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Her silky brown hair, with hints of grey, was coiled and pinned tightly, not reaching her shoulders; her eyes and smile energized the room with a warm glow. Dressed in a conservative professional business suit - dark mid thigh length skirt and jacket, along with a white silk blouse, sheer tights or stockings and kitten heels, she was a vision of sophisticated beauty straight from the city – I knew she worked at a lawyer’s office off Jewry Street. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.As I setup the camera, she emptied the contents of her Chanel bag on to the king-size bed and began sorting through her collection of lingerie. It was a rainbow of sheer lace and nylon -- bras, skimpy panties and thongs, lace-top stockings - in white, black, nude, and blue, suspender belts, bustiers and teddies. It was very apparent that none of the collection was of the trashy variety - all very classy and obviously expensive. LaPerla and Victoria’s Secret were well represented, along with delicate. I watched the swell of her small breasts in her tight tank top. I watched her, not critically, just seeing her, surveying how her body moved. I reached out and touched her face, the back of my hand sliding over her smooth skin pushing the hair from her cheek.It was not awkward at all, not like it would be if she were a man that I was friends with, it was just me, touching her. But then she turned her head, and looked at me. Our eyes locked, she was still smiling and so was I. I slid my hand over her shoulder to the back of her neck feeling the warmth of her skin. She moved closer to me, and she touched me. We stopped speaking, everything stopped. The air seemed to become thick and heady, and my fingers trailed over her body feeling the sensual form of her, as a blind sculptor might learn his subject. My fingers traced lightly over her jaw, feeling how smooth her skin was, then over her bare arm. It didn't feel wrong, it felt so right. We lay like that, just touching for hours. My.
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