A Biini with a Mind of Its Own

Erin drove as quickly as she could, but the evening rush hour traffic slowed her way home from work. The package lay on the passenger seat next to her, and she couldn't wait to get home and open it.

The package had arrived at her office early in the afternoon, in plain brown anonymously marked cardboard, as she had known it would. When she had placed the order for it, she deliberately had chosen to have it arrive at work, so her husband wouldn't see it. But she didn't want anyone she worked with to know what it was, either. That would have been too embarrassing. So, before placing the order, she confirmed it would be shipped and labeled in a way that gave no hint of its contents.

The package contained a bikini. She had ordered it off the Internet.

She had placed the order four days ago, after an hour or more of searching online for the right thing. She wanted to buy a bikini, because her husband didn't want her to wear bikinis, and all she owned were one-piece suits.

Erin's husband, Martin, was successful, driven, and handsome. Six years ago, when she had been only 22 and just out of college, he had swept her off her feet, and they'd married only nine months after meeting. Martin was, in most ways, a good husband: attentive, loving, and supportive of her career. In time, though, Erin learned that Martin also was jealous, controlling, and short-tempered. The one thing that always stirred him to anger was knowing or suspecting that another man was looking at his wife. As a result, Martin always was nagging and badgering her about what she was wearing. He wanted her always to look good for him, but didn't want any other man to see her.

Erin loved her husband but chafed under his controlling, jealous nature. She worked hard to look good for him, going to the gym several times a week and watching her diet to keep her figure firm and lean. After so much effort, she wanted a chance to show off the results. But Martin wouldn't allow it. He insisted she cover herself to keep other men from looking at her.

What Martin didn't know -- what she never had been able to tell him -- was that Erin had an exhibitionist streak. In front of her husband, and in front of most people, Erin acted demure, even a little shy. But, secretly, Erin liked being looked at. It wasn't a fetish. It wasn't a disorder. It wasn't something she thought about or desired all the time. But she enjoyed the glances men (and sometimes women) gave her, and she liked the idea of showing off the slim, sexy figure she'd worked hard to get.

Six years into marriage, with no kids yet, and with a body she had toned and sculpted through ceaseless hours doing crunches, lifting dumbbells, and counting minutes on the treadmill, Erin wanted to show off the fruits of her labor -- her hot figure. But her husband's jealousy stood in the way. When they were together, he gave her few opportunities to indulge her secret desire to show herself off.

One day, about two weeks before her drive home, Erin got an idea in her head. The idea was to buy a bikini without Martin knowing about it, and to take a day off without his knowing it, and to go to the beach in the bikini, by herself. It would be an especially skimpy bikini, the kind Martin never would approve. She would enjoy the sensation of exposing herself, in front of others, and her husband would never know.

Four days earlier, Erin had gone online and looked for the right bikini. She was at work, but on her personal laptop, so no one she knew would know what she was doing. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. She wanted it to be skimpy, to show off her body, but it couldn't be scandalously or outrageously skimpy. She had limits. She wasn't sure what sort of style or cut she wanted. She scrolled through many bikini websites.

Erin couldn't find the right thing for a long time. So she punched the words "perfect bikini" into her Web browser's search bar. The search engine didn't respond right away. For a second, the whole screen went dark, and then it popped back up. She didn't see a list of search results, as she had expected. Instead, she saw a web page with a photo of a bikini on a model that looked a lot like her: fair skin, a few freckles, lean but shapely, and with reddish brown hair. The bottoms were tied on the side, and the coverage in front and back was not great but not excessively revealing, either. The top featured triangles of fabric over the breasts and a string between them. The fabric was a rich, deep green, which she thought would make an attractive contrast with her hair and skin color. She ordered it.

Now it was on the car seat next to her.

Erin wanted, badly, to try it on as soon as possible. But that might be difficult if her husband got home before she did. Rush hour traffic being what it was, he might. Martin worked as a stockbroker at an office not far from home. He got into the office early to follow the stock exchanges, and he got off work early too, after they closed. Usually he spent the afternoon playing golf with friends at the club, but sometimes he came home early. Erin knew Martin would object to her wearing the bikini and would be upset at her having bought it.

Knowing that Martin would object to the bikini, but that she had bought it anyway, made Erin feel a little guilty. She valued honesty, and she had never been unfaithful to her husband. She had no intention, now, of being unfaithful. But she did want to break free, just a little, from the chains he put on her. The idea of showing off her body had taken hold of her, and she couldn't let it go.

It had started in May, summer approaching and the days getting longer and warmer. Beach season was approaching. One day, while shopping, Erin had walked by the storefront of a swimsuit boutique, and through the window several mannequins were posed wearing the season's most fashionable new bikini styles. A big sign saying "Time To Get Ready For Summer" was posted above the mannequins on the window. This season's bikini styles seemed unusually skimpy. Revealing, Brazilian style bottoms and abbreviated triangle tops appeared to be favored. Erin thought about the beach party her husband's office would have in July. Some of the wives were sure to wear bikinis, as they had the year before. Before last's year's party, while shopping with Martin for something to wear, Erin had held up a bikini in front of her husband. It was conservative by the standards of what she was looking at through the window.

"Martin, what do you think of this?" she had asked.

His brow knitted in response. "That shows off a lot, babe, don't you think? That's the kind of thing Emily likes to wear. You want to dress like her?"

Emily was the brokerage office's receptionist. She was younger than Erin, only 22, single, and flirty. She had gone to the beach party the previous summer in a bikini that had started a lot of tongues wagging.

"You don't think my figure is as good as Emily's?" Erin asked him.

"Your figure is every bit as good as Emily's," he said. "Better. But that's not the point. Charlie Engster's tongue was practically falling out of his mouth at that party looking at her until his wife forced him to put it back in. I don't want to see him drooling over my wife. I just think a one-piece is more appropriate for my wife at an office party."

So Erin had complied. She had worn a modestly cut floral-design one-piece suit to the party. She had only worn it to get into the water, briefly. Almost as soon as she had come out, when some other women were mingling at the party in their skimpy tops and bottoms, Martin had come over and handed her cover-up to her.

She could see his point -- there were protocols to follow in an office setting. But Martin kept up the pressure to be modest when it was just the two of them, even when they had gone to Hawaii together. He seemed constantly on the lookout for any man that might look at her. Erin appreciated his concern for her, but she also felt stifled by him.

At last Erin pulled her car onto her street, and then into the driveway of her house. She opened the garage door with her remote. Martin's BWM was in the garage, meaning, as she had guessed, that he had come home early. She grabbed the little manila package on the seat next to her and shoved it in her purse. It fit, barely. It was a lot of packaging for a few strips of fabric, she thought.

"Hi honey, I'm home," she called as she entered the door from the garage to the house.

Martin's voice sounded from another room.

"Hey, baby, had a good day?"

She heard quick, heavy steps approach. Martin wasn't especially big, but he had a loud, plodding walk. The met in the kitchen and he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he headed toward the refrigerator.

"It was fine," she said. "How about yours?"

"Can't complain. Er, what've we got to drink in here?" he asked. "I'm thirsty and the game's about to start."

Evening baseball was a favorite ritual for Martin. Erin had no interest in the sport but was good at feigning it when she wanted to snuggle next to him on the living room sofa.

"I bought a six pack of your favorite last night," she said.

"You're the best, baby!" he said and started to head back to the living room. He checked himself and appraised her. "You're looking sexy today. That skirt's a little shorter than usual, isn't it?" he asked. "I hope I don't have to worry about your coworkers hitting on you!"

He said it playfully but there was an edge of jealousy in his voice, too. Erin found it difficult fully to enjoy his compliments when so often there was a warning in them. Then she heard the TV pop on and the sound of ballpark cheering wafting through the house. She'd lost her husband to baseball for the rest of the night.

Later that night Erin and Martin lay in bed together. Martin wore boxer shorts and Erin wore panties and a chemise. She was pressed against him and her hand moved in circles over his chest. Martin held his phone in front of him. Erin could tell he was looking at the scores of sporting events from earlier in the day.

Erin had been thinking a lot about the bikini, still in its package hidden under a stack of panties in her drawer. With Martin around she hadn't yet dared to bring it out and look at it. That would have to wait until the next day. But she kept thinking about it -- the thin strips of green fabric, and nothing else, covering her body, just barely. The thought of it aroused her. She draped a thigh over Martin's and moved it up and down his leg. Then she pushed herself against him so only the thin satin of her panties lay between her skin and the skin of Martin's leg.

She pressed harder still, and moved her leg up and down his, but Martin didn't seem interested. She thought more about the bikini in the drawer, unworn, but ready to adorn her body as soon as she got the chance to put it on. She thought about what the fabric would feel like against her skin. A gentle tingle started between her legs and seemed to move up her body. She wanted Martin to respond. But he seemed determined to read the day's baseball statistics on his phone. Erin was feeling horny but ignored.

Martin suddenly put his phone down on the night stand to his side.

"I'm out, baby," he said. "Have to get up early. Hansen wants to meet before the markets open."

He looked at his pretty wife, the realization dawning faintly in eyes that Erin would be doing something the next day as well.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked her.

"I'm planning to take the day off," she said. "Think I'll do some shopping."

"Sounds good, babe," he said. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, turned the other way, and turned out the night light. "Don't max out the credit card."

As though she had ever done that, Erin thought. Erin was a careful spender, and the little bikini hidden in the drawer on the other side of the room was about as much an indulgence as she allowed herself.

"You have nothing to fear," she said. She turned out the light next to her, and then lay on her back staring at the ceiling in the dark. She almost imagined she could see the small green bikini in the dark against the ceiling. It made her smile, and a few minutes later she fell asleep.

In the morning, she awoke. Martin already had risen, and the bedcovers on his side lay thrown back in disarray. At once the image of the bikini popped back into her head. It was time to get up and get ready for her adventure. She threw back her own covers and swung her slim legs over the side of the bed. They were bare under the loose-fitting t-shirt and thread-bare, white cotton panties she had worn to bed.

The air in the bedroom was cool. She saw herself reflected in a full-length mirror on the way out of the bedroom: disheveled morning hair unevenly framing her face, white panties peeking out from under the brief t shirt, her hard nipples tracing little circles under the shirt fabric in the cool air.

The house was silent, so she guessed Martin, who was a noisy riser, already had left. Fortunately, he'd left some coffee brewed for her, and she followed the rich scent of it to the kitchen.

Martin had left a note on the kitchen counter. It said, "Have a great day, sweetie. I've got a meeting at 5 and won't be home until 6. XXX."

The robust flavor of the coffee and the promise of the day woke her up quickly. She had things to do, so after downing two cups and finishing a bowl of oat meal, she left the kitchen. It was time to get ready.

Back in the bedroom a few minutes later, Erin resisted the urge to take out the bikini right away and instead marched to the bathroom. She showered, giving herself enough time thoroughly to shave her legs and underarms. With the hot water running over her she then spread her legs wide, leaned over, pulled her butt cheeks open with one hand, reached down with the razor, and shaved everything off between her legs. She thought about leaving a well-trimmed tuft or strip of hair over her pubic mound, but since she hadn't seen the bikini yet and wasn't sure how much it covered, she shaved that off too. She rinsed and turned the water off, and stepped out of the shower, completely bare. She hadn't been bare for a long time.

The moment had come to see what she'd bought, and then to put it on.

She walked naked to her dresser and pulled out the package. It was well wrapped and taped, so she needed scissors to open it. Finally she cut through the cardboard, and ripped open the clear plastic lining. The bikini was inside, and she laid it on the bedcover, the top immediately above the bottom.

The bikini was a rich, solid green, darker than emerald but with something of an emerald's shine and luster. The fabric reflected the dim bedroom light, giving off a faint glow. It was small, that was obvious -- skimpier than any other bikini she'd ever warn. She would have to try it on to see how small.

She picked up the bottom and put it between her legs.

It tied on both sides. She started with the right side, and as she began tying she could not help but notice how much of her skin on either hip would be covered by nothing more than few millimeters of green string. It had been years since she had worn a bikini bottom that tied on the sides, and she was pleasantly surprised how easily and quickly the tying went.

Once that was done she picked up the top. It was nothing more than two small green lycra triangles and pairs of strings that tied behind her neck and back. She tied it on quickly with the use of the mirror in front of her.

She was done in less than a minute. Then she stood in front of the full-length mirror to appraise the result.

The image in the mirror made her suck in her breath a little. The bikini was smaller than any she had ever worn. The bottom was no more than a few inches across at the widest and stopped low enough that a part of her pubic mound lay exposed above it. The tied-off strings on either side rose no higher than her hip bones. The back was cut in a Brazilian style -- not a thong, but leaving a large section of butt cheek on either side exposed.

The top seemed barely to contain her breasts, and it made them seem larger. A good inch of string separated the triangles over her boobs, leaving a deep expanse of cleavage exposed. The triangles covering each breast were wide enough to avoid indecency, but narrow enough to leave a portion of each breast on either side open to view. Despite the thinness of the fabric, the bikini top seemed to lift her bust firmly and nicely.

Erin was surprised that the bikini had no lining. She didn't remember the description on the website saying it was unlined. But it was. Erin looked very carefully in the mirror to see if anything was revealed inappropriately. She didn't see anything. Her nipples, which were hard at that moment, left a faint circular outline under the fabric, but nothing too noticeable. The bottom was snug against her pussy. It left the skin on either side of her labia exposed, but the labia themselves were hidden and the way the fabric sculpted her pussy created only a faint hint of camel toe.

Erin loved it. Even though she was often critical of her body and reluctant to expose herself on the beach, she loved the way she looked in this bikini. The green of the suit perfectly set off her pale skin and the slight red tint of her brown hair. Her body looked lean but curvy. She knew she'd make an impression, assuming there was an audience at the beach to be impressed. Erin was sure there would be.

The bikini fitting now complete, Erin finished dressing. She found a short, pale blue beach dress cover-up and pulled it over, then she dug up some flip flops in her closet. She went to the closet to grab a beach bag, and pulled a towel out of the hallway closet. Into the bag went her phone, some sun screen, cash, and her driver's license. She grabbed two bottles of water and a couple of energy bars from the kitchen.

She was ready to go to the beach.

As she got in her car and started driving Erin thought about how skimpily she was dressed. A slight, short sun dress and bikini and flip flops: she couldn't remember the last time she wore so little driving down the street.

She felt naughty, as she drove. Her husband would be incensed if he knew what she was doing. Of course, that was part of why she was doing it. She felt a little bit guilty about that, but not too much. After all, she wasn't going to be unfaithful to him. She didn't plan to hook up with anybody, or even to flirt with anyone. She just wanted to show off a little -- a little more than her husband would have been comfortable with. Martin would never know. Surely, there was nothing wrong with that?

Under the little dress, the bikini felt good. Actually, it fit so well she barely could feel it all. Her nipples, which hadn't stopped being hard, poked against the bikini's thin fabric. The bikini bottom nestled comfortably against the bare skin between her legs. She almost felt naked under the cotton sun dress, and she liked the feeling.

The morning rush hour was over, so the traffic wasn't bad, and the drive west to the beach didn't take long. She knew exactly where she wanted to go; she and Martin had been there many times. As she approached she was glad to see the beach parking lot wasn't full, but it wasn't empty either. She smiled. The absence of a weekend crowd meant she was able to find a parking spot easily. At the same time, there were enough cars in the parking lot that she knew there would be other people on the beach to see her in her new bikini.

The car came to a stop. A big sign that said "No Lifeguard on duty" blocked the view immediately in front of her, but on either side of it Erin saw an expanse of pale, tan sand lying between her and the ocean, blue and still under a cloudless, windless sky.

Erin grabbed her bag on the passenger seat, opened the car door, swung her legs off the seat, and got out of the car.