The roses arrived late in the day, just as DiAnne was finishing up her day and preparing to walk the few steps to her home, and embark on her daily hike in the nearby rural hills of Southwestern Ohio.
Her job as a financial advisor was demanding at times, and today was especially hectic. Her hikes served as refuge from the world of international finance.
They also gave her opportunity to engage in one of her most private pleasures....masturbating in the quiet solitude, so deep within the forest that her muffled moans of self-gratitude echoed without anyone to hear.
DiAnne was especially possessed of pent-up sexual energy these days. She had been celibate for awhile now, by choice.
Not that there weren't suitors. There were many, always attempting to crack the carnal dam that DiAnne had self-created. But DiAnne, a worldly woman, preferred quality over quantity.
Yet even the strongest dam had to break sometime.
She had recently changed her profile on a dating site and had been overwhelmed by the response of men.
At the age of sixty-three, DiAnne had a face and body that made women a quarter-century her junior shake their heads in envy. And men from twenty-five to seventy-five shake their dicks in admiration.
Five-feet-ten of lean, lithe beauty, spiky blonde hair, alluring blue eyes, and looooong legs. Thoroughbred legs. Legs that would wrap around the back and head and ass of any man fortunate enough to capture her vibrant imagination.
The object of DiAnne's backwoods covert autoeroticism this afternoon, however, would be a man she had only spoken to on the phone, a man hundreds of miles away. How to overcome the zip code obstacle, she mused, almost not paying attention when the office receptionist gleefully announced the floral delivery.
"Ooooh, Di-Annnnnee," Missy called out in a sing-song voice. "You have another admirer."
DiAnne and the younger woman smiled at each other in that conspiratorial way when one knows the other either has been, or is about to be, naughty.
If only that were true in this instance, DiAnne thought to herself, as she waited for Missy to bid good-night before opening the card that accompanied the dozen white roses. She inhaled the fragrance as her long, red fingernails caressed the envelope. She read the words.
"Lunch date tomorrow. Noon. Your office. Thigh-highs and garter is the requested attire. No panties. Await further instructions."
She put the roses in a vase on the conference table next to the small couch, and saw her reflection in the mirror next to the ground-floor window, and pulled up her dress to her belly button. "No panties," she smiled to herself. "My normal business accessory item, anyway. Au natural. Always."
DiAnne's hike and associated self-stimulation session that sweltering July early evening was especially intense.
DiAnne eschewed her normal morning workout the next day. She took extra time pampering and primping herself.
She shaved her already neatly-trimmed strip of blonde pubic hair bare. Her puffy labia seemed frozen in swollen arousal. Her own eloquent motto of a perfect date resonated in her brain. She once described it to her long-distance telephonic and electronic lover this way.
"All I want to do on a date is fuck. And suck, And be sucked. Anywhere. Everywhere. In a quiet booth in a restaurant. In an alley. In the back seat or on the hood of a car. The purpose of a date is not to watch a movie, or eat dinner, or attend a social event. It's to have things to do in between great sex."
DiAnne pondered the possibilities of the day as she smoothed the nude-colored stockings over her shapely calves and thighs. The stockings had a navy blue lace top that connected to a garter of the same color. She kept the panties in the drawer, which of course, was as instructed. She hooked the strapless matching bra over her breasts and admired herself. Sexy, yes. Slutty, maybe.
In other words, perfect.
She next slipped the the royal blue sleeveless dress over her shoulders, which hugged her torso like a glove, accentuating her tight ass, unencumbered by any material. Last, but certainly not least, were the pair of 4-inch stiletto sandals. DiAnne rarely left for a day of work without adorning a pair of stilettos. They served the purpose of allowing her to tower over most men, as they stretched her height to a few inches north of six feet.
He, whoever he was, would like this, she assured herself as she looked in the mirror.
He would like this a lot.
She arrived at work earlier than usual, yet the next box of roses was already tucked into the vestibule of her office. Unbeknownst to her, he surreptitiously watched her reaction from the coffee shop across the street as she stooped to pick up the unexpected delivery.
She had obeyed the instructions, he smiled to himself, as he saw the hint of the lacy stocking tops as she knelt, her legs parting just enough for him to get the confirmation he had hoped for.
She was ready and willing.
Once safely by her desk, she opened this morning's present. Orchids. This time, they were orchids. A mix of vibrant lavender and magenta-hued. Again, she inhaled the delicious aroma that emitted from the flowers, and anxiously opened the card.
"Find reasons to say 'yes'; not excuses to say 'no'. Await further instructions."
"I'm going to have to find a reason to give Missy a paid half-day off today," DiAnne thought to herself. "There's no fucking way I'm going to be able to get anything done today, anyway."
It was difficult to tell which news Missy was happier to hear when she came into the office. The fact that she had a paid afternoon off, or the excitement she shared with her boss when she saw the orchids.
The two of them were giggling like schoolgirls and wondering which one of DiAnne's suitors was the mystery 'instructor' when yet a third package arrived. The square shape of the FedEx box clearly showed that these were not flowers. DiAnne invited Missy to stay so they could be together when Di opened the box.
DiAnne nervously opened the wrapping paper. The cool, calm executive, who had pretty much seen and done it all when it came to being romanced, was legitimately aroused. Her perfectly manicured finger trembled slightly as the contents of the box came into view.
It was a small pink teddy bear, adorable, with a heart-shaped white-gold ankle bracelet wrapped around its furry paw. DiAnne's heart skipped a beat.
