2. Lucinda: My Husband's Birthday
Dear Reynardine,
I said I'd tell you about some of my recent experiences, didn't I? Well, let me get started. Here's the first one that comes to mind.
A while back, at the peak of the "over the knee stocking a couple of inches below the hem of a short skirt" craze, I noticed my husband admiring all the young women so decked out. Well, I really kind of liked it, too, but unconsciously dismissed it as a young-girl thing and just enjoyed looking.
On one occasion, there were three, standing in a group, waiting to go into a theatre at the local multiplex. These were particularly well executed and I pointed them out to my husband, who was looking at some other women in another direction (men!). He looked and remarked quietly to me that they were indeed, some of the best examples he'd seen, with one of them being really good. As the doors opened and the small crowd compressed a bit, we moved quite near them. I took a close look and discovered that one was a lot older than the others and also looked an awful lot like one of the younger ones. Mother and daughter, I concluded. The surprising thing was that it was the "Mother" that actually looked a lot better than the other two, having much better legs and a confident carriage. My husband, resident leg expert, reiterated his approval.
So, I thought I'd give it a try and bought some black opaque stockings made for that purpose. I had several short black skirts that were suitable and chose a fuller one since I had seen more of those with that look than straighter ones. Now, I've never been a big fan of "Thigh-High's," mostly because they always had a tendency to creep down my legs. Not only does this cause the obvious problems, but I don't like the feeling. I remembered having seen these stockings layered over white or off-white tights or pantyhose. So I put on a pair of slightly off-white opaque microfiber pantyhose and then the stockings and walked around the house all afternoon (before he got home from work - I am self-employed and have an erratic schedule) to see how they did. They stayed up perfectly!
I experimented with shoes and tops until I thought I looked pretty good. Although my husband's favorite shoes for me to wear are ankle strap high-heeled sandals, they just did not look right in the outfit. And, I had no intention of buying or wearing any of those high-heeled, high-topped combat boots that were beginning to become popular. I ended up selecting some tall black pumps and a black knit top that has some silver Lurex threads running through it (yep, the '60s will never die!). I also picked out a firm control brief because I did not want the stockings to pull down the pantyhose, which were a little on the short side, anyway. The one I selected was black and was also the tightest, most heavy-dutiest one I had because, well...
I took everything off and put it all away before he got home because he did not know I had bought the stockings and I was planning to surprise him on his birthday in a few days. Oh yes... while I was still completely dressed in the outfit, I took a couple of pictures of myself with a Polaroid camera.
On the morning of his birthday, I put on everything but the stockings. Since I sometimes wore the same outfit (less the stockings) for work, he did not think that anything unusual was afoot (so to speak). I was careful to make sure he did not see or come into contact with the girdle, so as not to delay the morning process of getting his sleepy ass awake and off to work. I had some meetings with vendors and a few free-lancers lined up and would be out most of the day. We had planned to go to his favorite high-class steak restaurant that evening for dinner, so I dropped him off at his work, as I often did if I was going to be out all day and could pick him up on the way home or if we were planning something for the evening.
About 10:30, I called him and told him where to find one of the photos I had taken of myself that I had hidden in his briefcase. I did not tell him what it was, just that I had put something there that he would like. We ended the call before he looked for it. About 2:30 I called him again and told him where to find the other photo that I had hidden in his briefcase. I asked him how his day was going and he laughingly said that I was being very mean to him on his birthday.
About 4:30 I called him and told him where to find the third and final photo. All I could hear was heavy breathing. Finally, "I know, I already found it." More heavy breathing. "When are you going to get here?"
"Well, I'm running a little late, so I should be there about 6:00. Reservations are for 7:00. We'll have plenty of time," says I.
"I was hoping you could come by early and we could swing by the house..."
"Nope, not this time. There'll be no funny business until I say it's time."
More heavy breathing.
"OK, uncle, uncle. I'll see you at 6:00."
The first photo had me standing there, just as you would see me on the street in the outfit. In the second one, I was standing there with one foot on top of the vanity putting on an ankle bracelet (they don't do much for me, but he sure likes them). The leg that was up was the one near the camera and the skirt had slid up until it almost uncovered the girdle - my whole right leg and the inside of my left leg was exposed almost all the way up to my ass. The third one showed me holding one side of the skirt up and out, exposing my legs and most of the girdle. Diabolical.
I wrapped up my last meeting and sent those shameless mercenaries home (I am usually able to use a conference room for meetings with free-lancers if they have gotten a lot of business from me in the past, or if think that they might one day.) I packed everything up and went into their ladies room to freshen up and put the stockings on. Everything all set, out I went, and stood in front of the elevators. A lot of their employees had already gone home, but the ones that went by while I was waiting looked but did not bat an eye. I got a few waves from people I knew and ended up riding down with a few. Just before I reached the first floor, I realized that I had forgotten to put the ankle bracelet on. So when the doors opened, I headed for the ladies' room.
There I was, with one foot up on a chair, fussing with the microscopic clasp, when in walk three young women. They look closely at me as they go by, and I at them. Two were wearing those damnable peasant dresses and the third one had on baggy overalls and a tee-shirt. I guessed that they came from one of the small software companies in the building. Finally I have the bracelet on and I stand back and straighten everything up again and try to make sure that I have not forgotten anything else. I pulled the skirt up a little and folded over the elastic waistband as I usually did to make it a little shorter when wearing it out for the evening (I was wearing the top over the skirt, so this would not show).
At this point, the hem was about two or three inches above the stocking tops. I folded it over again and had a look. Well, that might be pushing it a little, but what the hell. It was his birthday and I got plenty of leg left to burn (5' 10" with a short waist and really long legs - I seem to look a lot better proportioned if the length of the skirt that is showing is about the same as the length of the top, so I often wear the top on the outside). So I left it that way and fiddled with the waistband to make sure it was even all the way around. I put some safety pins in the waistband to keep it from unfolding and pulled the bottom of the top back down over the skirt. Everything seemed to be in order finally. I look over and two of the girls are staring at me.
Just about then they all three head over to the mirrors to work on their makeup and one says to me "Hey, that outfit's hot."
The third one says, "Yeah, it's real hot. Where did you get it?"
I told them that I already had everything in my closet except for the stockings and where they could get the stockings. That produced a strange expression. "Cool," number one says. "Uh... uh, what do you think it would look like with some really grungy Doc Martens?" says the first. (Aaargh!)
"After wearing high heels every day for 25 years or so, I can't wear anything with less that a three inch heel - Achilles tendon's shriveled right up." It was not anywhere near true - the part about not being able to wear low heels, anyway - but it was likely something that they had heard about. Their eyes got really big and I could see the little gears going around and around as they tried to work the math without a calculator.
"Just how old are you?" blurts the second, immediately realizing her breach of etiquette and looking away. "I'm really sorry I said that," she squeaks.
"That's OK, think nothing of it." Numbers one and three are still trying to work the math, so I decide to help them out, "I was born in 1955." About five seconds later, three little bulbs light up above their heads, one, two, three.
"Wow!" from one and three, together, then from one, "You're almost forty!" I was really beginning to enjoy this!
"You sure don't look that old," says two, shaking her head, and maybe trying to redeem herself. Number three is looking down at my wedding set.
"Well, I am. In a few months, I'll be forty. Let's see... that makes me what... about twice your age?"
Three nodding heads. "Cool," says I. God, I was feeling good! "Well, I gotta go over and pick up my husband so we can go out to dinner. I'm sure Doc Martens will look just fine with an outfit like this," I lied through my teeth.
I exit the ladies room and go through the lobby and out the doors to the visitor parking area. I get a number of looks but no comments. I am a little bit ahead of schedule so I take the scenic route, arriving about ten minutes early - just I had planned. The parking rules aren't enforced after 5:30 so I pull up in front of one of the doors and get out. I go into the lobby and ask the security guard to call my husband and tell him I am here. The guard says "Oooooo, baby! Looking hot tonight, Lucinda," as she dials his number. She is about 45, and has seen me often as I come in to call for my husband to come down if I arrive early or he has forgotten the time. And I am usually dressed up.
"Why, thank you," I say sincerely, "It's his birthday today and I am taking him out to dinner." She tells him that I am here and reports that he will be right down. I pick a spot to stand so that he won't see me until he gets out of the elevator, and affected somewhat of a pose, trying to look demure yet sexy. The lobby is empty - that place empties out pronto on Friday afternoon.
My eyes drift up to the glass wall of the second floor catwalk across the lobby as they usually do while I am waiting for him to come down, and this time I see a squad of his co-workers and buddies lined up along the glass looking down at me. Once I have seen them, they scoot across the catwalk toward the stairwell. In a moment I can hear muffled clomp-clomping from the stairwell and a few seconds later, they burst out the stairwell door at the other end of the lobby behind me just as the elevator opens and my husband steps out.
The look on his face when saw me was really gratifying. I said "Happy birthday!" as he came over and kissed me and thanked me and told me that I looked beautiful. Just then he sees the herd as they finally arrive behind me. I turn around just in time to see two in the back bumping into the guys in front of them who have stopped just a little faster. These are all grown men, some of them about my husband's age. My husband just rolls his eyes.
There is an awkward silence and finally I say "Hi, guys. You know you all didn't really have to stay late on a Friday night just to see Eric off to his birthday dinner, but thanks anyway." There was some mumbling and murmuring about how it was absolutely no problem at all. Then more silence. They are looking at me and at everything else in the lobby in quick succession. "Uh, Eric, I don't think I have met some of these guys..." I have the distinct feeling that Eric is glaring and making faces at them from behind me.
"Oh! I'm sorry, where are my manners!"
He introduced me to the three guys I had not met and I said hello to the other five that I already knew. And again, there was silence. Well, this was not going anywhere, so I finally said, "We better be going so we won't miss our reservation."
"I guess you're right!" says Eric. He took my hand and we walk toward the herd, which was between us and the door. All of a sudden, as if a switch had been thrown, there is all this noise and activity, and the herd parted to let us through with a lot of excuse-mes and closes up after we pass and follows us across the lobby to the glass doors.
As we approached the doors, one trots around in front of us and pushes open the door. Another holds it open as we pass through while the first one opens the second set of doors ahead of us and holds it open. As we leave the building and the doors are still open, I can hear the guard saying "Come back in here and leave those people alone! Don't you have homes? Well then go home already! We don't pay no doormen! Now scat!" But they are all still standing there watching as Eric puts me in the car and goes around and gets in. Too bad, but full skirts tend to get a little longer when you sit down and there was not much for them to see.
After we pull away I ask what all that was about. While I was pretty amused and a little flattered by the whole Keystone Kops episode, I had planned on the place being pretty much empty. I was a little annoyed that the plan had blown up right when Eric got off the elevator, distracting him and me during our greeting ritual.
"Uh... well... uh... You didn't tell me what you had hidden in my brief case, and there were three of those guys in my cube when you called and I pulled out the first picture. And they all saw it. I never told anyone that you would be coming to pick me up tonight or that you would be wearing that outfit. They knew it was my birthday, though, and I guess they put two and two together when I had to ride with them to lunch. Then, I guess word kind of spread. I hope you didn't mind. God, you look great!"
"Well, I guess not." Then, I had a slightly scary thought: "Uh, Eric, did any of them see the third picture?"
"Not a chance! Not a chance!"
Well, that was comforting.
We arrived at the restaurant and I was really enjoying all the attention I was attracting. There were two younger women there with the stockings and short kilts, but they did not look as dressy (or as good, if I may be so immodest) as I. And at 6' 2" in my heels, I sorta dominated the female landscape while we were waiting to be seated. We had a lovely and romantic dinner, and I played with his leg with my foot under the table. He told me again and again how good I looked in the outfit, so much better that all those young-and-tenders (the dear, dear man). We discussed the rather amazing transformation of a perfectly ordinary work outfit (for me, anyway) by the simple addition of those stockings. We had a good laugh over the incident in the ladies room and another good laugh over the guys at his building. It was a wonderful evening.
I was acutely aware of the girdle all night long, and found it rather stimulating (as I often find tight girdles). As we came and went, Eric managed to find reasons to brush up against my hip or ass, just to feel the tight girdle under there, just like on that date so long ago. This still really turns me on.
After dinner, we decided to blow off the movie and go straight home (pant, pant). He stroked my legs and girdled crotch all the way home, playing with the tops of the stockings and running his fingernails over the taut fabric of the girdle. I was about to explode by the time we finally got home. Once we got there, you can probably guess what happened. It was a perfect ending to a great day and lovely evening.
I wore that outfit or a variation of it several more times until the popularity of that look seemed to be fading. I never failed to get a lot attention.
Lucinda
Next: My Birthday Dinner
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