Susan and The Gentleman

"Ah, you're five minutes early, which means you are exactly on time. Please enter."

The distinguished looking gentleman stepped back and held the door for the young lady. The room was elegant and simple, and filled with old books, mementos and all the knick and knacks that go along perfectly with the image of the Middle Aged, silver and brown haired Anglo man who opened the door. A little too perfectly, Susan thought. Some of her friends called her cynical, but she preferred the title of 'not being an idiot'. The situation was a little too pat. An older man with a pleasant disposition simply wanted to look at her. Mh-hm. Well, not that simply. They had arranged a session after several weeks online discussing their shared interest in exhibitionism and, of course, voyeurism.

Half the fun of her and The Gentleman's texting was discussing what clothes would look good on Susan. He had suggested more old fashioned clothes, which was fine with her, better, actually, as they usually suited Susan's size ten ( on a good day) frame more than the modern Victoria's Secret mini-strosities. There were several outfits of her choosing and a couple of his own that she was to model. Susan's exhibitionism had expressed itself in a lot of ways over the years, once or twice she had almost been arrested for her Fetlife inspired public sex jaunts! But she had never been simply....looked at. She was having trouble imagining it, and was prepared for creepiness on behalf of the gentleman. But she was a woman in 2021, she was always prepared for creepiness.

She brushed past the gentleman and went straight to the bookshelves. She scanned the titles, stopping at 'Brave New World' and then pulled it down. She opened it to see various passages underlined, and little notes in the margin. She put it back and scanned again to find a ratty copy of Mark Twain's ' Letters From The Earth', which was also underlined and notated in the same handwriting.

"Well, either you've stolen the whole place our this is actually your library."

"I little of both is true, I'm afraid. Most of these things are mine, but I am presenting myself not as I am in daily life. My proclivities would raise enquiries, and such enquiries bore me. Especially at my age." He smiled warmly, and Susan felt herself smile along with him. He was in a open collared button up shirt with a grey well fitting vest and pleated slacks. His outfit could be called old fashioned, and might look silly on another man, but it looked good on...

"What is it I'm supposed to call you?" Susan asked.

"In this guise, I am Mr. Carson."

"A Guise? Really? Is this cosplay for you?"

"I like having some fiction in my face, in my persona. It helps me immerse into the experience of seeing you, really seeing you."

Susan walked over to a high backed lounge that was upholstered in a crushed red velvet cloth, more suited to the Victorian age. She brushed her fingers over the almost too soft surface of the couch.

" 'Seeing You'. The way you say that. You will stay clothed, right?"

"Absolutely. As we agreed online, you will wear and model clothes, and a lack there of, for me. In one hour, maximum, you will be picked up by a friend...correct?"

"Yes. As you insisted."

"Well, this way you can relax. For, I understand how odd this is. It would be egotistical to say 'too good to be true', for it is my fetish. But to look at a woman, in a relaxed setting, and just observe every little part of her, from armpits to toenails, without any coitus asked for, or presented. What the hell, bizarre, right?" His tone grew wry and self Deprecating. "Am I freak? Well, yes. And considering what the middle of the bell curve presents, I am happily a freak. For the next hour at any rate." Mr. Carson moved an elegant low chair about seven feet from the couch, a distance a little farther than a stereotypical Psychiatrist would sit from a patient on a couch. "Believe me, when we are done here, I shall proceed to my partner, and a lot of very normal naughtiness will commence. But for now, I would love to delight in you, and all you are."

Susan smiled. "How do we start?"

"Well, it's not in the theme of Old English Gentleman, but if you would, plug in your playlist to the Bose and press play."

"Oh, Of course." The man who was now Mr. Carson had suggested Susan bring a playlist of music that made her feel pretty, sexy, or powerful, or all of those things, to listen to during the session. As her first song played, a rare track from Elvis Costello, Mr Carson settled back into his chair. "I would love to see you in that dress over there, and would you change in front of me please?"

Well, this was it, Susan thought. Why was she nervous? She'd gone down on a drummer in a sex club once ( once ) why was this more nerve wracking? She was puzzling over it as she fumbled with the buttons on the front of the dress.

"Susan, remember, there is no way under God's Heaven that I am not going to delight in what I see." His voice was rich in expectation, an eagerness that Susan needed to hear. She wanted to be wanted, who doesn't, but there was a difference between the delight in vulnerability, and the delight of exhibitionism. The two energies could come together, and they often danced within the lusts and desires of those who possess any degree of either. She started to fully process that she was not a submissive here. She liked to be seen, to be appreciated, and this person was going to do just that. She looked into his eyes, and found them looking straight into hers. She finished unbuttoning her blouse and revealed her medium sized chest in her favorite bra, a half-cup peach colored lacy creation. His eyes travelled down to her tits, and he almost unwillingly said, "Oh my goodness. That is lovely." Suddenly, all tension melted away from Susan. That tone in his voice...he was totally going to just look at her, and like it. She smiled a bit broader, and felt her nipples harden a little. She was an exhibitionist, after all.

"So you really can't get this kind of thing at a strip club?" She asked as she hung her blouse up and started to shimmy out of her skirt.

"Oh lord no. Firstly, I knew far too many dancers when I was in the entertainment business. The things they told me..." Susan had sat down and lifted her legs to take off the rest of her skirt. She was showing off, but just a little. Mr. Carson appreciated the line that she was walking. "Indeed...", he whispered at her little show. "Also.." Mr. Carson continued, "... strip clubs are, well, strip clubs. They are so not...this...."

Susan had stood up and faced Mr. Carson in her bra, panties, hose and garters, and her shoes.

"Oh, you see? That is just lovely!" Extolled Mr. Carson, his eyes traveling up and down her body. "You are a person! A real person, and not a Presentation of a Capitalist Fantasy..." He was leaning forward, and looking closely at Susan's body, peering at her thighs, shins and feet as much he was looking at her groin and stomach. "Would you do a Betty Grable for me? Do you know who that is?"

"I'm not that young. I know my pin ups!" Susan turned her back to Mr. Carson, put her feet close together, her arms akimbo and then peeked over her shoulder and gave him a wink. Mr. Carson laughed with delight. "That is perfect! Oh, thank you, now proceed to the dress, if you would." Susan put on the dress, which was an odd choice she thought. It was a Liz Clairborne dress, like from the Jon Hughes movies. She has seen such things in documentaries about the 1980's, but never imagined she would wear it. She felt odd and out of place in the dress, though it did suit her figure.

"I like the first outfit to be an icebreaker, something unusual and non-typical. The poor creatures I went to school with were forced to wear such things, but I thought you would look sharp in one. Now, walk and prance about and act like you...rule the school, I think is the phrase." Susan stood up super straight and strutted back and forth in the room, suddenly filling out the attitude of the dress. She turned back to Mr. Carson and strutted back to the couch, where she sat down and crossed her legs. And then she uncrossed, and recrossed them, slowly.

"That is a fantasy come true." Mr. Carson coughed to clear his throat. " Good lord, woman. Allright, ah, the next dress please. And as you undress this time, take more time, go slower than before."

Susan liked hearing how he was getting turned on, and how she still felt safe. She did as he asked, not going super slow but just taking a little more time, and making eye contact with Mr. Carson whenever possible. Her conscious effort to go slower also encouraged her to bend over and move in different ways as well. A little more flirty, but not slutty. She reached for the other dress, and it was a vintage 1940's skirt and blouse. She almost squealed, which embarrassed her a bit as she liked to keep her girly self in check, but she had always wanted to wear an outfit like this. The blouse had shoulder pads, and draped so sexily on her. And the dress had that tightness that showed off her ass. She walked about a bit, posing and turning a bit.

"I love this dress, Mr. Carson."

"It looks amazing on you, indeed the 1940's is your decade."

"Do you have another dress for me?"

"Perhaps, but would you undress again, and, would you undress even slower this time."

Susan had been hoping he would ask her to go slower. Being in the old clothes, with their old scent, a scent like no new clothes had, made her feel even more brazen and powerful and she revealed herself again, to this man, who only wanted...needed to watch. She watched him watch her, and loved how he seemed to continue to split his attention to every part of her body, and how his little smile and wide eyes never ceased. She owned this guy, his entire brain was focused on all she was and on anything she felt like showing him.

"Would you lie back and just lay there for a while, with the blouse as it is." Susan had got the skirt off, and she leaned back as requested, with the shirt open. "Astounding, just lay there...oh, I love that part right there..."

"What? Which part?"

"The crease of your thigh, on the edge of your pelvis."

"Oh? Here?" Susan ran her hand up her leg from her knee and paused at the very top of her thigh, and then slowly pulled her hand down to her side. "oohhhhh...."Mr. Carson cooed. Susan had never felt so turned on without having any of her privates being touched. She rolled over onto her stomach and slowly moved into a doggy style pose, which she held, and then sat up to face Mr. Carson. "And what do you want now, Mr. Carson?"

"There is a corset, over there, have you ever worn one?"

Susan gasped a little. She had once, at a Renaissance Festival a long time ago, and had loved it. It was like armor, and it made all her curves into weapons! She found the corset, took off her bra quickly and began to put on the corset.

"Oh, Ms. Susan, you will need the undershirt to protect your skin. It's just there." It was an overlarge linen 'Three Musketeers Style' shirt that was almost as long a dress. She popped it on and then put the corset over it. It was well constructed and had the heft of quality. "Oh, wait, I can't tighten this on my own..." She turned to Mr. Carson.

"Actually, use the two rings on the post behind you, run the ties through them, that's it. Now you can use the rings to pull them tight, yes...

Susan put one tie through each of the metal rings, stood close to the post and the pulled the ties out from either side. She had to brace herself a bit, and though the corset tightened well it did take some effort. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Carson staring intently as she strained to tighten the garment that was confining her body.

"Oh my, you're like a Rodin!"

"What's that, Mr. Carson?" Susan asked with a lilt of tease in her voice.

"The sculptor Rodin, the man who did The Thinker, liked to show muscular tension in his works. His figures are twisted in positions no human would attempt in real life. Oh, your calves do show nicely like that."

"My calves? Oh, they're spindly."

"Indeed, they are slim, but when you put pressure on them...yes! Like that, they round out in a very attractive manner."

"Hmph. Attractive for you, perhaps."

"No I do believe I am speaking objectively."

Susan pulled against the ties a little more, but in a more ornamental manner, straining her muscles, stretching out her arms and her legs, her side and shoulders as Mr. Carson ooh and ahh'd, with comments as if he was watching a dance, or looking at a sculpture.

Finally she stopped stalling and managed to tie off the corset. She stepped out and presented her self to him. "Please take off your garters and hose." She did so, finding some of the positions difficult to do elegantly with the corset on her. As she bent over, and stretched up, and sat down, and lifted a leg, and pointed a toe and all the other little poses she committed in front of his green eyes, Mr Carson watched it all. Happily a Lou Reed song started up, and the languid intensity fit the scene wonderfully. Undressed of all except the corset and long shirt, she leaned back and her hands softly moved the cloth around her legs, showing a little skin, and covering it again. She wasn't looking at Mr. Carson now, as she knew he would be watching every move she made, and it so felt natural now, even like she deserved it. I mean look at me, Susan thought, I'm fucking gorgeous!! Her face lit up with a huge smile as those word came into her head, and Mr. Carson saw the smile.

"Oh, yes you are beautiful. And a wonder to behold."

"How did you know I was thinking that?"

"Oh, no psychic powers were used. That smile, just then, could mean nothing else."

She kept smiling, and continued to loll...loll? Yes, by Jane Austen she thought loudly to herself, she was Lolling about the couch, luxuriating in the soft velvet, the natural linen and the armor of the corset and all the contrasting feelings they brought up in her. After Lou Reed passed and a Nina Simon song started, Mr Carson spoke up.

"I'd like you to take off the Corset, and the long shirt, if you would, and, of course, please take your time."

She sat up, and re established eye contact with him. She was able to loosen the Corset with ease, thought taking it off was impossible to do elegantly.

"Can you help me with the corset."

"No, I cannot. I cannot, nor will not touch you in any manner. It's all right, you will loose no points." He joked.

"Not even if I choke on a chicken bone?" she said with a Mae West accent.

Mr. Carson laughed "With danger to life and limb, of course, I will render assistance. But otherwise, not a finger my darling. Touching is another kind of session entirely."

Hm, Susan thought, and what kind of session is that? She decided to stand and wiggle out of the corset, in the spirit of the light hearted moment, and she did so, which she realized shook her ass vigorously, and that had to make Mr. Carson happy. Having the corset off felt wonderful, and stretched her hands high above her, and ran her hands casually up and down her body, under and over the large shirt. She then realized, that despite all her undressing and dressing, she had still not been completely naked. She turned her back to Mr. Carson, and then slowly let the loose garment off her shoulders...

"Oh that is wonderful, yes, please take your time..."

She did so. Inch by inch she let the shirt fall, and reveal more and more of her body. Finally, it lay crumpled on the floor around her feet, and she stepped out of it and turned around and simply stood, fully naked before him, she waited for him to make a request, arching her eyebrows to tell him so.

"Lay back on the couch please." He told her. She lay back and settled into the couch in the manner she had seen in old French postcards and Impressionist paintings. She let her fingers softly trace over her body, teasing herself more than Mr Carson, she thought. She was feeling more than a little horny at this point, and her fingers began to play with the soft mound of hair that covered her moistening pussy. She had no intention of letting this guy have sex, no matter safe she felt, but a little...

"Ah, Ms Susan, forgive me if I am over stepping, but there is no well, masturbation in this session. For either of us." Mr. Carson said gently, though his voice was thick with excitement.

"Are you sure?" Susan asked coquettishly.

"Oh, absolutely. That is another kind of session entirely."

"How many kinds of sessions are there?"

"As many as necessary."

"Is this allright?" Susan asked referring to her lightly dragging the tips of her fingers about half an inch above her vagina.

"Yes, that is fine."

"May I touch my nipples?"

"You may softly and respectfully touch any part of your breast, except your nipples."

"Oh, that's mean."

"Respectfully, I don't care."

"Good." Susan answered, meaning it. She was now doing her thing, and he was now totally doing his thing. She knew it, and she reveled in the comfortable glory of the Exhibitionist, she was on display for what she was, not even what she was doing. Sure, one man wasn't a crowd, but one one person completely focused on you felt intense, and the fact guy wasn't an asshole with fifty bucks in his dirty hand, who respected, even enjoyed good boundaries made it better.

And Mr Carson watched this lovely person, freed from the corset, smiling and loving herself without hesitation or doubt. He could not tear his eyes away from her lovely body. Most would say she was just normal looking. Mr. Carson scoffed at the word 'just'. This was a woman, and he could not drink in enough of her with his eyes if he had a thousand hours and Thor's own Goblet.

Two entire songs on Susan's playlist went by, with Mr Carson looking, looking, looking and asking Susan to pose for him. Finally Mr. Carson said. "Would you put on your bra and panties please, it's almost time." Susan found them and started to put them on, feeling a little wrong at doing something so sexual without having an orgasm.

"Now, would you comb your hair for me?"

"Is it mussed?"

"No. It's a, well, a cooling down technique. For us both." Susan asked nothing else, but brought out her brush from her bag, and began to use it. She started methodically, but stroke by stroke, she felt a little more, clothed. She slowed down her strokes and looked back at Mr. Carson, who was smiling. "I love watching a woman brush and fix her hair. I'm not sure why." Susan was smiling too. And without any other instructions, when she had finished brushing her hair, she began to dress and get ready to leave. Mr. Carson also arose from his seat and straightened up the room, though Susan had no idea what he could be straightening up. It looked a little foolish, but she understood he was doing it to try make her feel comfortable, and such foolishness is permitted, she thought.

"So, well." She said, as she was standing by the door.

"Ms Susan, thank you so much. You are a lovely person."

"Thank you. I... enjoyed it."

"You hesitated...?"

Susan stammered a bit. "No, it's just that... I never..." And then it tumbled out. "...that's the sexiest thing I may have ever done, and there was no sex. It's an odd sensation, weird, like coitus interruptus but not, because I'm all awake and alive but not frustrated...does that make sense?"

"Oh hell yes. But I assume you will be going somewhere to have sex, and soon?"

"Ah, I hadn't planned on it."

"You should. I am."

"Really? Oh, yes, you said that earlier."

"Oh, indeed. My partner and I should be merrily screwing our middle aged brains our in about an hour."

"Ok. well." Susan was a little flabbergasted.

"Susan." Mr Carson said in a teacher correcting he student voice.