Enjoy! You have to read for a bit until you get to the part that qualifies it for the contest. It's a quick read, I promise!
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The loose thread was tiny and barely noticeable. It came from a valley in the southern part of Egypt. The cotton plant the thread was made from, was on the outside of the field and received less water, then the plants in the middle. As a result, the cotton was mildly inferior, and the resulting thread just a tad weaker.
She probably shouldn't have pulled the thread, but she did, and when she did, the strand next to it snapped. She had a busy day at work and no time to change, if she wanted to catch the morning train. Maybe, she could trim it at work?
The thread was on a skirt, that was part of a sundress. She had bought it at a discount store, back home in Minnesota. She didn't normally wear sun-dresses, but it was hot in the city, and she had no meetings scheduled. The dress itself was a pale yellow, with daisy's embroidered on the skirt which dropped to her knees.
The skirt was loose, and she had to watch the wind and how she sat. One careless moment and the world would see her panties. The top was low cut, and a bit risky. She wasn't able to wear a regular bra, without it showing, and she thought that looked tacky, so she wore a demi lace bra and panty set. They were opaque and offered little protection from prying eyes.
She brought a long cashmere cardigan with, in case the office air conditioning was too high. She hoped the bra would hide her sensitive nipples, but doubted it, and wanted to be safe.
In a tizzy, she rushed out of her apartment building. Being late would throw off her entire day! She wore flats and raced down the sidewalk. The skirt billowed up, so flashes of her lean muscled thighs were visible.
Construction workers were building a new apartment one block over. They whistled, but she ran past without hearing.
If she wouldn't have been out of breath, if she wouldn't have been thinking about work, and everything she needed to do, she would have heard the rip, as her dress caught on the corner of the door, leading to the train station.
"Late, late, late. I'm going to be late for a very important date." The ditty would not leave her alone. "God, I need a life." She giggled. Who sang Alice in Wonderland ditties anymore? The slash in the fabric of the skirt was now, three inches. It was on the front of her right leg, and clearly visible to anyone that looked.
Her dress was made in a sweatshop in Pakistan, so the weave wasn't the best quality. Her urgent stride put stress on the skirt, and the fabric loosened just a little more.
Our plucky heroine plopped down on a seat. Score! She had a seat all to herself, but of course, that wouldn't last long. Soon, the train filled, and a man sat next to her. A man that had never left his Goth roots behind, who was trying to show the world how cool he still was.
She probably should have noticed all the chains he was wearing, and she probably should have moved, so their calves weren't touching, but she didn't. She put ear-buds in, and turned her music on, not wanting to engage in conversation. She looked out the window and ignored him.
If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed how the hem of her skirt caught in one of the man's chains, right on the rip. She could have apologized and fixed the problem with no additional damage.
But she wasn't paying attention, and when the man got up, her dress got tangled in a chain and ripped even more. He noticed, of course, and turned to apologize, but she was staring out the window. He could hear classical music coming from her earbuds, so he left.
A well-dressed woman sat opposite. She had a navy blue power suit on, with a skirt that ended just above her knees. Her high-heels had the sharpest point that she had ever seen. Maybe she was a government lawyer?
From the top of her blonde hair, twisted in an immaculate braid, to the bottom of her very pointed shoes, she reeked of power. Her brown eyes peeked over the rim of her glasses, and she pursed her mouth in disapproval.
Our heroine, who was a bit of a bohemian at the best of times, now had a six-inch tear in the front of her skirt. The woman flicked her eyes down to the cut and then nodded in that direction. Our heroine, watched the woman watching her, followed her glance down, and immediately saw the problem.
"Oh, no!" Her horrified moan was extra loud over the music in her earbuds. The woman across the way tapped her bare knee.
"Turn those silly things off!" She indicated the earbuds. She waited a moment until they were, in fact, turned off, and then said, "Don't you have a bobby pin?"
Our heroine, who did not, in fact, have a bobby pin, was distraught at her current options. She didn't have time to go home, and she certainly couldn't go to work like this. The rip went up the front of her thigh, so if she sat the wrong way, her panties would flash. What if one of the managing partners came in?
"Noo." She shook her head.
"Well, I do." The woman across the way was stern. Her bag was expensive and leather, and oh-so chic. She found the fastener and handed it over.
"Here you go."
"Thanks!" Our heroine was nothing, if not polite. But here she was stuck, one pin was simply not going to be enough. She fussed for a moment, completely missing the look of lust that crossed the other woman's face, at the sight of her shapely legs, exposed, by her ministrations.
"Oh, for god's sake. As fascinating as this is, I can't take it anymore. Here."
She handed several more bobby pins to our plucky hero, who was now able to fix her dress.
Our heroine's name is Rachel, by the way. I suppose I ought to introduce her, as we will spend all day following her. She is 29, has long curly blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, long legs, and she stands 5-10. She's in impressive shape from years of playing soccer and is used to men checking her out. She was born in Northern Minnesota and moved to the city as soon as she graduated from high-school.
Back to the story. Rachel, our heroine, had what she thought would be a rather brilliant idea. Her dress looked odd, with the repair, and it was impossible to miss. What if she ripped the front of the skirt on the other leg? That way, it would look intentional. Eager to put her plan in place, she took fingernail clippers out of her purse and bent to her task.
She completely forgot about the other woman, and certainly didn't think about her own breasts when she bent over. Rachel had nice breasts, not too big and not too small. Her last boyfriend had called them "just right."
Nope, she bent over, and clipped a line in the bottom of the skirt, and then pulled the rip to make it longer. The woman across from Rachel licked her lips, at the sight.
She had abandoned all pretense of working and was now openly watching, as Rachel's left breast fell out of her dress, and was exposed to the crowd in the car.
"Crap!" Rachel jerked back in her seat, catching her ring in the new slit, and extending it by another three inches. "Shit!" She gaped in horror at her skirt, completely forgetting about her boob for a second. Her face flamed red.
She tucked herself back in, and a tear leaked out. This rip was far too long for the remaining bobby pins. The woman across the way smirked, "Don't look at me, I'm out."
The cut was higher up on the skirt, so the material was a little tighter. Rachel worried about what might happen, with any sudden movement.
She fixed the skirt as best she could. The building she worked at was downtown. The morning was lovely and not too hot when she left the train.
She thought people were checking her out as she jogged the short two blocks to her building. It was the city! People watching was a sport!
Security had been tightened in all of the skyscrapers, and in retrospect, she should have expected what happened next.
She took her shoes and purse, and placed them in a bin to run through the metal detector, that all employees had to pass across. Then she held her arms up and stepped through the gate. The gate beeped red, and she was stopped by the guard.
"Crud." It was her dress. "My dress ripped, and it's pinned up." She informed the security agent.
"I'm sorry miss. You'll either have to take the dress off or remove all metal objects and then try again."
He didn't look amused by her plight. The lobby was busy, there were people in line behind her, and Rachel's stress levels were now through the roof.
"Uggh, I don't have time for this. I'm so late!" She was desperate. "What the hell." She thought. "I wear bikinis all the time. My underwear is just like a bikini. So what if the perv's get a little thrill." The lobby was always full at this time of the morning.
She pulled the dress over her head and placed it in a bin. The guard stopped what he was doing and openly stared at her chest. "How rude!"
She thought about telling him off. She could see the guard on the far side of the machine checking her out, as well. Conversation quieted behind her.
She twirled to see what had happened. They were all looking at her. "Was something wrong with her?" She looked down at her body, and then it struck her! "Oh, no!" She moaned and tried to cover herself with her hands.
She hunched over hiding as much of her body as she could. Her bra and underwear were lace and transparent! Her nipples grew hard, from the embarrassment.
"UUgghh!" Could this day get any worse?
"Miss, I'm sorry, but you need to walk through the machine." The guard was polite but firm.
This was ridiculous! She was a grown woman, proud of her body, and proud of who she was. She dropped her hands to her side, picked her head up, and went through the detector. It stayed quiet this time.
She had to wait a moment on the other side, for her dress to go through the x-ray machine. She wanted to curl into a fetal ball. People were standing and staring openly now, someone took a cell-phone like they were going to take pictures. Her face flamed red.
The worst part of this was that her nipples were erect and clearly visible! Did that mean she liked being exposed, enjoyed the thought of all of these people looking at her?
She didn't think so, but something was obviously appealing about all the eyes watching, wanting her body, wanting her. She moaned in confusion.
She turned her back on the picture taker and covered her face with her hands. "God, what's taking so long for my dress?" She asked the guard.
Her panties, which were really nothing more than a glorified thong, hid little, and her muscular butt immediately drew the interest of several picture takers.
"The machine has been running slow all morning. We need to call someone to fix it." The guard shrugged.
"You think?" Our heroine prided herself on staying positive, but she couldn't help it. Anxiety filled her stomach. She was terrified of being seen by her bosses and losing her well-paid job.
"Here you go, Mam." A female guard handed her dress to Rachel, and she smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you!"
She stood by the wall when she got dressed. The female guard held a coat up over her, and she was able to avoid flashing everyone as she bent and twisted to pull the dress down over her head.
The elevator ride was awkward, and she noticed several people on their cell phones. That was not unusual, people were on them all the time, but she couldn't help wondering if they were sharing pictures.
Her face was flushed, and her nipples were still erect. She was turned on by this!?! She could have lost her job, yet here it was, she was getting pleasure from the idea of other people lusting after her.
Rachel hurried to her office, without stopping for coffee, and logged in to her computer. She thought she had hidden her face, but she wasn't sure.
"Would people be able to tell it was her by her hair?" She had friends here that she knew she could trust. They would tell her if something was going on.
