CLAIRE'S UPTOWN GIRLS
CLAIRE'S UPTOWN GIRLS
. You
knew when she walked by that there was something special about her. She had an
unmistakable air -- stylish and elegant, with the classic good looks of a high
fashion model. She was one of Claire's girls, one of the attractive,
smartly-dressed young women who caused heads to turn as they strode coolly down
Park Avenue on their way to some discreet rendezvous. She was dressed and
groomed and shaped to fulfill a role, to capture a look, to fit an image
carefully crafted by the sophisticated proprietoress of one of the world's most
exclusive escort agency.
Excerpt from Claire's Uptown Girls
And as they talked she noticed that his eyes
strayed repeatedly, dropping to admire her slim legs. The short skirt had
ridden up a bit when she crossed her legs, and now the hem rested at mid-thigh
exposing several inches above her stockinged knee; it was at that hemline that
his eyes now came to rest.
Finally, there was a pause. She took a sip of
wine, keen and expectant, and she heard him clear his throat and start, rather
hesitantly:
"You know you have lovely legs, Wendy. Why don't you come over here and
let me see them?" It was a softly spoken, courteous request.
She set her glass down and stood up, padding across the carpet to stand before
him in shirtsleeves and skirt, looking down at him expectantly, waiting.
"Yes, splendid," he beamed with rich approval in his voice.
"Now, let's lift up that skirt," he continued in a lowered voice, his
blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
Wendy reached down to gather up two handfuls of the soft wool, raising the
skirt a few inches.
"Higher." He smiled encouragingly, looking up at her and giving her a
wink.
The skirt inched upward uncovering the entire
lengths of those thin supple legs encased in wine-tinted ribbed nylon. Hitching
up her skirt till she held in all the way up to her waist, she felt the first
blush of sexual excitement. Something stirred in her, to be showing herself to
him like this.
He made her stand like that for several minutes
not saying a thing, not touching her, only studying with obvious appreciation,
the splendid architecture of her loins: the narrow thighs; the smoothly
contoured underarch; the nylon-sheathed hips; straight, subtly tapered legs.
"Turn around," he ordered in a husky voice.
Obediently Wendy turned, presenting her back to him, and finding herself face
to face with her own reflection in a full-length mirror that graced the
opposite wall.
"Now lean over a bit..that's right, and pull up the skirt, in the back....Look
at yourself!...in the mirror".
Wendy widened her stance and bent forward from the hips, reaching behind her to
hold up the short skirt. She knew that there was really not much he could see
through the opaque tights and yet the very thought of showing herself to him,
her skirt hiked up over her jutting bottom...she found it to be incredibly
erotic. A delicious shiver of lewd naughtiness shot through her at the sight of
the girl with the green eyes, bent over in wanton presentation.
For the longest time he kept her like that,
her back to him, her skirt raised up behind. He was silent, but she could sense
his presence, knowing his eyes were scrutinizing her slim legs and small tight
butt; drinking in her nether regions, encased in the elasticized wine-colored
tights.
"Beautiful," he whispered in honest
admiration, thrilling the girl to the core.