And the dream wasn’t over. I had some ideas for my muse, and I was confident we would both enjoy them. There were plenty of hours left in the day.
I pulled on some jeans and a polo shirt and Cole Haan sneakers. I double-checked my backpack. The equipment was ready to go.
A few minutes later, Lisa emerged from the bathroom.
She wore the outfit I’d prepared for her, and she looked magnificent. She wore a denim miniskirt, boots, and a loose, yellow off-the-shoulder cropped top. I’d given her a tiny salmon lace thong to wear under the skirt, and no bra. I figured Lisa’s breasts were firm enough that her bralessness wouldn’t be obvious right away, and I was right. I wanted her to give off a “Is she or isn’t she?” vibe as she walked in public. If I looked closely, I could just make out the pebbles of her nipples under the top. But it wasn’t too obvious. The look was exactly what I wanted.
I could tell Lisa, however, wasn’t so sure.
“You want me to wear this?” she asked, looking at me askance. “In public?”
Admittedly, it was not an outfit most 50-something women would feel comfortable wearing, or, for that matter, most women over 30. But that was the way I wanted it. I wanted to push her, and I wanted to photograph her pushing herself. And she looked great, just as I knew she would. The skirt was awfully short–low on the hips and more than a few inches over her knees–but she had a trim waist and long, lean legs, and she pulled it off. I knew she would get some looks, and that was exactly what I wanted.
“I do. So, so much. Trust me.”
“I never go out like this.”
“I know that. But, Lisa, you show your open pussy on the Internet. You let men see you fuck yourself with toys. This is tame compared to that. You can do this. Once you start, you’ll enjoy it.”
I saw the uncertainty in her eyes, but she didn’t say ‘no.’
I held out my hand.
“Come with me, if you want to live–really live.”
There’s nothing like using a line from The Terminator to win over a woman’s trust. She took my hand.
With Lisa’s hand in mine, a camera backpack slung over one shoulder and a big duffel bag slung over the other, I led us out of the hotel room. Two young men joined us in the elevator to the ground floor, and I caught their eyes roving over Lisa, dressed as she was. I loved it. I’m sure she knew they were gawking at her, and that she liked it, too, although she was nervous about it.
The ground floor lobby was crowded with people, and more than a few of them turned their heads to watch Lisa as we walked across the marble floor to the door to the garage. Lisa looked straight ahead, and I smiled. It was fascinating to see a woman who had posted so many spread, nude photos of herself on the Internet being nervous about wearing a skirt and a little top in public. The first time for anything could be nerve-wracking, I guessed.
In not more than two minutes we were in my Lexus SUV, and we were off. I had scouted the location the previous day and knew exactly where to go.
I struck up a conversation to take Lisa’s mind off her nervousness and put her at ease.
“Have you had any interaction with Antonio, your pool boy, lately?”
Lisa laughed.
“You and Antonio. You keep asking about him. No, I haven’t seen him in a while. He got a better-paying job at the university and stopped working as a pool boy. I imagine he’s spending his time with college girls now, not 50-something cougars.”
“It was such a hot story you told me. You having sex with your 19-year-old pool boy in your backyard. I couldn’t get the image out of my head.”
“You kept asking me questions, like what was the wildest thing I’d ever done,” she said. “That was definitely the wildest.”
“Was that what persuaded you to get a web page?”
Lisa paused for a while before answering.
“It was part of it. It was a bunch of things. I’d thought about it for a little while. I thought it would be fun and daring. I thought I could make some extra money. And I kept thinking about the way he looked at me. It was a raw, animal look. I liked feeling his desire.”
“We all want to be desired,” I said. “And we want to desire others. I saw that in you the first time I saw photos of you on your page. The way you opened yourself. Displayed yourself. The obvious enjoyment you got knowing that men looked at you and desired you. I desired you, so much. It wasn’t long before I was scheming for a way to see you. And here I am.”
“Here you are,” Lisa said.
I glanced at Lisa in the passenger seat. The tiny skirt showed off a lot of leg, which I liked.
We drove through the city, to its outskirts, and hills loomed ahead.
“Lisa,” I said. “This is my preamble to what’s going to happen today. You know I’m smitten by you. I love looking at you. I’m going to be asking you to do things, and they’re going to make you nervous, and I’m going to push your boundaries, in a big way. I have been looking forward to this for so long. But I have to say this. It’s only good if you want this. I want to expose you, Lisa. I have lots of ideas about how I want to do that, and if you let me, I will do so. But before we start, I want to hear you say that you want it. Tell me, Lisa.”
She ran a hand up and down a bare leg and she smiled.
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you want me to expose you?”
“Yes, I do.”
Those were the three most exquisite words I’d ever heard.
“We’ll be there soon,” I said, “but there’s no reason we can’t start to have some fun.”
“What do you have in mind?” Lisa asked.
“Pull your top up, over your breasts.”
“Here? There’s traffic around us!”
“Not much. I don’t see any cops. My windows are tinted. Do it.”
Lisa reached below her top, and she pulled it up. Her breasts burst into view. They looked fantastic. Lisa’s pale skin and pink nipples shone in the daylight.
“You better watch the road!” she said.
“Don’t worry about me.” I laughed. “Lisa, pinch your nipples.”
I guessed that she was in a compliant mood, or perhaps too stunned to push back against my insistent tone. She took each nipple between a thumb and forefinger and began to pinch and mash them.
I was in heaven. I had imagined this day for a long time. The reality was better than the dream.
“Smile for the camera, Lisa.”
I had fixed a camera via a holder on the dashboard near me, where it could record Lisa from the side, as well as some of the exterior scenery as it passed by. Lisa waved and smiled.
“That one, too,” I said, pointing to the floor beneath her. I had mounted another camera near her feet, angled up to catch the scene between her legs.
Lisa laughed. “Naughty boy.”
Something I liked, as I drove, was that Lisa didn’t stop. She left the top up, mashing and pinching her breasts as we traveled through the city streets. She smiled at and played to the cameras that recorded her from two angles. I drove deliberately and slowly, to let other cars catch up to us, or to pass us by, and I’m sure a few of the people in them saw her, playing with herself. Lisa kept her eyes ahead, on the road, as though she dared not make eye contact with anyone gawking at her. I laughed to myself, quietly, at the irony of it, because Lisa herself had displayed those same breasts to hundreds of lusty men on her website. Breasts–and everything else.