She told me to go to the guest bedroom and see what she had laid out for me on the bed. It was another pair of jockey shorts, but these ones were pale...red, bordering on pink. There was a matching sleeveless undershirt in the same color, and it was designed so that it would come down only to the middle of my narrow chest and leave my soft belly exposed. Feeling humiliated already, even though no one was there to see how unmanly the underwear made me appear, I put them on and checked myself in. The fish net stockings only helped things along.

"Fucking hell," I said. "You look 33 not 43."

"Yeah I look alright don't I." She waltzed into the room. 

"How am I supposed to wait until 7.30 before I get to see what's below."

She pulled a bottle of champagne out of the fridge and grabbed one of the joints I'd rolled of the top of the dresser. 

"We can have a drink, order a meal and relax," she said.



I was feeling very mellow as the wine, champagne and hooch took effect and relaxed my. More

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