© C.R. Alvery 2013
Any character involved in any sexual activities is at least 18 years of age.
Ashley sat on the kitchen counter, checking her nails over as her heels thumped against the cabinets. The clock on the stovetop said she had at least another ten minutes before her boyfriend walked in the door. She glanced down at pink babydoll barely covering her breasts, slid off the counter and checked the clasps on her garter belt. The last thing she wanted was for one of her matching pink stockings to become rumpled.
The soft scratch of an unnoticed nail ruining her day made her jerk away from the cabinets, twisting this way and that to make certain nothing had been torn on her hose. From what she could see, neither side had so much as pulled a thread. That worried her. She hurried off to the bedroom to squint into floor length mirror.
There, on her lower left thigh, was a long thread dangling almost to her ankle. Ashley let out a whimper as she ran over to her nightstand and yanked open the drawers. She found the thin satin envelope everything had come in easily and popped it open, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw a spare pair of thigh highs inside.
As she was finishing snapping her garter clasps closed, she heard the front door chime, heard heavy boots step into the apartment. She peeked around the corner of the bedroom door frame. The blue camo uniform was still a bit of a joke around the base from what she understood. After all, what happened when someone went overboard? But she loved it. The paler blue on the digital print brought out Luke’s eyes.