It was our 7th wedding anniversary and we were meeting our married friends, Jack and Holly, for dinner. The cat calls began as soon as Pearl walked out the door. She was taking the kids to the sitters. “Whewww, Pearl, you look hot!,” blurted our neighbor Vikki. She did. A tight, black, leather mini-skirt (one size too small), sheer, black hose and 4 inch black heels.
We arrived at Jack and Holly’s house. I was carrying the rum and Pearl was getting the stares. The black guy, whose house we were parked in front of, was taking out the trash when he saw her, clacking her heels on the sidewalk and throwing her ass around. He stopped mid-stride and gaped at Pearl’s juicy ass and primped legs. I caught his eye and I smirked. He hazily acknowledged my voyeuristic moment with a ghetto-nod, but couldn’t look away from that bait; he was in a trance.
We walked in and announced ourselves. Holly called for us to “come upstairs.” Jack was just getting out of the shower and welcomed Pearl with a flattering “WOW!” Holly froze, flashed an approving grin, then told Jack to “hurry up!” Holly was more reserved and dressed as such. A festive colored, flowing dress.