Chapter two: skirt day
The skirt is really too short for comfort. The loose cotton sways
around the middle of her thighs, reminding her that her white
panties are not far from view. As she walks down the steps to the
subway, a sharp underground breeze flies up her thighs to her warm
crotch. She quickly grasps the hem. Did her skirt fly up? Did
anyone see? Does anyone know how vulnerable I am?
As she waits for the train, she feels the eyes of the other
waiting passengers. A large black man on the bench blatantly
stares at her. (Will he order her to unbutton her blouse?) A
blue-suited businessman offers repeated glances from behind his
newspaper. (Will he demand her panties?) An Asian woman, herself
in a mid-thigh length dress, seems to be absentmindedly gazing at
Lisa's knees. (Would she make Lisa kneel and lick her feet?)
Lisa realizes that her thoughts are crazy. Her skirt says nothing
about her self-promise to obey. The pleasant weather had several
women dressed in short skirts and dresses (although very few as
short as hers). The thought brings her down to reality, leaving
her a little disappointed. Then she remembers: those other women
don't have to obey. But I must. The thought excites her; she
cannot understand why, and she realizes she is becoming aroused.
When the train rolls into the station she holds her skirt down,
wondering what might have happened if she hadn't. She boards the
train and sits in a side-facing seat across from a young male
passenger. She places her purse on her lap and begins reading the
ads above. Of course, she has seen those ads a thousand times.
She just reads them to avoid eye contact. But today she is facing
her fears, she thinks. She looks at the passenger across from
her. He is clearly looking at her thighs, hidden more by her
small purse than by her tiny skirt. He realizes that she sees
him, and looks up to meet her eyes.
She is suddenly gripped by terror. Maybe it will start here, she
thinks. This confident young male will ask her to take her purse
off her legs, and to spread them apart so that he can see her
panties. Then he will make her follow him . . . what about her
modesty, her job, her responsibilities? How can she so easily
have sex with a stranger from the train?
But he says nothing; rather he gives an embarrassed smile and
looks away.
Lisa knows that strangers are not going to tell her to do
anything. She can merely walk among them, on her way to work like
everyone else, and they will look at her exposed legs, but they
don't know what those exposed legs mean. They don't know that it
means she's . . . available.
As she rides the elevator up to her office, it occurs to her that
it will be different with her coworkers. Her boss, her employees.
They know her - they will interact with her. What will they say?
She tries to tell if they are looking at her legs as she walks to
her desk, but if they are they are trying their best to be subtle.
Lisa does not have her own office (yet) - she just has a slightly
fancier cubicle than those she manages. As she enters her
cubicle, she looks down at her legs. So much of them are naked!
She sits at her seat and feels its rough fabric against her bare
thighs. "This skirt is not appropriate for the workplace," she
thinks. She is flushed with embarrassment. What was she
thinking?
She turns on the computer and rubs her left thigh as her computer
boots. It feels good to rub her bare flesh here at work she
thinks . . . but is anyone looking? She wishes her cubicle
offered more privacy.
The computer comes to life, and her email program starts and
instantly sends a message. Lisa remembers, too late she thinks,
that she had programmed it to automatically send out a reminder on
Wednesday mornings for the departmental meeting after lunch. She
has to chair that meeting! That means standing in front of her
entire department in this tiny miniskirt. She wonders if she
should cancel, but the email goes to the entire department,
including herself. "Don't miss today's meeting," it says. She
remembers: I will obey, even orders I sent myself!
When she reflected upon her day later in the evening, she
remembered that every time she left her desk that morning felt
like an adventure. Her walk to her mailbox. Her walk to the copy
machine - her hope that no one else would enter the copy room as
she made her copies. Her walk to the desk of their new
administrative assistant, Steve. He was definitely checking out
her legs as she gave him a routine set of orders. He doesn't know
that he could be giving me the orders today, she had thought. The
idea of what he might ask if he knew he could ask it distracted
her for a full 15 minutes after the encounter.
When it came to be noon, she realized that she was heavily
aroused. She stopped in the ladies room on the way to the
cafeteria, and entered a stall. When she pulled down her panties,
she noted their dampness. The thought of masturbating, right here
in the public bathroom of her own workplace, crossed her mind.
But she knows it would make noise. Someone would know. They
would know it was her. She couldn't. She had to survive her
arousal.
At lunch, she recalled, she was somewhat grateful to have a napkin
covering her bare lap. She thought, although she wasn't sure,
that when Art from engineering dropped his fork from across the
table, and got down on his hands and knees to find it, he may have
been trying to look up her skirt. She believes that the napkin
maintained her modesty. "If Art had only asked me to remove it .
. . "
After lunch, it is time for the departmental meeting. Lisa sits
at her desk and rubs her bare knees. She has never been to work
in a skirt, and this skirt is /too short/. She will have to stand
up in front of everyone and give a progress overview. Will they
listen? Will they look at her thighs?
As she ponders, she realizes she is running late. She grabs her
notes and rushes to the conference room, her short skirt swaying
as she walks with long strides. She can hear the chatter in the
conference room, and as she opens the door there is an immediate
hush. All eyes are upon her.
"Uh," she says, "thank you all for coming." (I never thank them
for coming - it's their job!) She starts to go through her notes
and wonders - do they see how nervous I am? Do they see how much
I wish I could sit down? And then to her horror she wonders - can
they smell how aroused I am?!?
But she would never know. The meeting proceeds as it has every
week, and it ends no differently.
As the afternoon wears away to six o'clock, and most have gone
home, Lisa has calmed down. She thinks about how on edge she has
been all day, and reminds herself why she went through it. Most
days she felt so empty. But not today. It worked, she thinks.
It worked for one day, and all the time and money with Joan has
paid off.
At the same time, she realizes that the edge is fading. She has
promised herself that when she wears the skirt, (or any skirt, she
decides), she will secretly promise to obey. And maybe there will
be slight excitement. But in truth, she feels safe. No one has
given her opportunity to obey - and nobody will. There is no real
danger, she thinks. Why should this disappoint her?
As she shuts down her computer and swings her chair out from under
her desk, Steve stops by.
"Hi!" he says.
Lisa is now sitting in her chair, uncrossed legs almost fully
exposed, and Steve is standing above her, leaning on the side of
the cubicle entrance, looking down at her.
"Hi Steve," she responds, "Working late?"
"Yeah, I guess," he says. "I . . ." he hesitates.
"Yes?"
"I think you look awfully nice today, Lisa," he says.
"Thank you Steve."
He warms to her nice response. Clearly he was nervous. Lisa
wonders if this is going to get awkward. She has no intention of
dating one of her employees, but he's clearly here to flirt.
"I like that skirt."
"Thanks, Steve, but I think it's a little shorter than I thought
when I bought it . . . " Don't want him to think I did this on
purpose, she thinks.
"Nonsense. It's perfect. I think you should wear it more often."
"Excuse me?"
"It really made my Wednesday. You should wear it every
Wednesday!"
Lisa knows he is trying to be funny, or flirtatious. Her initial
reaction is to be offended, or maybe creeped out. But this is it,
she thinks. This is where my mettle is tested. That was an
order. And she has promised herself: she will obey.
"Okay, Steve, we'll see. I need to be getting home now."
She stands and pulls down the hem. Steve is watching every move.
He lets her out, watching her. It occurs to her that he was
trying his best to be confident. She likes to encourage
confidence in her workers. But more than that . . . she feels her
safety taken away. She must obey. She /will/ wear the skirt next
week. She will obey whenever she wears it. And if Steve gets
what he wants this time, will he want more?
The vulnerability and excitement that kept her aroused all day
reach a peak. She rushes to the subway and from the subway rushes
to her apartment. She throws herself on the bed, pulls up the
skirt, and shoves her hands on her panties. Here, in the privacy
of her bed, she can moan all she likes as she pleasures herself to
the best orgasm she has ever had, followed by another, more
comfortable one.
