In The Company Of Bridget
In The Company Of Bridget
Let's Go by Calvin Harris featuring Ne-Yo
Bridget stood in front of the full length mirror next to her bed. She gazed appraisingly at the image before her. Her nude lace bra, the color of her skin, lifted her breasts slightly. The bra gave her breasts just enough support to make them appear a size larger. Her matching lace thong hugged her toned body perfectly. She posed, hands on hips and twisted her body to one side, then to the other. She sucked in her stomach, threw back her shoulders and gazed at her reflection.
She frowned. "Not too bad," she murmured to herself, seemingly unconvinced. She realized, to her chagrin, that there was not a woman alive who could maintain this position throughout an entire day.
She turned her back to the mirror and peered over her shoulder in an attempt to get a decent view of her behind. Her frown increased. She slid her hands over each cheek. She wished her bottom looked just a bit firmer than the reflection displayed before her. A slow smile spread across her face as she continued to examine herself closely. She thought, "It's still round enough to attract some attention." She turned and faced forward, returned her hands to her hips, and leaned toward the mirror as she examined her breasts shielded by the delicate lace of the bra.
"Thank God for pushup bras!" she exclaimed out loud. She ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it out and then struck a pose similar to the models in the Victoria Secret magazines. "Well...this is as good as it's going to get," she said to herself and turned her attention to the outfit laid out on her bed. It was another black pants suit day. Today, however, her suit would be softened with a nude lace tank top the color of her own skin and a pair of killer black Louboutins. Attention finally diverted from the mirror, Bridget began dressing as she allowed today's schedule to invade her thoughts.
Standing before the mirror once more, fully dressed, she posed again, this time to make sure that everything was smooth and neatly tucked in. Her medium brown hair, highlighted with golden streaks, flowed over her shoulders in deep waves, a real accomplishment after dealing with her electric curling iron for twenty minutes. She flipped her head once so that her hair hung loosely down her back. Her stomach quivered suddenly as a frisson of excitement ran through her. It was not the first time she'd experienced the feeling since she woke up. It was as if she was anticipating something, though an earlier perusal of her calendar indicated nothing special on today's agenda. "This is stupid!" she muttered to herself. Still, the feeling inexplicably lingered.
She took a deep breath and held it for a moment in an attempt to free herself of the sensation. She exhaled slowly. "Okay, Bridget, let's do this!" she whispered fiercely, and with one final glance in the mirror, turned on her heels and exited the bedroom as she readied herself to face the unknown challenges of the day.
Little did she know that today - everything in her world was going to change .
Bridget Ariana LaMontaigne was tall, tan, slender, athletic in build and extraordinarily graceful. This was the image that was portrayed every time she walked into a room; an image taken in by every man and woman. With a look of sharp intelligence and a face that combined generations of mixes of races and cultures, Bridget always stood out in a crowd, regardless of how she dressed or where she went.
Looking upon Bridget's face prompted one to wonder about her racial background and place of birth. The color of champagne, Bridget stood just over five feet eight inches. Her slender, muscled frame appeared deceivingly frail, hiding the athletic strength she carried in her one hundred thirty-five pounds. Her wide shoulders and narrow hips