"I can remember when I used to put the word 'Ms' in front of your name when I addressed you, Claudette."
"And I remember when you played your first junior high school football game, Stanford Jr."
These one-liners were their ice breakers as Stanford Clayton Jr., held the room door open and stood back to allow her to enter. Claudette was all 'easy breezy cover girl' as she swept passed him, and no one would have guessed that her insides felt like they were all twisted up together and her stomach was producing acid at an alarming rate. Add to that, her mind would not sit still; thoughts were gathering here and being scattered there. Most people would call this a very serious attack of conscience brought on by an acute case of guilt. Most people were not her; seriously focused and determined to see her plan through no matter what.
It had been a stroke of pure genius to develop and hatch her plot with Stanford Jr., as her victim. She had viewed it from a mother's perspective; knowing how much hurt it would bring on Helena to discover that her one and only handsome, precious, and pampered son had been defiled by a woman old enough to be his mother...worse still...one of his own mother's best friends. She had been so pleased with herself that after she had carefully mapped out her plan, she'd treated herself to a full day at the spa and a full body wrap to shrink her size 10 body down to a size 8 especially for tonight.
Not that she needed any extra work done because she had always been a natural beauty. Even at age fifty-something, she was still trim and firm with no sagging or loose skin. Her body was bikini ready and her legs showed not one single varicose vein. Her hair was lightly streaked throughout with a little gray, but she chose not to color it and tonight she wore it loosely falling across her face. The light streaks of gray actually enhanced her beauty and made her appear all the more sophisticated for it.
Yes, she was a beautiful woman but tonight she was no lady. She had mentally prepared herself for the role she'd play by listening to some throwback Denise LaSalle as she readied herself for her 'date'. Denise sang to her about being a 'lady in the streets and freaky in the bedroom', so tonight that would be her mantra.
She came in and took a seat on the couch, placing her designer tote bag on the floor next to her. She carefully crossed her legs causing her already short skirt to rise higher up to mid-thigh. Stanford offered to make her a drink from the well stocked bar and asked what was her preference.
" Vodka tonic with a slice of lime if you please". Man, she practically purred as she gave him her order. She reached down to slowly remove her high heels; one at a time drawing it out so he would be teased by the action. The couch where she sat was in his direct line of vision from where he stood mixing the drinks. Just as he brought the drinks for her and his also, she shifted and tucked her legs under...with a calculated hesitation that allowed him the slightest peek at what was under her dress, and what was not.
He sat down beside her and looked intently into her eyes as he almost casually began to stroke her thigh. Neither of them spoke. They leisurely drank from their glasses while exchanging deep soulful looks and realizing that this was a lead-in to foreplay. Never taking her eyes from his, Claudette stuck her forefinger into the liquid fire in her glass and brought it up to Stanford's lips. She slowly allowed traced the outline of his lips and then slipped her finger between them.
When both of their glasses were empty, he asked if she requested a refill. Declining his offer, she stood up and went to him saying, "I've had my thirst quenched. Now lets appease my appetite".
Stay tuned for next week's intensely hot post! What are your comments?
"And I remember when you played your first junior high school football game, Stanford Jr."
These one-liners were their ice breakers as Stanford Clayton Jr., held the room door open and stood back to allow her to enter. Claudette was all 'easy breezy cover girl' as she swept passed him, and no one would have guessed that her insides felt like they were all twisted up together and her stomach was producing acid at an alarming rate. Add to that, her mind would not sit still; thoughts were gathering here and being scattered there. Most people would call this a very serious attack of conscience brought on by an acute case of guilt. Most people were not her; seriously focused and determined to see her plan through no matter what.
It had been a stroke of pure genius to develop and hatch her plot with Stanford Jr., as her victim. She had viewed it from a mother's perspective; knowing how much hurt it would bring on Helena to discover that her one and only handsome, precious, and pampered son had been defiled by a woman old enough to be his mother...worse still...one of his own mother's best friends. She had been so pleased with herself that after she had carefully mapped out her plan, she'd treated herself to a full day at the spa and a full body wrap to shrink her size 10 body down to a size 8 especially for tonight.
Not that she needed any extra work done because she had always been a natural beauty. Even at age fifty-something, she was still trim and firm with no sagging or loose skin. Her body was bikini ready and her legs showed not one single varicose vein. Her hair was lightly streaked throughout with a little gray, but she chose not to color it and tonight she wore it loosely falling across her face. The light streaks of gray actually enhanced her beauty and made her appear all the more sophisticated for it.
Yes, she was a beautiful woman but tonight she was no lady. She had mentally prepared herself for the role she'd play by listening to some throwback Denise LaSalle as she readied herself for her 'date'. Denise sang to her about being a 'lady in the streets and freaky in the bedroom', so tonight that would be her mantra.
She came in and took a seat on the couch, placing her designer tote bag on the floor next to her. She carefully crossed her legs causing her already short skirt to rise higher up to mid-thigh. Stanford offered to make her a drink from the well stocked bar and asked what was her preference.
" Vodka tonic with a slice of lime if you please". Man, she practically purred as she gave him her order. She reached down to slowly remove her high heels; one at a time drawing it out so he would be teased by the action. The couch where she sat was in his direct line of vision from where he stood mixing the drinks. Just as he brought the drinks for her and his also, she shifted and tucked her legs under...with a calculated hesitation that allowed him the slightest peek at what was under her dress, and what was not.
He sat down beside her and looked intently into her eyes as he almost casually began to stroke her thigh. Neither of them spoke. They leisurely drank from their glasses while exchanging deep soulful looks and realizing that this was a lead-in to foreplay. Never taking her eyes from his, Claudette stuck her forefinger into the liquid fire in her glass and brought it up to Stanford's lips. She slowly allowed traced the outline of his lips and then slipped her finger between them.
When both of their glasses were empty, he asked if she requested a refill. Declining his offer, she stood up and went to him saying, "I've had my thirst quenched. Now lets appease my appetite".
Stay tuned for next week's intensely hot post! What are your comments?
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