Finally, Preshy announced her penultimate presentation, and I was almost speechless at the sight of her slim youthful body with its flowering bust exhibited in a peephole bra.
This covered most of her breasts with fine decorated purple mesh, but left fully exposed an area of about one inch in diameter around the nipples, through which her cute little titties were poking out – and I noticed at once how pert and erect they were.
As the outfits became skimpier and more overtly sexual, the whole show acted like an extended form of strip-tease – and it had just such a tantalising effect on my body.
My tits were stiff and almost aching, as my slightest movement rubbed my sensitised nipples against the inside of my bra cups, my heart was beating faster and I felt a little sweaty, and my cunt was positively drooling – only the remnant of my sense of dignity prevented my mouth from doing the same.
Preshy was a delectable sight, however much – or little – she was wearing. She was a little shorter than me, about five feet seven or eight inches, but any disadvantage in height was more than compensated for by her extra inches around the bust.
I had seen that she had a curvaceous feminine figure from the moment that she had skipped up the steps of my house, wearing a flouncy white mini-skirt and an emerald green halter neck top in which her breasts jiggled as she moved.
They were beautifully curved globes, their fullness in exquisite proportion to her slender build and flat firm stomach; I learned later that she still took a 28-inch band size, in which she needed an E cup!
Cute as her figure was, with a firm tight ass that set off and enhanced her bust, it was her pretty face which drew me more than anything, with its striking blue-grey eyes, perky mouth and overall pixie-like quality.
Her hair, originally light brown, had been dyed a natural blonde colour reminiscent of the richness of a summer cornfield; it was cut short in feathery layers to just below the ears, in a gamine style that signalled ‘I can be as wild as the naughtiest boy – but still as soft and feminine as the cutest girl’.
At last, Preshy stood before me, having provocatively flounced in wearing her final coup de grace: a pair of barely-existent string panties made from two tiny triangular wisps of scarlet semi-transparent gauze.
I laced up at each hip by a thin ribbon, and a matching open-shelf bra which consisted of a band of fabric below her breasts with just the very bottom outline of the bra cups – the effect being to give a modest amount of uplift, whilst exhibiting a thoroughly immodest 90% of her breasts, with her rosy nipples fully on display.
I noted their stiff pinkness, but realised that her state of excitement might be due to exhibiting her work rather than her body, and for the career opportunity which this demonstration represented. I started to clap my hands, nodding and smiling.
‘Wow!’ I said, ‘that was quite a show – I can tell you that you’ve really made an impression on me.’ And she had – professionally and sexually, as the sopping gusset of my panties affirmed.
‘However,’ I continued, ‘whilst I am very definitely interested, oh, yeah!, I thought at this point, am I fucking interested – and interested in fucking! there is one more crucial test.’
I explained that looks was one thing, but the actual feel of wearing a garment was the only reliable way to be sure about it, and that I always tried everything out myself before making any final decision.
Preshy was still over the moon at my initial reaction, and was not at all dismayed.
‘That’s wonderful,’ she replied at once; ‘I can leave them with you, or’ – and at this point she looked at me with a mischievous grin – ‘would you like to try them right now, and I could stay and help you?’
How is any red-blooded woman to refuse an offer like that? I still wasn’t quite sure if she was flirting with me, or how she might respond to sexual advances from another female – and one about ten years older than her, as well. But I certainly intended to test the water further, and this would give more opportunities.
Interestingly, Preshy seemed keen to go right ahead, and did not bother to do more than throw a silky, open-fronted loose kimono wrap (one of her earlier items) over the nearly non-existent lingerie that she was wearing.
She helped me to undress, admiring my figure and saying that I looked so strong and commanding. I am sure that she must have seen the state of my panties, although I turned away to strip them off quickly, and she probably smelt the aroma of my arousal as well.
Preshy’s hands lingered longer than really necessary when helping me into the various teddies, bustiers, bras and panties, almost stroking my breasts and smoothing along my inner thighs.