Our trip to Ft. Lauderdale for a business event was a resounding success on many levels. My colleague KG and I worked hard, discovered an even greater tolerance in ourselves than we'd documented before for really nice, well-meaning practitioners in the industry who simply don't track very well, and generally made the best of a business trip involving a full day of travel on both ends. That's a little rugged, but we did fine.
Except yesterday the head cold I'd been holding off for the entire five days and general angst set in big time, so I was pretty much down for the count. But I'm back, and feeling mostly human again...
Anyway, KG and I were at dinner one night, sipping a deep red wine and enjoying some decent food, when we forayed into a conversation about relationships, and how interesting and funny they can be, particularly after a long time with someone.
At some point, inevitably I suppose, we got to the 'silly conversations we've had with our mate' category.
It didn't start out as a lingerie conversation, but pretty soon lingerie was the topic.
'Lingerie' is a broad term, and in my case includes the gamut of options. I suppose that makes me a lingerie generalist - I like it all. Choice depends on mood and function of the moment. There's scanty lace, ample cotton, silky satin, thongs and tongas, push up bras and softer athletic versions designed to support not enhance.
And yes, I'm prettyanal organized about my lingerie, so the granny panties are separate from the lacy thongs and tongas. That's just the way I roll. And there is a gradient from soft cotton, through the lighter cotton with a little lace to the satin, ultimately terminating in the lacy thongs and tongas. Left to right if you must know. And no, I don't sort by color, just category.
Anyway, as we were chatting I recalled a conversation I'd had with Hubby sometime back when he happened to come into the dressing area when I was getting dressed. His eyes lit up and he looked more interested than usual when he noticed my choice of underthings that day, as they were the minimal black lace versions designed to enhance and lift up above (under a tight fitting black sweater) and be invisible down below (beneath a snug mini skirt).
The teeny tininess of them was a practical choice on my part.
But he thought it was about my planning that random moment to be seen by him, who just happened to be in the room at the time I was slipping into said items (something he seldom ever does..ever), and intentionally planting the seduction seed for the day.
Um, well not really. Actually, not almost ever. Unless we're doing a special night out in which case that's part of the whole thing but not a regular work day.
I had to explain to him, that as brilliant and strategic a seductress as he made me out to be, the panties, well, the panties just weren't about him.
He appeared crestfallen for a moment, but then grinned. "I am totally ok with not being the object of your actions if it means getting the occasional lingerie model moment. I can live with that. In fact, it's liberating on some level. To know you do this for you. That's kind of cool, kind of like you painting your toes bright red in the middle of winter when nobody but me will see them."
Yeah, that's it entirely.
Except yesterday the head cold I'd been holding off for the entire five days and general angst set in big time, so I was pretty much down for the count. But I'm back, and feeling mostly human again...
Anyway, KG and I were at dinner one night, sipping a deep red wine and enjoying some decent food, when we forayed into a conversation about relationships, and how interesting and funny they can be, particularly after a long time with someone.
At some point, inevitably I suppose, we got to the 'silly conversations we've had with our mate' category.
It didn't start out as a lingerie conversation, but pretty soon lingerie was the topic.
'Lingerie' is a broad term, and in my case includes the gamut of options. I suppose that makes me a lingerie generalist - I like it all. Choice depends on mood and function of the moment. There's scanty lace, ample cotton, silky satin, thongs and tongas, push up bras and softer athletic versions designed to support not enhance.
And yes, I'm pretty
Anyway, as we were chatting I recalled a conversation I'd had with Hubby sometime back when he happened to come into the dressing area when I was getting dressed. His eyes lit up and he looked more interested than usual when he noticed my choice of underthings that day, as they were the minimal black lace versions designed to enhance and lift up above (under a tight fitting black sweater) and be invisible down below (beneath a snug mini skirt).
The teeny tininess of them was a practical choice on my part.
But he thought it was about my planning that random moment to be seen by him, who just happened to be in the room at the time I was slipping into said items (something he seldom ever does..ever), and intentionally planting the seduction seed for the day.
Um, well not really. Actually, not almost ever. Unless we're doing a special night out in which case that's part of the whole thing but not a regular work day.
I had to explain to him, that as brilliant and strategic a seductress as he made me out to be, the panties, well, the panties just weren't about him.
He appeared crestfallen for a moment, but then grinned. "I am totally ok with not being the object of your actions if it means getting the occasional lingerie model moment. I can live with that. In fact, it's liberating on some level. To know you do this for you. That's kind of cool, kind of like you painting your toes bright red in the middle of winter when nobody but me will see them."
Yeah, that's it entirely.
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