Showered, with my hair and makeup done, I’m sat on the bed. I am feverishly readying myself for the day ahead, wondering if I’m ready for what I’m about to do. My nerves are shot and I’m having trouble with my clothing. With unsteady hands I fumble with the fixtures on my suspenders, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. I eventually win the battle with the clasps and pick up my sexy new bra. I’ve decided to go with knee high boots and a simple black dress to complete my outfit. Classic, demure enough for public showing and, I’m hoping, sexy.

I do one last check of my appearance in the mirror and decide if I don’t leave now I’m going to stay home. Meeting a complete stranger I’ve only ever spoken to in a seedy chat room is unlike me and so very out of character. I grab my keys off the sideboard and walk out the door.

I’m catching the train into the city, so it’s a short drive to the station. I’m feeling nervous and a little afraid. I walk into onto the platform feeling like everyone knows I’m not wearing any panties. It’s exhilarating and frightening all at the same time. The journey into the city takes about half an hour and the closer I get to the city the better I’m feeling about the decision I’ve made and the giant leap of faith that I about to take. There’s an older gentleman looking at me with curiosity in his eyes. I can’t help it; all of a sudden I’m making solid eye contact as I run my hand up my thigh and show him a glimpse of the top of my stockings. He readjusts himself with a shy smile he, glances at his wife and then then back to me. The attention is arousing and makes me feel like I have a little more control, giving me the boost I need to go through with my planned meeting. Just as I start to think that the train ride will never end the announcement comes over the PA that my stop is next. I straighten up and get ready to leave the train.

I step outside the train on shaky legs and walk to the escalators. I briefly glance at my phone to make sure I’m on time and to see if there’s a message from him. Has he cancelled? A small part of me is hoping so. I look down, I’m early and there’s a message from him asking if I have arrived in the city. My heart skips, beat he hasn’t cancelled, and I think he is actually looking forward to meeting me for coffee. I start to wonder whether his idea of what constitutes coffee is different to mine.

I’m standing outside the train station watching the lunch rush of people walking and talking. There’s a busker just down the mall singing one of my favorite songs and I can’t help singing along. His rendition of Melissa Ethridge, “Like the way I do” sounds like he is singing it directly to me. I check my phone and he is on his way. My stomach is in knots and my legs feel like jelly ... Fuck, it’s only coffee I keep reminding myself, trying to rationalize my position and pull myself together. I breathe deeply as he approaches, trying in vain to hide my nerves. He approaches me without hesitation, the sharp business suit belying the tone of conversation that we have been engaged in for some time now. The grin on his face like makes him look like a cheeky Cheshire cat.