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Description

"Thank you, Miss Meadows, for your continued generosity. The Foundation would not exist without your sizable donations."

"It's the least I can do. And besides. It's you, and your people doing the tireless work. Effecting the real change," replied the slender blonde, feeling her cheeks turn a bit red under the praise.

"And we wouldn't have the opportunity without selfless good hearted women like yourself," the voice effused.

"Well, you'll have to let me know when you meet one of those women. I'm just a concerned citizen trying to do my part," she countered.

"You do more than---" the voice persisted.

"Ah-ah" this war of politeness is at an end," interrupted the blonde, holding up a well manicured finger. She fixed her well mannered adversary a look with her deep emerald eyes, and just like that, the debate ceased. A held moment passed, and then her frozen stare broke into a winning smile. The kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the room.

"I'll see you at the next one," she called over her bare shoulder, as she pressed her forearm into the crash bar and made her discreet exit out the back of the kitchen behind the banquet hall. A trash strewn back alley awaited.

Outside, the air was warm, heavy with humidity. Rain would be coming. She took a moment to hastily put her luxuriously flowing molten blonde hair up into a messy bun. Then she slipped off her heels, letting her stocking bearing feet press into the coarse texture of the concrete, rich with cigarette stubs and oil stains. Had to get out of those heels. These events called for a girl to make an effort, go the extra mile. And that meant the dress, and the heels. But, by the end the end of the night...

She rubbed at her tired feet. Goodness it felt great to be out of those shoes. Whew! Too hot for pantyhose, she thought to herself, pulling at the toe seam, stretching the springy garment. She could feel the tight nylon clinging to her skin, the kind of sensation where a girl just has to grin and bear it, in the name of formality. It was the kind of night that reminded you summer was coming. Gotta get out of these pantyhose, she thought, giving her toes a wiggle for good measure. Yes, I know you guys like anticipating your freedom, she thought with a sly grin.

The Jag was parked on the 3rd level, just across the street, in a garage.

In one hand she held her heels, pinched between slender fingers. The other held a small clutch that matched the midnight satin of her chiffon slip dress. Her pantyhose were wisps of barely black, glazing her creamy white legs in just the hint of chocolate. The walk to the garage would sacrifice the delicate hosiery, but she couldn't bear to make the journey in her heels. It had been too long a night. In the anonymous privacy of the kitchen, she had slipped a pair of glasses on, no longer having to go through motions of "presentability" that drained a girl. It was enough to leave her bare shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

The sudden sense of the presence of another startled her from her mundane girlish revelries. The moment when you realize you are no longer alone. The moment is no longer private. Looking up, she lowered her nylon clad foot back to the pavement vaguely aware of the bite of a pebble digging into her tender sole.

Brows angling with the onset of unease, her voice came out in a lilted whisper.

"Oh! It's you..."

(This picture was made in Daz Studio 4.12 and postwork in Adobe Photoshop CS2)

Description

"Thank you, Miss Meadows, for your continued generosity. The Foundation would not exist without your sizable donations."

"It's the least I can do. And besides. It's you, and your people doing the tireless work. Effecting the real change," replied the slender blonde, feeling her cheeks turn a bit red under the praise.

"And we wouldn't have the opportunity without selfless good hearted women like yourself," the voice effused.

"Well, you'll have to let me know when you meet one of those women. I'm just a concerned citizen trying to do my part," she countered.

"You do more than---" the voice persisted.

"Ah-ah" this war of politeness is at an end," interrupted the blonde, holding up a well manicured finger. She fixed her well mannered adversary a look with her deep emerald eyes, and just like that, the debate ceased. A held moment passed, and then her frozen stare broke into a winning smile. The kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the room.

"I'll see you at the next one," she called over her bare shoulder, as she pressed her forearm into the crash bar and made her discreet exit out the back of the kitchen behind the banquet hall. A trash strewn back alley awaited.

Outside, the air was warm, heavy with humidity. Rain would be coming. She took a moment to hastily put her luxuriously flowing molten blonde hair up into a messy bun. Then she slipped off her heels, letting her stocking bearing feet press into the coarse texture of the concrete, rich with cigarette stubs and oil stains. Had to get out of those heels. These events called for a girl to make an effort, go the extra mile. And that meant the dress, and the heels. But, by the end the end of the night...

She rubbed at her tired feet. Goodness it felt great to be out of those shoes. Whew! Too hot for pantyhose, she thought to herself, pulling at the toe seam, stretching the springy garment. She could feel the tight nylon clinging to her skin, the kind of sensation where a girl just has to grin and bear it, in the name of formality. It was the kind of night that reminded you summer was coming. Gotta get out of these pantyhose, she thought, giving her toes a wiggle for good measure. Yes, I know you guys like anticipating your freedom, she thought with a sly grin.

The Jag was parked on the 3rd level, just across the street, in a garage.

In one hand she held her heels, pinched between slender fingers. The other held a small clutch that matched the midnight satin of her chiffon slip dress. Her pantyhose were wisps of barely black, glazing her creamy white legs in just the hint of chocolate. The walk to the garage would sacrifice the delicate hosiery, but she couldn't bear to make the journey in her heels. It had been too long a night. In the anonymous privacy of the kitchen, she had slipped a pair of glasses on, no longer having to go through motions of "presentability" that drained a girl. It was enough to leave her bare shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

The sudden sense of the presence of another startled her from her mundane girlish revelries. The moment when you realize you are no longer alone. The moment is no longer private. Looking up, she lowered her nylon clad foot back to the pavement vaguely aware of the bite of a pebble digging into her tender sole.

Brows angling with the onset of unease, her voice came out in a lilted whisper.

"Oh! It's you..."

(This picture was made in Daz Studio 4.12 and postwork in Adobe Photoshop CS2)