Procrastination can be a terrible thing. It sometimes creates situations that force events to happen in a reckless and sometimes hapless manner.
So, though she knew the hamper continued to fill up throughout the week, there were just too many things that needed to be accomplished. Priorities.
Still, when a new opportunity came up and a last minute interview was scheduled on a Tuesday that was supposed to be a day off, there was nothing to do but put things off one more time.
The trouble here was the issue of underthings: specifically, panties, and more specifically clean panties.
The original plan was to use the morning to do the wash and to fluff and fold, and iron what needed ironing that afternoon. Typically, this was done in an old pair of loose fitting sweatpants with a drawstring tie and whatever semi-clean sweatshirt was available, or in the jammie bottoms and a tank top that she wore while sleeping. Either way, it was a NUN task: No Undies Needed.
It also was the perfect time of the week to do laundry, since the rest of the residents were at their normal jobs. No waiting for machines; no staring from disapproving tenants eyeballing her fashion selections or detergent determinations.
But the timing of this interview actually ruined two plans. Since she had to get there in a hurry, there was no time to even gather the dirty clothes together. And since she had no underwear, and only had a skirt as a clean clothing choice, something had to be done.
Consulting her watch, there was not even enough time to get into the grubby sweats and dash to the mall for a cheap pair.
But there was a solution. Buried in her suitcase, and actually purchased as a joke from a small shop in the French Quarter in New Orleans, was what you might loosely describe as underwear.
The item in question was really more of a thong, but it did cover all of the necessary parts. It was Midnight Blue, which thankfully matched her skirt, and it featured Mardi Gras beading, which was determined, after a quick test, to not make any sound when brushed or touched.
Thongs were not her panties of choice. In fact, this was the only thong she currently owned. She looked at the package, with its harlequin design and noted that there was a small instruction booklet that came with it. Who needed instructions on how to wear a thong? One leg goes in here, the other in there!
After a quick and steamy shower, a comb out and a look to be certain that her blouse was, in fact, clean enough to wear, it was time. She slipped into the thong, which had a pseudo-satin base, and she noted that it felt surprisingly comfortable for that type of underwear.
But wait! She needed a bit of a trim. It wasn’t that she was terribly unkempt down there, but the cut of the fabric was a little high and there was enough from her hairy patch that showed through on each side. Quickly grabbing her Lady Remmington, she gingerly shaved the offending hair so that it all fit.
But then, in a moment of impulse, she decided to go the extra step and after consulting the clock, decided to get rid of it all. Seven minutes later, she was bald, and lathering liberal amounts of moisturizer on to make that sensitive skin feel as silky smooth as the panties into which she was about to slide.
After a moment to figure out how the decorative beads were designed to encircle her legs, and noted how it felt fully secure, yet like she was wearing nothing, she quickly slipped into her skirt, bra, blouse and sensible one-inch heeled loafers and made a dash to the office.
If she had bothered to read the instructions, she would have known not to shave her pubic area completely. But she was about to find this out. Because these weren’t ordinary panties. These were “Mistress Clara’s Magic Mardi Gras Funwear.”
The commute over to the office occurred without incident. There was nothing unusual or even noticeable about getting there. All concentration was on making it on time, a crucial point in any potential job interview.
It wasn’t until after arrival that she had a moment to take stock and sit in a leather wingback chair in the carpeted offices, and casually thumbed through a copy of Cosmopolitan.
As she flipped through the pages, something seemed odd. It felt a little like she had to pee. But that wasn’t it. She decided that maybe she should try to pee anyhow, to see if it would make the feeling go away.
But then, in an instant, she realized. She was getting aroused. At that moment, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was clear that she was drifting toward some serious libido area and needed to get back in control of her body. Did something she read in the magazine set her off? Or was it something else? She needed to get it together, since she was about to get called in for her interview at any moment!
When she shifted from one asscheek to the other, it hit her. The panties!
The thong was designed with a very thin, imperceptibly firm and surprisingly soft seam right in the front panel that ran right around to the back waistband. This seam just happened to rub against her clitoris, the folds between her labia and even gently touched her anus as it weaved its way around to complete the panty.
Now that she was fully aware of it, it was impossible to ignore it. Any movement of any kind caused this seam, which was invisible from the outside of the thong, to shift, move and stimulate.
The clitoris was so important to her orgasms. Though she could reach climax without direct clitoral stimulation, when there was someone who knew just how to brush, touch and taste her, the reaction wasn’t good, it was “off-the-charts” good.
So, when this seam was able, with just the slightest movements, to scroll down, up and most incredibly side to side, she could feel the blood flowing into her loins; this was the start of it. And this wasn’t bad; this was “remember-this-for-the-rest-of-your-life” bad.
Crossing her legs actually made it worse, because that forced the thong deeper and tighter along her pubic mound. She took a glance at the receptionist, who was busy with something on her screen and unaware of anything going on under that thong.
Quickly, and with a minimum of movement, she turned her wingback chair away from the open area. It took four low grunts to accomplish the task but once done, she immediately sat back down.
She could feel her body temperature beginning to rise. And she didn’t have to look to know that she was beginning to moisten. She bit her lower lip and wondered what she could do. Taking the panties off was clearly not an option, and she was already aroused, so that would allow everyone in the room to pick up her scent.
Perhaps shoving something between her and the seam would work. Of course! But what could she use? A page from Cosmo?
The bathroom! A couple of small squares of toilet tissue would save the day!
“He’s ready to see you now!” The receptionist called.
“I just need a moment.” Now, it was a battle of wills on a Wagnerian level. Could she overcome the stimulus she was feeling long enough to get to the lounge and diffuse this sexbomb before it explodes?
This was tougher than you might expect, since the blood from her head was quickly moving to her nether regions, and every single movement of her lower torso grasped, tickled, parted, trickled, scratched, caressed, annoyed, touched, brushed, plushed, rushed, crushed, lust, lust much too much!
She walked with her knees locked, robot-like toward the receptionist’s desk, which got a raised eyebrow. That’s when those beads kicked in.
The small, smooth black shiny pearls, each of which was about half the size of her smallest toenail, and strung together like a typical “Mardi Gras” set of beads, actually slid upward toward the crotch as she walked. Not only that but they seemed to tighten, not quite to a tourniquet force, but certainly a firm grip, sort of similar to a ponytailer around a wrist.
These little beads, which warmed to her own body heat, stroked the skin, gently rotating upward and they moved from the inner thigh outward in a circular motion and continuing to creep further up with each step. The effect was nearly like a set of fingertips continually massaging and sliding across her legs, caressing slightly but constantly pushing them…
“Oh! A Pen!” she blurted, seeing a ballpoint on the receptionist’s desk.
“Here take it.”
“Thanks. But what I really need right now is to”
“Hello there.” From the inner office came the perfect blend of suave sophistication and down-home charm. In a glance you could see he had eyes that could make anyone melt, which wasn’t fair at this point, since she was already starting to fry.
“Please come with me,” he smiled.
What would work? What would work? Hopping? Walking quickly? Clenching the ass? Clenching THAT ass. No! That’s not helping!
Ohh, damn, damn, damn! Damn that’s hot.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” He said, turning back to her.
“Nothing!” she struggled. “No. Could you direct me to the rest room?”
“I have one right in my office.”
“Unnh.” She rolled her eyes at the thought of this, but there was no other choice.
She was trying to think of anything to escape that feeling but she could see his neck, smell his cologne with the tones of citrus and wood, and followed the crease of his pants leg with her eye.
NO. Her mandible clenched tightly.
She managed to make a grimace seem like a smile as she rushed into the bathroom and threw the door shut, lifting her skirt up immediately to see what was happening to her.
The thong had wedged itself deeply into her crotch, and the movements of the panty had caused her clit to swell, making it that much easier for the seam to stimulate it more. Her lips had also swollen and dampened, and the crotch of the thong barely contained her as she inspected it. It was a viscous circle.
In fact, the panty was almost like a silken trap. She tried to pull it down, so she could insert the tissue squares, but it wasn’t moving.
“Mmm.” She said, considering what she needed to do.
She turned on the faucet and ran the water medium hot, dipping her middle finger in the stream. She leaned against the basin of the counter and slid her finger under the waistband.
At first it was actually difficult to get underneath, but in a matter of seconds, she had eased her hand down so that her fingertip was gently stroking her aroused clit. She could feel the folds of her smooth skin and the juices that were building up as she moved the panty away from herself.
As she loosened the front of the panty, the area near her anus was pulled taut and began to rub against her. The shock of that stimulation made her gasp. She covered her mouth with her free hand as she continued to stroke her clit with the other.
Her pussy was a faucet of its own, oozing nectar and even a small bubble at the mouth.
She shuddered as she let her finger slide down, still pressed against the clit, but curling and entering her pussy.
She exhaled deeply as her finger entered, pulling the seam against her aroused asshole as she did and started to jiggle her wrist up and down, letting her pussy lips tighten around her finger.
The water continued to run, masking any sound as she started to rumble gutturally, eyes rolling into the back of her head. She kicked off her shoes and splayed her toes as her legs rose from the floor and the thong part of the panty sawed back and forth between her cheeks as she used a second finger to open herself even further and moved her hand to allow her thumb to stroke her clit in a rapid feathery fashion up and down quickly. She was starting to go crazy.
Her legs made a perfect v as they began to tense as she started to moan more loudly, then alternating moans and sighs as she approached the moment. She pointed her toes and clenched her eyes as she envisioned her potential employer.
Um what? Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhhh. Ohhhhhhh. It’s happening. Yeah. Yes. Oh dam. There was no turning back. Her hand was doing three things at once fingers sliding in and out, moving the panty that caused her asshole to tighten. Holding. Hoolding. Hooooooolding. The lips. The air. The thumb strum to comecomecome!
She was on the edge, and for a second, it felt like she was leaping into a gorge, flying through space, as she pulled the panty so tight against her ass, it snapped, which also plunged her hand in deeply enough to reach the palm as she crossed into total bliss! Spasm, spasm, spasm, spasm!
Little squeals of delight with every mini orgasm followed for what seemed like two minutes, just like rapid-fire hiccups! Ee! Ee! Ee! Ee! Ee! Ee! Ee! Ee! Oh! Ee! Oh! Ee!
Panting and gasping for air, she hit the floor, and her head missed the toilet by only a fraction.
Her whole body shuddered and sighed as the last orgasm ceased.
When she looked up, she saw that the door to the bathroom had swung open, the water faucet had just started to flood the basin, her shoes were starting to get drenched and her panty somehow was sticking to the mirror, right next to her interviewer.
She got the job, plus insurance and dental.