‘Walk, please,’ he announced.
Would she stumble and disgrace herself?
Shirley advised, ‘Get your centre of gravity above the balls of your feet. When you walk, your toes go down first. Remember, one foot in front of the other.’
‘You can do it,’ Percy encouraged.
It was like having a cheering squad boosting her. Constance set her feet firmly, shifted forward and concentrated on the sensations her legs’ muscles were feeling. It felt good – an elegant tension that rippled up her limbs.
And she was erect.
Constance took a short step, then another. Emboldened, she made the next one longer and stumbled but caught herself.
‘You’re doing fine,’ Shirley told her.
‘And now you are become a veritable swan!’ Percy exclaimed. ‘Look at what those shoes have done to your legs in the mirror. Pull your skirt up a tiny bit, there’s a good girl.’
Blushing with pleasure, Constance pinched the fabric just above her knees and lifted her skirt’s hem a few inches. In the mirror, her ankles had become more slender, her calves fuller. There were dimples in her knees and her thighs looked shapelier than she’d imagined them to be – not that she’d ever given much thought to what her thighs looked like.
‘Oh!’ she said. In a rush, she added, ‘Perhaps I’ll take two pairs like these.’
‘No,’ Percy told her. ‘That’d be a waste. Come back in another week and we’ll try you in three and a half or even four inches. You’ll take to wearing real heels in no time, I promise. You’re a natural.’
‘But she’ll take three pairs of stay-up stockings,’ Shirley said. ‘Would you believe that she wears’ – her voice dropped to a whisper – ‘pantyhose.’
‘Of course I noticed. I just didn’t want to embarrass her by mentioning it.’
As Percy wrapped, Shirley gave Connie a quick lecture on how to sit to take advantage of her new look – ankles crossed neatly to the side, so demure, so enticing.
On the way back to the office, Constance got just as much passing masculine attention as Shirley did. It felt a bit like the time she’d got into her dad’s hard cider, thinking it was just spicy apple juice.
She stopped by the ladies’ room and popped another button at her throat. Jeff was way overdue to visit. Before they’d broken up, he’d paused at her desk at least once every other day. She couldn’t wait to see how he reacted to the new Constance but she imagined he’d be stunned, then contrite, then desperate to get her alone to make love. When he did, she’d leave the lights on. Ha! What he’d see would devastate him, and in a good way.
And she’d see him. She’d see Jeff’s naked body. How did she feel about that?
Jeff hadn’t passed by her cubicle that day, not once. Still, he had eight floors of PCs to look after. Perhaps he was very busy. Perhaps he’d simply given up on her. She had to face that possibility. What if Jeff took up with Shirley?
Constance had a quick flash of her ex entwined with her new best friend, two lithe and lovely young bodies, undulating urgently.
No.
She hit Control 5 on her keyboard and brought the Andrew’s Aircraft queue up. The screen was a bit misty but then she blinked and it cleared.
Constance pulled her cotton nightdress over her head and down as far as her hips. She paused. Why did she have to wear that ugly old thing? Modesty? Hadn’t she shed that? She yanked the offending garment up and off, tossed it into a corner, scurried into bed and slid deep under the covers.
Why the rush? So she wouldn’t see herself bare? Was that how it was going to be? A constant battle between her newfound pride in her body and all those sad years of puritanical conditioning? She was
She always had a penlight under her pillow, just in case she had to get up in the night. Constance snuggled down with her knees up, making a tent out of her bedclothes, and turned the light on. The bulb was actinic, and gave a blue-tinted light that washed the colour of her skin out. The pinkness had disappeared, leaving her very white. It made her breasts look as if they had been sculpted out of pure snow. She cupped her left breast. It was soft but resilient, and very warm, almost feverish. Her nipple wasn’t soft, though. It was quite hard. When she squeezed it between two fingers, it felt like rubber. A harder pinch made her gasp. A little tug drew pangs of pleasure from deep inside.
Jeff would have killed to watch her play with herself. He’d asked her for that but of course she couldn’t do it for him, not back then. Now?
Even stimulated, her nipple was still snow-white in the flashlight’s light. Somehow, it looked a bit evil – like the skin of a girl vampire in a movie.
She’d noticed that effect long before, though not in an appreciative way. She and her cousin Sarah had told each other ghost stories by the light of that bulb, shining it up under their chins to make themselves look scary. Once, Constance remembered, Sarah had put the bulb inside her mouth so that the light showed through her cheeks.
There was a thought. What would it look like glowing through the skin of her …?
Constance tucked her pillow up to elevate her head. Her knees came up higher and spread wide. Two very decadent fingers parted the lips of her sex. The lens of her penlight slipped in easily, as if she’d been lubricating. Perhaps she had. She pinched her lips closed just below the lens.
How pretty it looked!
Her skin was glowing from within her body, glowing pink now, not white. Her flesh must have filtered the ultra-violet out. She moved the light. The glow followed suit. She pushed it deeper. The glow faded, then brightened as she pulled it back. And faded. And brightened. And … and … and …
Look at me, Jeff! Watch me fuck myself with a penlight! Look at me. I’m going to get there. I am. I am. I’m so close … I’m …
Oh! Oh!
That’d been nice. It wasn’t quite like when Jeff had done it to her with his fingers, cock or tongue, but it was still very pleasant. That was an interesting lesson. While she waited to get back with Jeff there were ways she could cope with her growing need. She’d known that some girls got themselves off with their fingers, of course, and she’d try that, now that she was bad, like other girls, but she’d never considered using things.
Wouldn’t Jeff be surprised when she let him watch as she diddled herself with a penlight!
For the fourth time that Saturday morning, Shirley shook her head and told Constance, ‘I don’t think so.’
Constance pouted. ‘Why not? Doesn’t it look good on me?’
‘It looks great. Very sexy.’
‘Then?’ Constance checked herself in the boutique’s mirror. She’d never gone for a ‘tailored’ look before but it certainly worked for her. The minute she’d seen the trim little black-with-white-pinstripes suit in the window she’d known she had to have it.
‘The skirt, for a start,’ Shirley told her. ‘It only just covers the tops of your stockings, and then there’s a slit another three inches higher. The fit, for another thing. It really emphasises your shape.’
‘So?’