Dressing up for the dinner

On the day of the trial, in the evening, I received a package. Inside of it was a dress, a pair of high heels, a thong, some jewellery and a letter; the latter was an invitation to a restaurant. I am sure you can guess the owner of that place. And yes, I was going to go on that ‘date’. Was I even considering doing something more than sharing a meal? Let the fact that I took a pill be the answer. I wanted to fuck Michael Bradford as much as he craved to fuck me. The successful high-profile investigation was just a bonus at this point. Of course he did not need to know about that; like every woman I wanted to be won, not to simply give myself away.

The clothes which I received along with the invitation deserve a more detailed description, not only because they must have been awfully expensive, at least when compared to my wage. The dress was something that a celebrity or a model could wear on a red carpet. It was red itself and ankle long, but the latter did not mean it covered much skin. The bottom part had an asymmetrical slit at the front which exposed almost the entire right leg; the ‘almost’ would most likely be gone during walking. The top part was basically a wide strip of fabric that went from the waist, over the breasts and around the neck. It did not expose any cleavage, but offered a glimpse of sideboob; the shoulders and the entire back were exposed. The only lingerie item, which Bradford had included within the package, was a red thong. The man was correct in doing so, because such dresses were not intended to be worn with a bra. Some celebrities glued pads under their breasts or used other similar devices, but my boobs were firm and I was bold. The last clothing item in the package was a pair of high heels. These were red peep-toe pumps on twelve centimetre tall heels and two centimetre platforms; they were gorgeous and must have cost a small fortune. The jewellery looked simple, but must have been as expensive as the outfit. It consisted of a necklace and earrings, all made of gold, high-quality and tasteful. I joked in my thoughts that Bradford forgot to include perfumes from the same price range. But maybe he wanted to smell me ‘dressed’ in scents of my own choosing.

I would go for the dinner with Bradford just to have an occasion to wear such an outfit; as you may imagine, police balls tend to look less glamorous. The invitation asked for confirmation, but I did not think I should send it via a messenger as well, so I just called Bradford. I thanked him for the package and informed him that I will show up. I guess I should not be surprised when he told me that he would send a car to pick me up. Arriving for dinner in a taxi when I was dressed like that would somewhat spoil the mood. But it was also obvious that Bradford was showing off. This was not necessarily the best way to impress me, but I was not complaining; I already knew that he was a smart guy.

The driver arrived to pick me up exactly on time. Unlike most women when going out I am always fully ready on time. The man was polite and professional; we soon arrived at Bradford’s ‘palace’. The host was there to open my door himself, this was the kind of gesture that could actually impress me. Bradford’s suit was as elegant as my dress was glamorous, he looked improperly handsome; of course in current circumstances I did not consider it a vice.