CHAPTER THREE: The FINAL REHEARSAL
When it arrived, Wednesday was hot and sunny. The journey to work was a nightmare. Every girl I saw on the train journey into work seemed to scream "touch my legs please". The skirts were short, the heels were high, and the legs were universally bare. True, some were browner, or more slender and shapely than others, but they were all eminently strokeable! None however matched my vivid memory of Louise's wonderful very sexy legs.
I saw her briefly at lunchtime, returning from the sandwich run. She was as provocatively dressed as ever; tight top, short white skirt, and incomparable bare and very brown legs!
She just winked at me and gave me a kind of "see you later" smile. When 3:30 came around, I made my way to the training room, once again armed with my laptop with my slide presentation loaded on its desktop. I had decided that, at the very least, I was going to get inside her tight little panties before the afternoon was out, but I did not know quite how the opportunity would present itself. I had not, however, accounted for Louise's strong determination to remain completely and utterly in control.
This was demonstrated immediately I reached the training room. As before, when I had arrived so full of anticipation at Monica's office, I found the training room door closed, with the same hand-written "DO NOT DISTURB" sign on the outside. Once again, I knocked and was softly and quietly invited to enter. This time, there was no couch on which Louise could sprawl to show off her legs. Instead, she was standing waiting by the lectern, her notes ready in her hand. Her tight white top showed off the curves of her breasts magnificently, but her short white skirt had been replaced by a pair of tight black trousers!
Her lovely legs were completely covered.
Louise conducted the final rehearsal very much in the manner of a theatrical director. She had plotted out the sequencing, timing and subject allocations for the presentation, and ran through them with almost military precision. She asked me to run the slide show to check it against her presentation plan. The fit was perfect. She handed me a pre-prepared schedule, detailing my inputs (with timings), asking me to make my own additions linking my contribution to the slide numbers.
"I feel a bit redundant," I said, half joking.
"Well I can assure you, you're not! Remember, it's your show. I intend to make sure it's your show! I'm just the assistant. I see it as my job to make sure that everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - is planned and prepared for." she said.
"So, nothing else to be done now then?" I asked, thinking about her remarkable change of dress, but not saying so.
"Almost nothing more," she smiled, "but there is some advice I need from you."
"Advice about what?" I asked genuinely curious.
"Advice about my appearance," she replied.
"You look great to me," I said, but obviously not as convincingly as I thought.
"I want you to pretend you're a judge, sort of like at a beauty competition," she continued. "I've got some outfits I want to show you. I want you to tell me which ones you like best. Come with me!"
Louise walked over to the door of a small ante-room, in which were a long table and two chairs, beside one of which was a large open holdall, in which, clearly visible, were several girls' outfits, all skirt-top combinations, and all of which had very short high quality cotton mini-skirts as their dominant feature.
She closed the door behind us, and locked it. She took the four outfits out of the holdall, placing them neatly on one of the chairs.
