Thoughts about sex

A night at the opera

Last night I attended the opera with a friend of mine. The tickets were a belated birthday present. I adore the opera. I left work in time to drive home and change into something a little classier than the jeans and top I had worn to work.  I love getting dressed up. I love wearing heels and dresses and busting out the fancy jewelry.

I donned my standard issue little black dress. Strappy black 3 inch heels. Swept my hair into a demure french twist, secured with a pearl encrusted comb. A strand of pearls around my neck and matching earrings. An heirloom pearl bracelet around my wrist. I usually wear several rings, silver. I took all of them off and wore only a large vintage pearl and gold  ring.

The thing about some dresses is that you have to be aware of what you have on underneath. A lady doesn’t show her pantie lines. Because it is almost laundry day for me (past it actually), I didn’t have any good thongs that fit the bill.  So I decided to go without. No panties, no pantie lines. I also love the duality of it. All pearls and sophistication on the surface, underneath primed and ready for dirty sex at a moment’s notice.

And off I went. To the train station to catch my ride across the bay. I was standing in the lobby of the station, purchasing a ticket from a machine, when the wind caught the hem of my dress. And I’m fairly sure that the guy at the ticket booth behind me, as well as anyone else in the lobby who happened to be looking, got quite a view.

On the train I sat next to a young guy. His pants slung low, hat pulled down low. He spent the entire time sneaking glances down my dress. I made sure I positioned myself where he would get a good view.

When I reached the designated train station in the city, I waited to meet my friend. While waiting I was approached by a guy and invited to a party later that night. He’d scrawled the address of a club on the back of his train ticket and clumsily told me how hot he thought I was and that he hoped I’d swing by. Quite honestly if I’d been in different shoes I might have thought about it. As it was, the shoes I had were fine for the opera, but not so much for clubbing or anything else.

The walk to the opera house was lovely. It was a gorgeous night. Just breezy enough to give me a thrill underneath my dress. I love that tease. And the opera was fabulous. Truly the best birthday present I received. I returned home at the end of the night and slipped my heels off sore feet. Pulled the comb from my hair and let it tumble around my shoulders. Stepped out of my dress and let the cool air from my open window hit my naked body. I stood in front of my window and looked out over the view that I love so much. Uncaring if any of my neighbors could see into my apartment. Then I slid happily into bed and let all sorts of dirty dreams take over.

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