the back of my knicker drawer never to see the light of day again!
What I wouldn’t give for it now! Oh well, at least this bra is strapless and padded. Slipping on my pale green summer evening dress over the top, I adjust its spaghetti straps and pull the back of the bra up to hoist my cleavage to an acceptable level.
The dress is perfect, an old favourite of mine, it has a fitted silk slip in a slightly darker shade of green, that stops mid-thigh, with a looser, sheer fabric over-lay that stops at the edge of the slip on one side, but flows right down to the knee on the other side; it’s sexy, but classy while also able to cover a multitude of sins. Its low cut front draws attention to my now impressive breasts (albeit it slightly enhanced with the help of the padded bra).
Teamed with white strappy heels and a delicate diamond pendant necklace with matching earrings, I think I’ve pulled of glamorous, yet understated.
My hair is too wavy, but I don’t have time to straighten it as it’s already six forty and I haven’t even done my make-up yet. All I can do is pull it into a ponytail and stick in a white fabric flower clip to hide the hair band and add a little flourish. Just as I’m adjusting the clip and smoothing my unruly hair into place there is a knock at the door. No, no, he can’t be early, I’m not ready yet!
“Err just one minute” I shout out, right just throw on some mascara, you wanted understated, so that’s what it will have to be. One eye down “I’ll just be one minute” I shout re-iterating.
“Take your time, I’m early” comes the muffled reply.
OK, mascara rushed on, luckily without poking myself in the eye with it. A quick spray of perfume, wrists, cleavage, behind the ears and I’m as ready as I can be. One last look in the mirror, make up will do, dress not tucked into pants, good, hair passable, shoes on, I grab my clutch bag and head to the door.
“Ms. Mavers!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes opening wide as he looks me up and down, “you sure as hell scrub up well! You look ravishing!” I smirk, ecstatic at his reaction, if I wasn’t so weak at the knees right now I’d lean forward placing my fingers under his chin and push his gaping mouth shut, instead I settle for simply saying “please, call me Kate”.
“Sorry, Kate” he softly corrects himself, “are you ready to go?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be” I beam back at him.
Carlos bends his arm and extends his elbow for me to link my arm around, I graciously oblige, lowering my eyes as I do. I don’t often wear heels so the support is more than welcome.
Leading me to the beach front he turns into the French bistro, ooh I love French Cuisine. The restaurant manager rushes over beaming, at which point Carlos address’s him in Spanish, with a quick nod he soon scarpers away again; looking up at Carlos and delicately raising my eyebrow, expectantly waiting for an explanation, he simply smiles mischievously back and says “come” pulling gently at my arm he leads us through the room, past the other diners and to a door with a clear sign on it warning ‘Staff only, No Entry’ I’m becoming ever more puzzled as we reach a stair well behind it.
Turning to me, but without saying a word, that grin still spread across his lips, he lets go of me and sweeps his arm out, signalling for me to continue up the stairs. Without his solid frame supporting me, I know I’m going to be wobbly, teetering upstairs in these shoes, so I gratefully grasp onto the hand rail on my right and endeavour to make my ascent look as elegant as possible. As he follows me, one step behind, he positions himself to my left and softly places his right hand on the small of my back.
The feeling is divine, I can safely say I prefer this kind of contact to the arm link; it’s much more seductive, but not so much as to cross over to the realms of sleaziness.
At the top of the stairs there is a fire door, what is he up to? Keeping his
What I wouldn’t give for it now! Oh well, at least this bra is strapless and padded. Slipping on my pale green summer evening dress over the top, I adjust its spaghetti straps and pull the back of the bra up to hoist my cleavage to an acceptable level.
The dress is perfect, an old favourite of mine, it has a fitted silk slip in a slightly darker shade of green, that stops mid-thigh, with a looser, sheer fabric over-lay that stops at the edge of the slip on one side, but flows right down to the knee on the other side; it’s sexy, but classy while also able to cover a multitude of sins. Its low cut front draws attention to my now impressive breasts (albeit it slightly enhanced with the help of the padded bra).
Teamed with white strappy heels and a delicate diamond pendant necklace with matching earrings, I think I’ve pulled of glamorous, yet understated.
My hair is too wavy, but I don’t have time to straighten it as it’s already six forty and I haven’t even done my make-up yet. All I can do is pull it into a ponytail and stick in a white fabric flower clip to hide the hair band and add a little flourish. Just as I’m adjusting the clip and smoothing my unruly hair into place there is a knock at the door. No, no, he can’t be early, I’m not ready yet!
“Err just one minute” I shout out, right just throw on some mascara, you wanted understated, so that’s what it will have to be. One eye down “I’ll just be one minute” I shout re-iterating.
“Take your time, I’m early” comes the muffled reply.
OK, mascara rushed on, luckily without poking myself in the eye with it. A quick spray of perfume, wrists, cleavage, behind the ears and I’m as ready as I can be. One last look in the mirror, make up will do, dress not tucked into pants, good, hair passable, shoes on, I grab my clutch bag and head to the door.
“Ms. Mavers!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes opening wide as he looks me up and down, “you sure as hell scrub up well! You look ravishing!” I smirk, ecstatic at his reaction, if I wasn’t so weak at the knees right now I’d lean forward placing my fingers under his chin and push his gaping mouth shut, instead I settle for simply saying “please, call me Kate”.
“Sorry, Kate” he softly corrects himself, “are you ready to go?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be” I beam back at him.
Carlos bends his arm and extends his elbow for me to link my arm around, I graciously oblige, lowering my eyes as I do. I don’t often wear heels so the support is more than welcome.
Leading me to the beach front he turns into the French bistro, ooh I love French Cuisine. The restaurant manager rushes over beaming, at which point Carlos address’s him in Spanish, with a quick nod he soon scarpers away again; looking up at Carlos and delicately raising my eyebrow, expectantly waiting for an explanation, he simply smiles mischievously back and says “come” pulling gently at my arm he leads us through the room, past the other diners and to a door with a clear sign on it warning ‘Staff only, No Entry’ I’m becoming ever more puzzled as we reach a stair well behind it.
Turning to me, but without saying a word, that grin still spread across his lips, he lets go of me and sweeps his arm out, signalling for me to continue up the stairs. Without his solid frame supporting me, I know I’m going to be wobbly, teetering upstairs in these shoes, so I gratefully grasp onto the hand rail on my right and endeavour to make my ascent look as elegant as possible. As he follows me, one step behind, he positions himself to my left and softly places his right hand on the small of my back.
The feeling is divine, I can safely say I prefer this kind of contact to the arm link; it’s much more seductive, but not so much as to cross over to the realms of sleaziness.
At the top of the stairs there is a fire door, what is he up to? Keeping his
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