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Hunter enjoys a very special day.
Always so proper and neat, this was truly a far cry.
Cyndi then got up and again absent mindedly, put everything one by one in the sink. I just loved her hose and skirt and watched them the whole time. Then she walked out of the room and up the stairs. I followed close behind every step of the way. When she got to our room, she started undress. First taking of her jacket, then unbuttoning her dirty blouse, then pulling down her skirt, kicking off her heels, and then pulling down her white hose. Like a drone she stood there in lacy matching black bra and panties, still with chocolate. She then moved into her side of the bed and tucked herself in and passed out like nothing happened. Immediately I got a cloth and wiped the chocolate off her face. I didn't want her to wake up like that because I still had things to figure out. For this same reason I gave her a peck on the lips before going back to the kitchen and cleaning up her mess. Then I came back up and put her suit somewhere she couldn't find it so I could get it cleaned. If Cyndi inquired, I'd say I spilt something on it accidentally and I was taking care of it.
The next morning I had to test if Cyndi remembered anything. She came down into the kitchen in a black pinstripe blazer, a white knee length skirt, a black blouse with a couple buttons undone of course, and black heels. To die for. As she sat down and had her breakfast (a boiled egg and unsweetened black coffee), I went right into it.
"So...you sleep OK?"
Cyndi peeled her egg and let out a "Fine." She said simply not even giving any full attention.
"So nothing out of the ordinary happened?" I was trying to be sly. I really wasn't one for that though.
She took a gulp of her coffee. "Alex, what's this about? You know I've been sleeping fine since I've been on the meds." Yep, she was almost close to cluing in to my suspicious behaviour. Better cut it right now.
"I know, I know. Just checkin' is all."
We sat in silence for a few minutes later before Cyndi got up. "Well, gotta head of now. Closing off the last batch of artists." She then grabbed her stomach and rubbed it. "Oooo, stomach is being weird today. Feels like I ate a meal right before bed last night! Well gotta go! Ciao!!"
At dinner that evening I tried to see if she'd become more suggestive to the idea of eating more dangerously. I fired myself some pork chops and like the time with the steak, I offered a piece to Cyndi. Cyndi rolled her eyes and went on one of her "You should know by now" rants, this time with a whole lot more profanity. OK, so that experiment didn't work out so well.
That night I stayed up late before going to bed so I could be up for when Cyndi got up again. As I lied in bed, I wondered what she would do tonight. Or IF she would even do anything at all! I didn't want this all to be a fluke, a random act. As I lay there studying her sleeping form and stroking her beautiful face, I anxiously awaited what she would wear tonight. And what she would eat. If you couldn't guess it by now, I was very obsessed with her appearance.
Staying awake was a little bit of a feat. I felt like dosing so many times. I'd have to think of another way to do this for next time. I actually was napping when Cyndi finally got up. I looked at our clock. 2:39. Noted. She was already in the middle of pulling up her black hose. As I wiped my eyes and sat in bed trying to wake up, I groggily saw her stand up and pull it all the way up to her black panties. When she was all set, she ventured over to her closet. At this point I rose out of my position to follow her. This was the most intriguing part because I found it puzzling how she knew to pick out something even in her sleepy state. Cyndi fiddled with skirts first. Going through a number of them she settled with a light, knee length pink skirt. Then she picked out matching blouse and blazer, both pink. With great care she slipped on the skirt and buttoned up her shirt. I hovered closely behind as she did her thing. It was all so fascinating!
Then she stood in front of her vanity m