Helen's heart is racing, and her mouth dry as adrenaline courses though her. It's an effort to stop her legs shaking, and she rubs her nylon covered thighs together, thrilling at the sensation. Ever since the 'incidents' six months ago, she has become obsessed with the feel of nylon, among other things. Other things that have brought her to this room, waiting nervously. A bespectacled secretary, probably ten years or more older than Helen eyes her suspiciously.
This is madness! She briefly considers making her apologies and leaving, thinking of her young children, and her husband, and the untold harm that could happen if.... But no, the decision is made. It is her forty-third birthday today, and this is her treat to herself, if things go well. If things go badly... she shudders at the thought.
Helen has done a number of uncharacteristic things to reach this point. Firstly, as it is Friday, she has delayed her birthday party and any celebrations until tomorrow. Much to her husband's consternation, it must be said.
Secondly, she has shaved and exfoliated down below, leaving her pussy as bald as, well, as bald as six months ago, when the man she has an appointment with did that to her.
'When did you decide to shave yourself down there?' her husband had asked last night.
'Do you like it?' she had replied, coquettishly. He hadn't seemed sure, but he had made love expertly to her. Her husband is a thoughtful lover, but recently she has been wanting more. She has asked him to be a little more dominant, but it is not in his nature.
Helen can feel her pussy lips against the gusset of her tights, and it thrills her. That, and knowing she is wearing no underwear. She is aware that she is already moist, and hopes the dampness isn't visible on the tights. That would perhaps be too embarrassing. Or maybe not. She isn't sure any more.
The tights, and not wearing underwear is the third out-of-character thing Helen has done. She's bought the thinnest, palest, most see-through tights she can find, knowing they leave nothing to the imagination.
The fourth thing was to ring and make this appointment, the last appointment of the day, she has specified. That was four-thirty, but a subsequent call from the office, from a confused and apologetic secretary, moved it back an hour. Helen thinks she knows why - so that they can be alone without interruptions. She'd felt so alive after that call, and even though she'd been at work, she'd found a toilet cubicle and brought herself to a satisfying orgasm. That had also been uncharacteristic.
Finally, this morning, dressed conservatively in blouse, long skirt and sensible flat shoes, but equally un-conservatively with no underwear and a bald pussy, she caught the London train. In the capital, with time to spare, she treated herself to some high-heeled court shoes that matched the tights, and then visited a sex-shop for the first time. There she bought a large vibrator - she was going to bring her own, and had thrilled at the thought of carrying it with her. But she rather fancied an upgrade, and now purchased, unwrapped and supplied with batteries, it sits nestled in her handbag, safely zipped up away from prying eyes.
Helen glances at the clock. It is now five thirty-five. She presumes he is keeping her waiting deliberately, keeping her off-guard. She wonders if he thinks she is going to try and get revenge on him. After all, this man hurt her badly six months ago, hurt and humiliated her. But in the midst of it all, he had forced her vibrator inside her and held it in place with her tights, and she had stood in her children's playroom and orgasmed, not once, or twice, but three times. It was awful, degrading, inexplicable, but ever since, despite all the other horrible things he did to her, and her former friends, it has played on her mind.
She hasn't tried to analyse it, she's not that sort of person. It's what helped her get over the terrible events, just as she has the events of twenty-three years ago, when similar terrible things had been done to her. Instead, she has experimented a lot with vibrators and tights, and enjoyed herself thoroughly. Something, however has been missing, even when she went into the playroom and recreated her shameful scene, orgasm by orgasm.
And that is why she is here.
The phone rings and she gives a start, as does the secretary, who snatches at the receiver. She listens, nods, says 'Thank you Mr Holdcroft' and Helen's heart seems to stop for a second as she hears the name. Again, she is tempted to leave, run away, but she doesn't. Instead, it is the secretary who puts on her coat and departs, informing her that Holdcroft will be with her shortly.
So, Helen is alone. Scared, yes, but excited and aroused also. She knows what she wants to happen, isn't sure how much of it she can control, but is determined to go ahead with it come what may. You only live once, she thinks to herself.
'Come through!' the oh-so-familiar voice shouts through the door. Steeling herself, Helen stands, opens it and enters.
It is a shock, seeing him. She has forgotten how plain, how un-prepossessing he is, and she begins to worry that the huge cock she's been fantasising about for weeks, is perhaps, well, less huge than she remembered. Still, it is far too late to back out now, and she shuts the door behind her, working hard to stop her legs from shaking.
'Hello Mrs Parker, do take a seat' he says suavely, gesturing to a chair, and then, offering choice, to a settee. In contrast to the small waiting area, his office is spacious and well appointed.
'I'd rather stand' she manages to say. She has this planned.
'Very well' he sighs, 'how may I assist you?'
Helen crouches to put her handbag on the floor. As she rises, to his evident astonishment, she lifts her skirt above her waist, exposing her bald pussy to him. She is briefly amused by how shocked he is, before a wave of embarrassment hits her and she feels her face flushing. Not coincidentally, her pussy moistens further.
Holdcroft, to his credit, regains his composure quickly. 'How perfect' he murmurs. 'But again, I ask the question, how may I assist you?'
