Sue nervously checked her phone for the umpteenth time. First, the map app to make sure she was in exactly the right location. Then the time. 14.57. Three minutes to go. She put the phone back in her walking trousers pocket.
She asked herself, yet again, how she, a perfectly respectable 61 year old woman, had come to be here, alone in a Norfolk wood, planning to do what she was.
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The story had started a couple of weeks earlier. She had found herself in an erotic chat room, which she did from time to time when she was feeling in need of company, or escapism, or just a bit horny. She avoided most of the more extreme conversations, but sometimes found a connection. She had somehow got chatting with The Man about a story they had both read, about an outdoor bathing woman exposing herself to a hidden man. She confessed that the idea of being the woman, being spied on by the man yet pretending not to know she was being watched really turned her on. They fantasised a bit about them being in the roles in the story and discussed the emotions of exhibitionism. She described her naked body for him better to imagine the scene
They mused on the faux-innocence of displaying herself to the hidden onlooker, whilst pretending to him- and to herself -that she was alone and unaware. They agreed that this contradiction made it all the sexier for both parties.
"But of course, it is just fantasy. I could never do it for real", she declared
"Why not?" he asked.
She gave a dozen reasons. Fear of getting caught. Fear of the voyeur being someone she knew. Fear of the man's reaction. Body confidence. Lack of opportunity. Just sheer lack of pluck.
"What if we make a plan to make those go away?" he asked.
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Sue took her phone out of her pocket again, just as the numbers flicked over to 15.00.
She scanned the woods around her one last time. No sign of another soul. She took a deep breath and bent down untying her hiking boots, kicking them off and putting them neatly side by side. She quickly unzipped her jacket and folded it next to her boots.
She paused for a second - the next step was a big one- then took the plunge pulling her walking top over her head to expose her bra, then dropping her hiking trousers. Both again were folded neatly on the pile.
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She had deliberated long and hard on her choice of underwear. She had emptied her drawer onto the bed and picked out possible choices. At first she picked out her sexiest stuff- black lace bra and knickers, even a red basque. She tried them on in front of the bedroom mirror. Face on. Profile. Looking at her bum over her shoulder, critically appraising her body and her lingerie. Imagining what The Man would see. How he would react. At 61 she still had a fine body and she was pleased with what she saw.
But the sexy lace and satin weren't right. She was meant to be caught off guard, thinking she was alone. What she was wearing must be mundane, every day. Maintaining the fiction of innocence. She picked up the cream T-Shirt bra that she had been wearing all day. From the pile on the bed she picked up some olive green cotton boy shorts. She pulled them on and inspected herself in the mismatched set.
Perfect.
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