Well I have been letting this one stew a few weeks, since we got back from Vegas. I wasn't sure how to write it. Particularly since it has been a while since I've written anything other than a few short blog entries here and there. But I need to get back to it.
Those of you who know me, know that I change the names, and any dialog I write is as close as I can remember it, but I make no claims that it's dead in. But the stories are true.
So we went to Las Vegas. Paul has a client who works in the Broadcast industry and it seems they have a convention out there every year. He was working most days with engineers and I was a lazybones, sleeping in each day, having long lunches with a book. (I almost never get to read much these days.), and late in the afternoon going by the pool.
In a way, it was kind of discouraging though. Vegas is full of young women with these perfect bodies and I was beginning to feel old and fat. I know, at 42 I am not really old, but honestly, I could not hold a candle to those girls on the best day of my life.
Evenings were sort of discouraging too. Paul dressed me up and I won't lie and say I didn't get more than a few looks with my corseted cleavage and high heels, but still I found myself surrounded by all these young gals, and I was sort of down about it.
Each night, after supper, Paul had to attend some receptions with his client. "Mostly engineers" he told me. I was not looking forward to it. Paul had packed me a lot of pretty sexy things to wear at night, and I had this image of a bunch of old fat engineering geeks slobbering over me. Not a turn on.
But I had promised him I would go, and as it turned out, most of them were really young, just out of college or so, and full of fun. I didn't mind THEIR admiration, and they were full of it.
The first night got pretty flirty, and the second night was more so. The third and last night, there was something in the air, but I had no idea what. Those guys were practically falling over themselves to me. After dinner, We went down to their lounge at the MGM, and danced and drank champagne (I adore champagne, and it seems to losen every bit of reserve I have.) and danced some more.
Do you want to know what I was wearing that third night? Of course you do. You guys are all wired visually. It's a kind of 1940's dress thing Paul bought me. Black pencil skirt, kinda tight and just below the knee with a fairly decent slit in the back. You know the way those 1940s suit skirts hug your hips? This one does that.
The top is a white with black polka dot thing, with black buttons. It's true to the 40's too, with a tight tailored waist and shoulder pads. It looks good buttoned up to the neck, or you can unbutton it a fair amount and it still hangs pretty nicely (and shows as much as you want to show.). I can wear it to church or a bar, with entirely different effect.
I wore my black corset under it, and Paul chose how far to unbutton it, probably one button lower than I would have, just enough to show a bit of the black lace of the corset's bodice. and my cleavage, pretty clearly. Black stockings of course. Heels. Not those things they call CFM heels, but a nice set of 2 1/2" black pumps. I looked good.
