I don't know about you, but I really love the processes of getting ready for a party - the planning, the anticipation, the feel of out-of-the-ordinary textures on my skin. I love pulling up my fanciest silk stockings, my delicate lace panties, my favorite corset. Shimmying into my black silk slip is its own pleasure too as I feel it so lightly cascading down the curves of my body. And finally, I run my fingers over my green velvet dress for tonight, enjoying the movement of the fine fibers under my touch as I prepare it on my bed.
Ah, but there isn't so much time for this - or I will be late. So, let me work my way quickly into my dress, stretching and wiggling to zip up the back, with an extra wiggle to squeeze my breasts in. I smooth the fabric over my body and adjust my cleavage for maximum effect. Tonight will be special. I can feel it.
A final touch of perfume - a little musky tonight dominated by rich floral smells. I chose it as I know I will see you tonight and I hope you will get close enough to smell it and remember that brief moment at the lodge last fall, when we very literally bumped into each other in the hall. My hand on your breast...I am sure I felt your firm nipple through your blouse. I was flustered, embarrassed, flushed with an unexpected desire. You smiled and said you liked my perfume. And left to join your husband who was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.
It's a miserable February evening now. The late winter half-rain half-snow obscures the streetlights, my breath on the window obscuring them even more. And now the car pulls up at your drive. My husband hops out and leads me to your door with his arm - his umbrella sheltering us both.
And then the door is open and there you are - glowing from the warmth of the fire, the excitement of hosting, maybe from wine.
"Oh! I'm so glad you could make it!" you say, beckoning us both in and giving a quick kiss on the cheek of my husband. And then you grab my hands, pulling me deeper into your house.
"I'm so glad you are here," you say, this time quieter, just to me. Your gaze holds mine for a beautiful moment and I feel a quickening of my breath.
"I'm delighted to be invited," I say, smiling. I'm hoping I come across as coy and cool, but to be honest, it's not easy to be my usual self when you're so close, your hands grabbing mine.
I would run my thumb along the curve of your wrist in that moment, but remember just in time that my husband is two feet away and your house is brimming with guests. Also, we've met three times and the most recent time, I bumped into you and accidentally fondled your breast.
You let one of my hands drop, but hold onto the other in order to lead me into the party.
"Come, darlings," you say, laughing, "Let's get you something to drink and get you sociable."
It's a lovely party. A nice mix of people, sophisticated, well-dressed, funny. The room filled with easy chatting and you, like a swallow making its nest, darting energetically from group to group, filling glasses, encouraging conversation, bringing everyone in. It's a skill to craft a party like this one and I watch in admiration, both of your natural social grace and of your elegant movements accentuated by your tight, sparkling dress in the firelight. I catch myself watching the golden shimmer on the beautiful curve of your ass.
And then you're next to me.
"Something more to drink? Something to eat? Are you quite comfortable? Or maybe a little bored?" Your eyes sparkle and you raise your eyebrow while examining my reaction.
I laugh, delighted to have you close and looking at me in this way.
"This party is absolute perfection! You are a master," I say, looking in your eyes and gently grabbing your arm for emphasis (or maybe just to touch you). Your skin is so soft and surprisingly cool considering that I feel like I'm getting a little too warm. I let my fingers trace their way down your forearm. I catch myself and smile in a way that I hope is friendly, non-intrusive and certainly not full of the pulsing tightness I feel in my chest.
Your eyebrow twitches and you have a smile that is...amused? Intrigued? Turned on, I realize with a small shudder that shifts the tightness from my chest to my pussy. I could die happily in this moment, surrounded by all these laughing people, with our husbands chatting to each other on the other side of the room, you here next to me lively and close enough to breathe in. And me with my warm pussy in my now decidedly-wet lacy panties.
"Let me cool your drink," you say, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the nearby table. The smile is still on your lips, your sparkling blue eyes not leaving mine and becoming somehow darker, more intense.
It happens in a moment - the warmth of my chest suddenly invaded by a line of very cold, very wet champagne. I can feel it spilling over the large soft curve of my right breast, slipping into the depths of my cleavage and settling, shockingly, uncomfortably into the supporting line of my corset.