I have always had a thing for guys wearing denim jeans and a white T shirt. For me, there is no sexier outfit for a man. I've even assigned a mental smell to a man wearing that two-piece combo, and when I see him (any him) on the street, out shopping, with his GF, I have to stare (and possibly fantasize)
A few years ago, I was in Santa Monica enjoying a morning coffee alone when a woman asked if she could share my table (the place was crowded). I looked up, and she wore a pair of Levis 501 (with the button fly) and a snug crop top white T-shirt (I later read the label and learned it was from Lululemon). I immediately blushed. I have no idea why (well, I kind of do). Since we were now tablemates, I made awkward small talk and learned she was an actress, had an audition coming up in a few hours, and was trying to get into the groove of the character -- a lipstick lesbian.
She was only too happy to accept my offer to run lines to prep for her audition. As we did, I could not stop staring at her. The outfit was just perfect, and the dialogue from the audition script was erotically subtle. We had refills and ran the lines for almost an hour. When she left, I asked her to text me and let me know how it went.
I've been asked for my number in various ways, and you would think I would be better at this. She happily gave me her number. A few hours later, I got a text from her saying how well the audition went and that she was thankful for my help. I replied with a happy face emoji, although I wanted to reply with something more. But I could not find a good angle.
Four days later, she texted me again. She got the role—a small but pivotal role in the movie. She wanted to know if I would join her for a celebratory drink. We met in Santa Monica again. I wore jeans this time and a white top. We had drinks, and she wanted to know more about the lesbian community. I confessed I was not a true lesbian, having been with a few women but not dating any. The same was true of her.
I wanted to be a better resource for her research but felt woefully unknowledgeable. We decided to go to a nearby LBTQ bar with an extensive cocktail list and a great dance floor. The night was amazing; the drinks were strong, and our inhibitions were low. We watched the other girls and began to create backstories for them. She then began to create forward stories detailing what would happen with them later that night. Her vivid details made me wonder if she shouldn't be acting but writing instead.
I was concerned because in my attempt to be hip and cool, I did not wear anything under my jeans and was now worried about my growing wetness.
I'll spare you the details and save them for a story I'll write and post here on Literotica (with names changed) but will leave you with this -- The nice thing about 501 jeans is that they are loose-fitting and easy to shed.
After breakfast, she mentioned she had a boyfriend, and I happened to recall that I did too. We've kept in touch, and I was so excited to see her movie a year later. Her list of credits has continued to grow. When I'm in Los Angeles, she's the first person I call.
All this from a nice pair of jeans and a form-fitting white crop top t-shirt.