I put on several skirts and tops, spinning and allowing him to take every bit of me in as I did. Our eyes locked and the chemistry was instantaneous. Soon my private, after hours “modeling” sessions grew in popularity as word had seemed to spread around several online websites.One-night Mr. Wilson wanted to see a nightie he had his eyes on as a present for Judith’s upcoming Birthday. I already knew where this night would end up and I smiled to myself as I grabbed it and took him by the hand guiding him into the staff room at the back of the store. I slowly stripped in front of him and slipped it on. I asked him if he liked it as I straightened the hot pink satin, rubbing it with my hands and looking down at myself as I did. I spun and laughed as I fluffed the bottom of the material, pulling it out and letting it drop back down in a sexy and playful kind of way.I looked up and Mr. Wilson, or David as he insisted, I now call him, was staring silently at me and using his finger to. They were just in theclearing stages when they heard a car on the gravel of the driveway."Vanessa," they both said in unison.If either one had a mental picture of Vanessa Richards, it surely didnot conform to the image of the person they saw getting out of her latemodel Fiat Punto. Vanessa wasn't beautiful by any conventionalstandard. But you could tell by looking at her that the way she carriedherself, her sense of personal style - flair, almost - very nearly madeyou forget everything else. Simply, Vanessa was a force of nature andthere were no two ways about it. She swept into the house and it wasall Tony and Amanda could do to keep up with her. She found her wayinto the kitchen and was pouring herself a cup of coffee before eitherof her "hosts" had said a word. "Tony, Amanda, it's good to meet you," she began with a smile that wasgenuine enough, but one that left the clear impression that she was notone to dwell on pleasantries. Her accent was not quite English, perhapsfrom.
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