Blog Comment: PIMP MY BLACK TEEN started noticing details about all the women: not just their clothes, but their hair, their makeup, the jewelry they wore, their perfumes. I felt, sometimes, like an anthropologist, studying an undiscovered race of people; undiscovered, at any rate, by me. It was hard to be sure, since I had no data to compare with from before I began my experiment in flirtation, but it seemed to me that as I noticed, and complimented, the women began taking more care with their appearances. Arlene especially seemed to blossom: necklines crept down, until fully half of her pale, fleshy melons was exposed; at the same time, hemlines crept up, above the knee, and she seemed to sense it when I couldn¡¦t help but look, wiggling her delightfully painted little toes in the stiletto sandals she had begun to wear. I couldn¡¦t tell if Jean was losing weight, but she began wearing dresses that showed off an ample bosom, securely anchored in tasteful support bras. Her hair, which had always struck me as rather nondescript, changed, too: fuller, wavier, blonder, and, without a doubt, sexier. Sally, who had been, from the start, the sexiest dresser, didn¡¦t have too much room to work with when it came to upping the ante (while remaining professional enough not to attract the attention of my father, who would not have approved); still, I noticed that she occasionally defied decorum and came to work without a bra¡Xnot that she needed one; those luscious tits were still clearly pointing up.
