I kept Caroline over for an hour the following evening, and we finished up the last of the paper work just before she went home at six. That gave me a couple of hours to get ready to meet Henry over at Joey’s Dinner, and I made good use of that time by taking a bubble bath, and preparing myself with the things John had packed in my gym bag. Freshly shaved, bathed, and powdered, I put my makeup on extra thick, then pulled out the first item of clothing. It was a red satin quarter cup bra, that gave me plenty of cleavage, but only covered the lower quadrant of each breast leaving them mostly exposed, and the matching red satin garterbelt that came out next hung on my flaring hips like four inverted triangles looking extremely sluttish when the straps were connected to the sheer black Christian Dior nylons that only came up to just below mid thigh on my legs. The sheer white nylon thong seemed like an after thought, but when I put it on I realized immediately how whorish it made me look now as it didn’t match in color with anything else I had on. The lime green ankle strapped patten leather platform high heels did match the mini skirt, but the beige fish net T-shirt I put on under the patch work quilt like vest made my pussy itch with intolerable wanton lust as my bare nipples poked erect through the netting from the moment I put it on.

“Wow! What a fucking whore!” I said to my mirror image as I primped before gathering everything up, and after putting my work clothes in the gym bag, headed for Joey’s dinner.

• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 3)
• Gillian’s Makeover(Chapter 1)

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Hello, my name is Gillian Dupont. Normally, I’m a practical, very conservatively attired business woman. At just over 30 years old I still went to great lengths to hide my statuesque 37-22-34 figure from the male power mongers I have to deal with in the every day corporate world in which I dwell. I wear little or no make up, no perfume, and even keep my honey blond hair, dyed a donkey brown, up in a severe bun at the top back of my head while wearing these horribly plain totally useless eye glasses. I’m married you see, and I’ve always thought that my husband John was more than enough man for me to handle in bed, for one thing, and for the second thing, why bring sex into a business relationship when it only burns both parties, and achieves no goals. I loved my husband of seven years dearly, and didn’t think he’d appreciate my giving out sexual favors just for advancement on a few corporate ladder rungs, and too, him being a doctor, I’d have hated to come home one day carrying the clap, or something worse that I’d contracted from one of my peers.
Being left alone, that is to say, not being chased after, has allowed me a great deal of freedom that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, which is probably why I advanced so fast to such a top executive position as I did. No ones wife thought I was being chased around her husband’s desk, and none of the males felt threatened by my superior work.

• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 2)
• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 3)

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    I kept Caroline over for an hour the following evening, and we finished up the last of the paper work just before she went home at six. That gave me a couple of hours to get ready to meet Henry over at Joey’s Dinner, and I made good use of that time by taking a bubble bath, and preparing myself with the things John had packed in my gym bag. Freshly shaved, bathed, and powdered, I put my makeup on extra thick, then pulled out the first item of clothing. It was a red satin quarter cup bra, that gave me plenty of cleavage, but only covered the lower quadrant of each breast leaving them mostly exposed, and the matching red satin garterbelt that came out next hung on my flaring hips like four inverted triangles looking extremely sluttish when the straps were connected to the sheer black Christian Dior nylons that only came up to just below mid thigh on my legs. The sheer white nylon thong seemed like an after thought, but when I put it on I realized immediately how whorish it made me look now as it didn’t match in color with anything else I had on. The lime green ankle strapped patten leather platform high heels did match the mini skirt, but the beige fish net T-shirt I put on under the patch work quilt like vest made my pussy itch with intolerable wanton lust as my bare nipples poked erect through the netting from the moment I put it on.

“Wow! What a fucking whore!” I said to my mirror image as I primped before gathering everything up, and after putting my work clothes in the gym bag, headed for Joey’s dinner.
More »