Lady in Red

I had always thought of girls, not that I was really a lesbian, but I had a real interest in their sexuality. I was always a very sexual person, but when I looked at girls from a young age I was always more interested in what was under their clothes than what was under a boys. It wasn’t until I was age 20 that I got to see what another girl was really like. At age 11, once I had experimented with a friend but she had been embarrassed after that episode and we were not friends any longer. At age 20 I worked for an education firm. I met Leslie through the implementation of a new computer service for my company. We worked long hard hours over the phone and when she came to the city we worked long into the night.

She had been planning a conference in a nearby city and asked me to join her to go over some plans for our program. I met her and that night after the set up was over for the event we decided to go to the bar. I ran to my room and changed clothes. I had a black plain cocktail dress that changed into, along with some nice small fishnets, slipping my feet into my heels; I brushed out my long hair and twisted it into a French twist tucking the ends into themselves. I applied lipstick and stood straight in front of the mirror. I stopped myself short wondering why I was getting so dressed up to go out with girl. I didn’t even go to this much trouble for my husband. I dabbed a small amount of perfume on my neck, grabbing my clutch I walked out of the hotel room door. Waiting for the elevator I was aware of a few men looking back at me for a retake. As I stepped into the elevator, perhaps I had over done it. The guy in the elevator tried to drum up a conversation, which I replied with yes and no answers and tried to flash my wedding ring.

Walked off the elevator and down the hallway, turning right was another short hallway that ended in the bar. There was a cheesy lounge lizard singing something 1950’s ish, to the sounds of a plinking electric organ. I spotted her, she was small perhaps just at 5’0. Leslie was very small, she weighed maybe 100 pounds; she wore a red dress, which was short catching her at mid-thigh perhaps a little higher. She wore her hair short and spike. Her dress was adorned with a black tight cinched belt. I walked over to where she sat perched up on the high bar stool, her legs crossed in black stockings with the seam at the back making her legs even sexier than ever. I walked up and slid into the stool beside her, she turned and smiled. She had taken the liberty of ordering me a drink. She reached into her briefcase on the stool beside her and pulled out her schematic she kept with her most of the time. I felt a little let down, she was just wanting to work after all.

We downed three, four, and five drinks, I was feeling rather drunk.