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Show , Tell Ch. 20

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I was now at an interesting juncture in my relationship with Elle. Her moral compass seemed to have taken a turn for the worst, her decent in depravity on an ever increasing decline.

But to say that would have me acknowledge that she had a moral compass to begin with, something I was fairly certain had been woefully lacking in her life.

Born when her parents were in their late thirties, they’d been in their fifties when she went through puberty, high school and college and in their sixties when she got married and had children. While they’d provided her with manners and good social graces, they did nothing to instill in her any social or moral confidence in dealing with men. They figured that was the responsibility of her peers, teachers and parish priest.

Brought up a catholic, she had gone to a catholic elementary school, what morals she had were shaped by priests and nuns who were not wedded to the ancient catechism that had so doomed her husband. They’d all taken the modern view of letting her, “figure it out!”

While she’d secretly lusted after the patriarch of the house she lived in during her college junior year, “semester abroad,” by her own admission, she’d never actively pursued a man in her life, until me. The same had been true about sex. While she had a normal inquisitiveness about the subject, her desire to please her parents and herself with good grades was far more important than any curiosity about sex.

It didn’t help that the three men whom she’d experimented with were only interested in themselves,

Her one boyfriend in high school was just that and their sexual encounters offered her nothing in terms of fulfillment. The same had been true of the two men she’d dated in college, one her future husband.

Throw in the trauma of her first sexual encounter with that same man and the even worse disaster of her accidental prenuptial pregnancy…, which he then compounded with his completely selfish…, and in reality, abusive treatment of her during their marriage and you can see that there was nothing in her life that could of prepared her for this affair with me.

While I was no Lothario, I was a thousand times more worldly that Elle. By exposing her to the world of seduction, suggestive clothing, sex toys and erotic places, I’d unlocked the door to her exhibitionism, a door that she’d not only passed through, but had pulled it off its hinges and then smashed to pieces! But even in that…, with her natural air of innocence, beguiling beauty and only now, budding self-confidence, her exposing herself seemed more accidental than purposeful, which made it all the more erotic.

And now I was poised to offer to her…, the world of promiscuity.

As with exhibitionism, I merely gave a hint, a suggestion and then let her dwell on the possibilities. She was lucky to find Kat, at 2Hot4U, who was there with the experience of knowing how to steer the willing Elle, along with Hue and Helen at Seductive Nights, who grew with her, aiding and abetting, as she learned how to pretend innocence when exposing herself.

Using that small sample, she’d once again innocently, or not so innocently, exposed herself at the restaurant, Katmandu, much to the delight of Chloe, the owner. But it was at the adult themed swingers club, Eden Redux, that she found an uninhibited crowd that was ready and willing to show her new and erotic ways to express herself. It was also at Eden that she met Brendan, a security guard at the club, their mutual attraction leading me to set up an, “accidentally,” arranged rendezvous between he, Elle and I, one that had her inviting him to join us at our motel, only to have a business call blow the whole thing up at the last moment.

All I needed now was the right time and place to get them together again and …

The right time and place would be Saturday night, five days before I was leaving for Florida, this time with my son and Lexi, which would be my last trip of the season to my winter retreat.

That also meant that my wife would be returning with me, making these trysts with Elle somewhat more difficult to arrange.

While she wasn’t happy with my leaving, she did take solace in it being my final trip south. And to help even further, we’d scheduled my last story of the year, based on a book she’d read to her class, for that following Tuesday, meaning I’d be able to stop into the school on Wednesday, a late afternoon matinee only hours before my departure!

I’d sent Brendan an e-mail, asking if it would be possible for him to be at Eden, without being on duty? He immediately knew what I had in mind and replied later that night that he’d arranged just that, but asking that we limit our interaction to the upstairs, so that it wouldn’t compromise the side deal he had with Sherry, the downstairs bartender. I promised that I had no problem with that.

I also contacted Keith to see if he and Amy were going to be at the, “Eden Redux” He replied that they ataşehir escort bayan weren’t going to be there, but that they were exploring another venue, one that Kat had recommended. She’d given me the same information months earlier on a private, “Members Only,” club that seemed to have unlimited potential for us. While that might have been true, I didn’t feel that Elle was ready for something like that at this point.

Keith promised to give me a review of their experience on Monday.

So, dinner reservations.

Smart play would be to go back to Katmandu and let the restaurant and Chloe get Elle into the mood for Brendan. After all, I knew that Chloe not only permitted Elle’s exhibitionism, but encouraged it. Between her and her staff, Elle would leave the restaurant horny and ready to party at Eden Redux.

But…, knowing I had Brendan ready and waiting there, I figured, “Why make it easy for them?” Knowing how much Elle loved French culture, a carryover from her, “semester abroad,” experience in England, the “man of the house” a French born wine importer, I chose a French Bistro in town, which advertised itself as, “Intimate and Romantic.”

As was my MO, she would have no idea what I’d planned for the evening, my secrecy meant to keep her off balance. A distracted Elle was more likely to be influenced by my suggestions if she was in unfamiliar surroundings.

Her only desire…? She insisted on dressing herself.

With her at this, “…, don’t give a shit,” stage of her life, given her new and improved tits, a closet full of revealing clothing and the new found confidence to wear anything she wanted, “…, dressing herself,” could be a very dangerous proposition!

That had me off balance.

But if what she’d chosen was so outrageous that I couldn’t take her to the bistro, there was always the Taco Bell drive thru!

As it turned out, I had Kathy to thank for what she was wearing.

I only had to wait an extra ten minutes for, the always late, Elle this time, a new record for her. Since it was a cool and damp mid April night, she was wearing her black coat sweater, not giving away what she had underneath.

She looked awesome, her hair and makeup looking like she’d had it done professionally and as always, she was very excited to see me.

“Hey baby…, I know, I’m late…, but this time there’s a real reason!”

After a very sensual kiss, she settled back into her seat and proceeded to tell me the, “…, real reason,” she’d been late.

“I went to Kathy’s and Vic had gone out, so it was just the two of us…, and their son Randy. He’s nineteen, an unbelievable kid, really smart and he goes to MIT. So he’s upstairs on his computer and Kathy takes one look at me and tells me, “You look like shit!” Which I did because Todd was in a pissy mood, as usual, and I just wanted to get out of the house. I threw a couple of outfits into a bag and some make-up and then got out of there as quickly as I could.”

“So, she poured us some wine and we went upstairs to her bedroom, where I took another shower, dried off and then, while Kathy was trying to dry my hair, I was trying on what I wanted to wear. I never even got half of it on and she was already saying, “NO!” When I protested and finished putting everything on, she shook her head and then did the unthinkable!’

I couldn’t imagine what Elle would have thought the, “…, unthinkable,” might have been, so I looked at her and made a, “…, and?” face.”

“She called her son!”

Nodding, “Yes,” I admitted, “You’re right…, that was kind of severe.”

“Randy walked in before I could do anything and…, after he got over the initial shock, he mumbled, “Mrs. Adams…, you aren’t planning on wearing that …, are you?” Luckily, Kathy piped up, “No, she bought it thinking it was something that Kim might be able to use for a dance recital, but…”

“Shaking his head, he said to me, “I don’t know? Unless Kim has grown up a lot over the last couple of years…, I don’t see her wearing anything like that until her wedding night.” Then he went back to his room.”

Without having to say a word, I looked at her.

“It was that silver sequined, “O,” of material and the ruffled hem mini-skirt that I wore that time at 2Hot when I was exposed in front of the UPS guy and Keith…, you remember…”

“I do…, and I also recall that it covered nothing!”

“Well I thought it would be fine, but she told me to save it for another time.”

“And you considered that to be good advise?” I asked.

“Well, when I pulled this one out of the bag,” taking off her coat sweater, revealing the sheer black blouse, the tight black satin, with grey pin stripes, mini-skirt and thigh high, back seam hosiery that Kat from 2Hot had selected for her, “Kathy smiled and said, “That’s somewhat better,” looking me over head to toe. But then asked, “You DO have a bra to wear under that.., right?”

“When I told her, “No,” escort kadıöy she made be put on the clothes that I’d worn to her house and then she drove me to the Mall where she made me buy this bra.”

Looking at the tiny black demi-bra she was wearing, I couldn’t help but think that Kathy had made the right decision.

Since the blouse was extremely sheer, so sheer that I could read a newspaper through it, without the bra there was a good chance we would either have been asked to leave, or she would have had to wear her sweater throughout the meal.

“It must have taken an hour for you to make that trip, so how did you get ready so quickly?” I asked.

“She did my hair and helped me with my eyes and then made a few suggestions…, so here I am!”

Smiling, I told her, “Good thing her husband wasn’t home.”

Giving me a look, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, without knowing him, I’d guess that he wouldn’t have let you leave the house dressed like that!”

I then talked her out of the thigh highs, telling her that the hosiery added nothing to the overall look of the ensemble, actually taking away from it given how much of a difference the addition of the bra made.

I didn’t want to tell her that the thigh highs made her look like a, “$20 hooker!”

Again, Kathy and I proved that we were on the same page, when Elle admitted, “You know…, this is funny, because Kathy said the same thing to me. But she told me that the stocking made me look like a, “cheap prostitute!” I put them back on after I left her house.”

I left it at that!

The sign on the attendant’s shed in the parking lot next to the restaurant said, “Lot Closes At 9:00 PM” which led me to ask, as I stopped to pay the $15 fee, “Does the sign mean that you lock the lot up at 9:00?”

Sticking his face in the window, the attendant was about to answer my question when he spotted Elle removing the thigh high from her right leg.

She’d already taken the left stocking off, her left leg was down and off the seat, her right leg bent at the knee, her right heel on the edge of the seat.

Since I’m not all that great at physics, or mechanical engineering, I guess it was commonsense that lead me to KNOW…, that when a female is wearing a tight mini-skirt and she lifts her legs, the skirt will automatically slide up.

That being the case, and with neither of Elle’s two masters degrees in physics or mechanical engineering, she either didn’t care that her skirt had ridden up, or was unaware. With her looking down at her legs as she slipped the stocking off, I’ll assume it was the former.

And that being the case, as I watched the attendant’s eyes grow large, I followed his stare and discovered that the top of Elle’s smoothly shaved crotch was on display and remained so while she took the remaining thigh high completely off. The question now was, “Does she cover herself, or continue to expose herself?”

I failed to consider that she still had to put her shoes back on!

Pulling the skirt down would have been a waste of time and a needless charade of false propriety.

So, she simply bent forward and picked her shoes up, slipping them on in the same manner that she’d taken her thigh highs off, bending her knees one at a time and slipping the shoe on, tightening and buckling the straps.

Now, with the shoes on, she put both feet on the floor, but then to prove my point, she did nothing to pull the skirt down!

When I turned back to the guy, his gaze was still fixed on Elle’s crotch, which caused me to pause before rephrasing my question. “Excuse me…, what time to you close the lot?”

He finally turned his attention to me, but rather than answering my question, he asked, “Where you going?” When I told him, he pointed to one of the spaces closest to the restaurant, asking me to move the car there. Once in the space, he approached the car, but rather than walk over to the drivers side, he walked around the car and opened Elle’s door.

Smart man!

I got out and walked around behind him so I could watch her exit too.

As he held the door, she fiddled with her purse, finally looking up and giving the guy a smile. Moving her right leg, she put that on the ground outside open door. This was only possible because her skirt was now almost at her waist, something she must have done while I was moving to the parking space, allowing her legs to separate in this manner.

Still smiling at him, she pivoted in the seat, leaving her left foot where it was, causing her right leg to move further to the right, opening her crotch to full exposure!

She held that pose for what must have been, three or four seconds, before finally moving her left leg out of the car and waited…

The guy was still holding the door, Elle sitting on the seat and still waiting.

Finally, she held up her hand and the guy realized what she’d been waiting for!

Taking her hand, he helped her maltepe escort up, her demure smile and soft, “Thank you,” offered with the, so tight it would have to be pulled down, mini skirt still holding film around her waist.

“Ready?” I asked, giving her the opportunity to say, “No!”

Looking at me, still standing behind the attendant, a smile and then, “Let me get my purse.”

With that, she turned around, bending at the waist, her ass, pussy and pretty pink asshole now on display and reached into the car to pick up her purse. Turning back to face us, she grabbed the sides of the mini skirt bottom hem and pulled it down so that her ass and crotch were finally covered, thanked him again and then put her sweater on.

Holding a $20 in my hand, I asked for the third time, “What time do you close?”

Taking his eyes off Elle for the first time sine we’d arrived, he finally looked at me and said, “Aaahhh, don’t worry about it. I’ll be here until you’re ready to leave.” Handing me a parking chit, he told me, “Make sure Maurice stamps this for you. Parking will only be $5.00.”

Now giving us a nod, “And enjoy your meal. The food is really good.”

Giving him a nod and a smile, we walked the twenty steps to the entrance and entered the restaurant.

It was five steps up into the dining room, the tuxedo clad maitre’d greeting us at his podium with a nice smile and, “Bonsoir et bienvenue a notre maison. Reservation?”

Giving him my name, he glanced at the reservation book, raised an eyebrow and then looked at Elle. “May I take your sweater, madam?”

I helped her take it off and handed it to the maitre’d. He took one look at her, took the sweater, then glanced back at the book, made a notation and then led us to a table overlooking the street, the window reaching from floor to ceiling. After hanging the sweater, he returned with menus, introduced himself, “My name is Maurice and if there is anything you might need to make your dining experience more pleasurable, please let me know.”

I counted twenty one tables, the room as described on line, “Intimate and Romantic.” There were nine other couples and two tables with more than two individuals. It was quiet and there wasn’t anyone else sitting at the other three window tables.

Elle looked fantastic…, and I told her so.

Stretching across the table, she kissed me hard, her tongue deep in my mouth, then said, “Thank you baby.”

What she didn’t know was that Maurice was standing behind her, a bottle of champagne cradled in his arm like a baby, a young busboy standing next to him, holding an ice bucket and stand. Both had been the beneficiaries of her unintended exposure, her ass fully uncovered when she stretched across the table.

Both men waited until she was back in her seat before approaching,… and both here visibly shaken.

Maurice presented the bottle to me, which I approved and after making a production out of removing the cork, he poured me a sample. Again I approved, the busboy having set up the ice bucket and Maurice poured two glasses, again asked that we, “Savourer,” and went back to his podium.

And, “…, back to his podium,” wasn’t really a hardship for him, as the table where he’d seated us was barely ten feet away from him, his view of Elle


I toasted, “To you,” which she turned around, toasting, “To us,” and then we perused the menus.

Before our appetizer was served, Maurice had returned to the table twice to refill Elle’s glass, Claude our waiter doing the honor once himself.

“This wine is so yummy,” as she finished her forth glass, at which point I suggested that she eat something before she had someone pour her a fifth!

I guessed she figured the half dozen, “Oysters Rockefeller,” that she wolfed down, classified as, “…, something to eat,” because Claude poured her the last of the champagne as soon as the busboy had cleared the table.

“On a mission?” I asked, as she swallowed the last of the bubbly.

“No…, it’s only champagne. If it was bourbon, I could see why you’d be worried, but…”

Leaning closer, I told her, “Honey, the liquor that they were talking about when older boys invented the axiom for getting into girl’s pants… “Candy is dandy, but liquer is quicker!” That was champagne. It goes down really easy and then it loosens your inhibitions…, and the next thing you know, you’re under the table and the boy is trying…, no…, getting into your pants!”

She laughed and replied, “Baby, I don’t need anything to make me want to crawl under the table to get at your beautiful cock. If I’m breathing, that’s what I want to do!”

“Okay, that makes me happy. But getting arrested isn’t part of my plans for this evening, so let’s restrain ourselves and drink some water with dinner.”

She settled for one glass of wine and was slurring her words as we ate our entrée. Suddenly, she needed to use the, “toilettes,” which Maurice led her to, seeing her in some discomfort.

The trip accomplished two things. First, she took care of the champagne, the Oysters Rockefellers, part of her entrée and most of her glass of wine. The second thing she did was take off her bra, which by this time she saw as an annoyance.

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