Richard loves exhibitionists. He’s not an exhibitionist himself, but he loves seeing a woman flaunt her sexuality in public. (I’m not sure I’ve said that right, but I’m quite sure he’ll tell me if I didn’t. lol)
I am not an exhibitionist. The work I do is male dominated, and it has never been in my best interests to appear overtly sexual, or even particularly attractive. I am happier when the focus is on my brain; I have a big brain and I’m comfortable with that.
I guess I like it when someone thinks I’m attractive. I’ve more often found wolf whistles and appreciative comments flattering than annoying, as long as the whistler/commenter is not too aggressive.
I really like it that Richard finds me attractive. What’s different from my earlier relationships (hell, what’s NOT different from my earlier relationships?) is that he wants *other* people to notice that I’m attractive. No “light under a bushel” with Richard.
I got a stern lecture after our first beach trip together – no more baggy linen shirts, no more capri pants, no more one-piece suits. He wanted to see more of me, and he wanted others to see more of me. Gulp.
So a couple of times recently I’ve dressed in short shorts and with cleavage showing before we’ve gone out. I felt awkward, but I stopped noticing after a few minutes.
When we bought my new corset (sorry, still no pics) I wore it out to lunch and boy, did people stare. It actually stopped a conversation at one point, when I was walking by a table. That made me feel a little shy, but also proud of myself for wearing it. And Richard was pleased, which always makes me happy.
Today, omigod today Richard made me go in a short skirt and panty-less to the grocery store with him. The wind was blowing in the parking lot. I was holding my skirt down with my hand, and Richard grabbed my hand and started swinging it. Bastard. I let go of the skirt in a hurry.
Every time I wanted something on a low shelf (ketchup, sugar) I asked Richard to get it and he’d always stop for a second and stare at me and I’d pray silently that he wouldn’t tell me to do it. Then he’d grin evilly and reach down for it.
At one point, in the wine section I think, he slipped his hand up my leg a bit and I was terrified he was going to start playing with my bare ass in the store. In the past he’s simply reached over, pulled me close to him, tugged up my shirt and started rubbing my belly. I can barely stand still for that, and usually freeze with my head down until he is done, but this would have been too much. Luckily he stopped at my leg.
(Here’s another cute trick of Richard’s: he’ll tell me to do something, and when I whine a little he’ll say “just be glad I don’t make you do X” which is like ten times worse. So then I’m supposed to be grateful. This time he said “just be glad I don’t make you take off your bra too”. !!!!!!!! I’m a 38D! It’s way noticeable if I’m braless! What an evil man.)
So, I’m on exhibit regularly. And of course I’m on exhibit here, and at flickr.com where Richard posts my pictures. I’m getting used to it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be an exhibitionist. In other words, I don’t think I’ll ever *enjoy* being on exhibit. But I think maybe that works for Richard too. Instead of an exhibitionist, he gets a shy girl who he can easily tease and embarrass. Best I can do, I’m afraid…