It began with a fire in the upstairs Lingerie Department of my local Debenhams department store. Something in the adjacent restaurant had exploded in a ball a flame, and the first thing I knew was one of the attendants grabbing me by the arm and hauling me out of my cubicle.
To say the situation was inopportune would be a gross understatement. At that moment I had been trying on a bright red Basque with accompanying black seamed-stockings and sharp stiletto heels, with a view to purchasing the entire set, when suddenly I was whisked out of my cubicle and into a concourse full of people.
I should say at the outset I don't normally wear such clothing, and I was only buying those things as a special treat for my partner's birthday. Like most men he was in to all that stuff and after much pressure I'd finally promised I'd get 'something sexy' for him ... but even pulling them on in the privacy of the cubicle made me feel embarrassed and vaguely ashamed. As I'd examined my reflection in the full-length mirror I knew I looked sexy (I'm young and slim with long blond hair, and the Basque fitted me well), but I didn't know if I could actually bring myself to wear such an outfit in front of any man.
I mean, for God's sake, I looked like a tart with only one thing on her mind!
Indeed I was just telling myself this outfit was definitely not for me when I'd heard the loud booming noise. Then, without warning, an arm had reached in and unceremoniously dragged me out of my private chamber and into a crowd of people.
Well you can imagine my reaction - suddenly finding myself standing there exposed for all to see and dressed like a French whore (or that=s how it seemed to me). I was embarrassed, ashamed, and horrified, and I stood there ducking and cringing like a character out of a bawdy Carry-On film who'd suddenly had her dress torn off and didn't know what to do. I spun round, screamed, and tried to cover my Basque and stockings with my suddenly tiny hands.
It was a nightmare. It was that dream where you're naked and running away and everyone=s looking at you, and no matter how fast you run you don't make any headway. You feel exposed, ashamed, mortified (and maybe just the vaguest bit turned-on), and you know everyone's looking at you and leering at you, and you just want the ground to open up and swallow you!
But then, slowly (or at least it seemed slowly but it probably wasn't) I began to see that everyone was running madly about and nobody was looking at me ... well almost nobody.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see one young chap hanging back and staring at me with his mouth open and an odd look on his face. He seemed to be torn by two conflicting desires. I could tell from his expression he wanted to ogle me ... he had than grinning leer men get when they see something that turns them on ... but he also seemed to be wanting to follow the crowd and run away. He half-tripped and almost fell in his confusion, and I couldn't help but grin at him. He half-grinned back at me, continued to stare for a moment, and then disappeared into the crowd.
It was about then I began to realise my situation was much worse than I'd thought.
I was assailed by an acrid smell, and I could see clouds of smoke beginning to billow out from a room at the far end of the aisle. The hubbub around me began to penetrate my brain, and I realised everyone was shouting something about 'fire' and urging each other to 'run'.
Abruptly I understood what was happening. The store was on fire and I had to get out. But even as I began to move forward I knew I couldn't just run outside dressed the way I was. I mean, alright it might save my life, but once the panic had subsided it wouldn't take long for everyone to notice my attire, and the thought of all those men grinning and ogling at me (not to mention all those hands in the crowd that might suddenly find themselves pawing at my body) was enough to make me pause and seek for something to cover myself.
But there was a problem. I was in the Lingerie Department, and the brassieres and panties and suspender belts hanging nearby, didn't seem to offer much in the way of cover. In fact, as I thought about it, I realised covering myself with even more lingerie was not a very clever idea! So I turned back towards the cubicle I'd been in ... but that wasn't a particularly bright thing to do either!
I=d only gone about four or five paces when there was another muffled bang, and smoke and flames erupted through the wall in front of me. As I stared in horror, I saw the curtains of the changing room cubicle ignite. I turned round again, back towards the exit, but then I saw to my dismay that everyone else had already left and I was alone. Suddenly my state of undress didn't seem quite so important, and I rushed forward towards the exit. Even so, as I made it to what I thought was the exit door, I grabbed a nylon gown off one of the models and half-wrapped it around myself. Then I flung the door open and leapt through.
But it wasn't the exit door at all.
Instead I seemed to be a long thin storage area, piled high on either side with boxes and clothing wrapped in cellophane, and ending in a window some ten yards in front of me. I spun round to go back out, but the aisle behind me was already filling with dense choking smoke. After only two steps I knew I'd never make it that way, so I retreated back inside the storage room and shut the door.
I remember standing there with a growing feeling of terror and dread as I realised I was trapped and there was no way out! I think I must have panicked for I have no clear recollection of what happened then. Everything went blank for a couple of minutes, and it was only sometime later I found myself by the back window. How I got there I don=t know, but as my brain began to work again I remember looking up and staring at the bars in front of the window.
For one awful moment I stared my own death in the face.
But I'm not the kind of person to give up without a fight. So I shook my head and told myself to calm down and think. Looking back towards the door I saw only tiny wisps of smoke drifting up from under the doorway and I realised the door was probably a fire-door. I had a little time before the inferno outside would penetrate. As I grasped the window-bars in my hands, I looked out through the dirty glass to the clean safe air only inches away.
Maybe I could break the glass?
Maybe somebody would hear me?
Maybe there was still time to get out?
The room was full of cardboard boxes and cellophane-wrapped clothing, and for one terrible moment I thought I there was nothing I could use to break the glass, but then in the corner I saw a long wooden pole with a metal hook on the end. I rushed over to it, grabbed it with both hands and ran at the window, thrusting it forward with all my strength towards the glass.
I was surprised at how easily it smashed through the glass. I must have thought it was toughened glass or something but it wasn't, it was plain ordinary window glass. In fact I was so surprised I almost pushed the pole too far, and it nearly hurtled right out the room and on into the early evening sky. But fear helped me hold on and I just managed to pull it back. With my heart pounding wildly, I used the pole to break every inch of glass in the window frame. Finally I dropped it on the floor and pushed myself as tight up to the bars as I could get. Then I opened my mouth and screamed and screamed at the top of my voice.
I didn't know it at the time but the Fire Station was only a couple of streets away from the store, and within minutes two engines were already arriving at the front of the building. Five minutes later there were four vehicles crawling with firemen at the front, and one round the back.
The window I'd broken (and was currently screaming out from) was on the second floor at the rear of the store. Luckily (or so it seemed at the time), the fire team at the back of the building saw me almost as soon as they arrived, and within moments a platform was being set up against the wall and a burly fireman in breathing gear was starting his ascent.
In the event the timing was critical, for even as the fireman reached through the window to attach some sort of cutting device to the bars, there was a creaking and hissing noise behind me and smoke began to poor into the room. It probably only took two minutes for him to cut away enough of the bars to get through to me, but it seemed a lifetime. By the time he was in the room I could hardly see him for the smoke and my head was getting starting to get fuzzy and dim.
"S'okay missy," he shouted to me as he clambered through the window. "You'll be ok now."
It=s a curious thing but it was then, as he was effectively saving my life, that I had the first premonition of what was to come. I think it was the look on his face as he took in for the first time exactly how I was dressed. Somewhere along the line I=d dropped the nylon night-gown and I was standing there (swaying gently with the effects of the smoke) dressed only in that tight red Basque, brief red panties, black stockings and high-heeled shoes.
He lifted up his face-mask and looked me up and down, and the last thing I remember before I passed out was him saying, "Nice lady ... very nice!"
II
I don=t know how long it was before I woke up, but when I did I knew immediately something was wrong. I was in the back of a dimly lit vehicle ... a fire truck of some kind judging but all the equipment attached to the walls ... but it was most defiantly not an ambulance. I was lying on a green blanket on some kind of metal bunk, still dressed as I had been when I was in the store, and two firemen were sitting opposite me apparently examining my body in minute detail.
"Where am I?" I whispered, my head still groggy from the smoke.
One of the firemen, the older of the two, raised his eyes from my legs and looked up at me.
"You're safe ..." he said softly, but with a strange undertone.
"But where am I?" I repeated trying to lift myself up to a sitting position, and suddenly noticing I was still dressed in all that disgusting lingerie. "Have you something I could wear ...please?"
"No," whispered the fireman. "Sorry..."
"What...?" I said in genuine surprise. "What do you mean ... you must have something?"
But neither of the two men replied. Instead they just sat there staring at me ... until I began to suspect what was happening.
Both of the men seemed to be genuine firemen, dressed as they were in their traditional firemen outfits of thick black coats and trousers, with a bright yellow line around the bottom and the middle of the jacket. They were also wearing heavy rubber boots and thick black gloves, and they still had their yellow fire-helmets on their heads, attached under the chin with a dark leather strap.
As I started at the older of the two men I could see dirt and grease marks on his face, and I suddenly realised he was the one who'd climbed in through the store window to rescue me. He was obviously a real fireman, so what was happening? Real firemen don't abduct the woman they rescue ... do they?
When I'd passed out he must have thrown me over his shoulder and carried me down the ladder. He would have had his hands around my legs. Maybe, I thought to myself, he'd felt my stockings and suspender straps. Maybe when he'd lain me down he'd touched my body? Maybe both of them had? Maybe they'd run their grimy hands up my stocking-covered legs, over my tummy and on to my breasts? Maybe their hands had lingered on my breasts for a while? Maybe they'd both knelt there feeling at my most intimate places, rubbing themselves against me and groping at my body? Maybe they'd got really turned on...
As I sat there staring at the two silent faces, half-hidden by their yellow helmets, I wasn't sure if I should be terrified or excited. What were these men planning to do to me? Was I about to be raped by two muscular firemen in black leather uniforms? But what would they do then? Would they hurt me?
"I ..." I started to say, but the older fireman raised his hand and interrupted me.
