Shortly after my divorce, I bought myself silk crimson pjs cum negligee. (Notice how I slipped in some latin? And what a apropos choice of word. Well done, Anne.) I thought at that time that it was to get myself back on the prowl. It was an extravagance – something for me. You might think that after 15+ years it wouldn’t fit me anymore, but actually I was heavier then. There was too much stress during my marriage and its aftermath; I ate more and ran less. The negligee was supposed to symbolize freedom. Every once in a while, I decide to wear them, just for me – my private personal seduction. Last night was the night, and realizing that I didn’t have to go out at all today, I’m still wearing them. In fact, I’m still in bed. The weather is warm today, so I’ve dispensed with the covers, preferring the warmth of my laptop on my thighs.
I’ve unbuttoned the top for comfort, hanging free and easy. Although, I got up to do my morning toilette, I haven’t bothered to brush my hair. It’s tangled all over the place, but there is a naturalness about it that seems to fit with today’s freedom. The panties are perhaps a little too free. As I said, I’ve lost a little weight since I bought them, so they slip around a little bit. It doesn’t matter no one is watching, except you, dear reader, and I trust you not to stare. Have I misplaced my trust? Today, I don’t care. You can stare all you want. Here, I’ll lift up my laptop, so you can have a good look. See? They’re a little rolled up in the back and hence are hanging rather low, not hiding much at all. Excuse me while I stand and straighten them up…
… did you get a good look? I get really red when I blush. They slid down to my thighs when I scooted to the side of the bed.
Mmmm … I love silk. My body almost feels smoother through it than touching the skin directly. Want to try it? Cheeky! I had an option of white lace trim, but I opted for pure silk, with discreet buttons. The top hangs to my upper thighs. I’m not any taller than when I bought it, but it seems like it is shorter. As I sit here, it hangs to the side anyway, giving you the full length of my legs, a bit of tummy and yes, those. I like having small breasts – it’s funny, most of my female characters are jealous of larger-breasted women, but I’m not. They don’t get in the way, and I rarely have men talk to my chest instead of my eyes. Maybe it’s closet breast-envy, but I wouldn’t admit to it.
So what shall I do today? I might just be decadent and sit here all day. At some point, I should eat, I suppose, but for now I’m just going to sit here, hang loose, and enjoy the freedom. No, you can’t stay, this is my private time. (Thinks about buying silk sheets.)
Have a nice day. Now, beat it!
YOU dreamt of me last night. I can tell. I can smell the sex on you. It never quite goes away in the shower. Don’t be embarrassed. I dreamt of you, too. I like that kind of dreams.
Did you get up and change your pants? Or did you sleep in your own mess? I kept mine on, but of course I wouldn’t make as much of a mess as you. I love that smell. I love love love that smell. I like my smell, too, but it’s not as prolific as yours, all over you, the sheets, the image of me that you dreamt about. Mmmmm.
Oh, you DREAMt of me last night. Was I role playing or fancy dress? Maid, nurse, dominatrix, I can do them all in dreams. I can even do men (if that is what you prefer) – that’s the power of dreams. They can do anything. You can’t control them. I can. Your dreams, that is.
You dreamt OF ME last night. Imagine the real thing. It’s even better. Do you dream in color? I do. Last night’s was red. Do you hear? Do you feel? Do you touch? I do. Especially in that kind of dream. Do you taste? Taste is my favorite sense; it’s related to smell. You can tell a lot about a person by how they smell, but taste does it for me. What did I taste like last night? Remember? I do. The bottom of your feet. Did you like that? Loved it. Remember? Well, pay better attention, because …
You WILL dream of me TONIGHT. I hope your partner doesn’t mind.