Chapter 9: A New Skirt
The subway is a little more empty today, as she is running about
thirty minutes late. Still, part of her hopes that the hand - her
hand - will somehow find her again today. She knows the slit in
the back of her new brown skirt should make it easy for the hand
to find it's way to her bare thighs again. As she stands in her
usual place on the train, she feels a scratching at her
nylon-covered leg.
"Oh!" She involuntarily releases a small moan at the feeling,
knowing how good the hand will feel when it starts to rub her.
"Excuse me," mutters the businessman behind her. She turns to
look and sees that the scratching was the corner of his notepad
sticking out of the top of his bag on the floor of the train.
There is no hand.
And in fact, Lisa looks more carefully and sees that this
businessman's notepad snagged her stockings enough to cause a
small run. "Dammit!" she says, and then she stares at the
businessman, "Watch it, buddy!"
"I'm sorry," says the man, but then the train stops and he rushes
out.
As Lisa walks to her office, the run in her stockings keeps on
running, and by the time she reaches her cubicle she declares them
a lost cause. As her computer boots, she walks to the bathroom,
enters a stall, and takes off her skirt. She pulls the stockings
off her legs and removes the garter belt. Dammit, she thinks, I
wanted to wear these for Steve when I apologized to him. I hope
he understands.
Maybe, it occurs to her as she walks back to her cubicle,
stockings balled up in her right hand, legs bare, maybe he'll do
something to punish me again. The thought wakes up her sex drive
again; she feels that spark of arousal and decides that she cannot
wait to apologize to Steve. She changes course and walks directly
to his cubicle.
It's empty. Maybe he's late, or getting coffee.
She walks back to her own cubicle and stuffs her stockings and
garters into her handbag. She opens up her email program, and a
variety of messages arrive. Most are business related, but two
are personal. The first reads
Lisa -
I'm taking a sick day today. Sudden cold. I should be back
tomorrow.
- Steve
Damn, she thinks. There goes her plan. The second email reads
Dear Lisa,
I think we should talk about what happened on Friday, so that
things don't get weird between us. Maybe we can meet for coffee
this morning?
Best, Cheryl
Oh great. Lisa sinks into her chair and says aloud, "I hate
Mondays."
At about 11, Cheryl pokes her head into Lisa's cubicle and asks,
"Is now a good time to talk?"
Lisa, who had never bothered to reply to Cheryl's email,
hesitates, but then replies "Okay, Cheryl. Let's see if there's a
conference room free."
Situated behind the (mostly) sound proof glass of conference room
#2, Cheryl and Lisa sit in silence at first, following a short
conversation about how warm the weather is becoming. Lisa looks
at her bare thighs, slightly exposed by her new brown skirt, and
tries to remember the joyous anticipation she felt this morning at
the thought of giving herself to Steve. A meeting with Cheryl to
talk about an obviously mutual embarrassment was /not/ in her plan
today.
Finally, Cheryl speaks up: "So, on Friday, after seeing what I
saw, at first I didn't think I should say anything, because what
you do is your own business, but then I thought about the fact
that I do need to work with you, and we have to work in an
environment in which we feel comfortable, and I think maybe you
should keep up the professional environment that all the rest of
us do, so that, you know . . . "
Cheryl pauses for a moment. Lisa is speechless.
Cheryl has short red hair. She is slightly short and plump, but
only slightly. She is wearing beige slacks, tight black blouse,
and 3" heels. A little bit of makeup makes her face seem girlish;
Lisa guesses, however, that Cheryl is about 5 years her elder.
Lisa remains silent as Cheryl catches her breath and starts again.
"That came out wrong. Look, Lisa, if you think about it, what you
do in the public places of this office do affect those around you,
like me. I have to admit I was a little annoyed at how you were
so blatantly flirting with Steve, . . . and the way you so coldly
rejected him, after all that. You need to be a little nicer to
him, but most importantly you need to take this behavior out of
the office."
"Wait a second," says Lisa, "I never 'rejected' Steve. I don't
think you understand."
"Lisa, as I see it, you made Steve think you were interested in
him; I saw you chatting with him at your cubicles and at lunch. I
saw how you were dressing for him, with those short little skirts
and your breasts hanging out of your blouse. And then on Friday
you clearly revealed, to me at least, that you were only doing it
for self amusement, as evidenced by your . . . displays at your
desk and in the restroom. And everyone saw how curt you were with
Steve right before you stormed out of the building, not returning.
Jeez. Steve must have been devastated. It's no wonder he didn't
come in today."
"No, wait, Cheryl, you have it all wrong."
"Do I? Well, feel free to correct me, then."
Lisa begins: "well, I was. . . " and then she pauses. How can she
explain this? How can she tell Cheryl about her skirt days, and
what they meant to her? And if she does tell her, then Cheryl
will know her secret; she will know her vulnerability. The
thought of this again causes a stirring below Lisa's waist. She
crosses her legs, and her rising skirt reminds her of her dream.
I have to tell Cheryl the truth, she thinks, as she feels her
courage waning and her panties moistening.
"Okay, here it is," she begins. "I was wearing those skirts
because Steve told me to. See, I have this rule that whenever I
wear a skirt, I have to obey, so Steve was telling me stuff to do.
He bought me the skirt I wore on Thursday, and the stockings I
wore on Friday, and he made me wear them to work, even though I
thought they were too revealing. And on Friday, he made me
unbutton my blouse before using the bathroom. That's why I was
dressed like that. And on Friday I rushed out because I started
to find the whole situation a little too embarrassing, after you
saw me, you know, touching myself. So that's why I left."
Cheryl looks confused. "I'm sorry - why are you doing whatever
Steve says?"
"It's because it's a skirt day. It's because I'm wearing a skirt.
That's all. It's because I want to, really."
Cheryl nods her head. "I think I get it. This is about the
position that's opening up. The assistant director position. And
the empty office. I've seen the way Jim has been looking at you,
and I heard him talking about you at lunch. You're probably
flirting with Jim to get the position, and playing your little
games with Steve in order to get a good employee recommendation
from him."
"No, Cheryl. I wouldn't do that. I would not use my body to get
ahead."
"I didn't think you would either, but how else can I understand
this sudden change in your behavior?"
"It's very simple, really, Cheryl. I just wanted to feel . . .
vulnerable, so I decided that I would wear a skirt and be
vulnerable, and Steve took advantage. It's no more complicated
than that. It's not about the position. Really."
Cheryl eyed Lisa suspiciously. "If it's that simple, then you
should be doing what I tell you to do, too, right?"
"Well, sure, I guess. I mean, within reason. I'm not going to
give you all my money or anything, or take out your garbage, but
if you want me to rub your shoulders or something . . . it is NOT
about the position!"
"Lisa, stand up." Cheryl spoke with conviction, but watched
Lisa's response inquisitively. This is it, thinks Lisa. My test.
She stands up.
"Close the blinds." A little nervous, Lisa closes the vertical
blinds separating the conference room from the rest of the office.
The windows of the other wall remain open, offering a view of the
city from the 23rd floor.
"If that skirt means only what you say it does, then take off your
sweater." Lisa feels a warmth in her crotch at the command. She
looks into Cheryl's blue eyes as she pulls her sweater over her
head, revealing her lacy white bra.
"The bra too," adds Cheryl. Lisa blushes, and unhooks the bra
from behind. She puts it on top of her sweater on the conference
table.
Cheryl sits back in her chair and looks at Lisa's breasts. "Very
nice," says Cheryl, "but not as nice as mine. You skinny girls
have your drawbacks." Lisa says nothing. "Okay, you can put the
sweater back on now."
Lisa reaches for her bra. "Leave that with me," says Cheryl. "I
want to see those little nipples pointing through your sweater all
day. If they soften up, give them a little pinch to wake them
up."
Lisa pulls the tight sweater over the breasts and indeed sees her
hard nipples clearly through the thin cotton.
"I guess I'm going to believe you," says Cheryl, "but I'm not too
sure what to think. I'll get back to you." Cheryl takes Lisa's
bra and stands up. "I'll be checking on your nipples from time to
time, to see if you're really into this or if you're just making
up a story."
As Cheryl starts to leave, Lisa stops her, and before she has a
chance to think about it, blurts out, "Wait, Cheryl, there's one
more thing. You see, when I wear this skirt, I also need
permission to, you know, masturbate. I was going to ask Steve,
but he's out, and maybe he's mad at me, and I don't want anyone
else to know, and it's that time of the month when I'm really
horny, and so I wonder if you would just give me permission."
Lisa closes her eyes in embarrassment. I can't believe I just
said that.
Cheryl smiles. "We'll see," she says, as she walks out.
Lisa looks at her nipples again, still hard and very visible.
Right now, her urge to find a bathroom stall and pleasure herself
seems overwhelming, but she knows she cannot. She straightens her
skirt, summons her courage, and walks back into the office.
