It was a long day of "Yes ma'am, no ma'am" on the stand regarding the minutiae of evidence I had been in charge of collecting for the team. Kind of pointless if you can just read the report. But for legal reasons by credibility is demonstrated and I answer the same things I put in the report over and over. It's tedious, but the pay is great.
So when I got back to the hotel - a perk of working for the fat cat law firms is the 5-star travel arrangements - I did a quick once over in my bathroom, ran a brush through my hair, shot of perfume in lieu of a shower. I really just wanted a drink, but opted for some eye liner and lipstick in case I got in the mood for something more.
I pulled my cropped jacket back on over my tight white blouse, high slit pencil skirt, and black stiletto pumps. The judge may have been female, but the jury was predominantly male and I needed them on my side.
I always love the bar here - it's just dark enough, not over populated, quiet music, sometimes a live pianist. I slid onto a tall stool an ordered a dry martini with a twist of lemon. Honestly, if there's vermouth in the room, that's close enough.
The drink arrived and I had a look around. A few post dinner folks, one guy a couple stools down drinking cognac or something in a snifter that looked like he'd been there for a while. His eyes were on the thin gold chain around my athletic ankle when I looked, and I returned to my drink an smiled to myself.
I was halfway through the martini already and caught the bartender's eye for a second one. I could feel Mr. Cognac's eyes still on me. I made him to be early sixties? From the look of his watch (and wedding ring) well to do enough to retire, but he probably likes what he does. But that was a first glance, so I gave him another.
Ha! Caught him looking. The slit in the pencil skirt does ride high on my bare leg. He looked away, but I took my turn. Embroidered initials on the cuffs...OK he's got the money and he cares. His shoes are pristine, so they are either new or he doesn't walk anywhere.
I returned to my empty glass and the bartender some how very busy tidying up but not getting me my second. I followed him back and forth with eyes that usually pierce most men's heads, but he was in a trance. The only time he stopped, I noticed Mr. Cognac lift a finger toward me and my drink was quickly delivered. He was paying more attention than I thought.
I turned to look and our eyes met, I lifted my drink in a simple cheers and he did the same as we both had a sip. I looked down at the empty stool next to me in invitation. Let's see where this goes.
We introduced ourselves. Small talk, travel, work. Financier...mmm that sounds like money. I do pretty well myself, but I'm always attracted to money. My boyfriend back home is quite wealthy. The second martini kicking in, I think I even said something like, "You look like you do pretty well for yourself."
He answered, "Enough to keep my wife happy and probably some others several times over."
That didn't really make a ton of sense, but I took it as an invitation. I asked him to order me another, I was committing to this. I steered the conversation to shopping and that I had thought about going out tonight, but three drinks in that probably wasn't going to happen.
"They have some lovely stores here," he mentioned. Hook, line, sinker.
"I noticed that...but I was actually in the market for some lingerie and the place here is ridiculously expensive." Casting again...
"I'd happily underwrite your adventure in a store like that if you are interested." He said it so casually. After mentioning his wife moments before.
"Pay the bill then," I said and stood, shifting my skirt back into position and gulping the last of martini #3.
Our heels clicked down the marble hall of shops in the ritzy hotel and we entered a European lingerie shop. I'm no slouch - I own my own condo in a high-rise above Chicago, an imported sporty little car, and keep myself well. But, this place I had only visited on travels and only to look.
The woman in the shop greeted us. "Looking for anything particular this evening?" I looked over my shoulder at my benefactor and he silently waved me on.
I called out, "What's your favorite color on a woman?"
I was looking through a rack of full sets - bra, underwear, garter belts. "Pink," I heard in return.
I turned to her, "I'd like a full set in sheer pink lace."
"Do you know your size?"
"34D/36C in US sizing. Probably a medium on the bottom. I'm an 8 in dresses, but I'd like to be fitted in the European sizes."
I walked back to the fitting rooms as she scrambled to find me some options. We were the only customers and I left the door open. Mr. Cognac walked up as she returned. I was in my heels, black bra and underwear. She wrapped her tape measure around me and I turned. Her hands running over my skin as I turned again. His eyes on me the whole time.
Completed, she removed two of the choices from the room, said, "These should be perfect on you," about the ones that were left and shut the door to the fitting room. I wouldn't have shut the door. Just saying.
I emerged in the set and came out into the store to use the big mirror. The bra was lace, criss-cross straps in the back without being sporty. Enough underwire to support me and some kind of magic lace that didn't squeeze the girls too much. The panties were a g-string to a bow in the back, sheer panel in the front. I should have shaved better this morning. Lace around the sides. The garter belt was similar in design - mostly sheer with lace details, a bow at each suspender which hung at my thighs.
"Were you interested in some stockings?" she asked right on time.
I walked up to my benefactor and looked him in the face, "No, I have some that will work," I replied.
"What do you think?" I spun in the middle of the ritzy store, nearly naked for this man. He smiled. He lifted a hanger.
"And this. You'll wear it out." He held up a black teddy with pink straps that was essentially breastless. Pink straps ran around and across the chest, but there were no panels above the empire waist.
I took it him from him and headed back to the fitting room and said, "And this. I'll wear it out." The shop girl barely snipped the tag from it to ring it up before I was shedding the pink set and sliding on this revealing garment. The material was amazing. I kind of wish it had breast panels because it would be arousing on my nipples, but I also loved how much it exposed.
I returned to the middle of the store in just the teddy and my black pumps from work. He handed his card to the girl, and asked her to bag up the pink set and my other clothes and underwear. The hotel was pretty deserted, but I was walking out with this new man, breasts bared.
I walked straight across the marble foyer into a furrier.
The elderly man of middle eastern descent looked both shocked and appalled as I entered, but I was quickly followed by someone it appeared he knew. The raised arm that was protesting now held an open hand, welcoming my new benefactor into the store.
"So nice to see you! And your new...friend? What can I show you this evening?" the shopkeeper asked. The gent simply waved me onward into the store as if I should have any piece of candy I like. I've never had a fur coat. I'm not even such a fan of fur coats. But, the nice man who had me half naked in the furrier wants me to pick one out.
I choose two, one short and one full length to try on. All things considered, the short one that barely covers the bottom of the teddy was the way to go. I'm all legs and heels after all.
I went to check myself in the mirror while the gent pays - I didn't even look at the price tag. Well, I think I know what the price truly is, but I was agreeable to that before I left my hotel room for the bar. And, I certainly couldn't have even imagined this.
His Amex black card is handed back to him and I sidle up alongside the counter and lift the teddy by its shoulder straps and let it pool into the other bags containing my clothing. Now he knows. So does the shopkeeper. It's just me and the fur...and the heels.
It's a short - and lucky for him, inexpensive - trip to the elevator. I like our "relationship." There's never been a doubt about how this evening will go. The soft fur barely covers my ass, splits at my crotch if I take too long a stride and the top eyelet is low, -well between my breasts. It's a very good look.
I can't decide whether I give him credit for waiting until we were in the room, or if I kind of liked him too weighed down by shopping bags to grope me in the elevator. It was a quick trip up to the 4th floor anyway.
Once in the room, I strutted in crossing my feet with each step. I pushed the curtains open to see the city illuminated all around us and opened the eyelets on the fur. I turned my back to the window and leaned back so the fur would part enough to reveal my bush and thigh gap, but not my breasts yet.