while Sir says nothing further i note that the heat of his hand speaks volumes, and further asks even more. He takes in with sensual pleasure the light flaxen fabric in its winter white classic shape, which shows off my own very nicely, v neck jacket with three buttons, cut very low. the satin scarf i wear is twisted ever so gently into a cowl neck so that from some angles.... well, it is more demure from some angles than from others, and it's predominantly lavendar/black in a splatter pattern. my skirt [and i am delighted to feel your hand ever so gently work fingers down to my skirt and fine ass as we cross the room] is of thin charcoal cashmere, well molded but very, very classy and wraps around only once. it is held slightly but firmly in place by one tie at the waist, and one very very large gold pin just to the left and below my pelvis. He devastatingly overwhelmingly slowly runs his fingers up my thighs to ensure his instructions have been carried out fully, and finds that they have; perfectly smooth pussy, pretty lace thigh highs. qHe registers neither approval nor disapproval. My stockings are off white, and my shoes are lavendar with spiked heels, sling backs, and suared off toes; they have fine black sparkles that match the arch of the strap across the front of the ankle. i am used to scrutiny... but i begin to be somewhat discomfited by this prolonged silent appraisal.... then i steel myself and recall that i have been appraised similarly before, and on much less obvious assets. I tilted my head... chin up...breasts thrill on me and nipples perk, all i need do is remember how good i really am at this, and how badly.. and i do mean badly..... i want and need it... and maybe, in the balance of the all, they will need me too.... no matter what.
