I Miss You, MK: Dressed for Success

DRESSED FOR SUCCESS

After a bit, I stood up and carried her into the bathroom. Instantly the image of her soapy, red stiletto-heeled dance in the shower flashed through my mind. I forcefully suppressed it. Not now.

Gently setting her on her feet, I leaned her against the wall with a towel for padding, her hands pressed between her legs and got the shower running. I took her face in my hands, raised her face up, her eyes were still closed, her breathing still a bit heavy and kissed her forehead. I think her orgasms were even more intense than I first thought.

She smiled, thinly, but she smiled.

All was right with the world.

"You shower. I'll get your things out. We'll have you on your way in a jiff."

I left the room, pulling the door nearly closed and went to the closet. I knew she had brought only one serious work outfit on this visit, which happened to be a favorite of mine; a gray pinstripe jacket and pencil skirt that reached a few inches above her knees. Professional and classy.

She looked soooooo sexy in it. I loved to watch her walk, move, sit (which involved frequent leg crossing) while she wore that suit, nylons and a pair of stilettos.

I fondly recalled one time when I was scheduled to meet her at a mall and she wore that suit. I had arrived early but stayed out of her sight. I watched her walk to our meeting place, admiring the view as she stopped to window shop along the way and then finally secured a seat at a coffee kiosk.

What followed was a lot of leg crossing and uncrossing, shifting in her chair as she waited for me to arrive. Her skirt raised, a hint of the welt flashed and there was some shoe dangling. I was so enjoying the view of her sheer stockinged legs that I was 20 minutes late. Mercy, what that woman did to me!

When I finally arrived she smiled warmly, not expressing any annoyance at my tardiness (she was such a forgiving angel), stood and pecked me on the cheek (public displays of affections, or PDAs, were not her style). We enjoyed a few hours of shoe shopping-just more opportunity to admire her nyloned legs in a variety of stilettos.

I later confessed. In mock outrage, she actually called me a 'sunnofabitch' and proceeded to tease me unmercifully before letting me fuck her. She really made me work for it. That was an evening to remember.

Still undressed and with a cock that wasn't deflating much, I laid the suit and a simple sleeveless white silk blouse on the bed. I moved to her suitcases to find the other "necess-aries", as she termed them. The hosiery, undergarments and heels to complete the outfit. I located her jewelry case and set it on the nightstand, not knowing exactly what she wanted to wear.

Soon the bathroom door opened, a white towel-clad figure emerged and stepped into me, arms around my body, with a cheek against my shoulder. A soft somewhat muffled, "I love you," escaped her lips. Shortly followed by a cheeky, "You.....bastard."

Oh, my.

I smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Alright, let's get you bedecked so you can bedazzle."

I released her and turned her so she could sit on the bed, first removing the towel. As she sat, she murmured with a hint of a smile, "Kinda nipplish in here. Mister." She definitely had her 'high beams' on and it took a great deal of concentration to not.........do what I really wanted to do.

Pausing, I waited a moment and she lifted her face to lock her warm brown eyes on mine. She arched an eyebrow and canted her head. The message was clear as a bell; get to it, buster!

I picked up the brassiere I had selected. It was, like so many of her pieces of attire, gorgeous, classy and sexy. A white bra with delicate satin stripes that reminded me of a scallop shell. I fastened it under her breasts, rotated it 180 degrees, held the straps as she lifted her arms (her breasts and rock hard nipples jiggled tantalizingly) and placed each limb through the openings as I raised the cups to nestle her capacious bust.

The six point garter belt was next and also of white with satin stripes. Very, very nice. Once attached and properly in place I reached for a stocking. My choice, knowing her as I did, was a pair of very sheer black RHTs. Again, gorgeous, classy and sexy as well as unobtrusive. Most people would never notice the small telltale triangle of reinforcement that peeked out over the stiletto's edge near the heel.

I had carefully rolled each stocking and, on my knees in front of her, held the first one out, silently asking her to raise her leg. She complied and with toes and foot pointed, offered her leg for adornment. Man, this was way more arousing than I expected. My cock was 'rising to the occasion'.

Before I could do anything she lightly jabbed her toes into my chest, causing me to look up as I fumbled a bit with my balance.

Her eyes twinkled, her smile-the one that always dazzled me-lit the room. Her foot worked its way up my torso, up my neck, to my face where it lightly traced a path along my jaw, to my chin and finally to my lips. I softly kissed the ball of her foot. She sighed, "Oh, mister, what you do to me....."

"Back at ya, beautiful, right...back...at...ya."

She lowered her foot, I slowly began unrolling the silky soft 'vision of loveliness' up her leg and in the wake I left a trail of kisses on the inside of her limb. She inhaled slowly and deeply. I could almost see the dampness that I knew must be misting her labia. I repeated the same exercise on the other leg. My cock was getting more firm even as I worked to push away the images of what I really wanted to do.

I attached each stocking carefully to the straps, forcing myself to only concentrate on the task and to ignore the lovely vision of her shapely legs sheathed in beautiful sheer nylon goodness.

A pair of classic four inch pumps were the next item of business. Actually, they were an impressive set of heels; done in a gray pinstripe that nearly perfectly matched the suit. Little things mean a lot. She loved the small details and loved that I noticed.

I held one out, waiting for her to submit a sheathed foot. Again, she raised her leg, again she traced a path up my chest, my neck, along my jawline, my cheek, and to my lips. Again, I kissed the ball of her foot, but then used my nose to push her foot and leg up. I then ran my tongue slowly along her arch as she produced a sharp hiss of inhalation. Once again I pictured the moistness accumulating on her pink lips.

She lowered her foot quickly and managed a quick brush of her nyloned toes along my hard cock before I grabbed her ankle and slid the shoe on her foot. I firmly placed her stilettoed foot on the floor and meaningfully pressed gently on it. Keep it there, my look said to her. An impish smile promised nothing.

I was able to affix the other heel and avoid any further 'accidental' caresses to my full member, although I had to settle for teasing her with a few kisses to her ankle and light stroking of her calf as I placed her foot on the floor.

I decided that the next item would be the blouse. I wanted to delay the covering of her stockinged legs until the last possible moment. I stood, my knees popping, my cock parallel to the floor. I saw her smile shift to one of amusement as she looked at my phallus and said, "That is all your fault."

I put my hands out, palms up, and waited for her to place her slender red-tipped fingers in my grasp so I could gently pull onto her feet. Her arms moved and I quickly dodged the questing, teasing caress she had planned for my penis.

"Not so fast, beautiful." I scooped her hands up and drew her up to her stilettoed feet, keeping my dick out of her reach by turning her around to face the bed.

I picked the blouse up and held it so she could slide her arms in. I left her to button it as I picked up the matching satin striped white panties, done in a style that seemed practical yet pleasing. Not very sexy but not ugly. Normally I discouraged the wearing of such extraneous frewfahs but I suspected that she would want them for her meeting.

As she worked on the blouse I lightly dragged the undergarment down her left leg as I knelt behind and slightly to her left. She looked down, met my eyes, arched an eyebrow (a move that always struck me as incredibly sexy because the way she did it was so full of promise) then raised the foot.

After getting her to step both feet into the panties I slowly raised them up and in their path I left a trail of kisses along her stockinged legs, deliberately pausing at the back of her knees for special treatment. She placed her hand on my shoulder at that point and seemed a bit wobbly.

Good.

Pulling them in place, smoothing the fabric over her garter belt, I finished but found my hand gently and warmly clasped in one of hers. It was drawn upward as she leaned over a bit and tenderly kissed the back of my hand. My throat tightened. It was a small gesture, but like Kitty Kallen's song, little things mean a lot. This one most certainly did.

Knees popping again, I stood and readied the pencil skirt. She turned toward me, placed a hand on my shoulder, raised one leg, then the other and I drew the garment up over her hips. I moved behind her as she tucked the blouse in and settled the skirt in place, zipped and buttoned it. I stepped back, letting my eyes sear the image of her into my recollection.

Her brown tresses in a lovely French braid, the silk blouse flowing on her body, the trim, flattering pinstripe pencil skirt, the head turning and shapely stocking-clad legs topped off by a pair of eye-catching stilettos made her quite the sight. She slowly turned and beamed her trademark smile.

I was, as was often the case with her, at a loss for words. She was the sexist, loveliest, most unselfish and feminine woman I would ever know. She affected me like no other and caused me to think of and do all kinds of delicious and naughty things to her which she clearly and thoroughly enjoyed.

I breathed deeply, paused, looked her up and down and said, "You look perfect, beautiful. Let's get your jewelry picked out, your jacket on and you can be on your way. I've got your purse packed, your briefcase ready and I'll pin your lunch money to your lapel just before you leave." She beamed even more at that last phrase and the twinkle in her eye nearly blinded me.

Then she slowly looked down at my firm cock and said, "I think you better do something about that." A light chuckle fled her throat.

"Oh, that's your job, beautiful." The arched eyebrow, the slight tilt of her head seemed to say otherwise.

Once she had selected and positioned her tasteful and unobtrusive jewelry I held her jacket open while she slid her arms into the garment. She clicked her way to the door and, just as I was about to hand over her purse and case, she paused.

She half turned, hiked her skirt up, hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties, shimmied them down her legs and stepped out of them. Still clutching the white undergarment she got her skirt back in place, turned fully to face me, reached up and stuffed her panties in my mouth.

She grinned wickedly, gave my cock a swift, smooth stroke, took her purse and briefcase from my hands, opened the door and, over her shoulder, said, "Toodles, love!".

Not at all what I expected!