Tiffany likes showing, as long as I tell her what to wear.

Based on a post by ron de, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I smiled to myself as I waited for Tiffany to come out of the ladies room at the restaurant. The short skirt I'd picked out for her was sexy all by itself. It wasn't sexy because it didn't cover her up. It was long enough to do that. The hem stopped at about the middle of her shapely, sexy thighs. The real threat was that the skirt was a tight fit, and when Tiffany sat down, she had to be careful. If she wasn't, the skirt would ride up, and anyone looking could catch a glimpse of her black boy short panties. It wasn't just the lacy edge around her thighs they'd see, either. If Tiffany didn't keep her thighs together, what people would see was the rounded contour of her mound and the little bulge between her thighs.

Tiffany knew this would happen. I'd shown her in her bedroom mirror before we left. She blushed bright pink, but she still put the skirt on. The tight cotton blouse I'd picked out completed the picture. It didn't show anything except the seams of her bra, but then, Tiffany has big breasts and her bra had a lot of seams to show.

The door to the ladies room opened just as I was remembering what Tiffany had inside that bra, and she quickly walked to our table. Her face was flushed, and as she walked she kept smoothing the skirt over her hips and looking around is if waiting for something to happen.

She grinned when she slid into the chair beside me, then blushed and pulled down her skirt. I chuckled.

"You did it?"

Tiffany nodded.

"Well, give them to me then."

Tiffany reached in her purse, pulled out the black boy shorts and pressed them into my hand. I wadded the filmy nylon and lace into a ball and put my hands to my face as if to cover a yawn. Tiffany's scent wafted to my nose as I inhaled. I smiled as I stuffed the panties into the back pocket of my jeans and then put my hand between Tiffany's tightly closed knees.

"The guy at that table across from us was watching you when you came back. Wanna give him a little show?"

I nudged Tiffany's knees apart just a little and slipped my hand up to the hem of her skirt. Tiffany was desperately trying to keep those knees together.

"Open up, just a little. I want to see his face when he looks again."

"I; I can't. He'll see and think I'm some sort of slut."

"Then cross your legs."

Tiffany caught her breath.

"If I do that, he'll see all the way up to my; my; "

I chuckled.

"Probably all he'll see is a little hair; probably; unless you leave your thighs open a little. Then, he'll see something that'll make him choke on his spaghetti."

Tiffany's hand was shaking when she pulled mine from her thigh and crossed her legs.

The guy was looking then, and while he didn't choke, he did grin.

Tiffany tried to act as if she was just eating her dinner, but I knew different. She kept looking up from her steak to see if the guy was still looking. If he was, she'd quickly look away, but she'd be grinning as she did. Tiffany was getting a thrill out of knowing a strange man was looking up her skirt and seeing one of her most private places. Tonight would be a great night.

I suppose some people might think Tiffany's a little different, and she is, but it's something I really love about her. I didn't know, of course, that day we met. It took a while for me to figure it out.

We met, sort of, at Walmart of all places. I say we sort of met because it lasted only a few seconds. I rounded the end of the aisle with coffee, tea, and creamer and started down the aisle with soft drinks. Tiffany was standing on her tip-toes and trying to get a two-liter of soda down off the top rack. She's not very tall, and she was having trouble. I thought it would be nice to help her so I walked up and asked which one she wanted.

She smiled the most beautiful smile I'd seen in a long time.

"The cola. I don't know why they have to put stuff up so high. I'm just not tall enough to reach."

I pulled the bottle out of the rack and handed it to her.

"You just need one?"

She smiled again.

"Yes, for now. Thanks."

The woman put the bottle in her shopping buggy and walked away, but not before I determined several things about her. One, she had really great legs for a small woman, and her hips were fantastic. Her shorts were short enough and fit snugly enough for me to tell that. Two, though her loose top didn't show much of anything, it was pretty obvious the woman was well endowed. Three, she didn't wear any rings on her left hand, but did wear an engagement ring and wedding ring on her right ring finger. Patty, one of the women at work, wore her rings like that, and told me it was to signify she'd been divorced. I suppose it was to tell any man if he couldn't live with that to stay away. Patty sometimes wore a T-shirt that said "I am not a bitch, I am THE BITCH, and to you I am Ms. Bitch." I mostly stayed away from Patty. That shirt was very appropriate.

Then there was that smile. It was devastatingly beautiful, and made the woman's face the same way. I honestly thought about trying to catch up to her and introduce myself, but I'm no kid anymore, and she looked pretty young. I figured she'd be polite, but that was about all that would happen.

Saturday afternoon wasn't my usual time for grocery shopping, but I went back to Walmart at the same time the next Saturday. I suppose it was wishful thinking. A lot of people shop at Walmart at that time of day. It wasn't likely I'd see her again. I did though, in the canned goods aisle. I'd been thinking about the age difference through the week, and I knew some women like older men. I decided to find out if she was one of them. After taking a deep breath, I pushed my buggy up beside hers and started looking at the canned carrots.

The woman looked up and smiled again.

"You're the man who helped me last week."

"Huh; Oh, yeah; that would be me. Need any more help?"

The woman smiled again, said, "Nope. I can reach these.", and bent over to pick up two cans of peas. When she straightened back up, she gave me an odd look. I suppose it was because I was standing there with my mouth hanging open. It was that way because when the woman bent over, her shorts rode up a little and I could see out the delicate curve where her hips met her thighs. She smiled again then, but the smile looked a little impish, and her face was a little flushed.

"Mister, are you all right?"

I shook my head, and grinned. She had to know that would happen, and knowing she knew made her all that much more interesting.

"I'm fine. I was just having a daydream."

I stuck out my hand.

"I'm Bill."

The woman took my hand and shook it gently.

"I'm Tiffany."

Well, after that day, I started buying my groceries on Saturday instead of Wednesday night. I usually saw Tiffany somewhere in the store. Sometimes she'd just wave when she saw me. Sometimes we'd talk for a couple minutes about nothing in particular. It took another two weeks before I asked if she ever dated men. Tiffany chuckled.

"I don't date other women if that's what you're asking."

"No, nothing like that. I just thought maybe you'd like to have dinner some night."

"So you're asking me out?"

"I haven't yet, but I was going to. Do you like pizza?"

Over pizza the next Saturday night, I learned a lot about Tiffany. She was ten years younger than I, and had been divorced for a while. She didn't say much about her marriage, just that she was glad to be out of it. Even though I didn't know any details, I found myself not liking her husband very much. Tiffany was a pretty woman with a great figure, but she was much more than that. She was a very intelligent and interesting woman. Her outside appearance was just the icing on a very rich cake. I couldn't understand how any man could treat her so poorly that she'd leave him unless he was a complete ass. I don't have much patience for complete asses, and I told her that. She defended him a little.

"He wasn't like that. He just didn't understand what I needed. I guess he never learned from his dad, and he didn't want to listen to me."

"Well, some guys are lucky to have someone to tell them. I guess he didn't. I didn't either. I had to learn it on my own."

"How did you do that?"

"Trial and error in my old sixty Chevy mostly."

She chuckled.

"Front or back seat?"

"Uh; front. Never made it all the way to the back seat. Girls would let a guy play a little, but except for a couple, they wouldn't let a guy get too far."

Tiffany grinned.

"I was one of those girls - not the ones who got in the back seat -the other kind. It was a thrill knowing I had something guys wanted, and it was a real thrill teasing them, but Mom would have locked me in my room until I was twenty if she thought I was doing more than that."

"I guess I never thought girls got off by teasing guys. They seemed pretty reluctant to let you even touch them."

"My mom told me the touching would feel good, but nobody buys a used car if they can get a new one for the same price. She said it's better to leave something to the imagination. I got all excited thinking about what boys were imagining about me."

I could sympathize with the guys Tiffany was talking about. If she looked anything then like she looked now, they'd have been fantasizing about all sorts of things; just like I was at that very moment. I thought just maybe Tiffany was a little excited by our conversation. I could just make out the rounded bumps of her nipples against her top. They hadn't been there before. I was liking those bumps way too much for a first date.

I laughed.

"You got excited? What you girls did to us guys was a lot more than make us excited."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, a guy can't really hide being excited very well, if you understand what I'm saying. I mean, it's bad enough that at that age it seems to happen all by itself a lot, but when a girl dresses up in little shorts or a tight T-shirt, well; "

Tiffany gave me a sheepish grin.

"So, are you saying I'm doing that now?"

"Let's just say I need another cup of coffee before I take you back to your house."

Tiffany giggled.

"OK, I'll try to be good. No; what I meant was, I'll try to make sure that problem go away. Oh; not that either. I'll just sit here until it does and not do anything else."

My problem did go away about half way through the second cup of coffee, but only because Tiffany asked me about my job. Somehow, talking about being an engineer and erotic thoughts don't go very well together. The problem came back when I drove away from her house though. As she said goodnight, Tiffany touched my arm and thanked me for dinner. That was enough.

We dated for the next three months about every weekend, and I noticed a gradual change in Tiffany. She started to ask if I liked what she was wearing. I knew better than to say anything except she looked great. She wouldn't let it go at that. She kept asking me if she looked sexy or not. I didn't have to make up that answer. Tiffany would have looked sexy in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

One night after we'd finished dinner, she asked what she should wear on our next date. I wasn't really sure what she was asking, so I decided to tease her a little and fulfill one of my fantasies at the same time, if only a little