Thursday, October 26, 2006
Liking the new me
Sunday, May 11, 1975.
I’ve had real trouble concentrating on anything these last couple of days. All I can think about is that encounter with Bob in his office.
I’m literally counting down the hours until next Wednesday when we meet up again. For the first time in a very long time, I’m feeling sexy…and I’m feeling myself!
I couldn’t wait to have the house to myself today for that very reason.
As soon as my husband had packed his golf clubs in the car and then packed the children into the back seats to take them over to his parents, I knew I had the house to myself all day and couldn’t help but laugh to myself.
They left at 10am and they won’t be back until 6pm – if I give myself an hour to prepare dinner then that still gives me seven whole hours to indulge myself.
I had already had a plan. As soon as my husband’s car pulled off the drive, I headed to his study and went to the bottom drawer of the little filing cabinet he keeps in the corner. I’ve known what he keeps in there for years, but he still thinks it is a secret.
He’s been collecting copies of Mayfair for ages, so I picked up as many as I could and headed upstairs. He once told me he bought them as much for the sexy stories and confessions as the pictures of women, so I decided to find out if he was lying about that too. I also knew I might pick up a few ideas for my next meeting with Bob.
It was a real education opening that first copy. I didn’t think I would be affected by the pictures, but I found myself lingering on a few. They can be very sexy and stimulating – I can’t believe I’ve written that, but it is true.
But, surprisingly, he was right about the stories and confessions. They were pretty graphic and I found myself wanting to be the subject of a few of the articles I was reading.
I had lost all track of time when I was suddenly aware of the doorbell ringing. I wasn’t exactly ready to accept visitors! I was sprawled on our bed in just my dressing gown, enjoying a particular story.
Whoever was at the door was persistent. As a few of the windows were open and the garage door was open, it was obvious someone was at home.
I thought it might be urgent so gathered up the magazines and stuffed them under the quilt, straightened my dressing gown and headed downstairs.
I had completely forgotten that my husband had arranged for the electrician next door had recommended to come by and have a look at one of our faulty light fittings. I reluctantly let him in, but within a few minutes I was so glad I had. He was a bit, how do I put this without sounding snobbish…common! But he was also quite dishy in a rough and ready sort of way.
It didn’t take long for me to twig that as we were speaking, he was addressing my boobs and not my face. Ordinarily, of course, I wouldn’t have answered the door whilst so exposed. The thin material was clinging in all the places I would normally feel embarrassed about, but I’m slowly becoming a changed woman.
I liked the fact he was leering at me, assessing my figure and no doubt having rather inappropriate thoughts about me. He was only here for 20 minutes or so, who knows if he’d been longer and carried on being so obvious I might have treated him to the kind of show Bob had enjoyed last week…I can’t believe I’ve admitted that either.
Anyway, he left and I went back upstairs for a few hours more reading and fantasising.
I’m beginning to like the new me.
I’ve had real trouble concentrating on anything these last couple of days. All I can think about is that encounter with Bob in his office.
I’m literally counting down the hours until next Wednesday when we meet up again. For the first time in a very long time, I’m feeling sexy…and I’m feeling myself!
I couldn’t wait to have the house to myself today for that very reason.
As soon as my husband had packed his golf clubs in the car and then packed the children into the back seats to take them over to his parents, I knew I had the house to myself all day and couldn’t help but laugh to myself.
They left at 10am and they won’t be back until 6pm – if I give myself an hour to prepare dinner then that still gives me seven whole hours to indulge myself.
I had already had a plan. As soon as my husband’s car pulled off the drive, I headed to his study and went to the bottom drawer of the little filing cabinet he keeps in the corner. I’ve known what he keeps in there for years, but he still thinks it is a secret.
He’s been collecting copies of Mayfair for ages, so I picked up as many as I could and headed upstairs. He once told me he bought them as much for the sexy stories and confessions as the pictures of women, so I decided to find out if he was lying about that too. I also knew I might pick up a few ideas for my next meeting with Bob.
It was a real education opening that first copy. I didn’t think I would be affected by the pictures, but I found myself lingering on a few. They can be very sexy and stimulating – I can’t believe I’ve written that, but it is true.
But, surprisingly, he was right about the stories and confessions. They were pretty graphic and I found myself wanting to be the subject of a few of the articles I was reading.
I had lost all track of time when I was suddenly aware of the doorbell ringing. I wasn’t exactly ready to accept visitors! I was sprawled on our bed in just my dressing gown, enjoying a particular story.
Whoever was at the door was persistent. As a few of the windows were open and the garage door was open, it was obvious someone was at home.
I thought it might be urgent so gathered up the magazines and stuffed them under the quilt, straightened my dressing gown and headed downstairs.
I had completely forgotten that my husband had arranged for the electrician next door had recommended to come by and have a look at one of our faulty light fittings. I reluctantly let him in, but within a few minutes I was so glad I had. He was a bit, how do I put this without sounding snobbish…common! But he was also quite dishy in a rough and ready sort of way.
It didn’t take long for me to twig that as we were speaking, he was addressing my boobs and not my face. Ordinarily, of course, I wouldn’t have answered the door whilst so exposed. The thin material was clinging in all the places I would normally feel embarrassed about, but I’m slowly becoming a changed woman.
I liked the fact he was leering at me, assessing my figure and no doubt having rather inappropriate thoughts about me. He was only here for 20 minutes or so, who knows if he’d been longer and carried on being so obvious I might have treated him to the kind of show Bob had enjoyed last week…I can’t believe I’ve admitted that either.
Anyway, he left and I went back upstairs for a few hours more reading and fantasising.
I’m beginning to like the new me.
# posted by Patricia The Stripper @ 2:59 PM 
