Shoes and socks

   "I know what I said!  I said I'd run around the block buck naked, in
broad daylight, if you passed your certification on the first try.  You
did, you win, I run - happy now?" Jack quietly reaffirmed his intention to
never, ever bet against his wife again.

   "Oh c'mon sweetie, it won't be that bad." Sylvia was thoroughly enjoying
her husband's discomfort.  "Who's going to be 'up' at this time anyway?"
She just hoped he'd never find out that she'd actually passed the
certification test before the bet was made.  "Tell you what.  I'll even let
you wear your running shoes.  Socks too, I wouldn't want you to hurt your
feet."

   Jack finished lacing his shoes, walked to the front door, and opened it.
He found the situation oddly stimulating.  Was it the cool morning air or
the thought of someone actually seeing a naked man running through the
neighborhood?  At the first sign of daylight he was off, sprinting across
the lawn and onto the sidewalk.

   Sylvia calmly picked up her cell phone and sent a text message to a
pre-selected group of female neighbors.  She walked slowly down the hall to
their bedroom and peeling off her t-shirt and pajama bottoms.  She inhaled,
stretched her arms overhead, then exhaled bending forward, easily touching
her toes.

   Nine minutes and 27 seconds after leaving the house Jack returned.  His
erection proudly leading the way.

   "Sylvia!" He glanced quickly around the living room.

   "Sylvia!  That was a dirty trick you played on me!" The kitchen was
empty.  And so was the dining room.

   "Syl..." Checking their bedroom he found his wife, kneeling on their
bed, nude, looking back at him over her shoulder.

   "Forgive me?"



   The Initiation

   "You already know I did.  They saw me get dressed." I was dressed like a
little school girl, plaid skirt, white blouse and white stockings.  This
was so unfair.  It wasn't my fault that I had the flu last week during the
initiations.  None of the other girls had to do this.  All they had to do
was blow or jerk off one of the frat boy off.  Big deal, like that's a
challenge.  This was - this was so much more embarrassing.

   "Ok Julia.  Show me." Cynthia, the sister in charge of the initiation,
encouraged me.  "Come on, you can do this.  That's it, higher, higher."

   I lifted my skirt until it was bunched at my hips.  I felt the heat rise
in my face.  Cynthia knelt to inspect me and I felt a flash of heat in my
pussy.  Cynthia stood and looked me in the eye.  I was trembling now;
arousal was pushing my embarrassment aside.

   Cynthia looked over her shoulder into the shoe store and then back at
me. "Showtime, Jules.  Remember, every little bit counts.  Make us proud."

   He was sitting on one of those funny little stools, surrounded by boxes
of strappy stiletto heeled shoes.  I'd tried on just about every different
style and color, each time allowing my skirt to slide higher up my thighs.
There was no doubt that I had his complete and undivided attention.  I
lifted my leg that extra bit higher, I heard a gasp, and then the naughty
girl inside me moved my other knee outward.

   That night, at my formal welcoming into the sorority, my blouse was hung
next to the others.  The UV light was turned on and I felt a real sense of
accomplishment.  Mine glowed with four large stains.

   I'm just glad the old guy didn't die of a heart attack or something.



   Stalking

   I was stalking wild intern.  My prey was the newly hired, teasingly
blonde, and whippet sleek Mona.

   I tied the monofilament to a small box of chocolates.  Mona had revealed
her love of chocolate in one of our first conversations.  The box was
suspended seven feet and three inches above the floor in the copying room.
I placed the step stool in position and then got into my 'blind;' a desk
that faced into the copy room.  I was crouching beneath it, peering out
through the utility hole.

   I heard Mona before I saw her.  She was barely five-two, and wore
platform heels to get her up to average height.  She had a distinctive
"clump-clump-clump" that signaled her coming and going.  She came clumping
down the hall, the scent of Obsession lingering after her passage, and
entered the copy room.  Target acquired.

   She was wearing the black platforms, white patterned stockings, tight
gray skirt, and a long sleeve white blouse.  She put a stack of papers on
the table, looking at the box of chocolate twirling slowly overhead.  She
turned and looked right at my desk 'blind', then up and down the hallway.

   She moved the step stool into position, and reached for the box.  She
used her other hand to steady herself and stretched high on tiptoe.  The
hem of her skirt rode up her stockings to reveal white lace and two snaps;
a garter belt!  This was working better then I'd expected.  C'mon, what
color are your panties?

   She bounced up and down on her toes.  C'mon.  C'mon.  She glanced behind
her, pulled her skirt over her hips and jumped, returning with the box in
hand

   The plan was for me to walk into the room, right now.  This was the
moment!  I mean, my God, she wasn't wearing any panties!

   But I dare not move.

   How could I possibly explain this stain?