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It was New Orleans. It was evening. It was time to get ready for a night out.
For every night out there is a mood, a texture, color, atmosphere and anticipation. Sensations in cloth, fabric, the right stockings and whether to wear anything at all underneath it all. Sensual, sexual, personal choices that might determine the outcome of the night, might spark a desire, might satisfy a fantasy, might touch someone in their heart and their body. Sequences of layers of garments to be discarded or removed as the night unfolds. This night it was the dark stockings and garter belt, moved and positioned just so. When everything is right she can control what others see or don't see of her private body. Letting the skirt go in a wind or twirling on a dance floor, uncrossing her legs at the right moment -- her date or some stranger might catch a glimpse of her hair, her pussy and trigger that ever-present ever occuring moment of recognition and arousal leading ever further into a night of pleasure and intimacy and sensual, sexual release. Such pleasure might derive, such satisfaction, from the choice of garments and their positioning that great care is being taken to make sure every inch of her has been both hidden and immanently revealed in its intimate beauty.