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 "Elegant yet seductive describes our long gown. Satin front bodice, lace sides, sheer skirt, matching panty".
As I read these words and saw the picture of the buxom, yet sleek woman in the nightgown that went with it, my heart skipped a beat. I had always wanted my girlfriend Janice to have something like this: red, with an attitude and a shape that will accentuate her fullness. A perfect gift for her birthday, I ordered the gown and quickly minimized the computer window.
My boss had just walked into my office. "So how are we on the report so far?" she asked with a half-hearted attempt at a smile.
I could see her stressed with the additional responsibility she had been given, after one of her colleagues left unexpectedly last week.
"Quite good, should have it finished by the end of the day!" I said, as I looked up at her.
She was a nice woman. My boss is caring, sensitive and most unlike other female bosses I had come across before. Sandra was a divorcee, but was totally without rancor or sadness. She needed better grooming, that's for sure and that baggy sweater did not do anything for her figure. She must be in her late thirties, I thought. I got back to work as she left and forgot all about it.
My report took longer than I expected and I called Janice to let her know that the movie was off because I was working late. By the time I had finished, most of the office was dark, but Sandra's office still had lights on. I thought I'd drop by, tell her I had mailed her the report and probably wish her good night. The air-conditioning was not working properly and it was stuffy as I walked down the corridor.
When I knocked on the door marked "Sandra Hayes, Senior Inventory Manager", there was no reply. I knocked again, louder this time, with the same result. I pushed the door and saw Sandra deep in slumber with her head against her high chair. She had taken off her sweater and from under her brown v-neck, I could see red lace.
Not knowing what else to do, I shook her and she awoke with a start (and let out a small scream). Her neck had cramped itself in that unnatural position on her chair and she could not get it totally straight. She was in pain and the first-aid box was locked up. I did the next best thing: told her to try and calm down and began to massage her neck. She turned her back to one of the chair handles so I could reach her neck better.
After a while, she relaxed a little and I continued. Her top had slipped a little; the satiny crimson straps had strayed.
Touching her when she was in disarray and discovering her secret passion for chic under her usual drab gear gave me a strange sense of excitement. I could feel my groin tighten behind her back and let her feel it too. Her groans of pain slowly took on a different timbre. My fingers assumed a life of their own, skimming the top of her breasts and the soft red lace began to give way.
She stretched her hands behind her as I bent to kiss her upturned lips. My hands began exploring beneath her sensuous lace. The room seemed empty of air. But suddenly, in the silence punctuated only by our breathing, my cell phone rung. We broke apart, waking up from our trance. I answered the call as Sandra tried to put herself together. It was Janice.
I stumbled out of the office with the phone. And when I went back, Sandra was not there.
The next morning, in her sedate brown suit, Sandra thanked me for my report at the staff meeting. We have never had occasion to talk of that episode and are always polite and cordial towards each other.
To me that evening has remained as the lure of satin and lace, and not the lust of a woman.
Janice has completely given up on her cotton polka-dotted stuff. She has realized that wearing red satin and lace on her curves is the best way to get my undivided attention.
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