This is part one of a fictional story, told in the first person, about the discovery of arousal for a woman like many that you might see at the mall, a PTA meeting, or in the corporate conference room, just one mistake away from being on a journey to exposure and submissive exhibitionism.
In order to understand my story, you should know, one of the first sexually stimulating things I can recall, had to do with an unlikely source of inspiration. I was watching one of those light hearted romantic comedies from the 1950s. You probably have seen the type. They often starred somebody like Doris Day or Rock Hudson and had a completely sophomoric plotline and sexual viewpoint. The one that affected me, had as a secondary plot, a young, buxom, very blonde secretary of a much older man who was always being completely chauvinistic and inappropriate. She had the little mini uptwist hair-do and wore the kind of super thin pencil skirt that showed off the wearer’s shape and made a mincing gait necessary.
It was a pretty stupid movie, but the climax included a situation in which the older boss in his light gray tweed suit had given in to his amorous desires and was chasing her around the office. She was in a squealing distress and as she “ran” away around the desk, parts of her wardrobe either snagged on something and ripped off, or he “accidentally” grabbed and her momentum caused her clothing to come away. It was a G rated film so the cutaway shots always had an arm or hand over the truly naughty bits that were exposed. Eventually she got caught and loved it. Of course, the protagonists burst into the room and she was embarrassed to be discovered de flagrante, but the insinuation was that she had submitted as the boss had red lipstick prints all over his face and her bra tangled on his arm as she fled the room in the buff.
It was the pursuit, her capture and--though apparently unwilling--a major source of arousal for her that got me. I thought and feel exactly the same way. I hate the embarrassment, but I love the situation or someone compelling or creating a situation in which I am involuntarily exposed. Though my story is initially seems oppositional, it was immensely arousing for me and has led to an awakening of an intense form of erotica for me, so much so, that I seek it situations that will render me in an embarrassing or compelled exposure. In short, I hate the embarrassment and love it, a true love/hate situation where I have no choice.
“You know, Jana, it’s not as undignified as you seem to think, letting someone help you out a little,” said my best friend Jennifer.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m not so pathetic that I need you setting me up on blind dates.”
“It’s not like that at all,” she said, “You work all the time, girl. And I know how picky you are.”
“Picky???” I said raising an emotionally outraged eyebrow.
She laughed.
“Yes! You are the most intellectually snobby woman I have ever met... at least outside of my Ivy League friends.”
It was a little bit of a verbal jab by her. I knew that. Jenn and I had known each other years before she had gone to Brown. I wanted to go to Harvard, but I had contracted the flu the day I was taking the SATs my senior year of high school and the poor scores had done me in. Instead of Harvard I ended up at the University of Centrificial Florida. It was a good school, but she knew I always felt a little self-conscious when it came to others with more highly regarded academic credentials. It was probably due to such motivation that, these nearly twenty years later, I had become such an overachiever and workaholic, which was why she was trying to set me up on a blind date.
In fairness, I was somewhat lonely. I did bury myself in work. Granted it had led to great professional success and a certain stature in the community. I was a member of the chamber of commerce, the Junior League, and an awardee of an outstanding business women’s association recognition, but at times I did also wish I had someone. It wasn’t like I was homely or anything. In fact, I am considered “pretty” though I wish I had a slightly smaller nose. I have a long-- what I would call patrician-- face. Think Sara Jessica Parker, sort of, I guess. I have hazel eyes and blonde hair that is not exactly my real color...And there is one other thing, and it requires some further explanation, or maybe justification, is a better word. I have had a breast augmentation. It goes back to a wild hair I got after someone I liked very much sort of dumped me and ended up married to a very buxom rival just six months later. I reacted and should probably have considered it when I wasn’t as emotionally driven. The competitive nature had kicked in yet again, and my surgeon had been accommodating, so much so that now I am a bountiful thirty-two D cup on a five foot four inch, one hundred and seven pound frame. It has been something of a regret as I find that not only does wardrobe shopping require much more effort for something to fit, but there is a certain attention-- judgment from other women and assumptions and stares from men—that is not all that positive.
“So who is this guy?” I asked. “Some stereotypical, middle --aged, divorced Floridian you dredged up?”
Jenn smiled.
“His name is Ron. He owns his own communications equipment firm. “
“Where did he go to school?”
She gave a little laugh.
“God, Jana, you are the ultimate snob aren’t you?”
I looked away. It was true and she had called me out.
“He went to Yale,” she said.
I looked at her with interest.
She just laughed again.
“So, why is he not married?”
“Why aren’t you?” she said.
“Touche’,” I said.
“Actually, he’s a workaholic just like you, dear,” she added. “But if it would make it easier, Tom and I can double with you guys.”
I nodded. “I’d be much more comfortable with that.”
So it was set. We were going to meet up at a local sports bar and grill. It was a little casual for my taste, but it would at least make the mood light, like not a lot was at stake, and I liked that. We also agreed to make it a week night so if the chemistry was not working out, there would be the excuse of an early meeting the next day to bring it to a short conclusion. It all seemed pretty safe.
As I got dressed that evening I considered the kind of impression I wanted to present. I didn’t want to seem too distant, but I wasn’t exactly interested in looking, well... interested. Elegant but casual was what I was after. After a quick consideration, I put on a button down blouse, and slacks. I kept my makeup understated. I was all ready to have a very non-committal double date, then the phone rang.
It was Jenn. Tom had broken a crown and had to see the dentist immediately. She apologized and asked if I wanted to cancel. For a second I thought about it and then it hit me, “what was I in junior high school?” I could handle a dinner without help. I told her it was fine and that I’d go ahead.
I was halfway to the sports grill when it occurred to me that I did not actually know what my date looked like. I took it as self-congratulatory that I was just interested in the inner qualities of a suitor rather than the superficial. Still, I wasn’t sure I wanted to look foolish as I wandered around hunting for my “mystery date”.
I arrived and parked and got out of my car. I walked in and didn’t see anyone waiting by himself for the rest of his party so I walked up to the hostess who was dressed in a very tight golf shirt and shorts and said, “I am meeting someone, could I take a quick look around?” I hoped that I would see a single man looking as clueless as myself.
She allowed that I could and I started my process of trying not to search, but look too obvious. At the same time I was also trying to gage faces to identify him with some assurance. I mean I didn’t want to embarrass myself by guessing wrong, which brings up another quality about me. I have a substantial amount of pride and I detest being embarrassed. In fact, it is almost a pathological pet peeve with me to be embarrassed. So, I walked through the restaurant with no luck, unwilling to ask and was just about to head back out to the front when I heard a voice say “You must be Jana.”
I turned and seated at a table for four was a man that could have been a winner in a Danny Devito lookalike contest.
“Uh, yes,” I said.
“I’m Ron,” he said standing.
I smiled, shook hands and sat down across from him. I noticed his eyes drop instantly to my chest. To his credit he looked back up fairly quickly.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked.
“Jenn called. She said Tom had a dental emergency and that I should be on the lookout for a lost blonde.”
He chuckled. I started to say something reactively scathing, but I bit my tongue. Again his eyes dropped to my bosom. If first impressions mean anything we were starting off badly. He was making his estimations based on my looks and I was making mine based on his attitude and behavior. At the same time I felt an odd little charge. I dismissed it, driving it from my mind.
‘Yes, well,” I said “be that as it may, I hope his tooth isn’t too serious.”
“Me too,” he said. “Would you like something to drink?”
The waitress had arrived. She was pretty, young and bosomy. I noticed him give her a once over as I ordered a white wine. I was already planning on making it a short night and that just confirmed it. He was a letch. He ordered a beer and as she left I said, “so I understand you went to Yale.”
He smiled.
“Jenn said that impressed you. I did. She didn’t say where you went.”
I sat up straighter.
“UCF.”
“Oh,” he said.
I watched for some judgment. He just smiled slightly and gestured at a screen over the distant bar.
“Your guys are playing tonight, I see,” he said.
I looked over. They were.
“You are a football fan right? Jenn said your dad was a coach?”
“Yes.”
It was true. My father was a high school coach and it was a huge part of our home culture. My brothers had played. I had even cheered in junior high and high school.
“Jenn said you were a cheerleader?”
“Yes,” said.
“I’ll bet that was quite a sight.”
The way he said struck me wrong. I glanced away to hide my evident flash of disturbed propriety and how it was really affecting me. I looked back at him only to find him locked on my chest again. I think I even reddened a little just then, partly from the offense and partly from embarrassment. At that moment the waitress returned with our drinks and I took a sip. It was obvious we were not going to be a match made in heaven, so we ordered quickly and she was away again.
His comment still bothered me. I was just about to say something about how inappropriate I thought it was, when he let out an anguished “Ohhhhh”.
I followed his attention to the television screen. My team had just scored a touchdown. He seemed to be rooting for the other squad.
I smiled. He looked back at me and saw it.
“Oh sorry,” he said, “My brother went to Duke.”
“Your brother will be disappointed,” I said confidently.
“Mmmm, I don’t know. Your guys have been chokers lately. “
I think I was as offended by that as I had been by his open looks at my chest.
“Strike two,” I thought
“Uhhh noooo, I don’t think so.”
He smiled.
“Care to back that up?”
“What do you mean?” I asked wrinkling my brow.
