My friend who interns for Playboy invited me to the annual “Lingerie Party”, a chance for the employees of Playboy to mix and mingle with the models. You can imagine my excitement. I have never been invited to such a big event before, let alone one with playmates. This was my chance! If I looked good enough, perhaps I could impress bossman and would be awarded with a job as a file-clerk at the headquarters, or better yet, my very own center-fold in the next issue. But what would I wear? And how could I compete with these six-foot, boobacious, leggy blonds? I am a mere 5 feet and four inches tall, with a chest as flat as the cornfields in Iowa.
So I set out on my quest to find the most flattering lingerie I could. It needed to hug me in all the right places, and emphasize what little assetts I had. I was enthralled by all of the choices. Lingerie is so much more than your typical bra and panty set. There are baby doll designs which are especially flattering for those without perfectly sculpted abs. They resemble a longer tank top, hugging the breasts and getting loser further down, flaring out right under the the booty. The chemise, I learned, is similar, but a little bit longer. The best part about these two styles is that they usually come with a g-string or thong to really emphasize the curviture of the buttocks. I moved onto to more belly-baring styles. I found “teddies” that resebled a one-piece bathing suit. They had all sorts of fancy cut-outs and knick knacks that invoked my wildest dreams. The choices were endless, from push up bras that miraculously created cleavage, to the bustier that shrinks the waist. I particulary appreciated the accessories: Garter belts, stockings, and lacy robes and sexy ways to cover up.
I arrived at the party feeling pretty. I managed to put myself together quite nicely, and I thought I was for sure to make a lasting impression. I saw a playmate to my left, and thought “bring it on, blondie.” It was the middle of winter and I was looking around for the coat check. And while I was loooking around, I noticed that nobody, except the models, where wearing lingerie. How silly of me to think that the office party would be bare-all lingerie party for the middle aged employees of Playboy magazine! I took this all with a grain of salt, hugged my coat around me, and proceeded into the party. But what do you know! My sexy lingerie underneath brought about a confidence and swagger that I did not know I had. Although nobody else in the party knew what I had on underneath, I certainly did, and this alone was enough encouragement for me to introduce myself to the editor and to the playmates with poise and a cool assurance only a vixon could possess.