I didnt mean to... Did I hear you right?! Why, do you think that Id do something like that on purpose? No, you never did before.

That I know of.

Of course I didnt. And I didnt this time either. Tell me what happened. How did this come about? I was getting ready to go out with you, as you know. I know that you like me to look good for you, so I was paying extra attention to how I looked.

I wore the stockings you like me to wear, and no panties as youve said you liked.

I knew that youd like that I wore no bra under my thin blouse. My skirt was short but not shorter that I wear to work at the store, about mid thigh. The high heels were higher than I usually wear, 5". I looked in the mirror to see what I looked like.

5'- 7" tall, six foot in the heels, weight about 127 lbs., measuring 35-24-34. I thought youd like the way I looked. Sexy but not trashy. I was early to the club where we were to meet so I wasnt surprised that you werent there yet. It wasnt very crowded at all. Maybe six or seven others, mostly guys.

I had a drink, my usual, a margarita on the rocks.

I was feeling pretty good, sexy, attractive, hot. Some of the guys were giving me the eye, and I liked the attention enough to let them see a little extra thigh. My shoe may have been dangling by my toe letting them see my foot. You always said I had sexy feet and didnt mind giving them a little show. After several minutes one of the men came over and started a conversation. He was well dressed and well mannered. Quite charming actually.

We chatted for a while and he bought me another margarita. We were so engrossed in conversation that I hadnt noticed how the time had passed. And I had more to drink than I usually have. I must have let myself reveal a bit more thigh than I would normally, and when I noticed his attention was not on my face but on my legs I straightened my skirt and sat up straighter.

He was amused that I was choosing now to become modest as I had been giving him, and the others, a show for most of the night. When I protested that I wasnt a tease, nor was I an exhibitionist he countered with an soft placeurance that he believed I was a closet slut. I was stunned. Nobody had ever talked to me like that before. I am not a slut. Sure, I like sex as much as anybody, but a slut? Not me. As I said he was a real charmer and he deftly calmed me down and soft placeured me that he did not mean that as a negative trait but as an soft placeet to be proud of. I had never even thought that being a slut was a good thing.

He explained that every man wanted a slut of his own.

Most did not want his slut whoring around with just anybody, only him. A hot tramp that couldnt get enough of his manly abilities. I told him that I already am that way with you, that I cant get enough of you. He said that being a slut in the bedroom is not enough. If a guy has a beautiful slut and nobody knows, well what good is that? A guy doesnt want a treasure like that kept a secret, but neither does he want her walking around naked for everybodys enjoyment. He wants everyone to know that she a very sexy woman, and that he is the one she is playing. He wants everybody to know that his slut is wearing sexy underwear for his pleasure. That she has dressed in a skirt that is too short because the sight of her legs will excite her man. That her cleavage is displayed for his enjoyment. That her every move and thought is to please her man. I explained that I already did that for you but he pointed out that it didnt look that way to him. The drinks must have eased some of my inhibitions plus I wanted him to know how much I loved you and would do everything to please you. I told him how intimately I was attired under my street clothing. Although impressed, he pointed out that after all of my preparation none of it showed. No one else knew of my devotion to you. I pointed out that he was not ignoring the fact that I was braless nor that I was showing plenty of leg. Agreeing, he said that isnt enough though. What did he mean? What else could I do? First thing to do is to unbutton a few buttons on my shirt. Well, I knew that. Do it he said. Here? Yes. Before you got here? Of course.

What could it hurt? I thought, so I did unbutton one more on my thin blouse.

Another he said.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching and it didnt seem that I was attracting too much attention. One more button was undone. I was a little uncomfortable but rationalized that I wasnt naked and someone had to be in just the right location to see how I was displayed with my clingy shirt unbuttoned to the level of my hard nipple. The insides of my naked C cups were plainly visible now. I was sure that I was now clearly the slut you wanted. No.

The skirt is not short enough. But surely he had been looking at my legs all night.

Yes, but the length of the skirt is directly proportional to comfort. Or more accurately, discomfort. As soon as my man becomes uncomfortable with the length it is almost short enough he said.

When others can see that I am not wearing panties, or that I am wearing a garter belt, that is when he said that you would be proudest of my passion for you. Okay, so I hiked my skirt up a bit. Enough? More, he said. Standing I hiked my skirt up even higher.

The tops of my nylons were almost showing.

As I bent to look at my legs to see how much I was showing I realized that he was getting a good look at my naked breasts through my gaping blouse. Embarrassed, I dropped my skirt and stood up straight so that I was not on display for him. That is something I only wanted to do for you. He laughed. He was so natural and open about all of this that I was again put at ease. Another margarita helped too.

I was careful not to bend over in front of him again, for awhile. The tequila was making me careless and soon I was forgetting to be as modest as I should have been. And he was educating me in things that I hadnt even thought of. I dressed the way you wanted me to, but I never thought of why you wanted me to dress like that. Now that I was learning why, and I thought I could better please you now without having you direct me at every detail. I was fascinated. I adjusted my skirt up and down exploring with my comfort level and imagining your discomfort level.

He suggested that I not sit on my skirt but sit on my bare skin. That was different. I felt more naked that I actually was sitting with my bare soft place on the vinyl of the bar stool. I was learning so much about my limits and sensations that I hadnt noticed that the club was filling up. And where were you ? You would be along soon, I was sure. My mentor said that I should sit with my legs apart so that anytime you wanted to look at or touch the treasure at the top of my legs you could.

I tried different poses, with his encouragement. And critique. I couldnt wait for you to see how much I had learned, sure that you would be proud of me and how much I wanted to please you. It just so happened that as you walked in I was checking out how much I could part my legs to get the right teasing display.

In looking I was bent over and my blouse was again gaping open, my breasts clearly on display to my nipples, my skirt raised above my thighhighs and my softness on display for the crowds enjoyment. So you see I didnt mean to.

It just happened. And I was doing it for you, you see?