Inga's Quest

Kinga entered the room, unbuttoned her coat and hung it in the wardrobe. She kicked off her shoes and placed them tidily on the carpet against the wall. She set her bag down on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Yes she was nervous of course she was, but she had made her decision and was adamant that she would see it through. She undressed, folded her clothes neatly and walked naked into the bathroom to turn on the shower. As she stepped into the cubicle and let the steaming water engulf her, she closed her eyes and thought back over the sequence of events that had led her here.

The first parcel arrived by post last Thursday, exactly a week ago to the day. She had collected it from the postman as she was rushing out of the door, late for work again as usual. She opened the door of her BMW and slid in. She tossed the package onto the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the parking space.

Traffic was a nightmare, mothers taking kids to school, blocking the roads as they dropped their precious cargo off. That was all she needed. She arrived at work stressed, frustrated and late. She picked up the package and clicked the button to lock the car doors. En route to her desk she grabbed a coffee from the machine before flopping into her chair.

She sipped at her coffee and picked up the little packet and turned it over in her hands. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and addressed in fine felt tip pen. K. Jones. The postmark was London and she did not recognise the handwriting. The wrapping paper was neatly folded and closed with sellotape, cut she noticed not torn. Kinga tugged at the paper causing a small tear at the corner. Exploiting this, she peeled off the wrapping to find a small white box. She lifted the lid, removed a layer of tissue paper and pulled out a blood red, satin G-string.

A small smile cracked across her face. She rummaged through the box looking for a note, but found nothing. Bemused she began to run through all of the possibilities as to who could have sent her this gift. Michael, M as she called him, a throwback to a 1990's Bond movie. Maybe, but the box was a bit formal. Then she discounted him as he was away for 2 weeks in the States and this was sent locally. The new guy in the office? Hmmm maybe, she even hoped so, but so far he had shown little interest despite her thinly disguised, flirtatious comments. Who then?

She sat spinning the garment on her index finger when her colleague Lauren walked in. "What's that?" she enquired. "Nothing" Kinga mumbled as she whipped her hands under the desk and felt herself blush.

Kinga was blushing again as she remembered. She was out of the bathroom and had fixed her make up using the full length mirror. She dried her hair then sat on the bed, opened her bag and took out all of the items she needed for the evening. As she sat there she thought back to the second parcel.

This arrived the following day, the Friday, again as she was leaving the house to go to work. The wrapping and handwriting were the same but the parcel a little bigger and flatter. She was far too curious to wait until she got to work, so she took it from the postman and went back inside the house to open it.

Sitting at the kitchen table she slid a knife under the wrapping and cut. The knife sliced through the paper to reveal a pair of black, nylon, hold-up stockings. The branding was French, La Perla, and the nylon looked sheer and dark. Once again she searched but found no note.

Carefully so as not to damage the fine material, she unwrapped the stockings, examined their texture and tested their sheerness by stretching them over the back of her hand. As she did so she caught a glimpse of her watch, 8:45. Shit she was already late again. The mystery would have to wait. Kinga rose from her chair and walked into her bedroom and dropped the stockings onto the top of her chest of drawers next to the box containing the string, before rushing out of the door to go to work.

The day had passed quickly and Kinga was tired when she arrived home.

It was the colour she first noticed rather than the objects themselves, deep red and shiny which seeped into her peripheral vision. She had to look twice to makes sure that her eyes were not playing tricks on her and they weren't, for neatly placed on her doormat sat a pair of graceful-looking stiletto shoes. The shoes were positioned so that they pointed out, away from the door; close together, but not touching. The bright red exterior was perfectly complimented by jet black, leather interior. The heel was tall, about three inches she estimated, and the shoe finished in a point that looked so sharp that you could punch a hole in your leg if you stumbled in them. Kinga picked one up and looked around in a daze, half expecting the bare-footed owner to rush down and take them from her before scurrying away. Of course nobody was there.

Inside her bedroom she stood with the shoes in her hand, looking at the stockings and the box containing the string. Who the bloody hell is sending me this? She wondered. She placed the shoes almost reverently on the floor, then took off her coat and let it fall onto the bed. She then unbuttoned her blouse slowly and slipped it off of her shoulders. Her bra followed and she felt her chest expand free of its restraint. Then she deftly reached around to the side of her skirt and unzipped it. It dropped into a crumpled heap around her ankles and she stepped over it. Last to go were the light tan M&S tights and her panties, which were both pulled off together and seem to knot as she sat on the bed and tugged them off of her toes.

Kinga then picked up the new hold-ups, stood and rolled them carefully up her legs. First the left leg and then the right. The fit was perfect. She then stepped into the string and pulled it up over her thighs and settled it into place across her hips. She walked to the mirrored wardrobe and turned first left and then right, admiring how the colour contrasted against her pale skin. Carefully she then stepped into the stilettos and crouched down to fasten the slim leather straps across the top of each foot. She knew even before she had placed a foot into either of them, that the fit, like the string and the stockings, would be perfect. She was not disappointed. Kinga felt her confidence rise as she grew with the added height of the shoes.

Time seemed to pass slowly as she looked at this woman staring back at her from the mirror. Her hair drifted over her shoulders and brushed gently on her breasts. The stilettos tightened her calves and seemed to stretch her legs, and the colour perfectly matched the blood red of the satin string. She turned away from the mirror and glanced back at herself over her shoulder. The shoes also tightened the muscles in her buttocks, giving her bottom a round, smooth shape. She smiled to herself before turning back to face the mirror.

She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and her hands on her hips. Her Wonder Woman pose, she thought. The heating was low and the slight chill in the room hardened and stiffened her nipples. Kinga shuddered as goose bumps spread over her skin, now her entire body felt taunt and she had to admit that she both looked and felt fantastic.

Her right hand slid off of her hip and round to rest on the fabric of the string. She slid her thumb under the elasticated top and gently rubbed the material between thumb and forefinger. It was smooth, delicate and sensual. She then allowed her fingers to run gently over the little inverted triangle of material, tracing the rises and falls of her pussy beneath. Her touch was light and tender and almost without her realising, her labia swelled and her dampness spread across the material. Kinga pushed her hand down the top of the string and her finger slipped into the sticky wetness of her sex. Her left hand braced herself against the mirror and in less than a minute she was orgasming with big wide eyes staring at this new woman who was staring back at her from the glass.

The following morning Kinga woke to dappled sunlight filtering through the curtains. She rose quickly and with a lightness in her step, anticipating the postman. As she showered she thought about her gifts; about her orgasm the evening before and what her admirer would have thought if he knew what she had done. It was enough to start her pussy tingling again, but she resisted the urge to play, anticipating better things to come later in the day. She ran through the possibilities in her head again, the guy from the office? Hmm still a possibility, she hoped so; Her husband M?,If it was it would be really out of character. Of course it need not necessarily be a man she realised, and her list of suitors increased.

Her head was still filtering out the possibilities when she heard a flood of letters fall through her letter box downstairs. Excitedly she ran down. Bills, bills and more bills. Feeling slightly disappointed Kinga pulled her keys from her pocket and left for work.

Kinga again felt the anticipation as she pulled the little white car into her parking bay outside her house that evening. She parked badly but didn't bother to reverse and straighten it. Instead she rushed to her front door in anticipation of a further gift. Nothing. She slid the key into the lock and let herself in.

As she entered the hall way she noticed the faint smell of wax and noticed light flickering under the door of her bedroom. A frisson ran down her body. She went into the kitchen and picked up the rolling pin that lay on the table. Now she was 'armed' she felt a little bolder. She took her mobile from her pocket and punched 9, 9, 9, and held her thumb just over the 'send' button. Creeping back into the hallway she opened the front door, 'just in case I need a quick getaway', she assured herself.

She then pushed open the door a fraction and called into the room. 'Hello?' She paused and listened. She heard nothing so she continued 'I know you are there so just come out now ok'. The silence engulfed her. 'If you don't come now I am calling the police!!' There was more of a hint of panic in her voice than the authority she wished to project. She pushed the door hard and it swung back on its hinges, slamming against the wall. Gingerly she entered the bedroom.

A single white candle stood in an old fashioned candle holder dripping wax into a pool on the top of her chest of drawers. All of her possessions had been removed from its surface and placed neatly on the floor. Everything, except for the gifts.

Her eyes scanned the room, she was alone so she relaxed a little. Turning her attention back to the display on the furniture she noticed that another box had joined the shoes, stockings and string. Before doing anything else she switched on all of the lights in the house and locked and bolted the door. Finally satisfied that she was alone, she refocused on the box.

As she sat on the bed with the box on her lap she noticed that her hands were shaking. Strangely, she thought to herself, she was not shaking because she thought that she was being burgled, but she realised it was in anticipation after having discovered the package. The fact that the sender had intruded into her private space no longer mattered, she just needed to see what was inside the box.

Unlike the other gifts this one was not wrapped in brown paper, presumably, she though, since it was hand delivered. The box was a black cube, with a lid which fitted tightly over the top. The lid was secured with a red ribbon tied into a neat bow on the top. Red is obviously his colour, she thought. Kinga pulled at the ribbon with trembling fingers. It loosened and fell onto her knees. Clasping the box in both hands she prised the lid from the base and peered inside.

The handcuffs were metal, just like those used by the police. Beneath them was a black silk scarf, neatly folded and set in white tissue paper. As expected, there was no note inside the box. Kinga picked up the handcuffs and turned them over in her hands. The gate of one end swung like a pendulum. She went as if to snap it onto her wrist but stopped. There was something missing. She looked in the box then emptied the tissue paper onto the bed. The key to the handcuffs was not there.

The following morning she awoke to the sound of rain beating against the windows, the room was dull and the wind rattled the glass as it tumbled between the houses. She pulled herself wearily from the bed and walked across the room to open the curtains. She turned back towards the bed and noticed the letter on her pillow. She picked it up. The paper was thick, hand-made, and closed with a seal of wax. Not wanting to damage the paper she ran into the kitchen and took a sharp knife from the drawer. She slid it under the flap and cut through the seal. She went back up to the bedroom, sat on the bed and unfolded the letter. An airline ticket in her name for the following day fell out. She put it aside and began to read.