You look in the mirror quickly to make sure your makeup is just right. All around you, other beautiful women are trying to look their best, getting in and out of risqué lingerie. In the background you can hear the emcee...
"Next, we have date number 67, Miss Lora Dunning." Applause. "Miss Dunning is wearing the Fireman's Daughter ensemble."
You remember that one from the racks of lingerie and sexy outfits you were given to choose from. All it had were suspenders over the nipples and a fire red panty. Well, there was a hat and boots too, but that wasn't the point. From the bidding, you can tell that Lora is earning a lot of money for the charity.
"Number 68 is Veronica Swallow in the Devil's Angel..."
You ignore the emcee, strutting up to the entrance point, thrilling in your brief gold satin lingerie and heels. You wonder if anyone around you is as turned on as you are, strutting in front of a crowd of strangers, only the barest fabric between you and their hungry eyes. You make sure your breasts are displayed proudly and listen for your cue.
Veronica comes off the stage flush with embarrassment. You feel so excited you might return flush from an orgasm.
"Number 69 is Emma Thomas in Midas Gold..."
You step out into a halo of bright lights. You strut down the runway, relying on memory to guide your 4" heels until your eyes adjust. The ballroom is packed with elegant men and women, every one of them watching you. You can't take the time to look into their eyes, but you feel the heat, the desire, warming you and lifting you. Every swish and step feels like a stroke of your pussy.
You reach the end of the runway. The emcee is starting to take bids. You aren't aware of the numbers but its fast and getting high quickly. You pause and risk sliding a hand down to your panties and giving yourself a quick stroke, in front of everyone. You swoon as your pussy clenches with pleasure and you cum hard. It makes it impossible for you to move, let alone strut back up the runway. It's all you can do to not moan out loudly or slide to the runway.
The bidding rockets upward as the waves of pleasure wash over your body. You can feel your wetness and know that everyone can see the spot in your panties now. Finally the music shifts as your cue to leave the stage. You start slowly, teetering a little on the heels from your trembling orgasm but making it back stage just as you hear "50 thousand dollars is the winner!"
The backstage is silent as the audience roars with applause. You walk slowly back to the dressing rooms and feel the stares of all the other women. They didn't see your 'performance'. They just know that you just got a bid five times higher than anyone else in the charity auction.
.-.
"Emma, I'm so pleased to meet you," said the suave man in the tuxedo. He takes your hand and plants a firm kiss on your flesh, a kiss that makes you tingle. This is the man who wrote a check for $50,000 just for the privilege of taking you out on a date.
'This will probably be pretty good,' you think and Lazlo does not disappoint. You learn that he made his fortune in the fashion industry as you ride in a limousine to an exclusive restaurant. The food is wonderful and the wine leaves you deliciously heady. You can still feel the pleasures of your runway orgasm and you look Lazlo up and down with hopes for more.
Lazlo is perhaps in his early forties but as fit as a runway model. There are streaks of grey in his full black hair, but his startling blue eyes flash with youthful passion.
The end of dinner is a slow affair, the conversation dying down only to have the body language heat up. Finally, you slide your hand under the table and touch his raging erection.
"Perhaps you'd like to show me your home?"
