In my fantasy it is as if I am in a dream or watching myself in a movie- knowing that I am myself but also feeling that in some way I'm not. A vague sense of unreality pervades everything but it is a very pleasant sensation and I feel very confident and very alive.
I am led into an elegant room by my escort. I don't know his name and I refer to him as The Stranger. He opens a door and motions me inside. It is an old fashioned library- walls with shelves of leather covered books, a roaring fire and French windows overlooking the ocean. A group of seven or eight men are standing by the fireplace. They range in age from mid- twenties to middle age. They are dressed in tuxedos and are very handsome, each in his own way. A number of them are holding glasses of champagne. They turn towards me. I feel somewhat shy.
The Stranger takes my elbow and guides me towards the group. I am wearing a long, blue satin skirt with a romantic design of small, intricate flowers, high heels and nylons and an old fashioned, gossamer thin, white silk blouse. As I walk towards the men I realize that I am not wearing a bra. I feel my breasts swaying and when I look down I can see my nipples protruding through the thin, clinging material. Somehow this doesn't bother me, as if this is an appropriate way for me to be dressed for this group.
The men look at me with admiring glances and the atmosphere of the room is filled with a warm, almost affectionate glow. Immediately I feel very welcome and accepted. One of the men, in his late fifties and very distinguished, raises his glass to me. "Lovely, so very lovely", he says in a Sean Connery Scottish burr.
The other men murmur their agreement. As I get closer to them I can't help but notice that some of the men are dropping their gaze to my blouse. Acting out of character, I stand up straight and thrust my chest out to display my breasts, emphasizing them, pleased that I can offer the men such pleasure.
The Stranger hands me a glass of champagne and the others gather around, making me the center of their group. I make small talk with them and after a short while it is as if I am with old, dear friends, sharing a special time. The men compliment me- calling me pretty and lovely and beautiful. I bask in their adoration, feeling almost worshipped by my new group of friends.
A hand goes around my waist and The Stranger draws me close and whispers in my ear. He tells me that the men are enchanted with me. He turns me towards him, reaches out and unbuttons the top of my blouse. My initial reaction is shock but I trust him and let him continue until my blouse is undone and hangs loose. I feel my friends' rapt concentration as The Stranger progressively bares my breasts. Part of me wants to stop him but another part is becoming swept up in the thrill and excitement. He slips the blouse off my shoulders and places it on a chair. I am standing naked from the waist up in front of a group of men.
The men look at me awestruck. I revel in being the source of such radiant attention and welcome their fond gazes. Our conversation resumes. When I laugh at a witty remark my breasts jiggle and I sense the men looking at them. But after a while I lose any sense of discomfort or inhibition and it seems as if it is a very natural and simple thing for me to be standing in front of these men, my new friends, my breasts available for them to enjoy.