Chapter 4: Intensification
Thursday morning. The black skirt lies on the bed. The pleats
taunt her. This skirt is way too short. I will be exposed.
Everyone will see how vulnerable I am.
Already she feels warm and moist between her legs. She remembers
how uncomfortable her cotton panties felt. The pantyhose are
enough by themselves - but the skirt leaves her so exposed! If
someone does see under her skirt, she cannot let them see the
shadow of her pubic hair under the nylon. She puts on black
panties - any other color would be too visible, followed by the
dark pantyhose. She looks in the mirror again, and cannot help
but twirl. She must remember not to do that in public!
The breezes in the subway seem especially fierce this morning.
She has to hold down the skirt with both hands, and still she can
feel parts of it blowing up. She knows that the nylons are more
transparent around the upper part of her thighs, where the
material is more stretched. She knows someone else must be
noticing that, too.
As she boards the subway car, she realizes that she stands in the
same place as yesterday. A little less crowded, but still quite
packed. She remembered her experience yesterday - that warm hand,
so confidently massaging her legs, and wandering upwards. What if
the same person sits in the same place? Would the same thing not
happen?
She forces herself not to look at the seat, where the man must
have been sitting. She turns the other way, puts one hand on her
purse and the other on the metal bar above her head. Here I am,
she thinks. Both hands are occupied. I cannot protect myself. I
cannot see you. My skirt is even shorter, my legs are even more
inviting. She stands and waits, hoping the hand will return.
Maybe I'm too early, she thinks. After three stops, she can feel
her pussy begging for the hand, any hand to rub her legs.
But no hand appears.
As she enters the office, she immediately sees Steve at his desk,
watching the door. When he sees her, his face lights up with a
smile. Lisa blushes. That's a knowing smile. He knows. He
knows he has me. He knows. . . . what I am. The thought thrills
and terrifies her. The safety she thought she had from no one
knowing was gone. But still there was a little: Steve seemed to
be a gentleman. Of course, despite their date, she still knew
very little about him. Fresh out of college, his resume did not
say too much of relevance. What would he make her do? Would he
leak the secret?
Right before lunch, she was nervous. She had been since she first
arrived and sat down. She had booted up her computer. An email
awaited her:
"L-
Meet me for lunch, third table from the salad bar.
-S"
There was no "please." It was clearly an order. She noted that
her nylon-clad thighs were nearly completely exposed by the skirt.
She would obey, of course. But she did not leave her cubicle that
morning. She had some paperwork that she would normally give to
Steve, but she did not feel she wanted to interact with him, at
least not before lunch. She set it aside and decided to bring it
to him later. She worked quietly at her desk, hiding her new
skirt from the office, when another email arrived.
"Lisa:
Can we have a meeting in my office at 3 today?
I'd like to discuss your recent progress.
Regards, Jim"
Jim was her boss. He had been watching her carefully recently,
she hoped because a promotion was in the works. But did she have
to meet him today? In this little pleated black skirt that
flashed her panties whenever she moved?
She was nervous, but she would make her lunch date. She walks to
the cafeteria carefully, her hands at her side to keep the skirt
from flipping up. She can still feeling it swaying behind her,
accentuating the movement of her ass. (Was she wiggling it more
than usual in this skirt?)
Steve is waiting for her at the bare wooden table. She pulls out
a chair and sits across from him. She feels the cool wood through
the nylon on the back of her thighs.
"I'm pleased it fits so well," says Steve. "It looks great."
"It's a little short for the office," says Lisa.
Steve smiles. "I think it's perfect."
Lisa has no response. Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he thinks
she's just being nice.
Steve pauses for a moment, studying Lisa's nervous face. "Now,"
says Steve, "I want you to go to the salad bar and make me a
Caesar salad with croutons, shaved parmesan, and a little bit of
cucumber. Also bring me a Coke. You may get some extra for
yourself."
Lisa feels her mouth fall open. Her first instinct is to glare at
him, put the acid in her voice and tell him to get his own salad.
But she stops herself. If she does that, then she has not met her
personal challenge. If she does that, she goes back to the old
emptiness. If she is going to feel this way, she has to answer
his question. She has to say yes, I will do what you say. You
found me out.
She gets up, and prepares the salad and drink to his order. She
realizes that she is paying for it as well - somehow this reminds
her more directly that this is not just a simple favor. She
brings the tray back to the table - as she holds it she feels the
skirt flipping around, but she cannot hold it down.
After she puts the tray before him, he says, "One more thing. I
accidentally dropped my napkin, and it floated over there." He
points to the ground, where a napkin lies about 5 feet away.
"Could you get it for me?"
She knows what he wants. He wants to see her bend over. He wants
to see her panties poking out from behind the skirt. But he did
not ask for it, so she faces him, and picks up the napkin by
crouching down. More of her thighs are revealed, but she doesn't
think he could see her panties. Still, he is smiling as she hands
him the napkin.
"Thanks," he says.
Lisa is short on words. She steals a few bites of the salad she
assembled. She is hungry, but she feels she needs to hide under
the table as best she can. Steve seems to be scheming.
When Steve finishes, he says, "I'll let you get back to work. You
probably have some paperwork for me, since you didn't see me this
morning - feel free to deliver it at any time. I don't want
anything that's happened to interfere in our work." With that
Lisa returns to her desk.
At 3 o'clock Lisa heads to her bosses office, and knocks shyly on
the door. "Come in."
Jim's office is large and elegant. His desk is a large glass
table on black marble legs. Art-deco lighting and several
abstract paintings decorate the walls, and a large window looks
over the city. Across from his desk is a cushioned arm chair, to
which Jim beckons Lisa to sit.
As she sits, she notes that her tiny black pleated miniskirt rides
up her thighs showing the full length of her nylon pantyhose.
Lisa crosses her legs to make sure her panties are not showing,
but she realizes that more of the side of her thigh is shown to
Jim. She has no desk to hide behind. She is worried about the
impression she is giving. But, she thinks, that fear is what I
need. A new fear to face. Face it I will. I will obey no matter
what.
Jim and Lisa discussed various business matters for nearly an
hour. When the loose ends seemed to be tied, Jim paused, seeking
words. Lisa fidgets with the hem of her skirt.
"You've been doing good work, Lisa," he says.
"Thanks." Where was this going?
"I want you to know that I've noticed your good work."
"Okay . . . "
"I guess what I want to say is that I have /also/ noticed a change
in your attire."
"Ah," she says, "If you ask it of me, I have no problem dressing
more conservatively. It was actually my therapist who recommended
. . . "
"Lisa, I would never ask that of you. In fact, what I really
wanted to say was that I like your change in attire. You're
showing a little more personality and that is increasing the
morale of your subordinates. It's up to you, of course, but I
think you should keep it up."
No, it isn't up to me. I would never wear such a revealing skirt
if Steve hadn't made me.
"Well, I don't know if it's really me . . . "
"Lisa, you know the opening for assistant director of marketing is
coming up."
"Yes sir."
"You know you should call me Jim. Anyway, you probably know that
you are in strong consideration for the position."
"Thank you."
"If the rest of the board thinks like me," Jim says, hesitantly,
"then your new state of dress ought not hinder your
consideration."
What did that mean? Lisa gives a confused look. Jim clearly does
not want to explain.
"Thanks Lisa. We'll talk again soon," and with that Jim waves her
out of the office.
Lisa's head is spinning. Could her short skirts prevent her from
getting the promotion, if the board disagrees with Jim? Is that
what he meant? Or did he mean that, in his opinion, the short
skirts would help her get the promotion? She would not accept
the latter - she had to make it to where she was going with hard
work and intelligence. If the former, then if she does get the
promotion, it means she gets it /despite/ the short skirts. A
woman, truly a woman, dressing as womanly as she chooses, rising
to a position of respect. That sounds good to her, but she
doesn't know if she can do it. It sounds like a personal
challenge, she thinks. "I can do this."
Her nerves thus restored, she takes the paperwork that has been
sitting on her desk to Steve.
"Steve, I need this done before you leave today."
He smiles. "Of course. I'll drop it on your desk before 5."
Lisa's confidence is restored, and she finds that she has a very
productive afternoon. So much so that she finds she can leave
early, and she greatly desires to get home to the privacy of her
bed where she can take care of the arousal that has been taunting
her all day. She turns off her computer at 4:30 and makes a quick
trip to the bathroom. When she returns, the completed paperwork
from Steve sits on her desk. On top of the pile is another box.
A plain, white cardboard box with a thin, dark green ribbon around
it. A small note says "L - Open it now. -S."
Lisa feels her legs weaken. She knows that Steve knows her
secret. She knows that the box must contain another order,
probably another skirt. It can't possibly be a shorter one, she
thinks.
Nervously, she cuts the ribbon and slowly opens the box. It is,
as suspected, a garment, black, beneath a white note. The note
reads
"Lisa,
You looked beautiful today. Almost perfect.
This will bring you closer to perfect.
Please wear it with the same black skirt you wore today.
-Steve."
She looks at the garment in the box. There's something lacy,
strappy, and something else underneath and she is not sure what it
is. She doesn't want anyone else to see it here at the office,
but she cannot tell unless she pulls it out of the box, so she
does so. She holds it up, and her heart stops. It is a black,
lacy garter belt, with nylon stockings underneath. She has never
worn such a thing - what would it feel like? She quickly returns
it to the box and closes it before anyone sees. "I will obey,"
she reminds herself, and she rushes home in order to appease her
throbbing arousal.
