Fundraiser Glamour Shots
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Fundraiser Fiasco free porn video
PART 1 - FASHIONABLY LATE
It took me longer than I planned to get ready. It took me forty-five minutes to style my newly highlighted hair in the loose curls I wanted to go perfect with my outfit I bought for the occasion: a baby blue Valentina cashmere short sleeve sweater and a white Marc Jacobs pencil skirt to match my six-inch white Louboutin heels.
Despite the skirt having a flared hem, the lycra-cotton material hugged my hips and thighs. With every step I took, the skirt pulled taut, restricting walking to half steps.
Before leaving the house, as always, I stopped in front of the full-size mirror in the foyer to give whatever outfit or dress I may be wearing and to touch up my lip gloss. In the warm light of the foyer, my outfit looked perfect and I looked and felt perfectly professional while walking the high heeled high wire between cute and slightly sexy. I was excited to make my stage debut as the host of the fundraiser.
But I had no idea how different my outfit would look when in the direct sunlight of the outdoor venue I'd chosen when hired by clients to organize their fundraiser. Most especially when I wasn't in front of the audience, but rather walking around the open-air backstage area making sure everything was going as I meticulously planned to my standards as a perfectionist.
Yet the entire time I was walking about the outdoor backstage area in the sunlight... not one person - even after it had to be obvious to them I was clueless to what the sunlight was revealing about my outfit - not a single one decided to warn me about it
I had insisted my son Richard help with this event by being my assistant and behind-the-scenes photographer. Something to keep him from spending time with his new so-called friends. The moment I arrived backstage where he was waiting (i had told him to take Uber to the venue when I realized how late I was running).
When I arrived to the venue and made my way to the outside backstage area, I waved Richard over to me the moment I saw him. When he walked over to me, I noticed his eyes slightly widen as he looked at me and said, "Wow, look at you with the highlights. Talk about blonde ambition."
His moody attitude seemed all gone and replaced by the little gentleman I raised. And for him to compliment my hair which I’d was gradually adding honey-blonde highlights for Sprig, especially considering the less than appreciative reaction Richard had when returning home from UCSB and seeing the “new me.” It was the perfect thing for my son to say. My stress lightened and I laughed unexpectedly. Richard joined in.
PART 2 - BEHIND THE SCENES
I insisted Richard to "stop being silly” and told him to bring me a glass of champagne right away. Having some bottles of Veuve Clicquot for the guests who went on stage to be honored and afterwards when I walked them off to the “green room” area set up for them to relax and feel special.
I'd forgotten to give my iPhone and charger in my hands to Richard to find somewhere to charge it. While I was glancing around the area, I noticed the venue's stage manager, Garrett, standing across the open area. He’s in his early fifties, tan from the sun not a salon. Always a stubble. Toned arms probably from moving heavy stage equipment. He wore jeans and a tight blue t-shirt, a blue baseball cap with smudges of dirt on it, smoking a cigarette. Despite sunglasses hiding his eyes, I felt his stare.
The week leading up to the event, I spent countless hours at the venue making sure everything I needed and wanted to have for the fundraiser, both onstage and backstage were available. All of this fell on Garrett's muscular shoulders. He clearly was a macho type and apparently wasn't used to a woman like me in charge.
Needless to say, we instantly did not get along at all. He was an employee of the venue. That meant I had no choice but to work with him. Garrett knew this and he knew I knew this and knew that I didn't like it and with all of his little comments and slightly condescending attitude, letting me know that he knew that I didn't like it.
But I also knew he was not allowed to smoke backstage or this area because of the obvious danger of fire, so I said a bit snippy to him, "Do you mind, Garrett?"
"Not at all," his tone overly innocent as if he didn't know what I meant. "Do you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," was my reply. I was not going to play into his game.
Despite what he thought, I represented the clients behind the fundraiser, so in a sense, I was his boss and wanted to been seen as so and to be honest, I didn't mind being "more than a bit bitchy" to him while giving orders to do things because I know how it bothered him to have a woman like me being in charge. "Put that cigarette out this instant. I do not want my backstage area reeking of second-hand smoke!"
Garrett took off his sunglasses so I could see how he let his gaze travel up my figure until his eyes met mine. "Two minutes 'til curtain up, Princess." I could not stand the way he called me ‘Princess’ while he dropped the cigarette and stepped scuffed boot on it. Before I could tell him off, he turned his back on me and walked up the ramp to the curtain to the back of the stage.
Just as I was turning away, Richard was right there, almost bumping into me while clumsily offering a glass of champagne, almost accidentally spilling it on me had I not pushed him away and let the bubbly beverage spill on his shirt.
"Watch where you are going, young man," I snipped at him, aware of how my tone turned the heads of everyone in outside backstage area to look our way. Ignoring them. I took the glass from Richard's hand while he stood there sheepishly, trying to form a mumbling apology. "Never mind all of that," I tried to be less snippy, "Mother needs her moment to focus. And bring me a glass that’s full.”
I took a big sip of champagne, handing my sulking son the empty flute and motioned for him to hurry along. When I turned back to make my way up the walkway ramp leading to the backstage curtain, there was Garrett, standing between the parted curtains he was holding open with his hands. He had an amused expression on his typically stubbled face.
“You’re almost on, Princess,” Garrett announced just loud enough to draw the attention of the dozen or so people mingling about the outside backstage area as I began walking up the ramp, my heels noticeably louder than the carpeted area I was leaving.
Garrett made no attempt to hide how his eyes were traveling up my figure in my outfit. His grin growing as I was reaching the top of the ramp with the eyes of everyone on us. He let one curtain flap drop and offered his hand in what I felt was an exaggerated, insincere gesture.
When I slapped his hand away, I’m sure it was heard over my heels as well as seen from the sudden murmuring behind me as I kept walking past Garrett without looking at his reaction.
PART 3 - PERFECTION
Any nervousness I may have had was gone by the third or fourth time on stage for announcements about donations and introducing guest speakers.
Richard approached me with a flute of champagne in one hand and my iPhone with the charger. "Here's your phone," he said, being my perfect little assistant. "And here's that second glass of champagne you asked for."
I took the champagne from my son, letting him hold my phone and charger. I hesitated before a sip and asked, “Is this my second glass? Or my third?”
Richard shrugged and said, "If you don't want it, I'll drink it!" And he plucked the flute from my hand. My son is nineteen and I was not going to allow him to drink alcohol at an event important to me, especially when he is supposed still be my assistant. "Oh no, you don't, mister!" My bossy tone taking a higher pitch. I snatched my champagne flute from his hand.
"Mom!" Richard whined.
I took Richard by the arm and walked him away from the “green room” area where we’d been standing near the dozen or so guests enjoying themselves. Once we were safely out of earshot.
“Young man, what did I tell you,” I snipped at him as I let go of his arm. “While you’re here as my assistant, I told you to call me Jillian, not ‘Mom.’ We don’t want people thinking there’s any nepotism.”
Richard rubbed his arm where I had grabbed it. He kept his eyes down and mumbled, “Ok… Jillian.”
I leaned closer and waved a French manicured finger in his face. My son knows if I do this, it meant he was about to step over a line, whether he knows it or not. The bratty way he said my name was unmistakable.
"Just do as I say this instant!" My bitchiness again turning heads backstage and again, I paid them no attention. I needed to be onstage.
PART 4 - THE STAR OF THE SHOW
While onstage, I began to feel much tipsier than I realized. And it honestly felt as if the stage lights were brighter and hotter. As finished introducing Victor, the fundraiser president, I heard a little tipsy lisp happening in my voice. I kept a big smile as if I hadn’t noticed, remaining by the podium waiting for Victor to join me at the podium before I could leave the stage.
Victor did approach the podium in a way, that at the time I didn’t quite understand but paid it no mind, for the most part, because I was feeling a bit tipsy while standing under the bright, hot stage lights. When he was approaching, Victor didn’t step to my side, but rather walked behind me. As he did, I felt him slow his step before he appeared on my other side.
To my surprise - Victor is sixty-one, that tall, tan lean look men his age who play tennis and golf five days a week at the most prestigious country club in Malibu - put his hand on my lower back. It wasn’t noticeable by the audience, Victor’s wife June, his age, and that look country club wives who play tennis all day have.
“Thank you, Jillian,” Victor spoke out to the guests, “you’ve just been a wonderful host. The star of the show, hasn’t she?” The guests all applauded I smiled and couldn’t help the little giggled that I gave. His hand caressed the material of my cashmere sweater as he said, “We’d love to have you back next year, Jillian.”
Another giggle escaped past my lips. There were some snarky reactions that I knew were the wives. More than being condescended to, being laughed at is something I cannot stand. Because of how flustered it makes me feel. I blushed, worried I was making myself look ditzy. I quickly thanked Victor and turned and left the podium, walking across the stage and past the curtain to the backstage area.
PART 5 - GARRETT
I had one more appearance onstage to make after Victor’s presentation. He would speak for five and then, after Garrett brought the stage lights down, a ten-minute slide show his wife June would join him at the podium for. It was plenty of time for me to have some water and hydrate.
The backstage area - usually kept dim - was even darker momentarily as I left the brightly lit stage and stepped into the backstage shadows. Victor’s voice, droning on and on, sounded more and muffled by the backstage curtains as I started to quietly walk down the ramp that would lead me to the outdoor backstage area. However, just a few steps and I felt a wave of tipsiness and dizziness.
Mid-step, I momentarily closed my eyes, which, if I do, for just a quick pause and deep breath, I’m fine. Just before I opened my eyes, I felt myself suddenly collide against someone on the ramp in front of me. I gasped at the same time opening my eyes to see it was Garrett.
He must have seen me walking down the ramp. Or at least heard the sound of my six-inch heels. Don’t you think? It was as if he saw my eyes were closed and put himself in my way, hoping I would bump into him.
At the same time, I was losing my balance, I felt his hands seize my hips which I honestly thought was to prevent me from falling into him… but it also felt as if he pulled me toward him, using my loss of balance against me.
“You have to watch where you’re going back here, Princess.” Garrett’s tone was condescending and I cannot stand being condescended to. Especially by a man like Garrett.
I was trying to regain my balance and my composure. Unable to do the latter, I put my hands against Garrett’s chest while focusing on placing my Louboutin heels firmly on the downward sloping ramp. I turned my face to Garrett’s, but leaning my head back slightly away.
“You could’ve said something, Garrett,” I hissed at him. “Instead of -“
“Letting you throw yourself at me?” He interrupted me with his taunt and I could smell alcohol on his breath.
I was determined not to play into this obnoxious and juvenile game. “Stop it,” I insisted. “You’re drunk!”
“So are you,” Garrett taunted.
“I am not,” I denied, then realized I was just falling for a grown man’s childish games. “Now move!”
His hands slipped off my hips at the same time I pushed my hands on his chest. But Garrett stepped to the side at the same time and caused me to lose my balance as I stepped past him.
Garrett chuckled at me, “Ricky told me he’d given you four champagnes but told you it was only three to get you drunk by the time you make your last appearance on stage. Looks like it’s working.”
I stopped after just a few steps from the bottom of the ramp and the curtain to the outside area. The sudden stumble and stop made me dizzy. Thankfully, my back was to Garrett and he couldn’t see me close my eyes for a moment to make the dizziness pass. I was feeling more tipsy/dizzy than I would after three glasses.
And then something occurred to me: Garrett had just referred to Richard as Ricky, which my son has been insisting I call him because his new friends do, so I refuse to. But he’s been calling himself Ricky and introducing himself as ‘Ricky.' Had Richard really said that?
“He did not say -” I meant my tone to have a bitchiness, but it came out as a half-whispered plea. What I was trying to say was cut short when Garrett’s hands seized my hips from behind. I felt his rough fingers deliberately touch and trace the outline of my white lace VS thong through the material of my tight Marc Jacobs pencil skirt. I blushed at how Garrett knew right where to put his fingers.
As he had his hands on my hips, Garrett said, “Oh, he did. And more. Like how your bra showing through your flimsy blue sweater matches this sexy little white thong line showing through this tight skirt. Why do you think the stage lights kept getting brighter?”
“You asshole,” I hissed.
Garrett let out a laugh without concern for its volume, then he brought it down to a whispered taunt as he said, “I didn’t raise the lights, Princess. Your assistant did.”
My gasp brought a deep chuckle from Garrett that turned into a hungry growl. He stepped closer behind me, pressing his body behind me while pulling me back against him. His breath behind my ear. On the spot that only my ex-husband knew to be my “hot spot” that just having his breath on it made me tremble. My body arching back into Garrett’s as a gasp parted my lips… a gasp that as it was passing my lips, uncontrollably turned into a moan.
A moan that made Garrett growl against my neck at the same time I felt his… his arousal swell and grow, stiffening, pressing himself against my rear. I couldn’t stop the breathless gasp I made. As it left my lips, I felt a surge in Garrett’s growing arousal… how HARD he was. Garret’s growl behind my ear turned into a groan of frustration as if his lust for me was overwhelming. My body helplessly squirming to his will.
“Garrett,” my voice a trembling whisper so far from the bitchy tone I’d spoken to him in every exchange we had the week leading up to the fundraiser. To this moment so sudden… so beyond my control, “what are you doing?”
His hands on my hips were making my rear match his increasingly sexual rhythm. “What I’ve been wanting to do all week,” Garrett’s breathing was heavier, hungrier, “and what you’ve been practically begging for but too much of a Princess to ask.”
Suddenly, Garrett’s hands halted my hips from meeting his sexual gyrations which also ceased just as suddenly. “Shit, that’s my cue,” Garrett grunted and I realized he meant it was time for Victor’s slide show portion of his speech which required Garrett to dim the stage lights.
My composure returned and I hissed over my shoulder at him, “Let go of me this instant!”
“Anything you say, Princess,” Garrett chuckled. His hands began to slip from my hips, then he placed them both on my rear and PUSHED… sending me stumbling rapidly down the last few feet down the ramp and into the curtain dividing the backstage from the outside area.
I put both hands out in front of me as I stumbled into the curtain, my momentum sent me pushing and parting it open. The bright sunlight blurred my eyes even as I managed to halt my heels at the top of the ramp leading down to the outside area. With my vision a bright blur, I couldn’t see the expressions on the faces of the people there who had all turned at the sound of my heels… but I could hear their amusement at the sight of me.
And that’s when I heard the camera shutter sound of my iPhone.
I could only stand there, uncontrollably blushing and flustered by the amused reactions from the dozen or so people looking up at me. Looking down at myself when my vision began to clear, I didn’t realize how high Garrett’s hands oh my hips had managed to lift the hem of my tight pencil skirt to almost mid-thigh. I quickly leaned over and pinched the material on either side of my thighs, struggling to adjust my skirt.
I didn’t notice Garrett stepping from the curtain behind me because the sound of his boots was covered by the reaction of everyone looking at me… the shocked intake and scattered laughs are what made me straighten up and look behind me just as my eyes were able to focus to see Garrett just stepping past the backstage curtains while making a show of buckling his belt as if to suggest…
“You’re on stage in five, Princess,” he winked at me.
THE END
Anastasia
- 08.12.2022
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