We spent some time working out how Richard could watch me having sex with Trent. In the end we just decided to go for a drink with Trent, and then back to our flat for something to eat, and see what happened.
I phoned Trent and all of a sudden he had a few suggestions. At first he said he wanted me to make it obvious to Richard that I was his girl for the night. I told Trent about us three going for a drink first, he said he would rather it was just me and him. I said that would probably be okay.
I had already asked Trent about when we went home, if he minded Richard wearing women's clothes. Trent said it was okay as long as Richard didn't look like a drag queen. I explained what Trent would see, I said there would be, no make up, and no wig and Richard would only talk if he was asked something. Trent said it sounded okay. I said he had to promise not to laugh at Richard. He said he wouldn't.
You know apart from wanting Trent between my legs again, I was really hoping Richard would like this experience too. In fact I was more worried about how things would go between Trent and Richard. I told Richard what Trent had said, and Richard told me he was okay with it all. He said a lot more but that was it in a nutshell.
Richard's surprise turned up a few days before Trent came round. I sat on the bed and told him to open the package. He just gulped and flung his arms round me. Two pairs of black shoes were in the box. One had a two inch heel the other a three inch. They were just plain black court shoes. The two inch heeled shoes didn't fit but the three inch fitted perfectly. I told him I'd send the lower ones back.
I instructed him how to walk and to take smaller steps, how to balance on them, and not get complacent, because as soon as he did he would end up on his ass. He did stumble a little a couple of times, but he was better than I thought he would be. He asked how I managed to keep upright on heels twice the height of his. I said I had been wearing them for years, and with high heels you have to find a comfortable pair. Even at that time I wasn't sure about him wearing women's shoes, but I also didn't want him going around in his slippers, or trainers.
So to the big night. I spent a little time looking at the clothes, and in my head I kept reminding myself what Trent had said, "no trying to look sexy and not like a drag queen," so keep that in your head while I describe what Richard wore.
I picked the white bra, white panties, and tan tights I had bought Richard, and the black skirt, and one of my old white blouses. There simple, and something which a woman would wear to work, agreed? I told Richard why I had picked this for him, and he said he understood, he even asked if he shouldn't wear a bra, I said I thought it was okay, because it wasn't a colour one, so it wasn't glaringly obvious. He smiled, he looked nervous but he smiled. I told him to take his shoes off, and put them on when he heard us in the car park.
Like I said in past parts, I get that some people have jumped right into dressing their husbands as sluts, but this had to be right for all three of us, and I didn't want to mess things up for all our sakes, especially Richard's.
I took a couple of photos of Richard on my phone. I told him not to smile, so in the first he was just stood up. In the second I got him to sit on the couch, cross his legs, and look at the telly, so he wasn't looking directly at my phone. I said I would show Trent how he looked, so it wouldn't be a shock when he walked through the door.
Richard is a good cook, and it is something we share between us, deciding on who will make dinner usually depends on who gets home from work first. It was Richard's idea not to eat with us, but he would happily make something and bring it in. I said to keep it simple we'd have a chicken salad, and we bought strawberry trifle.
I let him sit there and watch me get ready. I know this sounds a little strange, but I had in my head that I had to really outdo Richard in what we were wearing. It was more about Richard being pushed in the shadows. I knew Trent would look at him obviously, but I wanted to take away the limelight from what Richard was wearing for his own good. I put on red panties, tan coloured hold up stockings, which I had pulled up as far as I could. I didn't wear a bra. He sat there gawping as I put on my make up. I piled it on quite thick, and I could see he wanted to ask me why. Next came a heavy coat of bright red lipstick, and then I pinned my hair up.
I told Richard to pull out the box from under the bed. He took the lid off and moved the paper. He looked at me in shock. I put it all on. The skirt was sky blue, and came to just above mid thigh. The jacket was sky blue, and the hat was sky blue with a little pair of silver wings on the front. I even had sky blue high heels.
I waited for a question, but he seemed struck dumb. Finally stuttering words came out. So there I was Jenny the airhostess. I must admit I looked bloody good, and overdoing my make up I looked like the real thing. I guess the suit wasn't that obvious that it was from a fancy dress shop, not until you factored in the length of the skirt, and I wasn't wearing a blouse so there was a bit of cleavage peeping out, as well as my "slut wife" locket. Finally after what seemed like a long time he smiled, and asked me where the plane was parked. I said the skirt was too short for me to be the real thing. He nodded a little, but said everything else was right, although I should be wearing a blouse if I wanted men to think I really was a cabin girl.
I wore a coat to the pub, but I still got looks from guys who spotted the hat. I text Trent to say I was outside, and could he come and get me. I don't mind walking into pubs on my own, but I wanted to meet him outside first. I undid my coat as I saw the door swing open. He actually stopped and gawped at me. The first words from his mouth came out, "fucking hell."
I took my coat off outside the pub, and we walked in. I'm quite used to getting looked at, but everyone in the pub looked at me, some eyes lingered, some came back to me a few times. Trent asked me why I was wearing it. I said I wanted to wear something different. He laughed.
Even at 7 o'clock in the pub there were a few men who looked like they were drunk. One of them came up to us, and stood there swaying a little. He said he thought air hostesses were amazing, and they always looked like they had just stepped out of a salon. He asked me what airline I worked for. Trent told him I worked on a private jet for a rich Arab. The guy took it all in. He said I had sexy legs, and Trent said the Arab made me wear my skirts short. He said something about that not being right. Trent said she gets a little bonus for wearing it, and turning a blind eye to wandering hands. The drunk stumbled away then.
Then I heard, "Jenny, is that you?"
