God, I look hot. I have to admit that since I started back in counseling my self-esteem has moved up one notch. I’m feeling more confident about myself, in spite of some of my screwy sexual desires. I’m dressed in my black dress that hugs my curves. My legs are covered in sheer black panty hose, and my shiny patent leather four-inch heels are making me feel tall. Thank goodness Ian is taller still. Wearing them makes my ass look good, and my boobs thrust temptingly forward. My hair is upswept on the sides, but I’ve let my long blonde locks cascade down the back. I brought a few pieces of my nice, gold costume jewelry to wear. A few dabs of my favorite perfume, the last touch of mauve lipstick, and I’m ready. Watch out Ian, you’re in for it, I smugly think while looking at myself. Slowly, I emerge from the bathroom and walk out into the great room. Ian is pacing back and forth. I’m shocked over his behavior, because he’s usually the cool cucumber. He turns around and takes one look at me, and his eyes grow wide.
