If Ronnie gets a new customer and ends up getting a blow-job or more from her, I don't find out about it until he gets home. He always tells me, which is the most important part, but I don't ask him to call me and ask permission or anything like that. I'm not quite as comfortable as he is at jumping into sexual situations on my own. Maybe it's because he's in the privacy of his partner's home, and I'm just out in the world.
Occasionally though, the planets align and I find myself with an opportunity I can't refuse. Ronnie's cool with it, and it's exciting as hell.
Ronnie forgot a tool one day, and he called me to see if I could bring it out to him. It was way out in the country and he was almost done with the job. If he had come home to get it he would have had to go back the next day, and he already had another job scheduled, and another stop to make that evening. I found what he needed and headed out in my little car.
I'm sort of a bargain hunter. I love garage sales and estate sales. On the way out I noticed an estate sale sign, so I made a bee-line back there after I dropped off the tool. It was a cute little house, set back from the road. As I pulled in the driveway a nice looking man was coming out the door. He said he was closing up, but I could take a look if I wanted. He walked out to the street and took down his sign while I wandered in and looked around.
It was pretty clearly an old person's house. The man came in and told me it was his mom's. She had passed away and he was selling the house and everything in it. We got to talking about the pretty antiques and things, a nice easy going conversation that veered into some nice flirting. He really was a handsome guy—a little older than me with a nice sparkle in his eye.
We made our way upstairs where he had lots of nice old dresses and clothes all laid out, the kind of things you'd see at a vintage clothing store. It was beautiful stuff, from the forties and fifties, and it was all pretty close to my size. I was dying to spend some time with it all and find one or two treasures to take home with me, but I didn't want to hold the guy up after he'd closed for the day.
He told me he was a fan of the old movies, and he held up a dress and said Joan Crawford had worn something just like it in such-and-such a move. He was like a fountain of knowledge about it all. Another dress reminded him of Ginger Rogers, and another one he said Ann Sheridan would have worn. I hadn't heard of her before.
I got so enthused about it all, I asked him if he'd mind terribly if I tried one of the dresses on. He looked almost as excited as I was, saying he'd never seen any of them worn before. I picked an amazing metallic silver evening gown, which he said was made out of something called Silver Lamé.
He left me alone in the room, which was a spare bedroom I think. I took off my t-shirt and jeans, which left me pretty much naked, with just a little thong. It was right then, when I felt that rush you feel being naked where you're probably not supposed to be, that I knew I wanted to fuck that nice looking man. The tingle of it swelled up almost to the little orgasm stage before I got ahold of myself.
