The following material is sexually explicit erotica.
If you are offended by hard-core pornography close this file.
Chapter 21
The Feel of Nylon
Following that initial success with the pantyhose, and what I had said about liking the feel of the nylon against my skin, Lucy was keen to find out just how effective they could be in spicing-up our sex life.
The first time was just a few days after the event at the cinema. We were both at home, Lucy was studying and I had come home early afternoon to finish off a client's presentation, doing it there to escape the interruptions that would have been unavoidable at the office. I knew it would have been even more difficult to concentrate on the work if I had tried sharing the study with Lucy, so spread my stuff out over the breakfast bar in the kitchen.
Her timing was impeccable, I was actually in the process of gathering the corrected papers together when the intercom went. 'Hello! Hello Jack, are you there?'
'I certainly am.' I replied. 'Are you ready for some tea?'
'On top of everything else the man's a mind-reader.'
'I'm just about done. Shall I bring it there?'
'No darling, I've got books and notes scattered all over the place, I won't finish this today so I'd rather leave them like this until tomorrow. I'll meet you in the lounge-room, give me fifteen minutes.'
Having put my papers away I brewed the tea, put some biscuits on a plate and took the tray through to lounge-room, putting it down on the coffee table in front of the leather sofa.
Yet again I hadn't really taken too much notice of what she was wearing when I'd come home, but I think my impression was that it had been jeans and a light coloured top. But when she joined me as I could see no reason why she would have changed, I convinced myself my memory was wrong. She was actually wearing a denim skirt, quite a long one, coming to well below her knees, with large, silver buttons running all the way down the front. And with that, a black skivvy and stockings.
Instead of joining me on the sofa she sat in the arm-chair opposite me, then as she leaned forward to take the tea and a couple of biscuits she asked me how my work had gone.
I told her everything looked fine for the meeting and asked her about her progress. She spoke enthusiastically about what she was doing, then having finished her tea she said she had an idea on which she would like my opinion, crossing her legs as she settled back in the chair.
Until then I hadn't realised that some of the buttons at the bottom of her skirt weren't fastened but that became obvious when, as she swung one leg over the other, the lower part of the skirt fell aside, leaving a more than tempting length on view.
'You know that each year we have to do a major project, outside of the actual study curriculum, well I've been thinking about doing something on erotic art. I mean you have so much on the subject, it's a massive resource I could use. I've been thinking about perhaps doing something that illustrates the way the art reflects some of the changes that take place in society. What do you think Jack?'
'It sounds like an excellent idea to me darling, and it's something I could actually help you with, at least to do some of the researching. But you would have to get your tutor's agreement first wouldn't you?'
'Oh yes, I'll need to do a one page outline for her. But I don't think there would be any problem, they're not that fussy about what the subject is, it's more a question of how much work you put into it.'
'I'll certainly help you wherever I can, but I'm not sure I'm the one to make you keep your nose to the grindstone, especially if we are going to be working on that kind of subject.' I added with a grin.
'I'll just have to be very conscientious, but with all the help you are giving me, I mean financially, I can use the time you are at the office to really good effect.'
'So some interruptions will be allowed at other times?'
'Some.' she replied with a giggle. 'But if you think the basic idea is good what other thoughts do you have as to the actual project? I need some alternative ideas as to how to best use the material'
I suggested that the first thing we needed to do was to spend some time going over what I actually had in the library, which was quite extensive and most of which she hadn't even seen yet. I gave her a quick summary of how some covered different periods and styles, some were more concerned with the actual activities, and mentioned a couple that actually dealt with some of the social and historical aspects. Then I remembered a book I had very nearly bought for myself a year or so previously.
'We need to pay Morris a visit.'
'Who or what is Morris?'
'A true bibliophile, an old friend of mine, he has a book shop with a large antiquarian section and many of mine have come either from there or through his contacts in the book world. There was one I very nearly bought a while ago, a collection of monographs on erotica in the visual arts; it might give you a different slant on the subject.'
'If you think it would be useful Jack. But even if he doesn't have that one he sounds a useful contact, and I love good book shops.'
That agreed I went on to suggest a few different ways she could think about approaching her project. She listened attentively to what I was saying, occasionally asking a pertinent question, but, knowing it was a pet subject of mine and she could see how quickly the idea had caught my imagination, most of the time just letting me continue speaking.
And as it wasn't often that I got the chance to talk to someone about it I guess I did rattle on a bit. So, because I was so involved in what I was talking about, and was maintaining steady eye contact with Lucy, it was some time before my brain registered something else. Although she was obviously concentrating on taking in everything I was saying, at the same time, perhaps quite unconsciously, she seemed to be idly stroking her leg.
At first I tried to ignore the small movement of her hand, but like an itch, the more I tried to do that the more urgent became the need to properly see what was happening. And when I did finally glance down I saw I was right, but not only that, I was sure I could see more of her legs than I had when she had first crossed them. They not only seemed to be more loosely crossed, but her skirt seemed to have fallen further apart, as though a few more button had come undone. Unless my memory was playing tricks, when she first settled back I had been able to see just a little way above her knees, but it seemed that in that one brief glance I had been able to see nearly half way up each darkly stockinged thigh.
Then of course I simply had to verify what I thought I had seen, so took another, longer look. I had been right, the skirt had fallen much further apart, and I could see at least half way, in fact maybe a little further.
Until then I had been speaking with my usual fluency but that facility suddenly deserted me. I heard myself stuttering, fumbling for words that normally flowed quite readily, and the theme of what I had been saying now seemed elusive. I could almost feel the conflict going on in my brain as it tried to deal with two diametrically opposed subjects; handling the detail of Lucy's proposed thesis, and the actuality and implications of what I had seen.
What made that more difficult were the thoughts the latter was generating. Thoughts of how it would feel if it were my fingers doing the stroking. Thoughts of how much more of her legs there was yet to see and the strong, almost urgent desire I had to see that. Then the even more disturbing thoughts of what lay even higher up.
And adding yet another layer of complexity was the reaction I could feel going on down between my own legs, where I could already feel my cock slowly lengthening and filling.
Maintaining the flow of what I had been talking about became even more difficult when I saw her skirt slip yet a little further apart, and using that as an excuse I gave up the pretence and fell silent, openly staring at the slowly expanding display Lucy was providing for me.
I have no idea why, or what prompted it, but I was suddenly reminded of our second evening, when I had telephoned her, when we'd had what I believe is called phone sex.
But even as the memory of what we had done came rushing back Lucy was continuing to build the tension in the air between us, making small, but incremental changes to what she was doing. Her finger-tips slowly moving up and down the increasing length of leg and thigh, their movements only stopping when she undid yet another button on her skirt. And as she worked her way higher she gradually changed her position in the chair, as she had in the cinema, laying further back and slipping her bottom further forward on the seat.
But even so, and although her legs were only loosely crossed, because they were it was quite a long time before I was able to confirm what I had begun to suspect. It was only when she had finally undone the last button, and she uncrossed and spread her legs out in front of her that I saw she was again wearing the pantyhose.
