Summer with C Ch. 10

We did the beach again the next day, this time the thong was magenta. Her tan was getting dark enough that the aureoles of her nipples had almost disappeared, but that was easily made up for by the fact that the nipples seemed to be perpetually hard.

On Friday, she took the day off and we got an earlier start at the beach. This time I'd provided a thong in a black fabric that had alternating opaque and sheer horizontal stripes. Up close you could discern the beginning of her gash, but from a few feet away not. We walked the entire length of the beach around ten, but then stuck to the east end of it for the next couple hours.

I told her that I'd like to take her to dinner that evening and she was very enthused. She knew that I had some form of showing her off in mind. I told her that we would go to the mall and shop for something for her to wear beforehand, but that she should be dolled up and ready to go out around five.

At five she answered the door in a white blouse and short black skirt. It looked almost like a waitress outfit, but her hair was all done up and piled atop her head and the shoes she had chosen were killer - strappy little black stilettos. Perfect I thought. We embraced, kissed, and for the first time, had some tongue to tongue contact before heading out.

At the mall we found a parking slot right near the entrance where I hoped we would and headed inside. There were few people about the mall at five-thirty in mid summer. Once inside, I steered her directly to Victoria's Secret and we poked around for a while until Greta approached us and asked if she could be of assistance.

"Certainly," I replied "How about bringing out the little number you set aside for me this afternoon?" Greta disappeared and returned shortly, a padded clothes hanger with a dangle of silk on it in hand. I had been in the previous day to make a selection and asked her if she could have it steam pressed and ready when C and I returned.

"I assume that you are "C," Greta purred "He's right, this should look wonderful on you." She took C by the hand, steering her toward the dressing rooms. They disappeared for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually C marched out wearing the luscious little nothing I'd selected earlier - a simple navy blue silk chemise draped over her svelte frame like deep blue water cascading over smooth mountain stones, shimmering and glistening, glimmering as the light caught every little ripple. It hung from her shoulders by two tiny little spaghetti straps and ended a scant few inches below her crotch. She flashed me her most seductive smile and I almost came in my pants right there in the store.

It was sexy in the way that a little black dress is and then some. Greta appeared from behind her and slid her hands across C's hips, sliding the hem of the chemise up to C's waist to show me the matching thong panties underneath.

There were two other women shopping in the store at the time and I glanced at both of them. They smiled admiringly. One looked at me and gave me a quick wink. The other just stared at C - I swear she was drooling. Greta headed for the sales desk and we followed. She rang up the sale, I paid, and then Greta handed C the bag she had put the blouse and black skirt in.

I held out my arm for C to hold onto, then headed out and into the mall. We strolled along past a dozen or so stores then out to the parking lot to where we had left the car with her like that, a scant few ounces of sensuous fabric slithering back and forth across her body. The bumps formed by her nipples practically sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight as her breasts jiggled deliciously and with every step it seemed the hem was ready to ride up a little too high and give a glimpse of the scanty little crotchwrapper beneath. We climbed into the car and headed for dinner.

The restaurant was on Aragon Street in the lower level of an older apartment building. I'd been there several times before and knew it was exactly the sort of atmosphere I was looking for. From the moment we walked in people kept sneaking glances at C. Men universally leered. Women either sneered or stared slackjawed until they realized what they were doing or snapped out of it once they saw their man in a similar state of awe. Our waiter that evening was a young man who attended to our needs with a little more than the usual vigor. I ordered champagne to start things off and we feasted on superbly prepared filet mignon (her) and steak au poivre (me) accompanied by a wonderful Zinfandel.

After the waiter brought the check and I sent him back with my credit card. I suggested that C visit the ladies room. "While you're there, take the panties off." I added. She disappeared, then returned just after the waiter had brought my receipt, one hand doubled up in a fist.

I looked at the fist and asked if that was where the panties were before she had a chance to sit down again. She shook her head affirmatively. I pointed to the center of the table and said, "Leave them right there. I've tipped our waiter nicely, but I'm certain he'll appreciate you leaving him a little something extra just as much."

C extended her arm, opened her fist and deposited the little wad of blue silk right smack in the middle of the table. Looking around the room, many of the other diners witnessed the gesture. Each of them knew that as we left, not only was C wearing no more than what would normally be considered a skimpy little undergarment, but that she was wearing absolutely nothing beneath. There were five or six steps up from the dining area we had been to reach the ground level and I have no doubt that everyone was watching to see if anything would be revealed, but it wasn't until we'd stepped outside into the twilight and had the car brought around that anyone caught a peek. As she slipped into the passenger side she allowed the hem of the chemise to slide almost to her waist, giving the doorman holding the car door a spread legged clear view of her succulent shaven snatch. He glanced at me, grinning ear to ear and as we pulled away I saw him give me a thumbs up in the rear view mirror.