Mrs. Imogen Waters meticulously prepared herself for her husband's fundraiser. It was the social event of the year. Everyone who was anyone in Paradise Valley would be bumping elbows just to get a few private moments with her husband. Mr. Waters would throw a big soiree every year to raise money for underprivileged youth in the Phoenix area.
This year, like in all the years past, it would be held on the lanai of his 5,000 foot mansion, with his pool, man-made waterfall, and grotto the backdrop to the black tie event. The price to attend was an extravagant $200 per plate, but the affair wasn't one to be missed, especially if you were an up-and-coming lawyer in Arizona. The opportunity to get on the good side of Mr. Waters was a chance few would pass. Plus, the food, drinks, and entertainment were always first class.
Imogen had chosen a lavish red evening gown that displayed all of her curves and hugged her toned body. For a woman of 40 years, she was in remarkable shape, especially after having a child at only 22. Mrs. Waters refused to let age and child bearing have an effect on her once youthful look. With the lifestyle her husband provided, she was able to focus on her beauty and health regimen to a tee.
Six-time weekly trips to the gym for 2 hours at a time, plus weekly visits to the spa for facials and massages. There was also the cosmetic breast lift she had several years after her son Joey was born, but that was kept secret from almost everyone in her social circle. Imogen considered a tummy tuck as well, but opted against it due to the lasting scars it would have left behind. Nevertheless, her dedication to her body left her with just the tiniest flaws, leaving women her age and decades younger jealous of her figure.
Mrs. Waters admired herself in the bathroom mirror. Her 32C breasts stood proud on her chest with a classy amount of cleavage showing from the deep-V cut gown. The dress was perfectly form fitting down to her 27 inch waist and 34 inch hips. She adorned her neck with a plunging diamond necklace that nestled perfectly between her breasts. She polished off the outfit with nude colored, 5 denier Marilyn stockings, the tops of which were barely hidden by the thigh-high slit in her floor length gown. The outfit would contrast perfectly with the setting sun on this gorgeous desert fall evening.
She would be the object of every man's desire at the gala, just the way she and Mr. Waters liked it. Imogen slid on her 5 inch red pumps and gave her red lipstick a brief touch up before finally joining her husband in the study for a cocktail. On her way down the grand staircase, her son Joey haughtily pushed passed on his way to his room.
"Will you be joining us this evening?" Mrs. Waters prodded her son.
"And miss the chance to socialize with all of Dad's stuffy friends...of course I'll be joining you this evening," Joey replied sarcastically. "Will my shorts and tee-shirt be appropriate?"
"No need for theatrics young man," Imogen scolded. "You know how your father gets on this night. If you won't be joining, just make sure you stay out of his sight. I'm just looking out for you."
"Okay Mom. I'll be watching the game in my room. See you tomorrow." With that, Joey disappeared up the stairs.
Mrs. Waters joined her husband for an old-fashioned. They each sat on a luxurious leather and mahogany smoking chair while enjoying their drinks. Mr. Waters eyed his wife, very much enjoying the sight of seeing her dressed to the nines.
"You look absolutely fetching tonight," he complimented his lovely wife, "but I cannot wait to get you out of that dress."
She returned her husband's compliment with a sly grin and a turn of the cheek as he got up and gave her a kiss.
"Play your cards right, Mr. Waters, and you may get a whole lot more than that," Imogen played coyly. She downed her drink and rose to join her husband on the lanai to wait for their first guests.
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The night appeared to go off without a hitch. Between ticket sales and donations, enough money was brought in to fund several youth groups for the entire year. Mr. Waters beamed with pride as he gladhanded his associates. Mrs. Waters made her rounds, socializing with the wives, girlfriends, and mistresses in attendance, always making sure that the attention was on her.
As the evening drew to its crescendo, Mr. Waters summoned Imogen to his side at the edge of the pool. He gathered the attention of everyone in attendance to thank the appropriate parties for their donations and support of the evening. At last, he presented a ceremonial check to the head of the Phoenix Organization for Wayward Youth. As he took in the applause, he hugged his wife and then gave her a gentle shove towards the pool.
Mrs. Waters teetered on her heels, grasping at the air as she stumbled backwards and plunged into the deep end of the pool. She could not believe the audacity of her husband. Imogen screamed and cursed Mr. Waters as she sunk to the bottom and remained there, too embarrassed to surface.
It was tradition for one of the big wigs to end up in the pool at some point during the evening. Mr. Waters had told Imogen that he had grand plans for this year's unsuspecting victim, but she never in a million years thought that she would be the target. Imogen held her breath as long as she could before finally surfacing at the edge, gasping for breath. She refused Mr. Waters' assistance out of the pool and attempted to hide her shame.
Of course the sight that the crowd received was quite the opposite. They were treated to a stunningly beautiful woman emerging from the pool in a soaking wet, skin tight evening gown. Anything that was left to the imagination prior was now public knowledge.
Mr. Waters embraced his now enraged wife and announced to the crowd that there had been several requests by the big donors to ensure that Imogen ended up in the pool this year instead of one of them. As such, this year shattered all the previous years' donations. He thanked his wife for her understanding and her participation, but it was obvious that Mrs. Waters did not return the sentiment.
Once the theatrics ended, Mrs. Waters stormed off toward the house.
"Darling, where are you going?" Mr. Waters questioned his wife, completely oblivious to her wrath.
"Where do you think? I'm going inside to change. You can practically see through this dress. I can't stay out her like this." Imogen barked at her husband.
"Well, please hurry back dear. Everyone will want to thank you for the hospitality," Mr. Waters replied, still unaware of his wife's mood.
Imogen put her hands on her hips and set her husband straight. "Oh, dear husband...I will not be rejoining the party...and you can kiss the chance of seeing me without this dress on goodbye."
Mrs. Waters spun on her heels and made her way back toward the house, gracefully accepting the thanks and appreciation of everyone she passed along her way. Upon entry to her house, she closed the door behind her and broke down in tears. She could not believe that her husband would do that without consulting her first. She was utterly embarrassed and rightfully upset. Imogen slid off her heels and carried them up to the upstairs bath, tracking a trail of water from her dress and wet footprints from her stockings along the way.
Imogen looked at herself in the mirror, where only hours ago, she was the epitome of beauty. Now her eye makeup melted down her face and her hair was a sopping mess. She painfully slid out of her gown and hung it to dry, hoping to salvage it, but deep down she knew it was ruined. Nude, save for her stockings, and still dripping wet, she grabbed a towel and headed for her bedroom.
