Sara’s knees went weak. She ignored his repeated advances, but she could sense his eyes on her during meetings and it would electrify her body. Her constant mention of her fiancé James just seemed to embolden him. He grinned at her and never responded when she would bring up his name. It took three months before she found herself one afternoon in an empty stairwell, her tight skirt hiked up and her legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her. Chad filled her, stretched her out and hit all her spots just right, she gasped for air, before his large hand covered her cries. She dug her nails into his tailored suit jacket as she moaned against his hand. Afterwards when she was straightening her hair and putting herself back together she noticed a scuff at the back of her left black heel. It was scratched from the rough concrete wall that Chad repeatedly pushed her up against. She kept the scratch there and every time she wore those shoes she nearly came thinking about that. The red cocktail dress which my wife had worn in the restaurant wasn’t really chaste – it disclosed enough of her breasts to make it clear that they were worth to have a look, it ended right above her knees so that there couldn’t be any doubt about the beautiful shape of her legs, and it was tight enough around her hips to exhibit their exciting curves. Nevertheless, she wanted to change for an even more exposing dress: her backless night blue one which was one of my favorites (and should get one of Sue’s favorites, too). The only disadvantage was the size of the backside cutout forbade to wear any nice lingerie – a slip would have been the only possibility, but for what use? Sue had had no occasion to change, she had only removed the small white lace skirt when leaving the restaurant. What a pity – we very much liked the soubrette appearance it gave to her. She wore her black, knee-length dress whose neckline already had whetted our appetite in the diner, but had changed her.
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