Travails with My Tutu

(A companion story to Careful What You Ask For)

Lorna often told Steve that many of her best ideas came to her during her orgasm.

She had supported leukaemia research ever since one of her best friends at ballet school, Cheryl Greenwood, had died of the disease aged only seventeen. Every year since then she had done some kind of fund raising activity. She had run marathons, done sponsored aerobathons, swum many hundreds of lengths and the previous year had made her first parachute jump, although she had not been naked when she jumped as her friend Julia Ellison had once been.

It had been a special year for her since her parachute jump and she wanted to do something special for the Society this year as a kind of thanksgiving. She had confronted and laid to rest some long standing demons and issues and while doing so had, in totally unexpected circumstances, met and fallen in love with Steve Haslam, who fully and demonstrably reciprocated her love in full.

So it was that she was moaning in her ecstasy while her quivering vagina was spontaneously clenching and unclenching on Steve's firmness gorgeously filling her when her idea popped into her head. She told him about it after they had both come down and she lay, still breathing deeply in her pleasure, pressed up warm and comforted against him and enfolded in his adoring arms as she continued to enjoy the pleasure of massaging herself on his bigness still inside her.

"For my fund raising activity this year I'm going to dress as a ballerina for a day next Friday," she announced, giving him another pelvic squeeze and tickling him behind his ear.

"It's too bad I have to go to that rare booksellers' convention otherwise I'd take the day off and come with you." Steve couldn't hide his disappointment as he caressed her bottom and stroked her hair resting on her cheek.

"It's probably for the best because it's the one time when I can't afford to have you going all jealous on me and frightening off potential donors."

"That's all very well but it's some of the potential donations I'm worried about."

"It's very nice of you to be so concerned for my welfare." She giggled and kissed him again. "But I won't be on my own. I've asked Carole Grant from my pointe class to come with me. She's a freelance journalist so she's going to shadow me for the day and sell the story to lots of newspapers and magazines. Because everyone loves reading about what sweet and innocent ballerina girls get up to. And she'll take lots of photos of me," she smiled her sweetest persuasive smile as she kissed him, "which you can enjoy looking at afterwards.

He was persuaded, albeit reluctantly.

********** He was woken on the Friday morning, much earlier than usual, by Lorna shuffling around on the edge of their bed as she pulled on a pair of dazzlingly pure white tights over her little white pants. They stretched enticingly across her bottom and moulded the gorgeous female curves between her trim and very fit thighs. She had already showered and smelled deliciously sweet and fruity from a combination of shower gel, shampoo, hair spray, deodorant and body spray, while her shining, freshly washed body felt wonderfully warm and silky-smooth to his first loving touch of many that day. He smiled as he remembered the pleasure they had shared last night when she lay naked on their bed with her legs apart giggling and trembling in her delight as he had shaved her pussy. He did it for her every month and she called it her Nice Time Of The Month, tempting him by telling him she would feel lovely there under her ballet tights. She had then shaved him and afterwards they had both sighed with pleasure as they rubbed smoothly on each other over a thin film of body-warmed baby oil during their lovemaking, their white ballet-shoed feet rubbing together and up and down each other's legs in their shared ecstasy.

"You seem to be having trouble getting those on," he yawned.

"I'm wearing special support hose instead of normal ballet tights. My legs will be taking a real hammering today so they'll need as much help as they can get." She grimaced with the effort of pulling on the clingy, stretchy material up her slim, coltish legs.

"Hang on a minute. Do you mean you're going to work dressed in your ballet costume? I thought you were just going to wear it in the office."

"When I said 'dress as a ballerina for the day' I really meant the whole day. I'll be dressed in my costume going to work, while I'm at work, when I come home from work and I'll still be wearing it ready to wine you and dine you when you get back from the convention. Although I'll probably be so shagged already that Normal Service will have to be temporarily curtailed."

"Won't wearing pointe shoes all day murder your feet?" He looked at her with concern as he put his arm protectively around her tiny waist.

"Whatever pain I feel will only be the same as what professional ballet dancers feel all the time and what I would be feeling now if I'd gone on to be a ballerina instead of becoming a lawyer." She put her hand affectionately on his where it rested over her navel and kissed him. "Anyway, you've just woken up in time to lace me up into my tutu."

He watched her with eyes filled with love mixed with a good measure each of admiration, aesthetic pleasure and pure unashamed lustful desire as she slipped a dainty foot, rendered irresistible to him by its covering of virgin pure white lycra and nylon, through each leg hole in the gusset of her tutu and pulled it up her lovely slender legs and lithe athletic body until she could snuggle her pert and perfect little breasts into the padding inside her bodice. Her tutu was a real fairy princess confection of pure white silk satin and lace trimmed with pearls and silver thread. The lacy layers of her skirt opened out like a magical flower that sat on top of the long sheer white stalk of her legs.

He knelt on the bed behind her and kissed her bare back as he pulled tight the laces running up the back of her bodice, finishing them off with a neatly symmetrical knot and bow.

"Now can you get my white pointe shoes from the wardrobe for me Darling?" She leaned back and gave him a long, loving kiss whilst she stroked the side of his face to reinforce her request. She knew how much he loved her feet, especially in her ballet shoes, and she always let him get or pick her shoes for her. He loved to reverently caress and take in every detail of her shoes before handing them to her and then watch in delight as she put them on, especially if she was wearing her ballet shoes or her white plimsolls or her fashionably sexy ballerina pumps. She reinforced his pleasure with her very girlie-girl taste in fashion, with lots of short, revealing and strappy items in bright colours and patterns and gorgeously sensual fabrics.

He sat down beside her on the floor and put a loving arm around her waist and watched what to him was one of the most ravishingly sexy things she did, putting on her ballet shoes. He watched every movement with wide-eyed rapture as for each foot she placed her pointe shoe flat on the floor, slipped a soft protective sleeve over her toes, slid her foot into her shoe's satin and canvas embrace, snuggled her toes into the reinforced toe box, adjusted the thin strips of elastic that crossed diagonally over her instep and then wrapped and tied the white satin ribbons around her exquisitely slender and shapely ankles. As she would be wearing her shoes for a long time, she even sewed tiny stitches through the knot to stop it coming undone, before she tucked away the knot and the loose ends of the ribbon.

"Can I have a feel?" he smiled. He took special pleasure in feeling her feet and ankles through her ballet shoes. She snuggled herself up beside him with her arms around his shoulders and drew her legs up so she could place her gorgeously pretty feet in his lap and she kissed and nuzzled his neck as he stroked the satiny loveliness of her feet and ankle wrappings and ran his hands up the snow white smoothness of her slender legs.

She put on full stage make-up, which emphasised even more the dramatic effect of her beautiful dark eyes and her alluringly gorgeous rosebud mouth. She was very skilful at using makeup to emphasise the symmetry of her heart shaped face and high cheekbones. He also loved watching her as she pinned her dark hair into a tight ballet bun and garlanded it with a hairpiece decorated with tiny white rosebuds. A silver and pearl tiara, pearl drop earrings, a silver cross on a chain that rested just above her petite but enticing décolletage, a bracelet, several rings and her watch completed her outfit.

They were having breakfast when Carole arrived. She was attractive in a smiley, softly spoken, warmly blonde kind of way. After introducing her to Steve over coffee, Lorna suggested taking a few pictures of her and Steve together before he had to leave. Carole took a number of shots of a typical young professional couple having breakfast, with Lorna looking bewitchingly incongruous in her ballerina costume. She also took one of Lorna standing on the points of her ballet shoes to kiss Steve goodbye with her arms around his neck as he held her gently on each side of her waist.

**********

When it was Lorna's turn to leave, Carole went out before her to take photographs as she came out. She felt like she was about to step out before a full house at Covent Garden as she picked up her briefcase and laptop, took a deep breath, glided out through the main entrance to her block of flats and with her turned out ballet girl waddle began the ten minute walk to the tube station.

"May I come through the gate rather than use the barrier this morning?" she smiled at the station staff member, glancing down at her tutu skirt rustling against the automatic barriers to indicate the reason for her request. Carole got a picture of him staring goggle-eyed at her as she elegantly sashayed sideways past him through the gate. Carole went on ahead so she could photograph Lorna's stately progress down the steps to the platform. Graceful as a white flamingo, she pointed and arched her foot down to each step in turn before planting her foot down flat and descending in an almost slow motion glide. She took her accustomed place on the platform and smiled in apology to her neighbours for taking up more space than normal because of the expansionist ambitions of her tutu skirt. She knew many of the faces around her from years of doing the same journey each day. But no one responded with more than a polite smile to her unusual appearance. Lorna wondered if her scheme would turn out to be far harder than she had imagined.

She lived close to the end of the line so there were still seats available in her carriage. She had just settled her skirt around her when a little girl and her mother entered just before the doors closed. The girl stared open mouthed and wide eyed with amazement and delight as she pointed at her and shouted excitedly to her mother.

"Mummy, Mummy, it's Princess Aurora! We saw her dancing in Sleeping Beauty didn't we Mummy? Why is she sitting in our train?"

Lorna, seeing the mother's expression of nonplussed astonishment and at the same time a golden opportunity to enlist the support of the rest of the carriage's occupants, immediately came to the confused mother's rescue.

"Today I'm asking all the kind people I meet to give some money to help doctors and nurses make more poorly children get better when they are very ill. So if anyone would like to send some money to Leukaemia Research UK please will they take one of my special envelopes?"

Confronted by the irresistible combination of an angelic-looking and undeniably polite little girl and a very beautiful and undoubtedly very sexy ballerina princess, everyone in the overwhelmingly male populated carriage took an envelope. Lorna felt elated by this breakthrough. The man sitting next to the girl kindly swapped seats with Lorna so they could sit next to each other. For the next half-hour or so, while Carole took several pictures with her mother's permission, the girl kept up a constant flow of questions to Lorna about her tutu, her ballet shoes and what it was like to be a real princess ballerina. She had just begun having ballet lessons and she finally asked Lorna,

"When can I dance on my toes like a real fairy?"

Lorna smiled and replied,

"If you keep on going to ballet every week until you're a big girl and your feet are nice and strong, then you can start learning to dance on your toes. It takes a long time to learn and you'll need a good teacher but it's worth it because dancing on your toes is wonderful and you really do feel like you're flying."

**********

After saying goodbye to the girl and her mother just before her own stop, Lorna and Carole emerged into the city centre maelstrom and Lorna began her stately turned-out progress to her office. She was much later than usual as many people stopped her and took an envelope on hearing the reason for what they were seeing. Then she encountered a huge party of Japanese tourists who all wanted to take their photographs with her. So she either posed alongside them as they stood in smilingly self-conscious little groups or perched demurely on the knees of the more forward and confident of the men, her feet pointed and the toes of her ballet shoes resting on the pavement. They all expressed their thanks for this most unexpected and unique of photo opportunities with much polite bowing, to which she responded with the most beautiful and graceful curtseys. They also all took envelopes and stuffed them with traveller's cheques before mailing them en masse at a nearby post box.

Lorna had already circulated the news of her impending fundraising activities around the office by use of those most effective of networks, the secretaries and the post room messengers. So when she swept gracefully into the imposing atrium of the main office entrance she was greeted by a chorus of cheers, chanting and wolf whistles of both the encouragingly good-natured and sincerely lecherous varieties. Under her self-imposed rules, now that she was indoors, she would at all times walk and stand on the points of her ballet shoes. So, with much blowing of kisses and handing out of charity envelopes, she glided with long pointed flamingo steps to the lift lobby. Then, with her tutu skirt commandeering most of the space, she tiptoed up six flights of the adjoining staircase to her office as she continued handing out envelopes.

Louise Bradfield, her ever anticipating and resourceful secretary, was ready for her with her favourite strong coffee and Danish pastry to give her a much needed energy boost. Her whole morning was to be taken up with meetings. This meant going back down the six flights of stairs en pointe to the ground floor meeting room suite. She sat through the Corporate Group Strategy Meeting, the Senior Management Group Meeting and the Divisional Marketing Meeting as if being dressed as a ballerina was a perfectly normal occurrence. She may not have been chairing any of the meetings but she was the undoubted centre of attention at all of them. The male contingent may not have betrayed their excitement openly, but she noticed the slightly indecent haste with which they claimed the places next to and opposite her. And she was sure that on more than one occasion she felt the almost imperceptible contact of a highly polished leather brogue against the thin satin outer flanks of her ballet shoes.

After the meetings she rose up again en pointe to the sixth floor to spend her remaining time before lunch dealing with emails, digesting reports and dictating letters. She would usually have a working lunch in her office, but today she had decided to have lunch in the staff restaurant. So she got up on her toes again to descend, much more uncomfortably this time, the eight flights of stairs to the restaurant on the lower ground floor. She stood en pointe as she waited in line and chatted to lots of people about what she was doing and then made sure she sat in a prominent position close to where the senior (and higher earning) associates tended to congregate. As she sat, she kept her feet and legs constantly moving, partly to relieve the increasing muscle tension in them but also to attract attention. Meanwhile, the ever-present Carole took plenty of photos and fielded questions and gave out more envelopes for Lorna while her attention was taken up with other enquirers.

By the time she had tiptoed back up the eight flights to her office to prepare for her important afternoon client meeting she was really starting to feel aching and sore, but she was buoyed up by the thought of all the envelopes she had given out and the many generous pledges she now had recorded on her PDA. Louise usually took care of her photocopying but today she decided to go herself on her pointy flamingo steps. As she stood en pointe at the copier collecting her papers together she heard the unwelcome, and on this occasion, unavoidable approach of Howard Prentiss, Senior Private Client Partner and (unofficial) Senior Office Letch. Then Lorna suddenly had an idea and pushed a piece of paper to the floor. Standing flat on the soles of her ballet shoes in fifth position and with the loud lacy rustling of her tutu skirt, she bent over with all the sensual grace she could muster to pick it up just as he rounded the corner.

"Well, well. Ms MacAllister as I live and breathe."

Lorna was blessed with a most pretty and pert little bottom, with slim hips and gorgeously rounded cheeks that protruded to just the most alluring amount behind her slender waist. It was this glorious sight that now presented itself to Howard Prentiss as he approached, scarcely able to believe his luck. Lorna's bottom, sheathed in sheer, clinging white Lycra and nylon was an irresistible magnet to his eyes. Meanwhile, the gusset of her tutu, tapering down across her buttocks to where it narrowed to pass between the pure white nylon covered pillars of her slender shapely legs, provoked all kinds of ideas and sensations within him. Lorna's plan succeeded.

"I'll pledge a Grand for a touch."

Lorna's reply was deadly sweet.

"You've been wanting to do that ever since I first arrived but under the circumstances I think I can allow it just this once."

Howard beamed as he addressed Carole.

"Any chance of a photograph?"

Carole smiled back at him conspiratorially and with a wink to Lorna.

"I'm sure we can come to a separate arrangement on that."

"Bloody hell. I hope you two never go into partnership", he grumbled. Then he perked up as he placed his open hand on Lorna's right buttock. He kept it there just slightly longer than could be considered decent in the circumstances and then Lorna felt his fingers start to head towards her inner thigh. She turned to face him and said gaily,

"It's another five grand to touch me there, Howard."

Her gaze was steely above her sweet smile. He directed his attention back to Carole.

"Did you get a photograph then?"

"Sorry, forgot the memory card needs changing," she smiled with equal sweetness.

"And it's still a Grand a go Howard," Lorna chipped in. They laughed as he stumped huffily away.

Louise normally went to greet and collect her visitors, but this time Lorna went to meet them herself and greeted them with her most low and graceful curtsey. By now with Carole's camera memory fully restored. After a successful meeting and having collected several very generous pledges, Lorna, now feeling less and less like a graceful white flamingo in spite of gamely keeping up the appearance of one, point-stepped painfully back to her office for a long evening session of reviewing client files. While Carole, a fellow ex-ballet school pupil and well aware of her increasing discomfort, obligingly massaged her tired and aching legs through the ever-increasing grip of her tights.