Chapter five: Underneath
Friday morning, as the hot water pours down her naked back, Lisa
contemplates her situation. It's not so bad, she thinks. So I
attracted a man who likes to see me in sexy skirts and stockings.
I can do that. It doesn't change who I am. Very little has
actually changed. Then she thinks of the four orgasms that she had
the previous night, and realizes that she has to continue, no
matter what. She has not felt this fulfilled in a very long time.
Probably never, she thinks.
She begins to have doubts in her abilities to continue, after she
puts on the stockings and clips them to the garter belt. The belt
and lacy stocking tops frame her black panties, as if her pussy
were a work of art on display. She imagines her co-workers seeing
what she sees in the mirror. Their eyes would be instantly drawn
to her womanhood. She imagines this, and it excites her, but it
also scares her. She quickly reaches for her skirt to hide the
sexy undergarments.
When she pulls the black skirt up, however, she realizes that she
can't do what Steve said. The lace of the stocking tops are not
fully covered by the short, pleated black skirt, and when she
twirls the skirt swishes up, revealing her white flesh above the
stocking tops. She simply can't wear this to work! It is too
indecent!
She wonders whether to back out of the whole promise, but decides
that she doesn't want to be so easily defeated. She finds the
green skirt in her closet instead. It's a little longer, and as
she pulls it on, she is happy to find that it covers the stocking
tops, although just barely. Steve was probably not aware of how
much the stocking tops would show in the black one, she says to
herself. He'll understand. She puts on a lacy white bra (her
favorite) and a cream colored blouse, which she tucks into the
skirt.
She rushes into the kitchen and microwaves some water for her
morning ritual of instant coffee. I am such an addict, she
thinks, as she pours the coffee into her thermal mug and rushes
out the door.
As she steps outside, and locks the door, she immediately feels a
cool wind on her naked upper thighs. The waving trees on the
street tell her that it's a windier day than most. Her coffee in
one hand allows her to only hold down one side of her skirt at
once. As she walks to the subway, she can feel the wind blowing
her skirt up, above the stocking tops. She can feel the eyes of
the men on the street, hoping to catch another glimpse. She is
embarrassed, and she rushes as quickly as she can into the subway.
Again she is running later than usual and again the subway car is
completely full. And again, she finds herself standing in the
same place, one hand on her purse and the other on the metal bar
above her head. She can feel her breasts pressed against the man
standing next to her; the car is packed like sardines. Just like
the other day, she thinks. The other day when . . .
And then she feels it. At first she thinks she must be imagining
it, but then she realizes it is back. The hand. It is gently
stroking the smooth nylon of her inner left knee. She closes her
eyes. Her heart speeds up. She will not look back. She will not
move. Is it the same hand, she wonders? Does it matter?
At first, the hand just strokes the soft nylon at her knees and
lower thighs. It feels delightful, but then she remembers that
she is not wearing pantyhose today. The hand is sure to wander
upwards, where it will find her bare inner thighs! Her instinct
is to shut her legs to stop it, but she does not. Vulnerability
- that is the point, she reminds herself. But she realizes as she
considers her options that her panties have become very, very wet.
Surely the hand will discover this!
The hand begins its upward journey and Lisa's heart beats even
faster. She can feel it at the hem of her skirt. She can feel it
stroking the inside of her thigh. It strokes higher, inching its
way, until it finds the warm, exposed flesh above the stocking.
The hand is now completely under her skirt, feeling that tender
expanse of flesh between her stockings and her panties. Lisa
cannot help but moan, it feels so good to be touched there, in
that sensitive area, on a crowded subway train. The hand then
cups her panties and caresses her sex through her panties. She
feels her own wetness - and knows that whoever is so boldly
touching her knows she is enjoying it.
She is nearing orgasm and she wonders whether she can go through
with it here on the subway train. Nervous that people are
watching, maybe even someone she knows, she tries to hold back.
The hand continues its caresses, and she is not sure she can stand
it any more. She feels she will have to come at any moment. She
decides she has to . . . she wants to. She presses her crotch
against the hand, hoping for a firmer touch. The hand complies;
it finds her clitoris through the cotton panties and applies
pressure. It feels so good!
But the orgasm, so close to happening, is prevented by the train
reaching the station and the subway car clearing out. Lisa is on
edge - she needs that orgasm! She looks around for a public
restroom and the only one in the station is locked. "Out of
Service," reads the sign.
Late, she rushes to her office building. The elevator is crowded,
and she wonders if any of the men standing inches away from her
know about the sexy stockings beneath her skirt. Did any of these
men see my stockings in the wind outside? Do any of them now how
aroused I am right now?
When she reaches her floor, she walks immediately towards the
restroom. She needs to satisfy her arousal; she doesn't care if
another woman hears. But as she rushes to the bathroom she is
stopped by Steve.
"Lisa!"
"Oh, hi Steve."
"Come into my cubicle." He is stern. Lisa remembers that she
disobeyed slightly by wearing the slightly longer green skirt.
Lisa enters his cubicle and stands by his desk. He is seated in
his office chair. Suddenly, she feels his hand on her thigh. It
reminds her of her experience on the subway, and she is flushed
with excitement. Again, she feels the hand caress her and move
upwards, past the top of her stockings. But this time, it is
Steve, and he is looking at her face. His hands touch the bare
skin above the stockings and Lisa realizes that if he feels her
panties, he will discover that they are sopping wet with desire.
How embarrassing, she thinks! He will know how much this turns me
on! He will know how much I need to come!
But the hand stops and leaves her skirt.
"I'm so glad you wore them," Steve says. "Why not with the skirt
I bought you, though?"
"It was too short," Lisa says, "The stockings showed."
"Ah," says Steve. "We can't have that." He smiles, and Lisa
feels relief. She did not know what she would do if he did not
approve.
"But," says Steve, "I think we both know that I asked you to do
something and you didn't, and I'll bet you agree that some sort of
punishment is in order." Lisa's jaw almost drops to the floor.
Punishment? Her instinct was to slap him. But why were her
panties so warm and moist?
"Your punishment, Lisa," he says, "is going to be a little
uncomfortable. Take this." He hands her a bottle of water.
"Drink this down before lunch. You are not to use the bathroom
without my permission."
Lisa doesn't understand. Without his permission? Is she back in
grade school? "Um, okay, well, I need to use the bathroom now.
May I?" she asked.
"No. Now get to work."
Lisa ambles back to her desk, aroused, confused, and uncertain
about the future.
