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 stode 
coolly down Park Avenue on their way to some discreet rendevouz. She was dressed 
and groomed and shaped to fulfill a role, to capture a look, to fit an image 
carefully crafted by the sophisticated prorietress 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; drinkng in her nether regions, 
encased in the elasticized wine-colored tights.

"Beautiful," he whispered in honest admiration, thrilling her to the core. 



  
Claire's Girls