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ardentfemme · 01-13-2018, 04:35 PM

Taking the stairs nice and slow, I give Jay an eyeful of my curves. It might have been my imagination, but I could almost swear I heard a groan.
After Jay’s capitulation and moment of vulnerability, I knew I had to have them. Or, more precisely, I knew I had to give myself to them.

Rushing to change clothes for dinner, I toss my carry-on bag on the ample bed in the room I assume Gon intended for me – the lacey curtains and magenta rug don’t exactly seem like Jay’s style. I zip open the bag and pull out bras, panties, skirts, slacks, blouses, scarves, and the one dress I brought. Hmm. Nothing seemed right. The dress was more professional than sexy and, sadly, covered up all the parts of my body that I wanted to put on display tonight. The skirts were even more conservative and pants certainly would not do.

The garment bag lying across a suede chair catches my eye. Levi had said Gon wanted to make sure he gave this to me. Why? Nearly ripping off the zipper, I find a very glam, retro-looking sequined dress. It strikes me as oddly familiar. Not really my taste, but I’m working with what I got. I try it on. The black fabric wraps around my breasts like a lover’s hands. It bunches up at the waist, where the sequined bodice turns into free-flowing satin, melting over my thighs like dark chocolate.

Yep, this one will do.

After I settle on some earrings and resign myself to keeping the same heels on, I walk back down the stairs to Jay, adding a little extra jiggle to my step.

“Wow,” Jay breathes, not smirking this time.

“I know, I know. It’s a bit much, but I thought what the hell.” I’m pleased to see them undressing me with their eyes. Almost as much as I would be if they were undressing me with their hands. “Ready?” I ask.

“After you,” Jay reaches for the golden knob on the heavy wooden door. We walk out into the Dutch night, my heels clacking over cobblestones with sharp insistence. This time, the cold air feels less like a knife and more like electricity, sparking between Jay’s arm and mine as I instinctively draw nearer.

01-13-2018, 04:35 PM	#4
ardentfemme Junior Member How Do You Identify?: Fierce Femme Preferred Pronoun?: She/Her Relationship Status: ~daydreaming~ Join Date: Dec 2017 Location: West Coast is the Best Coast Posts: 81 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 65 Thanked 304 Times in 74 Posts Rep Power: 6329324	The Perfect Shot (Part II) Taking the stairs nice and slow, I give Jay an eyeful of my curves. It might have been my imagination, but I could almost swear I heard a groan. After Jay’s capitulation and moment of vulnerability, I knew I had to have them. Or, more precisely, I knew I had to give myself to them. Rushing to change clothes for dinner, I toss my carry-on bag on the ample bed in the room I assume Gon intended for me – the lacey curtains and magenta rug don’t exactly seem like Jay’s style. I zip open the bag and pull out bras, panties, skirts, slacks, blouses, scarves, and the one dress I brought. Hmm. Nothing seemed right. The dress was more professional than sexy and, sadly, covered up all the parts of my body that I wanted to put on display tonight. The skirts were even more conservative and pants certainly would not do. The garment bag lying across a suede chair catches my eye. Levi had said Gon wanted to make sure he gave this to me. Why? Nearly ripping off the zipper, I find a very glam, retro-looking sequined dress. It strikes me as oddly familiar. Not really my taste, but I’m working with what I got. I try it on. The black fabric wraps around my breasts like a lover’s hands. It bunches up at the waist, where the sequined bodice turns into free-flowing satin, melting over my thighs like dark chocolate. Yep, this one will do. After I settle on some earrings and resign myself to keeping the same heels on, I walk back down the stairs to Jay, adding a little extra jiggle to my step. “Wow,” Jay breathes, not smirking this time. “I know, I know. It’s a bit much, but I thought what the hell.” I’m pleased to see them undressing me with their eyes. Almost as much as I would be if they were undressing me with their hands. “Ready?” I ask. “After you,” Jay reaches for the golden knob on the heavy wooden door. We walk out into the Dutch night, my heels clacking over cobblestones with sharp insistence. This time, the cold air feels less like a knife and more like electricity, sparking between Jay’s arm and mine as I instinctively draw nearer.