The Uniform Makes the Man

The phone rings. It’s Kevin on his cell phone.

He says, “It’s me. I’m on my way home.”

“Did you get it?”

“Angie, you have no idea how hard it was to find…”

“Did you get it?”

“Yes, I got it.”

“Oooh, Baby! The hat too?”

“The hat too.”

“Woo-hoo! Put them on! I want you to come home wearing them!”


“Yes, now! It’s my birthday, it’s my fantasy, and I want it to start right now! Put it on!”

“Angie, can I just say one thing?”


“Darling, this one’s just weird.”

“What do you care? Kevin, trust me, you’re going to get SO laid tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Seriously, Kev. You come home wearing that uniform, I’ll be so horny you can do whatever you want to me.”

Silence on the other end of the line. “Anything I want?”

“EVERYthing you want.”

More silence. A little static from the cell phone. “All right. There’s a gas station up ahead. I’ll change there. Give me about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I hang up the phone and fly up the stairs. I rip off my clothes and rummage through my closet until I find what I want. My black cotton/spandex dress with the zipper all the way down the front. My black spiked heels. I run a brush through my hair, fluffing it up as much as possible. I look at myself in the mirror.

If I were walking down the street, I’d probably be picked up by a cop. I look perfect.

I’m in such a hurry for Kevin to get home I have to force myself to walk down the stairs. It’d be a real drag if Kevin found me on the floor with a broken neck.

I sit on the couch and try to relax, but my heart is pounding. My hands are shaking, and my panties would be soaking wet if I were wearing any.

The doorbell rings, and I squeal, jump up, and run to the door. Deep breath. Calm down. I’m exotic and seductive. I’m exotic and seductive.

I open the door, and there he is, in all his uniformed glory. I wonder if it would detract from my being exotic and seductive if I faint in front of him.

I almost cum as soon as Kevin speaks. He says, “Hi, Ms. Koenig, U.P.S. here, I’ve got a package to deliver….”

Copyright © 2001 by J.T. Benjamin, all rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without permission of the author. This means you.

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