Johnny, I’d like to show you my lingerie

For a change of pace, I decided to stalk Johnny in Venice for a couple of days.

Venice is not a great place for stalking.   It’s like a medieval maze and one wrong turn and you’re on some dead end and every potential escape route you find, inevitably leads to another dead end.   Now that I think about it, it sounds like a metaphor for my entire stalking endeavor thus far.

I didn’t find Johnny in Venice, but I did find myself in a La Perla store (fancy Italian lingerie), having become enamored with a bra in the window.  Damn, if it didn’t look and feel fabulous on.  It didn’t matter how much it cost, I had to have it.   And two pairs of matching panties.

I could get a shot of Botox for the price of this underwear, but unlike the Botox, at the rate my life is going, nobody will see the beautiful bra and panties.  Unless I schedule a doctor’s appointment.

Worse, I’ve been home for four days and I’m afraid to open the damn bag because I might sully the contents for the extremely special occasion I’m saving them for.   In other words, there’s a very real possibility that someone will find my unopened bag of ridiculously pricey lingerie among my remains many, many, many years from now.

Johnny, this is where you come in.   I would definitely consider you the sort of special occasion I would deem worthy of cracking the bag open and actually wearing the precious undergarments.

Since this extravagance is really all your fault, I feel it’s your personal responsibility to come see my new lingerie. In fact, I beg of you.  Not only would it be a crime if so much beauty, craftsmanship and expense remain untouched in a paper bag indefinitely, I’d really like to see it again myself.

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4 Responses to “Johnny, I’d like to show you my lingerie”

  1. Brilliant expose. Pun intended. Frankly, Johnny is on the losing end of this proposition.

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