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39yo, platinum hair, She wore a floor length nightgown of midnight blue Italian silk, so thin it was almost translucent, held up by straps that looked as though they might snap at a single touch. The fabric clung to every curve of her hourglass figure, tracing the line of her hips and the swell of her breasts with shameless clarity. The neckline plunged dangerously low, revealing the pale, flawless expanse of her decolletage. she reached down to the silk pooling at her waist. With unsteady fingers, she didn't try to remove it completely; instead, she reached inside. She pulled one of the discarded pieces of lace the very underwear you had found from where it had been pushed aside earlier. Her face burned crimson as she held the small scrap of fabric between her fingers.
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