During the festive period there is always a lot more socialising than usual and, while this is all very nice, in my case there is an element of reluctance in accepting invitations – it means the loss of that marvellous contentment I can have when at home alone.
With a lot of persuasion I agreed to join several friends for dinner and to celebrate the New Year at a local hotel. But how can one really be enthusiastic when, as soon as I had on my dress shirt, I was wishing it was a blouse of silk and lace, the bow tie – a beautiful necklace – and instead of the dinner suit, a gorgeous satin skirt [but then I changed my mind and decided a pretty cocktail dress would be more suitable]…..and so the thought went on and on and remained with me all night.
After an excellent seven course dinner, which took up the most of three hours, I soon became rather bored trying to show interest in my male friends conversation and wandered off into the ballroom. It was great to see so many people appearing to be really relaxed and enjoying themselves, but standing there was poor me, very much on guard with myself, and as always so envious of the girls of all ages, thinking of all the pleasures I had missed.
On returning to the lounge it pleased me to settle down amongst the ladies of the party for another drink or two and join in all the chatter of local gossip and other subjects such as christmas presents, the food we had all just managed to consume, dieting and clothes etc. It did not take long for me to mention my few rather dull presents, but I did admit to having treated myself to one, a pair of shoes. How I wished I could have described them truthfully and told them they had 2 1/2 inch heels. They just couldn’t understand why I too was seriously going to stick to a strict diet for a while, but I knew it was for exactly the same reason as theirs. Although it did go through my mind that I might have an advantage in that an extra tug or two on my waist clincher would help to do the trick for the time being.
It was a little disappointing when they started talking about clothes because they could not have thought very much about my imaginary ‘lovely dress’ as it naturally never got a mention. Instead, I had to accept a few unwanted compliments about my smartness which only made me wonder what the gossip would have developed into if it had beem realised how I was hating having to spend so long in a suit. Especially that my ‘black socks’ actually covered my legs finishing up over satin and lace panties, and that under the so called smart shirt were two very lonely skin supports anxiously awiating those treasured miacle boobs left behind at home.
Midnight came with all the usual merriment and greetings with kiss after kiss for all the girls, but of course not even a peck for me. Back home in the early hours, my suit disguarded, I was soon in bed looking at the undies, blouse and skirt I had put on a chair ready for me to make a really satisfying start to the year, even if only for a short while after a few hours sleep. I then relaxed and rolled over onto my back with one hand resting on my tummy, the other caressing the sweet embroidery and lace on the bodice of my nightie and what had reappeared on my chest. After turning out the light, I curled up and went into dreamland of how much nicer the evening could have been if only…….and then suddenly, I felt a strong arm find its way under my shoulder coaxing me to turn over, and soon I was enjoying a New Year cuddle and a loving goodnight kiss.
Yes, even in my 70th year I still have lonely dreams and with that most comforting one, I dropped off to sleep a happy woman.