Edited by Dark Star. Thanks!
Note: This story, like most of the Breaking Clichés stories, is slightly edgier than my other stories. If you absolutely need your erotic stories to be pure vanilla, then I recommend that you read some of my other stories.
*****
Looking at my iPhone for the 12th time tonight, and maybe the fourth time in the past 30 minutes, I couldn't believe how bored I was. 1:25 A.M. at one of the most hyped parties in town, and I was bored. Bored as hell. Scarlett had been anticipating this party for a long while, and had even managed to impart some of her excitement to me. Usually I'm not someone who enjoys such late and loud parties, but some of the guests had seemed really interesting; a couple of musicians Scarlett really liked, and a painter who had studied philosophy. Apparently, that painter really enjoyed some of my articles, and was looking forward to meeting me. I'd seen a few of his paintings, and they looked decent enough. The musicians, Scarlett assured me, were quite interesting people as well.
In the end though, the two musicians hadn't showed up yet, and that painter's interest in philosophy was nothing but posturing. Within five minutes I knew he had only read a few abstracts of my articles, and besides hitting all the hot words, he didn't know much about philosophy at all. Nor was he an interesting person to talk with. It was quite possible for someone that hadn't read anything about philosophy to be a good debater, but not that guy.
Wondering if I should get another glass of whisky, I looked around, trying to find a potentially interesting person in the house. I failed. I knew that going outside on my own, just to kill time, would make these people believe that philosophers were even more arrogant and elitist than they already thought. "Maybe if I tried smoking cigars for the first time it would give me an excuse to go outside?" I thought, sighing. "Man, I must be truly bored!" When I realized that I said that last part out loud, to no one in particular, I was suddenly thankful for the loud music.
The only thing that prevented me from storming out was Scarlett. It didn't look as if she was enjoying this party any more than I was, so I knew I was not going to be stuck here for much longer. Across the noisy room our eyes met, and she gave me one of her peculiar smiles which managed to convey both that she was sorry, and that she couldn't leave just yet. We were at one of her good friend's home, after all.
That friend, a tall, raven haired vixen named Karianne was up on the mezzanine talking to some people I didn't know. From my vantage point though, I could see mostly all the way up under her skirt through the glass balustrade. The fact that I was standing here at precisely the right place was completely coincidental, of course. Hiding a smile with a last sip of the whisky, I glanced up again. Lit from below by all the lights, that up skirt opportunity was just about the only thing that kept me from total despair. Well, that, and Scarlett's own attire. Since I couldn't get a good look at my girlfriend from here, I kept stealing glances upwards. Karianne was a professional dancer, but not in the usual ballet style. Instead, she had picked up the traditional dancing of our part of the world. She was thin with small, but nice breasts, and a pair of legs to die for; don't even get me started on her ass.
As it turned out, I could actually see the curves of her buttocks if she moved just right. A few minute ago, I had seen her pussy flashing between her lean thighs. Shaking my head, trying to convince myself to go and get that whisky, I was pretty sure that Karianne knew what she was doing. Proving me wrong a few minutes later, she looked down, and saw me looking up. Instead of smiling immediately, she paused just a bit and winked at me. I barely knew her, having met her only once before. Suddenly, she turned around too fast, making her skirt spin, allowing me another, and much better, glimpse of her pussy and ass. Oh, she knew what she was doing alright!
Normally I'm not at all attracted to that type of body, even though I knew she had a gaggle of admirers. Her very long mane of very straight, black hair was a wonder in itself, and her delicate curves could, when she danced, become quite remarkable. But she was just too thin for my taste. Not that Scarlett was overweight, but all the curves she needed to have were filled very nicely. Tonight though, I couldn't deny that Karianne had some effect on me. I could shake my head and smile all I wanted, but I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't felt a buzz in my stomach when she twisted. Ten seconds after that little stunt, she looked at me again, winking a second time before turning her attention back to her conversation. Laughing, I walked to the bar, calling for another glass of whiskey.
After turning around and leaning against the bar, I looked around again. If I'd been single, I would have been delighted to be here. Karianne wasn't the only other women here worthy of praise, but I wasn't single. After that amazing first day and quasi date with Scarlett three months ago, my life had changed quite a bit. Despite being much younger than I was, Scarlett had told me, and shown me, just how much I still had to learn about sex, and about love as well. That was the most surprising part of it all. Fifteen years younger than I was, still a student at the college where I teach, that girl had shaken some of my convictions.
Then, as if by magic, the crowd parted, and I had my first good look at Scarlett in a long while. The dress she was wearing was amazing! Of course it was amazing, because I had chosen it. That power over her was one of the many gifts Scarlett had given me. Tonight, I had chosen one of my favorite outfits. Except for her shoes, Scarlett only had four items of clothing on, and that's counting her stockings as two things. Those very flimsy pieces of hosiery were works of art, and Scarlett told me they had cost a fortune. Classic black, they were very fine, held up by a wide band of lacy, elastic garter half-way up her thighs. What made them so special was that the hose wasn't uniform. Instead, they had designs sown into them, from flowers to crosses to classic lace patterns.
Scarlett had very nice legs, albeit very different from her dancer friend. Whereas Karianne looked like a tall adolescent, Scarlett was all women despite her young age. From the gentle swell of her calves to the roundness of her thighs, all the way up to her hips, Scarlett's legs screamed femininity. Those stockings emphasized her curves, calling all eyes to the lace band around her creamy thighs. Usually, Scarlett chose skirts that were long enough to cover the lace part, so that she could decide when to show them, and when to keep them hidden. Not so tonight though. Tonight, everybody could see them all the time. On her left leg was, of course, her black rose tattoo, and tonight on the other leg she had worn a very special piece of jewelry. It was a series of chains attached to two clips, which were themselves attached on either side of her garter. There were five long chains, each one longer than the one above, hanging down at different heights from her upper thigh to slightly below her knee. The chains were golden and with her pale skin and dark dress, the effect was stunning.
The dress I had chosen for her was very short. In fact, there were a good two inches of bare thigh above the garter before the hem of the dress began. The dress was a tight number, very simply cut, that clung to her curves like a second skin. The stretchy material hung mostly on its own above her breasts, but there were two thin straps around her shoulders.
Despite the utter sexiness of her legs in those stockings, the fact that her tight dress accentuated the curve of her shapely ass, or the way it emphasized her small waist, Scarlett's breasts stole the show. They always stole the show. It just couldn't be helped. If you switched her breasts for average size ones, something like a 34C cup size, you'd say that Scarlett was a pretty, slender girl. Yes her thighs and ass were nicely curved, but overall, she was pretty slender. Her bra size was not 34C, not by a long shot. Instead, her breasts bloomed above and in front of her chest like gifts from heaven. Large and round, full and firm like only young flesh can be.
Sighing, I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to free them from their favorite prison. Looking down at the rest of the dress, it looked like a false nude dress, with a skin coloured fabric underneath the semi transparent lace. Then again, even a quick glance told you otherwise; you could easily see Scarlett's bra underneath. The woman was beautiful, so were her breasts, and the bra was up to the challenge. Rummaging through Scarlett's bra drawer was a pleasure in itself. For tonight, I had chosen a Prima Donna bra, the Madison demi-bra. It worked wonderfully with her low cut dress, and the lace on it matched the one on the dress.
Lower, if you dared to look long enough, you couldn't see any sign of panties visible through the dress. Anyone looking at her dress tonight would think that the part below the breasts was a false nude dress. They didn't see any panties and so assumed the false nude. It wasn't. It was a truly nude dress. When she bought it, it had of course been a false nude dress, but she had removed the skin colored fabric. The lace pattern on the dress was thick enough without it, and everybody was fooled by the false, false nude. Up top though, she knew people would see her nipples if she didn't wear a bra underneath, so she had. The reason why people couldn't see her panties was because she wasn't wearing any. Why didn't people see her bush? Because it was still completely shaven. Simple, no? Some of the most beautiful things in life had elegant explanations, I thought, smiling.
