Amy Lynn Steele had an uneasy feeling in her stomach as she placed her bare feet onto the cool slate tiled floor of the bathroom and checked her watch. She knew she was not late, in fact she was running almost a half hour early, an almost unheard of phenomenon in her busy life. Now she hesitated, but not because she was getting ready a half hour early and could afford the time to lallygag a bit, but because on the bathroom vanity lay a satchel of provocative clothes. Twice she started to pick up the bag, and twice she put it back down. There would have been no hesitation if she was going to wear the little uniform for her husband, but with her husband's boss and co-workers in the house, Amy knew what sort of image she would be presenting them.
As the sounds of skates sliding over ice reached her ears, and the pre-game babble of excited announcers began their coverage of the first game of the Stanley Cup Final's, Amy reached into the bag and pulled out the colorful uniform. It hardly made for a handful of clothing, and with a surge of courage that came from the conflict of exhibitionism and fear, Amy began to slide her petite frame into the same cheerleading uniform she had squeezed her body into only six months before.
Her husband Gary certainly was not perfect, but he had spent the last ten years married to a wench that did not appreciate his dedication to his children. For years he had went without luxuries to provide for his family, only to have to fight for every nickel and dime he could get at the divorce hearing. As his new wife, Amy wanted to right that wrong and had a two part plan to give her sports-crazed husband a perfect Superbowl Sunday.
The first part came with the delivery of a large screen television. Costing more than her engagement and wedding rings combined, Amy had signed the loan agreement for the plasma screen television without hesitation and was not surprised to learn that a his co-workers and boss would be joining him for the festive football day, eager to see the ultimate game on the ultimate television. Continuing with that ultimate theme, Amy received another delivery, but this time it was much smaller and much less expensive. Parading around in a sassy cheerleading outfit, Amy knew she would be the ultimate host for her husband's Super Bowl Party.
For the Superbowl Party however, Amy was not as much nervous as much as she was excited. Knowing her husband would be thrilled to have his beautiful wife dress the part, she remembered putting on the tight uniform. Everything about the uniform was wrong; from the predominately dark crimson red color of the uniform she ordered to match the colors of her husband's team, to the tight stretchy fabric. She had ordered it a size smaller than what she normally wore, and was not disappointed when the polyester top clung tightly to her chest, billowing out and hinting at the extra cleavage that such a tight top produced. The bottom half of the outfit did not disappoint either. The soft pleated skirt clung tightly to her shapely hips and bottom with a hemline that hovered well above the halfway point from her waist to her knees. She knew most cheerleaders did not wear nylons underneath their skirts, but to give her winter legs a tanned and evenly toned look, Amy opted for them on that cold blustery January day. The very sheer, tan nylons almost were invisible however when she laced up her red and white canvas shoes over matching red and white slouch socks. Stepping out from the kitchen with a tray full of finger rolls and a handful of long necks, Amy distinctly remembered the look of amazement on the men's faces as she strutted about the room and delivered the food.
"Now this is a perfect Superbowl Party," she remembered Jack saying as he grinned at Gary.
"I'd say," came his boss's reply. "A great T.V. and an even better hostess. You got it made my friend."
Amy did not bother to ruin the moment with words. She was content to let the men look at their hostess with awe as she delivered their beers and let them pick the diminutive sandwiches of tuna, ham and egg salad. She made her delivery to her husband last and added a kiss to his cheek for added measure before sitting down beside him. As she placed her long legs onto the coffee table and cracked her own beer, Gary could not help but ask her about her recent deluge of generosity.
"What do I owe you for all of this?"
"Nothing, you're a good husband, you deserve this," Amy said, watching his hand slowly sink to her thigh and gently rub it right up to the hemline of the short pleated skirt. She also watched as the other two men looked on with jealousy. Amy only gave her husband a wanton smile that promised the outfit would come off in the heat of passion later that night.
For much of the game Amy played the part of hostess well, fetching beers, retrieving trays of food and making sure their empty bottles were promptly picked up. Between these tasks, she drank a few beers herself, watched as much of the game as her hostess duties allowed and struck up a conversation with her husband's boss. They had a few things in common and the two chatted up quite the storm between stoppages in plays, commercials and the endless statistics that the announcers never seemed to tire from reciting.
As another commercial presented itself upon yet another stoppage of play, Gary excused himself to go to the bathroom while Amy was beginning to crave a cigarette. Since Gary did not smoke, a concession was made that she could only smoke in the garage and as she made her way there, Gary's boss followed her.
As Amy leaned up against Gary's workbench puffing smoke out of her lungs, his boss promptly lit up a cigar and blew smoke rings as their conversation continued between their inhalation of the toxic smoke. As they chatted, Amy was sure she could see the mans crotch, bulging from an erection he was trying to suppress.
She was not offended, for Amy knew what sort of image she presented in the skimpy cheerleading outfit and tried not to smile as the unheated garage made her chilly, and thus made her nipples stand out just a bit more. Trying to hide what her own body could not, Amy turned from the man as she pretended to look out the back window at the snow drifting around the hedge. As she did so, it was just the situation Gary's boss was hoping for.
