She Wore White Long Johns

She didn't actually stare at me. She didn't hold strong eye contact and our gazes didn't really linger on each other. But she certainly looked at me rather more than most women do at other women. She certainly made strong eye contact, albeit fleetingly, and certainly her glances swept across my face looking into my eyes before moving on to catch those of one of the other glamorous people at her table.

I was in a hotel restaurant with my husband. We were in Tuscany, not far from Florence, but deep in the countryside. It was lovely. The restaurant catered for the hotel guests, the visitors staying in the country houses and estates dotted round the heavily wooded, Tuscan hillsides and the locals. My husband had business meetings in the hotel and nearby and I was able to tag along and enjoy the beautiful countryside, great hotel and fabulous food? It was actually just out of season, being early May, and the hotel was sparsely occupied, which suited me down to the ground as I would be alone a lot of the time and I wouldn't have the other guests staring at me wondering why I was alone.

We were at a table for two in the dimly lit, noisy and very atmospheric hotel restaurant. It was a long, but rather narrow room with tables along each side with a couple of metres between the two rows. I was facing into the restaurant, my husband was looking at me and the brick wall behind me. I was the lucky one with the view. Opposite us on the other side of room there was a larger table. I never did work out just how many were at the table, somewhere between ten and fourteen I guessed, but as they changed places quite a lot and kept going off to the loo or out of the restaurant, it was hard to keep tabs on them. This was before smoking was banned in public places in Italy so they were not popping out for a smoke, but probably for some substance that was as illegal then as it is now, they all seemed very buzzy!

She was sitting at the end of the table, directly over Kevin's shoulder. Her carver chair was turned away from the table a little, facing out towards the room and pointed towards us. It was her boots which first caught my attention. They were knee length, black and made from that so soft leather that you only seem to see in Italy. They were gorgeous and, I thought, outrageously sexy. They had a turnover, of probably an inch or so at the top, and a lace running round the top of the boots beneath that. Each lace had a little, silver stud on it which stood out in stark contrast to the blackness of the leather and were tied in a bow at the front.

She had shoulder length, hair that was as black as her boots and a dusky complexion. She looked mixed race, but with a strong Eurasian input; she was beautiful. She had big, eyes, full lips and the high, prominent cheekbones, which gave her the Eastern look.

It was our first night at the hotel having flown into Pisa the day before. We had spent yesterday in Florence, shopping and wandering around the gorgeous old streets and buildings, simply loving the atmosphere. Kevin had rented a Mercedes and we had driven out to Spirensi this afternoon. I'd spent some time in the spa, having a great massage and a couple of treatments, so I was feeling good and hoped I looked that way as well. I had been on a diet recently and had lost some weight, so I was down to a nearly respectable one forty pounds. I do have this problem with my weight in that I put it on easily, but also do not have that much trouble losing it; the problem is it seems to mostly go on and then come off two places, mainly, my 'tits and ass.' So my most vital of statistics range from a comfortable 'weight off' of 34 C, to an uncomfortable and plays havoc with my golf swing, 35 D and occasionally even DD. That makes for murder with my bras, as I am often either, bursting out of them for they are too tight or, they are slipping around my boobs for they are too loose. The solution is bloody expensive, two sets of bras.

We were waiting for our starters when I first noticed her. She was wearing, what looked like, white leggings tucked into the boots and a beige, sleeveless garment with large, silver buttons up the front, even though a number of those seemed to be undone; I couldn't make out, and didn't dare look too closely, to see if it was a dress or a coat or what? Under that, she was wearing what looked to be a long, sleeved, round necked, white tee shirt type of thing. She looked gorgeous. As I sipped my punt e mes aperitif and looked at the menu, I saw her turn her chair away from the table and stretch her legs out. That was what first caught my attention and caused me to look up. My eyes ran up the boots, the white leggings, the beige garment and upwards to her face. That makes it sound as though it took a long time. It didn't, it was just a quick glance, but I felt embarrassed when she caught me looking so I quickly looked back at the menu. I couldn't, for some reason, resist lifting my eyes again and once more she caught me looking at her. She looked away, but then she seemed to stretch her leg further and lift her one foot off the floor a short distance. As she did, her skirt rode up a little and I saw more of her white leggings. They had a slight, silky sheen to them.

The waiter asked for our orders, I chose a, small, sea food risotto and roast veal. Kevin asked for pasta and rabbit and ordered a bottle of Gavi di Gavi and a half bottle of a good Chianti.

It really was an odd sensation being seated opposite my husband and looking past him at this amazingly attractive and hugely sexy woman who seemed to be putting on a bit of a show or, even, I thought to myself reluctantly, coming on to me; surely not, I thought when I looked away from her? I kept glancing up and down her table to see if there was someone she was 'playing' to, but couldn't see anyone. 'Surely she isn't putting on the show just for me?' I thought. As I looked up and down the people at that table, I saw they were a very glamorous bunch. Most of the men were very handsome and all of the women were attractive. There was a lot of female flesh on show, I noticed. I had, at first, assumed they were Italian and certainly some were, but most were probably either, Dutch or Danish, maybe Swedish. They spoke in a variety of languages with a lot being said in what was likely to be the most common language of English.

Waiting for my starter and sipping the delicious white wine, I saw that she was in deep conversation with a couple to her right. She was slightly turned away from me, giving me the opportunity to look more closely and take my time. Kevin was talking about the property deal he was negotiating and, as usual, that was going well over my head. Feigning to be listening attentively to him, I was able to take more time looking at the unusual situation in general and this extraordinary woman in particular.

I guessed that she was in her late twenties, some five to seven years younger than me, although checking for any face wrinkles was difficult in the dim light. She was slim and probably quite tall, willowy was the term that came to mind. She frequently brushed her black hair away from her face and as she did the dress gaped suggesting that all of the buttons, certainly at the top were undone; 'Very strange' I thought. As she raised her arm the white material was stretched across her breasts. They were quite small, B cup at most, but I noticed, with a totally untypical quickening of my pulse, that she didn't appear to be wearing a bra.

As the waiter was serving my risotto I was looking past him and Kevin right at the girl. She had, once more, pushed the hair from her face and was holding a long lock in place on the top of her head with her hand. She was side on to me with her face turned away as she chatted with some colleagues along the table. I had a perfect view of the outline of her left breast and could see the slight bulge in the white material caused by her nipple. If she was wearing a bra, it must have been an incredibly thin one.

"Are you listening to me?" Kevin asked.

I pulled my gaze away from the girl and focused on my husband, but I couldn't help seeing that as I looked away from her she looked at me.

"Yes, sorry darling," I said placing my hand on his, "I was looking at the group on the table over there and wondering what they are and do?"

He turned his head over his right shoulder, which was away from the girl in white.

"You and your people watching," he laughed adding. "They do look a glam and interesting lot, I have to say."

As he was looking to his right, I glanced over his left shoulder. She was laid back in her chair, her legs stretched before her pointing towards us, with her face turned to her right looking up the table. She was smoking. After taking a drag she put her head back and blew the smoke towards the ceiling, which straightened her neck and again stretched the material over her breasts; it was a hugely erotic pose.

"I have to leave early tomorrow Mands," Kevin was saying as I saw the girl turning her chair back towards the table. She pulled it in towards the end of the table and slid her legs under it. "I'll be gone all day, but the weather forecast is good."

"Great, that means I can get some sun."

"Yes you should, they forecast mid twenties."

"What's that in proper heat?"

"Nearly eighty."

"I probably won't be back until late."

"That's fine, I'll have room service and watch TV, just give me a call."

"Of course."

We were now well into our main courses, whereas on the other table they were into espressos and grappas and the like. I saw her throwing her head back and laughing, leaning back in her chair sipping her liquor, leaning forward putting her chin on her hand and then pushing her chair back again. Several times she turned her face and glanced at me, twice catching me looking at her. Both times I looked away, but then looked back and once found her still staring. She held my gaze, I couldn't tear it away, a slight smile was on her lips.

"But I will be here all day Wednesday, I have meetings in the hotel," Kevin was saying as my mind went into a complete whirl.

She had pushed her chair back and was standing up. She was taller than I had thought. She said something to a couple with their backs towards me; they all laughed, with her showing a set of very white teeth. As she turned a little towards me, still talking and laughing with the others I saw that the beige, garment was a mid-thigh, length type of waistcoat; all the buttons were undone. One of the guys sitting facing me at the table, pointed at her waistcoat and said something. She looked down, grabbed the hem of the waistcoat and said something in the same language; it sounded like a swear word. Several people laughed, but she looked annoyed. She removed the waistcoat, held it up and looked closely at what was clearly a stain or something. She said something to the table as a whole and bent forward to stub out her cigarette. As she did, she turned away from me a little and bent forward giving me direct views of her pert, rounded bottom in the tight white leggings and of her unfettered breasts hanging down from her body in the thin material of her top. I had never experienced such feelings looking at a woman before. But if they were intense then, the strength of them went off the Richter scale when she glanced at me, held my gaze for a moment or two then casually walked towards me, a few paces and then turned and walked away from me down the restaurant carrying the waistcoat in her hands in front of her.

I had to say something to Kevin.

"I know how much you like to look at sexy girls darling, so look to your right, now."

He turned at just the right moment.

"Bloody hell, what is she wearing?"

"Looks like modern long johns don't they?" I said as we both stared at the beautifully undulating bottom and long slender legs walking away from us down the restaurant. Clearly, with the way that the thin material clung to each cheek, they were uncovered under it and the most, if anything, she had on under the leggings was the tiniest of thongs, although I could see no wrinkles or bumps at all.

Chapter 2

"I bet you would have liked to have kissed her wouldn't you?"

"No, I've told you loads of times, I don't think like that."

"But she excited you didn't she?"

"Interested maybe, not excited as such."

"What's the difference."

"This excites me," I said stroking Kevin's cock.

"What's the difference between this," he said thrusting himself in my hand, "And this?" He asked, sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I smiled thinking 'Men never understand how women can be interested in other women in a totally theoretical way, how we can admire another female's beauty or sexiness without actually fancying them.' I said.

"I've told you I don't fancy women," I stroked his cock and pushed my nipple more firmly into his mouth. "I only like cock."

Kevin rolled me onto my front. I lay there my arms to the side, bent at the elbows, my hands under my forehead. He pulled my legs open.

"She did look fantastic though, didn't she?" He asked as he lay on my back between my open legs.

For some time now, Kevin had been whingeing on about how he would like to see me with another woman. He just didn't seem to be able to accept that I have no interest in having sex with another female. He gets so confused because I can say. "Wow isn't she pretty?" or "She has nice tits," without wanting to get closer to her. I don't think he understands the concept that most, or at least some, women are like most, or at least some, men and are completely heterosexual.

As his hands wiggled round my body and under me to grasp my breasts and as the tip of his cock nuzzled against my lips I murmured.

"Yes Kevin she did look fantastic."

As indeed I thought she had. Both as she walked away from us, her bottom wiggling in the most seductive manner and undulating from side to side and, as five minutes or so later, she walked back up the length of the restaurant. I am sure that on both journeys, nearly every eye in the room followed her every move. Mine certainly did I recalled, as Kevin's sank his erection into me, squeezed my breasts and pinched my nipples. I pushed back at him loving the feeling of being filled from behind.

As she had walked back I got a closer look at the white outfit. It essentially was a pair of old fashioned long johns of the style worn by cowboys; it was one piece not, as I had earlier thought, a vest and leggings. It had a rounded collar, long sleeves and three or four buttons at the neck. It fitted her tightly, clinging to her small breasts, slim waist, rounded hips, pert bottom and lithe legs almost like a second skin. Of course it was made from a more modern material, maybe cotton or a light wool and silk, that had some 'stretchiness' in it for the garment moved with her body as she elegantly and sexily walked the walk of lust in that restaurant. As an avid reader of Vogue, Marie Claire and visitor to top fashion shops in London, I had never seen anything like it. White, silky, long johns tucked into black leather, knee length boots. She certainly was an artist at putting an outfit together that said just one thing, "I want to be fucked." And I would not be a bit surprised if practically every diner, male and female, would have liked to oblige.

Even as Kevin started thrusting in and out of me, pushed my long, chestnut coloured hair to one side, kissed and licked my neck and continued squeezing my breasts, half of my thoughts were on her.

"You're thinking about her aren't you?" He suddenly said.

"Yes a little," I said as the sensations built up in my pussy and breasts as my husband fucked me and we talked about another woman.

"What are you thinking?"

"What a nice wiggle she had."

"You mean the way her arse wobbled?" He grunted thrusting hard at me.

"Yes, and the way her boobs looked."

"Like she clearly wasn't a bra, for you could see her nipples through the top, couldn't you?"

"Yes," I gasped lifting myself a tad to slightly change his angle of penetration and thus the depth. It felt lovely.

I was thinking of those things, but also of something else. That was, as she went from her table to the loo and as she returned, she had to walk towards our table. On both trips her gaze seemed to lock onto mine. It was as though both of us just had eyes for each other. It was as though we were the only people there. It was as though she was putting on a show just for me. It was as though she was flaunting herself at me. Yes, it was as though she was putting on an exhibitionist show for my eager voyeuristic pleasure.

So, as my husband fucked me to a satisfying orgasm, we were both thinking about the amazing exhibition we had both witnessed in the hotel restaurant earlier.

Chapter 3

Kevin was up and away early the next day. I had a leisurely breakfast on the balcony of our room taking in the early, well nine o' clock, sun. I had checked the forecast and was delighted to hear that, despite the time of year the temperature was going to be in the mid eighties with sun all day. That was not the picture for later in the week for some rain was moving down from the Alps.

'I have to make the best of today then' I was thinking, as I bathed, did my finger and toe nails, put on some make up, fixed my shoulder-length, chestnut coloured hair up in a loose bun and trimmed my bikini line. I slipped into a black bikini with fashionably, but unexcitingly, I thought, full, quite high-waisted panties. The bra was cut acutely across my breasts and left little margin for error when moving. 'Not really a swimsuit is it Mands?' Kevin had said when I had worn it on our last holiday.

I slid a red, voile sundress on and slipped into a pair of mid height, strappy sandals. I got my books, sun oil and other bits and pieces, put on my D & G big sunglasses and set off for the pool.

Apart from the guy who looked after the towels and beds and doubled as a waiter, I was the only one in the small pool area. I lay down and didn't remember a thing until I heard laughter and loud talking in the slightly guttural language interspersed with some Italian and English that I had heard in the restaurant last night. Looking up I saw some of the group from that table last night, but alas, not her. There was six or seven blokes and two girls bunched together on sunbeds and chairs on the opposite side and more towards the other end of the pool. They would have had to walk right past me to get where they were and I was surprised they hadn't woken me then. They really were a glamorous group and, like many people on holiday I wondered just what they did, who they were and where they came from?

I was able to lay back, behind my shades and just stare and I liked that. I was watching them so intently I hadn't heard the gate to the pool complex opening and my heart leaped when I saw she was walking past. I looked up thinking I might catch her eye and, perhaps, gain some acknowledgement; a nod, a smile, a hello or something. But no, nothing, she totally blanked me.

She was wearing a black jacket, that's all you could call it. Made from a very thin material, it was a bit like a man's double breasted dinner jacket, for it had plunging lapels, but unlike the other garment this had a tie round the waist. That was pulled tight, leaving the 'skirt' part of the jacket to flair out over her hips making them appear even more rounded than they had looked to be in the 'long johns' last night. Her dark hair was in a pony tail and she too was wearing fashionably big and dark glasses. On her feet she was wearing high heeled pumps with her toes pushed into a little strand of transparent plastic. The wiggle, as she strolled round the pool to her friends, was as enticingly erotic as it had been on her 'walk of lust' in the restaurant the night before.