Procrastination can be a terrible thing. It sometimes creates situations that force events to happen in a reckless and sometimes hapless manner.
So, though she knew the hamper continued to fill up throughout the week, there were just too many things that needed to be accomplished. Priorities.
Still, when a new opportunity came up and a last minute interview was scheduled on a Tuesday that was supposed to be a day off, there was nothing to do but put things off one more time.
The trouble here was the issue of underthings: specifically, panties, and more specifically clean panties.
The original plan was to use the morning to do the wash and to fluff and fold, and iron what needed ironing that afternoon. Typically, this was done in an old pair of loose fitting sweatpants with a drawstring tie and whatever semi-clean sweatshirt was available, or in the jammie bottoms and a tank top that she wore while sleeping. Either way, it was a NUN task: No Undies Needed.
It also was the perfect time of the week to do laundry, since the rest of the residents were at their normal jobs. No waiting for machines; no staring from disapproving tenants eyeballing her fashion selections or detergent determinations.
But the timing of this interview actually ruined two plans. Since she had to get there in a hurry, there was no time to even gather the dirty clothes together. And since she had no underwear, and only had a skirt as a clean clothing choice, something had to be done.
Consulting her watch, there was not even enough time to get into the grubby sweats and dash to the mall for a cheap pair.
But there was a solution. Buried in her suitcase, and actually purchased as a joke from a small shop in the French Quarter in New Orleans, was what you might loosely describe as underwear.
The item in question was really more of a thong, but it did cover all of the necessary parts. It was Midnight Blue, which thankfully matched her skirt, and it featured Mardi Gras beading, which was determined, after a quick test, to not make any sound when brushed or touched.
Thongs were not her panties of choice. In fact, this was the only thong she currently owned. She looked at the package, with its harlequin design and noted that there was a small instruction booklet that came with it. Who needed instructions on how to wear a thong? One leg goes in here, the other in there!
After a quick and steamy shower, a comb out and a look to be certain that her blouse was, in fact, clean enough to wear, it was time. She slipped into the thong, which had a pseudo-satin base, and she noted that it felt surprisingly comfortable for that type of underwear.
But wait! She needed a bit of a trim. It wasn't that she was terribly unkempt down there, but the cut of the fabric was a little high and there was enough from her hairy patch that showed through on each side. Quickly grabbing her Lady Remmington, she gingerly shaved the offending hair so that it all fit.
But then, in a moment of impulse, she decided to go the extra step and after consulting the clock, decided to get rid of it all. Seven minutes later, she was bald, and lathering liberal amounts of moisturizer on to make that sensitive skin feel as silky smooth as the panties into which she was about to slide.
After a moment to figure out how the decorative beads were designed to encircle her legs, and noted how it felt fully secure, yet like she was wearing nothing, she quickly slipped into her skirt, bra, blouse and sensible one-inch heeled loafers and made a dash to the office.
If she had bothered to read the instructions, she would have known not to shave her pubic area completely. But she was about to find this out. Because these weren't ordinary panties. These were "Mistress Clara's Magic Mardi Gras Funwear."
The commute over to the office occurred without incident. There was nothing unusual or even noticeable about getting there. All concentration was on making it on time, a crucial point in any potential job interview.
It wasn't until after arrival that she had a moment to take stock and sit in a leather wingback chair in the carpeted offices, and casually thumbed through a copy of
Cosmopolitan
.
As she flipped through the pages, something seemed odd. It felt a little like she had to pee. But that wasn't it. She decided that maybe she should try to pee anyhow, to see if it would make the feeling go away.
But then, in an instant, she realized. She was getting aroused. At that moment, she couldn't put her finger on it, but it was clear that she was drifting toward some serious libido area and needed to get back in control of her body. Did something she read in the magazine set her off? Or was it something else? She needed to get it together, since she was about to get called in for her interview at any moment!
When she shifted from one asscheek to the other, it hit her. The panties!
The thong was designed with a very thin, imperceptibly firm and surprisingly soft seam right in the front panel that ran right around to the back waistband. This seam just happened to rub against her clitoris, the folds between her labia and even gently touched her anus as it weaved its way around to complete the panty.
