“I’m walking on sunshine– Katrina and the Waves
and don’t it feel good!”
That weekend I went to visit Alison in Sydney. We were lying in Saturday morning, enjoying each other’s warmth when I told her that I loved her smile. She then told me that, since she had met me, she often found herself daydreaming about me and that “people were starting to ask her why she was always walking around in a daze with a smirk on her face.” Alison blamed me.
She also blamed me for putting crazy ideas in her head. She said that she was perpetually thinking about me and sex (with me) and as I was not always on hand to satisfy her, she had found herself doing increasingly naughty things.
Of course, I suddenly became very interested and urged her to tell me more. Alison then giggled and sheepishly told me that while she had been daydreaming, she had actually caught herself, on at least two occasions, almost masturbating in front of her flatmates. But that was nothing compared to what happened last weekend…
After almost getting caught with my hand in my pants twice I suppose that should have learnt my lesson and if two-month younger Alison could have seen what I had been getting up to these days she would have been horrified. But they say that third time is a charm and I now had an itch that needed scratching.
Maybe it was that Jeremy’s endless complements had boasted my confidence or perhaps it was that he put my previous lovers to shame but fingering myself to orgasm alone in my bedroom on a Saturday night just wasn’t the same highlight of my week that it used to be. And the thrill of almost being caught twice now had awakened something in me. I needed it to be dangerous. I wanted to do it in public. So, one Saturday afternoon, as I readied myself for a shift in the lolly shop, I took along one of Jeremy’s letters to, let’s just say, help pass the time.
I’d been working in the shop on Saturdays for months now and was familiar with the ebbs and flows of its daily traffic. Usually, the last hour was quiet but Darling Harbour management required that the shop stay open till 6pm. So, from about 5pm I usually had the place all to myself and my imagination.
By the time I was about to leave for work I was feeling extra naughty. As it was now springtime in Sydney the days were very pleasant, so I went to my wardrobe looking for something appropriate to wear for the occasion. I hadn’t yet the time or money to have an extensive girly wardrobe, but I did have a cute, light, short summer dress that I had previously worn to other outdoor events. It was perfect for what I had planned that day. I stripped off and slipped it on, the cool light fabric arousing me, and I could see that my nipples were starting to show off to the world. Not yet, I thought to myself and grabbed my short navy cardigan to cover up. I didn’t own any heels, but I matched the dress with my white tennis shoes and thought that I looked pretty chic.
On the way out the door I bumped into Camilla in the living room. She said hi and complemented me on my look. A little surprised I suspect as I rarely girlied it up unless there was a special event on. She then gave me an extra once over – something that I hadn’t planned for – and her tone changed from surprise to curiosity.
“Have fun…at work,” she said slyly.
“Oh, I will!” If only she knew how much.
One afternoon I was loitering in the lounge room with a cup of tea when Alison emerged from her bedroom evidently on her way out the door. Far from her typical very practical-ware she was dolled up in a dark blue and white summer dress. I was momentarily taken aback at her appearance but complemented her on her look. Credit where credit was due. It was only when I gave her a closer look over that I realised that she couldn’t possibly be wearing a bra!
This wasn’t the Alison I knew. I was more than curious by now, it was verging on concern.
“Enjoy…work?” I ventured, hoping that she might give something away. But to my surprise she thanked me, giving no hint of embarrassment. If she was going to work dressed that way, then what was going on? I’d never seen her dressed like that for anything. Some strange transition had overtaken her.
As I walked to the bus, I could feel the breeze all over my body and I suddenly had a pang of regret. Only a thin, short layer of cotton protected me from being totally exposed for the whole world to see. I pulled my cardigan tighter around my cleavage and smoothed my dress down in a vain attempt to increase its sudden inappropriate shortness. I nervously looked around, expecting an audience of gawkers to be staring at my shame. But, unsurprisingly, no one was really paying me much heed. The few people who were on the street seemed to be minding their own business.
As I boarded the bus, I paradoxically began to feel less self-conscious and exposed. Despite their proximity, everyone on board seemed to be lost in their own little worlds and I began to realise that I could pull this off.
I chose to stand, lest my dress ride up as I sat down, but every time the door opened, I could feel a rush of wind blowing up my legs and tickling me into brief arousal. The first few times I protected myself, half expecting my dress to fly up over my head – or just my waist. But when that failed to happen, I began to welcome each stop in the expectation of another pleasant little tingle. As the door opened, I would close my eyes, take a small step to part my legs and hear the rush of wind before I felt it. My senses working together to heighten the sensation. After the fifth time I began mentally counting down the remaining stops to my destination, silently cursing each one as it passed.
With only three stops to go, I suddenly sensed eyes upon me. Without turning my head, I could see that another girl was now staring at me. Not gawking in disapproval, just taking me in. When she saw me notice her looking, she quickly turned away. I kept looking at her and she gradually turned back to face me. Another stop; I closed my eyes and took a small step. I opened my legs again and looked back at her and, half smiling, unbuttoned my cardigan and let it fall away from my breasts. Immediately I felt myself harden. Second last stop; I closed my eyes again. An extra special rush this time knowing that I was being watched, studied and that I was putting on a show. Last stop; I closed my eyes one last time, felt the tingle, turned to look my admirer in the eye, smiled and then stepped off.
A lolly shop in a tourist trap doesn’t attract too many hot guys but I certainly got my fair share of staring teenage boys that afternoon. The first few felt a little awkward but by the third hour I welcomed their attention. They had their eyes on my cleavage for the most part but occasionally you could see the cogs spinning in their little – I was only a handful of years older – minds. The clueyer of them working out that I was braless. I made sure to give those ones a little smile, something that they could “dream” about later.
As the clock approached five, I made sure that I had done everything I could to prepare the shop for closing 60 minutes later. With the stock resupplied and the cleaning done I quickly checked again for anything I’d missed and went behind the counter. I reached into my handbag – who was I? – and pulled out the letter. I’d made a random selection of my top ten in the hope of some spontaneity.
Luckily for me I’d produced a favourite. Jeremy’s alternate history of the last night at Penrith before I went home. In his re-imagination, he didn’t have to work behind the bar, and we had had the chance to talk earlier…
We are both on the same wavelength by then but can’t be seen to openly fraternise. With the time ticking down to your departure you tell me to meet in the med bay in 10 minutes and knock.
I looked around; the coast was clear.
You go to the med bay and quickly undress. You shiver in anticipation and the cold of a Penrith winter night.
One last look – nothing – I squeezed my left breast.
I knock; you close your eyes and draw a short breath.
‘Who is it?’
‘Close your eyes, then come in.’
My hand is underneath my dress.
I open the door to the darkened room.
‘Keep them closed and step forward.’
Another quick look, no one.
As I close my eyes and enter, you move behind me and close the door.
My finger is on my clit.
You blindfold me with a bandage.
Circling now, pleasure building.
I sense you move in front of me, your body heat radiating toward me.
A finger goes in, I sigh. Another look – no one.
‘I’m glad you came.’ You take my hands in yours.
‘Maybe I will.’ You put my hands on your bare hips. I smile.
‘Perhaps. If you like what you feel you will soon enough.’
Another finger goes in, I gasp.
Blindly I begin to explore your exposed flesh.
I’m building up speed, the pleasure is intense. I open one eye – nothing.
My hands are everywhere; you quiver in excitement. You grab my hands, cursing silently at what you know you now must do, and push them away.
‘I’m going now. If you want more, you know what you have to do. You have the room to yourself for the next few minutes.’ You collect your clothes and open the door but do not leave. I pull down my trousers and drop to my knees.
‘Oh, just one more thing,’ you say, suddenly revealing your presence. ‘Nice cock.’
I keep my eyes closed. My fingers are a blur.