. Fuck that no straps no nipples no fun controlling repressing looser. I read that UK girls are fun and I want fun. I read UK girls are sluts...
With that thought as the exit came into view I swung into the ladies bathroom and changed my jeans for my new skirt. Now I looked the part, the part that I wanted Jeremy to see. The part that I wanted to try out at least for one weekend. There was a huge mirror on the exit from the bathroom, I stopped to review, matching pink top and skirt, jeweled heels, no bra, nipples protruding. Not possible to show more leg without actually showing ass too! As the final touch I allowed my panties peek above the hem of my skirt, not matching, black panties above pink skirt. My husband would absolutely hate that. I was satisfied, it was not me, not the usual me anyway, I was happy to try this version of me at last. I hope you appreciate Jeremy. I can say with certainty that the security guys at the exit appreciated the view.
Jeremy picked me up at the airport. It occurred to me that he was on to the surest thing any guy had ever been on to, he actually didn't have to play his cards at all, he just had to not be a jerk. There he was, same as I remembered him from that flight, nicely dressed, tall, friendly. He was very welcoming, said it was nice to see me again, said he had been looking forward to meeting again. Didn't overtly comment on my appearance, tough nut to crack, I thought to myself, maybe he is not a pushover.
"Its early and its a nice sunny day, shall we hit the Beach?" he asked.
"Great idea," I said.
It was about 45 mins drive to the beach. We chatted, it felt natural, friendly. As we parked up he asked, "Have you packed beach stuff in your case?"
"No," I replied.
"Its OK. I know a place near here," he said cheerfully.
As we walked towards the beach we came to a little boutique and he said "lets pop in here." I looked at a few things and then he said, "Let me buy you a little something to welcome you to the UK." He went straight to the bikini section and picked out the smallest most sheer bikini I could ever have imagined. Actually, scratch that, I just couldn't have imagined it. For a second I was speechless. "Try it on," he said. Since the airport bathroom I had got somewhat used to the skimpiest clothes I had ever worn in public, now I realized that was only one step on the road that I had chosen for this weekend. Jeremy was somehow in tune with that and was opening the doors for me.
I grabbed the bikini, nodded to the shop assistant and went into the fitting room. After a few seconds of adjusting the bikini I realized that no amount of adjusting would make it less revealing, duh, that was actually the point of a sheer bikini. And that was the point of this weekend too. With this bikini I was leaving nothing to anyone's imagination. My nipples were not just protruding any more they were fully visible through the sheer material. Their color, their texture, their shape all clear as if naked. The little triangles were like postage stamps, barely covered my nipples the rest of my breasts were completely outside the top. And the bottom was also tiny, a thong, no coverage at the back and only a tiny see through triangle at the front. In the mirror I could see my pubes through the material, from a lower angle I could imagine my pussy lips would also be fully visible. Thank goodness I trimmed down there. Deep breath. I walked through the curtain and struck a pose in bikini and my new white studded heels. Thank goodness for all that gymming (not to mention intermittent fasting).
"Perfect," he said.
"Lovely," the woman behind the counter said. "You have the figure for it," she added. I let that wash over me, both her comments and also the very fact that a woman I had never met before was commenting on my body. I decided to take the compliment. The feeling of being on display, people feeling free to look at me and even comment on my body was new, zing, I'm alive. Just in case I though she didn't take a good look she added, "Pubes are back in now, girls are not shaving as much, its not 2000's any more."