A sneak peek at When Jerry Met Ali. Free until Sunday at Smashwords.

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 entire world to see. I pulled my cardigan tighter around my cleavage and smoothed my dress down 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 mind their own business.

As I boarded the bus, I paradoxically felt less self-conscious and exposed. Despite their proximity, everyone on board seemed to be lost in their own little worlds and I realised I could pull this off.

I stood, 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 welcomed 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 glanced 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.

8 thoughts on “Walking”

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