I hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. My husband was delayed on his flight home after a two-week business trip, and the airline was giving him an overnight stay in Cleveland. It was nice that they were paying for the room and his dinner, but still, I wish he was coming home. Some sort of engine trouble, they had said, was keeping me from a night of the hottest sex I could muster up. And I had done my part to be ready for it.
I had my hair done earlier today, as well as putting our black satin sheets on the bed, making sure an ice cold beer was ready, and as for myself, well, I did the things I know my husband likes. I had my nails done to a medium-length French manicure, and I took the time to give myself a bikini-trim down below, before selecting the black satin French-cut bikini panties I would wear. I took my time selecting my outfit, finally deciding that less was more, and put on my Kelly-green satin nightshirt, the one with the buttons all the way down the front. The soft folds of satin clung nicely to my C-cup breasts, and my nipples were like two pinpoints of pleasure trying to poke through. All I had to do was pull on my 4-inch black patent leather heels and I was set to use my womanly charms on the man I loved. Of course, now all of it was for nothing.
During my preparations, I could hear the heavy thumping sounds of hip-hp and rap music coming from a house down the street. I shook my head, thinking that those people were going to be deaf one day. I decided that I wouldn't let the cold beer go to waste, so I retrieved one from the fridge and cracked it open, savoring the ice cold liquid. The heavy beat of the music from down the street seemed to grow louder, and my curiosity got the better of me. Just how loud did they think they could get without the neighbors complaining? I knew it was only 9:30 at night, but still... I went to the front door and hesitated only a second. I was barely dressed, but I was only going out for a second, no one would see me. If only I had counted on the stupid dog.
He was small, as dogs went, but incredibly fast, and had a penchant for making a break to escape the house and roam the neighborhood. Since I had given him a bath today, I hadn't put his collar on, either. So when the door opened and I took my first tentative step outside, he saw his chance and bolted right through my legs before I could even gasp. I took two steps after him when I stepped on a pebble, and realized I needed shoes. I darted back inside and grabbed the only pair close, my 4 inch black heels I was going to wear for my husband. I dashed out the door, in pursuit of the little dog with a death wish!
The night was thankfully warm and comfortable, with a little breeze. I quick-stepped as fast as I could in my heels, not making any ground on the dog, but not losing any, either. His yapping as he ran called the attention of some guys in front of the house with the party, and they whistled and called to him. To my chagrin, he darted across the street and over to them. He frisked and fritted around their feet ass I continued after him, until I nearly got there. I had paid no heed to what I was wearing, only concerned with getting the dog back in the house, until I drew close and called the dog's name. Then he scampered directly inside the party house!
I drew up and stopped for a moment next to the four men, almost boys, really, who had whistled to the dog, and gathered some breath. My nipples were hard and erect from the soft satin rubbing them as I ran, my hands on my 26 inch waist as I gasped for air. I could feel them eying my up and down as the breeze flitted with the hem of my shirt. I almost slapped my forehead as I realized I was away from home, wearing a sexy nightshirt and heels, and not much else! I muttered an oath about the dog and went to the house, peering inside for a moment before entering. The music was terribly loud, and there were a large number of people there, mostly male, but a few girls, too. I decided I needed to put on an air of dignity and walked in, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor as I let my hips sway naturally.
I knew the family that lived there only by waving to them as I drove by, a nice middle-class African-American family that had two older boys, or young men, and who liked to play basketball in the street with the other boys of the neighborhood. I looked around as I entered, the house full of black men and women, and a few white girls as well. Almost immediately I started drawing some stares from those already in the room, lecherous and lustful ones from the men, and some looks of disdain from the girls. With the music so loud, there was no point in my trying to explain myself, only to politely decline a beer that one of the men thrust at me.
I searched the house cautiously, looking for any of the residents of the house or signs of that stupid dog, finding neither. I made my way further back into the house until I was going down a hallway crowded with people, the space making it impossible not to rub up against the party-goers, and I felt more than one hand cop a feel for either my butt or even my breast at one point. Each time I turns to see who was groping me, the dim light and mass of humanity kept me from identifying my molester. As I reached a doorway, I was stopped by a tall black man. He motioned me to follow him as he opened the door, and I followed him, hoping he knew of my dog.
