Connie 4

I promise you nothing.

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I almost died that day.

Not literally, but figuratively - the sheer shock of the moment sent my pulse racing and started my stomach doing flip-flops. Panic took over and I felt myself begin to tremble. How the hell did they get there?

It was just a pair of panties. But this particular pair of panties?

It had been just over a week since the day. The day I slipped away on my own for a few hours of me time. The day I'd let my inner slut loose for a bit, released the clasp on the leash and exorcised the sexuality that I kept pent up within. It felt so wonderful that day to be someone else for a brief period, to forget how old I was, how responsible and respectable I'd been for so very long. It had been so liberating to plan it and then to actually go through with something for a change instead of always fantasizing but never acting.

Given the opportunity to go back I'm not certain whether I would do it again or not. It was so wonderful and I felt things I haven't in so long that it would be hard to imagine not having it as a part of what now defines who I am. I did things I haven't done in a long time and I also did things that I never have. I enjoyed every moment of it.

Every moment that is, until I made my way out of the hotel where I'd just spent the last nine hours. Much of that time had been spent nearly or completely naked. I was feeling giddy with the exhilaration of what I'd done as well as a little bit used and a little bit sore. I'd forgotten that some of those muscles existed.

As I stepped out into the cool evening air I suddenly felt very very exposed in my short skirt with nothing beneath. The coolness drifting up between my thighs was unnerving and I couldn't wait to reach the secure confines of my car.

That morning I'd acted on impulse at the last moment and slid the gossamer black lace thong down my legs and off, then tossed it in the trunk along with my big clunky purse before heading across the parking lot and into the hotel for my rendezvous. Being naked beneath the short little pleated skirt had felt wonderful then. Leaving, I felt an overwhelming sense of awkwardness.

Spotting my car I made a beeline for it, hitting the remote lock release that I retrieved from the small purse I carried. No flash of headlights to indicate that it had undone the lock. Dammit, the battery must be going on the keyfob again, I would have to unlock the door manually resulting in the inevitable alarm beep beep beep until I could get the key into the ignition to overide the system. I inserted the key in the lock, turned it and grabbed the door handle. But there was no sound and the handle did not release the door.

Suddenly I realized that a man was sitting in the driver's seat staring at me in a rather perplexed manner. The awkward feeling brought on by my pantyless condition was multiplied tenfold. A fast visual scan of the vehicle told me that not only was it not my car, it wasn't even the same make. It was red like mine but the similarities stopped there.

Backing away quickly I mouthed a ¨Sorry¨ in his direction. Scanning the general area I saw no other red vehicle. I must have parked on the other side of the hotel that morning and in my excitement not made the proper mental note with regard to location. It wouldn't be the first time I'd forgotten where I'd parked.

Fifteen minutes later I'd searched both lots several times to no avail. Now I was really beginning to panic. It seemed that my car had been stolen.

Instinctively I reached in my purse for my cellphone only to remember that I'd left it in the big clunky bag I'd put in the trunk.

The pay phone in the lobby wasn't going to work for me either, as I had no money in the small purse, only lipstick, some other makeup, and a half dozen condoms. A lot of good they would do me now.

As for calling, my first reaction was to call my husband like I always would. But he was two and a half hours away and besides which he could never ever know about where I was and what I had been up to. I remembered that pay phones will generally allow a 911 call without feeding the box with coins so I tried that.

While I waited for the police to arrive, the panic festered. I now needed to go to the bathroom, both my bladder and bowels begging for release and my stomach churning like a washing machine. I felt myself beginning to shake uncontrollably. How could I ever have been so stupid as to think this would have come off without a hitch. Here I was standing outside a hotel far from home waiting for the police to arrive and I was dressed like a common whore.

When the cruiser arrived I felt a sense of relief as a female officer stepped out. But the relief was short lived. Among other things she wanted to know for her report was whether I was a guest at the hotel and how long the car had been left in the lot. Add to that my appearance and it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what I'd been up to.

As she went to radio in the information I excused myself and went to the restroom. Never has it felt so good to evacuate my bladder and the same for my bowels. I took pride in the fact that I was able to keep it together enough so as not to puke my guts out. A little normalcy was beginning to return to my demeanor but I would have at that point sold my soul for a pair of nice clean panties.

The officer asked if I would like to call my husband to come retrieve me and didn't appear the least bit surprised when I said no. A friend perhaps? I decided very quickly that the only person I could possibly rely on in this situation would be Margo. Punching in her number on the cellphone the officer offered me, I regretted having to unveil my indiscretion to her but I knew she'd had her share of dalliances over the years, so she was not one to judge.

Having lined up Margo and finished with the reports, I watched as the patrol car exited the parking lot. I then headed for the hotel lobby. It was getting cooler and now I really was sorry regarding the morning's impulse to shed the thong. For an hour and forty five minutes I further regretted that I'd ever considered the entire foolhardy adventure.

Margo arrived and took one look at my wardrobe before shaking her head and chuckling. There was no lecture or questioning from her and I asked if she would take me somewhere and buy me a change of clothes. We headed for a Walmart as it had gotten late enough that it was about all that would still be open.

The only moment that was a little uncomfortable was at the checkout line. Margo watched as the cashier rang up some sweatpants and athletic shoes. As the simple cotton panties got rung up though, Margo looked me straight in the eyes. She knew. She knew something about what had happened that day, something that required me to obtain a fresh pair of cheap panties. We connected at that moment on a level that I never connected with anyone before be it male or female. I knew at that instant I had a wing(wo)man.

I'm amazed we didn't get stopped by the State Police on the way back home. I don't think Margo had it under eighty the whole way back. Still, it was nearly midnight by the time I stumbled in the door of my house.

My husband was still up and greeted me with a questioning look but not one of anger. He had every right to be upset that I was so late and that I'd not called. If he only knew what I really been up to he would have had even more reason to be upset. Believe me, he's not a pretty sight when he's angry. It had turned into a long and emotionally draining day. I wasn't in the mood for a confrontation but was prepared for one.

I explained about the car having been stolen and having to fill out a bunch of forms. He gave me a supportive sort of hug and let me slip away to bed. As I lay down that night I swear I felt even worse not having had a confrontation. I tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep and finally went back downstairs to try to deal with the situation. He was snoring away on the sofa, Jimmy Kimmel prattling away about some inane thing or another on the television. I located the remote and clicked it off before heading back upstairs but not before pouring myself a generous glass of merlot. After downing much of it, this time I fell asleep in a few minutes. But my dreams that night were unnerving to say the least.

The next day he was up long before I managed to get my weary body into the shower, dressed, and ready to head out. After dropping me at a car rental shop, he disappeared, leaving me feeling suddenly vulnerable as I filled out the various forms. It was almost too much when I had to use his credit card to obtain the vehicle but it was better than calling him to return and handle the paperwork for me.

Despite the fact that it was not yet the weekend, I decided to try something different that evening. We don't do ¨date night¨ but we often get naked together on Sunday morning and have a nice functional little fuck. He gets off and I almost do. My plan was to surprise him by moving the carnal activities forward about 36 hours.

Good plan, but then there had been the phone call from the police. My car had been located and we could go pick it up. He was surprisingly nonplussed with regard to it having been found so far away. There was no interrogation as to how the hell it got there, no discussion other than whether to grab dinner before we headed out or along the way.

Most of the journey was spent in silence. I just couldn't figure out where to go with a conversation. Guilt was really getting the best of me and what I had done was all that I could think about. I got the feeling that he wanted to hear me say something, provide an explanation for my car turning up an hour and a half from our home but nothing was said. I think it would have been so much easier if he had, but I imagine I would have probably lied anyway and that would have only made things worse.

He had taken the call from the police. All he told me was the community where the car had been located. Before we left the house he programmed the street and number into the GPS and ¨JoJo¨, as we refer to her as, guided us there. I was stunned when her final instructions led us into the parking lot of the hotel and began to tremble as a landslide of recollection tumbled over me.

Gratefully it was not the same officer as the previous evening and there was little to say. This one led us to the car as well as my second shock of the night. My car was sitting right where I had left it.

It appeared to be unscathed. I checked the trunk and sure enough, my purse was gone. A quick scan also revealed no sign of the skimpy thong panties. I was concerned that my husband might glimpse them which would then beg an explanation.

I had to fill out another report with regard to the missing items. I included the purse and contents but left off the panties for obvious reasons although they and the bra had been ordered from LaPerla and set me back almost two hundred dollars. After spending about an hour dusting the vehicle for fingerprints the police then let us leave.

The gas tank was nearly empty which required a stop at a service station to fill up, again using my husband's card. I trailed him on the way back, wondering who had been sitting in this seat. It needed a considerable amount readjustment before I fit behind the wheel again and was more than a little creepy. The missing panties only added to the image.

Saturday was a busy one for us. After returning the rental we headed separate ways for most of the day. Sunday morning he was up early and embroiled in a house repair project. So much for sex that weekend. Normally it wouldn't be that important, but that I was craving his body and physicality something awful. I wanted the closeness, I wanted things to be good between us. By the evening I resorted to masturbation but it was a futile effort. I wasn't able to cum and it just left me more frustrated and anxious.

All week I fretted about the situation. I'd done something truly horrible with regard to the preservation of my marriage as well as something that in hindsight was personally degrading as well. I couldn't imagine ¨getting past it¨. I couldn't believe that I had actually thought it would be worth the risk.

Margo and I got together for lunch on Wednesday. Nothing was mentioned about the rescue mission but it was like the elephant in the room. I know she was dying to find out more but I wasn't ready yet to talk about it. Perhaps someday.

I thought a lot about the events that led up to my adventure. The opportunity had just kind of fallen into my lap and at first I ignored it but the idea kept popping into my head over and over for many weeks. I couldn't shake and I discovered eventually that I really didn't want to. I had to scratch that itch.

My position as a travelling sales rep took me all over the state and although years earlier when I began, it had seemed challenging and fun, I'd grown to dread much of it. Over and over I would meet with the same people. I had marvelous solutions for their problems but it was such a struggle to see them implemented. It wasn't about budgets, in our industry there always seemed to be plenty of funds available. It was about the limits that individuals seemed to set for themselves.

I'd grown tired of dealing with people who couldn't seem to connect the dots on their own, people with no imagination. They needed everything spelled out implicitly for them at all times. You couldn't present them with the germ of an idea that they would then take off with. Every little detail needed to be spelled out or they would get frustrated and sometimes even insolent.

They also seemed to need for it to be formulaic, everything needed to fit into predictable patterns, at times patterns that had nothing at all to do with the situation at hand. It was most important that things be able to be categorized, be able to fit a box somewhere. Heaven forbid it be a fresh idea or worse yet, something that might be challenging.

My opportunity seemed like a way for me to exorcise some of these demons, a way to do something totally out of the box (for me), a way to demonstrate to myself that i wasn't just another one of the same drones that I called upon. At least that was the way I had justified it to myself. Truth be told I imagine it was something more primal going on within me but I needed a rationalization to allow me to move forward.

So I did move forward and for one glorious period of six hours I enjoyed a physical dimension I never imagined possible. Then came the aftermath that led to the unease of being almost caught, the second guessing myself, the building sense of anxiety, and a sort of vulnerability I hadn't felt since I was a child.

Then the panties showed up.

I didn't know that my husband was watching as I folded the laundry that day. After neatly halving a pillowcase I looked back to the laundry basket and there they were. At first it didn't seem real, then I picked them up, holding them at arms length by the waistband. They were so skimpy, so lacy, so... obscenely sensual. I couldn't now imagine ever having worn them.

How the hell had they gotten there?

I was startled to realize he was standing there in the doorway. Our eyes met. There was a lot going on in his eyes as he stared straight back at me - sorrow, firmness, confidence, and also a calmness that spoke volumes.

My heart raced and I shuddered.