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Subject: {ASSM} NEW: Skirt Day, Ch. 17: World's Shortest Skirt (exhib, humil, d/s)
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<1st attachment, "sd8.txt" begin>

Skirt Day, by C. Maxwell

Chapter 17 - World's Shortest Skirt

The next morning, Wednesday, skirt day, Lisa spent nearly an hour
deciding what to wear. She was horrified at the idea of being
pantiless at work, so she wanted to make sure she was indeed
wearing the shortest skirt she had.  That would be the one she had
worn yesterday.  But Steve had indicated that she shouldn't wear
it again, and it was /so/ short. She cannot remember anyone in the
office -- or for that matter, anyone at all -- wearing a skirt so
short.  Surely, she could get away with wearing a longer one.

She considered the black pleated skirt that Steve had given her --
surely it would be short enough!  But then she remembered how
every twirl exposed her underwear.  What if Steve saw a shorter
skirt and she had to remove that protection?  That skirt exposed
so much.

She thought of her brown skirt, the one she bought to feel a little
more covered on her skirt days.  Maybe that's too long, she
thought, and she looked in her dresser and closet but could not
find it, anyway.  Cheryl must still have it, she thought.  She
would have to buy another one.

That left her first skirt, the green one that used to be perfect
but that she had shortened by 4 inches.  Still only mid-thigh
length, but less likely to flip up than the pleated one.  She
tried it on her naked legs.  A lot was exposed, she thought.  This
would be short enough, wouldn't it?  Still, she knew her white
panties would be only inches from view.  She imagined confronting
her coworkers without any panties at all under so short, so open a
garment, and prayed she wouldn't have to.  It's short enough -- no
one wears skirts shorter than this unless they're forced to, she
reasoned!

Looking at her naked legs in the mirror, she remembered that she
was forbidden pantyhose.  And her only pair of stockings were
torn.  She would have to buy more.  But today she would have to
leave her legs bare.

With the skirt she wore one of her white blouses.  It was low cut
and slightly transparent, she could see the outline of her white
bra through it.  She didn't have a jacket to go with her skirt,
though, and her open window told her that the day would be warm
enough. Should she find a more conservative blouse?  Something less
tight, less see-through?  No, she thought.  She wanted to impress
Steve.

What about shoes?  Her new shoes were too much -- too high, too
red.  She dug in her closet and found a pair of black, 2-inch
pumps.  Heels were expected of her now, she sensed.  She would
have to buy more.

As she prepared and drank her morning coffee and bagel, she jotted
down a shopping list:

    more short skirts
    stockings
    high heels
    thongs?
    camis?

She posted it on her refrigerator door and rushed off to the
subway.

As she walked, she took note of every other woman she saw.  What
if someone is wearing a shorter skirt than me?  Should I tell
Steve?  Most women she saw on her walk were wearing jeans, or
shorts, or calf-length skirts.  Just before entering the subway,
she saw a brunette woman with a straight-cut beige miniskirt
walking down the street. Her heart skipped a beat, but then she
realized that the woman's skirt almost reached her knees.  She
looked down at her own skirt and saw much, much more exposed
thigh.  At first she felt safe, but then exposed.  She found
herself strangely anxious for Steve's approval.  As she thought of
how he would react to her outfit, she could feel the first pangs
of arousal.  Her pussy was waking up, and already starting to
moisten.

As she waited for the subway train, her thoughts drifted to
Cheryl.  Cheryl!  She had forgotten about her, and that video
tape.  What would Cheryl make her do today?  The thought scared
her, but also excited her.  She was now decidedly horny.

Finally, the train arrives.  The subway car is packed, as usual
for this hour.  She squeezes past the (mostly) business men by the
door to find a spot to stand near the seats.  She holds on to the
bar overhead with one hand, and clutches her handbag close with
the other.  The train begins to move, and Lisa looks down at her
breasts, avoiding contact with the men she is so closely pressed
against.  She notices her bra, slightly visible through her
blouse.  She begins to regret the choice, but knows she cannot
turn back now.

After the first stop, the train becomes even more crowded, and
Lisa is pushed from all sides.  She cannot move; her arms are
fixed in position as the train continues its journey.

Then, ever so lightly, she feels it.  A hand.  The hand.  It is
ever so lightly caressing the inside of her knee.  It feels warm.
She knows it will journey upwards, up her naked flesh.  The first
time, she remembers, she was wearing pantihose.  Then, stockings.
Now, her entire legs are bare, and the hand's caress feels
especially intense.

She cannot resist looking behind her.  Who is doing this to me?
How do they always find me? But she can barely move to turn
around, and there are so many people she cannot tell who it could
have been.  She suspects a large man in a suit sitting at the
nearby seat, but she cannot see his face.  She stops looking back,
and takes in a breath as she waits for the hand to return. Please
come back, she thinks, as blood rushes to her sex.  She spreads
her bare legs a little, inviting, anticipating . . .

 . . . and she is not disappointed.  The hand returns, immediately
feeling the soft, warm skin of her inner thigh.  It strokes her
gently, and then more firmly, and then wanders upwards, towards
her ever moistening panties.  Lisa's breathing quickens.  She had
forgotten how it felt to be touched in so private, so sensitive a
place while surrounded by so many men.  She wants to thank the
hand, somehow -- to return the favor, if she could.  All she can
think to do is to spread her legs apart as far as she can in the
crowded car, and she does.

The hand seems to embrace the invitation by firmly cupping her
crotch.  Lisa knows it can feel how wet she is.  It must realize
how turned on she is, how much she wants it.  How nice it would be
to have a morning orgasm, here on the train, before even getting
to work.  All that tension, all that horniness, would be
dissipated without needing to ask Cheryl's permission.  She gives
in to the hand and pushes herself against it.  It starts to
vigorously rub her clit.  "Oh god yes!" she moans, as she writhes
herself against the hand.

Her moan does not go unnoticed.  It seems to echo in the crowded
train for a second, followed by an embarrassed silence. She sees
most of the eyes of the train shoot in her direction. The hand
disappears. A deep blush appears on her face. Some of the men are
smiling, some are whispering. She knows they can see her naked
legs, her see-through blouse. They heard her lustful moaning --
can they smell her need? What has she become? She has never felt
more embarrassed in her life.

When the train reaches the main station, she notices that many of
its riders sneak an extra look at her as they disembark.  Lisa
tugs her skirt down as low as she can and folds her arms across
her chest as she walks the short distance to her office.  Her
little show left her ashamed -- but very, very aroused.  She feels
that spark of exposure as her skirt sways around her thighs.
This is not my fault, she thinks. This is Steve's doing. Or is it
Cheryl's? Or is it her own?

Few people are in the office when she arrives.  Lisa walks from
cubicle to cubicle, slyly peering in to each open entrance to
check out the women. She is looking for skirts.  After her
mortifying subway experience, she could not bear to lose her
underwear.  It would be too much.

Fortunately, the few women in the office she sees are all wearing
pants.  She returns to her cubicle, and begins her work day, which
begins with her email.  There is nothing out of the ordinary --
and nothing from Steve.  What was she expecting?  Her final email
is from herself.  "Don't miss today's meeting," it says.

After a short while, Cheryl arrives and finds Lisa in her cubicle.
When Lisa sees her, she worries -- Cheryl would be the one to wear
a skirt shorter than me!  She's working with Steve to humiliate
me! So she looks immediately at Cheryl's legs.

But Cheryl is wearing elegant black slacks.  As usual, she looks
conservatively professional.

"So," Cheryl asks, "how did it go last night?  Did you find
Steve?"

Lisa is nervous.  "Sure.  We talked for a while and then I went
home."  Lisa looks back at her computer screen.

Cheryl does not leave.  "You just talked?  I saw how you were
dressed last night.  I'll bet Steve jumped you as soon as he saw
you.  Tell the truth, Lisa."

Lisa continues looking at her computer.  "No, Cheryl, he did not
jump me.  We just talked, and I went home."

Cheryl gets close to Lisa's ear, and whispers, "Listen here, Lisa.
You know what I'll do if you lie to me.  I want you to be
completely honest, or you will very much regret it.  Now, what
happened with Steve last night?"

Lisa speaks softly, still not looking at Cheryl.  "We really only
talked.  I wanted to have sex but he showed me out."

"Hmm.  What did you talk about?"

"I made it clear to him that I would do what he said.  It's all
been spelled out."

"And did he ask you to do anything?"

Lisa hesitates.

"Or should I ask him?" Cheryl threatens.

"No, I'll tell you.  He said I had to wear the world's shortest
skirt.  He said that if he sees anyone wearing a skirt shorter
than me then I'll have to remove my underwear.  And I really can't
do that today.  I chair my department meeting today and it would
be humiliating to do it without panties.  So I'm praying that no
one will wear a shorter skirt than me today."

Cheryl laughs.  "With that tiny thing, you probably don't have to
worry."  But then Cheryl thinks for a second.  "But you might go
down to the third floor and see what Yukie is wearing."

"Yukie?  Who's Yukie?"

"You don't know Yukie?  You've probably seen her on the elevator
once or twice.  She's a secretary on that floor, from Japan.  She
likes to wear really, really short skirts, every once in a while.
She really has the legs for it, too.  Cute girl.  She's only been
in the U.S. for a few months.  I should introduce Steve to her . .
. "

And so Lisa finds herself on the elevator, going down nervously to
the unfamiliar third floor to find a girl she's never met, and
compare the length of her skirt.

As the elevator doors open, Lisa sees a Japanese secretary at a
nearby desk who simply must be Yukie.  Beneath her open desk,
Cheryl sees white and black striped socks stretching from her
platform mules to a couple inches above her knee, followed by bare
thigh. Lisa knows there must be a skirt up there somewhere, but
she cannot see it. Her hair stands in two vertical pigtails, and
her eye makeup shows shapes of pink and blue.  Glittery earrings
hang from her ears.

Lisa approaches her, tempted to peer under the desk, but not
seeing a way to do so politely.  "Can I help you?" asks Yukie with
a high-pitched voice.

Lisa smiles.  What should she say?  "Are you Yukie?"

"Yes!  Pleased to meet you."  She pulls her chair away from her
desk and extends her hand for a handshake.  "And you are?"

Lisa looks at Yukie's lap.  Her navy blue, pleated skirt is barely
there, leaving Yukie's bronze thighs exposed to the top of her
over-the-knee socks.

"I'm Lisa.  I work upstairs.  I heard about you from Cheryl, and
thought I should meet you."

"Cheryl's a nice lady," says Yukie, nodding.  "Pleased to meet
you, Lisa."

Lisa smiles again.  How can she explain?  Should she just ask her
to stand up and show off her skirt? "Yukie, do you want to come
downstairs and get some coffee with me?  My treat."

Yukie looks briefly at her desk.  "Okay, but we must be very
fast."

Yukie stands up.  Lisa notices first that Yukie is more than a
foot shorter than herself.  Then she notices that her skirt falls
down her thighs barely at all.  It is clear that her fears are
confirmed -- Yukie is actually wearing a much shorter skirt!  It
seems to cover Yukie okay, but then, Yukie's short stature and
thin hips allow the short garment to be sufficient.

As Yukie and Lisa get back in the elevator, Lisa wonders what to
do.  She knows that Cheryl will show Yukie to Steve.  She feels
her panties against herself, that small, thin protection, and
already begins to miss them.  What should I do?

The elevator quickly reaches the first floor, and as they get out
Lisa notices Steve waiting at the elevators.  Oh no!  He'll see!
Quickly, she pulls Yukie around the corner into a public restroom,
hoping that Steve didn't notice.  She thought she saw him turn his
head.  Was she fast enough?

"What are you doing?" demands Yukie, looking at Lisa as though she
is crazy.  "I think I should leave."

"No, wait, Yukie, I'm sorry.  Please don't leave.  Let me
explain."

Yukie folds her arms and waits.  Lisa hesitates.

"Well?"

"Okay, okay.  That guy out there, waiting for the elevator, he's .
. . well, we have a deal.  The deal is that I have to be wearing
the world's shortest skirt, or at least the shortest in the nearby
vicinity. I simply have to be.  And I heard you were wearing a
shorter one, and I was afraid he'd see you.  That's why I pulled
you in here."

Yukie smiles.  "That's funny!  Why did you make this deal with
him?"

"It's . . . a long story.  But you see, that's why we have to
hide."

"I need to get back to work.  My boss will be angry if I am gone
for too long."  She walks toward the door.

"Wait!  He might still be out there."

Yukie turns around.  "So what do you want?  You want to wear my
skirt?"

Lisa had not considered the option.  Did she have a choice? "Would
you mind?  Do you think it will fit?"

Yukie looks down at her skirt.  "I've had this skirt since high
school, in Japan.  It used to be my uniform."

"That was your uniform?  It's awfully short, isn't it?"

"Well, we shorten our skirts to our tastes.  There was cute boy in
my class and I wanted his attention, so I shortened it a lot!  We
went out on a few dates after that.  Of course, then I was stuck
with this tiny skirt every day at school!"  She giggles.  "I'll
tell you what. We can trade, but only if you do something for me."

Lisa paused.  Another one, she thought?  "Anything," she says.

"Buy me lunch today, be my friend!  I've been here for months and
only boys to talk to."

Lisa smiles.  "Of course!  You've got it."

Yukie smiles and unfastens her skirt.  She pulls it down her legs
revealing white panties with cartoon kittens.  Lisa tries not to
stare as she removes her own skirt, revealing her plain white
cottons.  She feels a little strange, standing in a public
restroom with this half-naked girl she's never met, wearing only
her blouse and panties.  She hopes no one comes in!

The girls trade skirts.  Lisa pulls Yukie's skirt up her waist,
and, although it must sit high on her slim waist, she is able to
fasten it. Meanwhile, Yukie fastens Lisa's skirt.  On Yukie, the
skirt comes past her socks.

Lisa is not so nicely covered.  Lisa's extra height, the fact that
the skirt sits so high on her waist, and the simple the fact that
the skirt is very, very short leaves Lisa looking indecent. She
looks in the mirror and thinks she can barely see the bottom of
her white panties.  She tugs the skirt down as far as she can, and
her panties seem to be covered.  Just barely.

Of course, the skirt is pleated.  She gives a twirl and her
panties are immediately on display.  She would have to move very,
very slowly today.

"Okay?" asks Yukie.

Lisa is not so sure.  She is barely wearing anything on her legs.
She can't possibly go into her office like this, can she?  What
about her meeting?!?  But what choice does she have?

"Okay," says Lisa, and they leave the restroom.

Lisa is grateful to see that Steve is not waiting for them.  Maybe
he didn't see them.

The girls decide to meet at Yukie's desk at noon.  They return to
their respective offices.  As Lisa walks from the elevator to her
cubicle, she is very conscious of her short skirt.  She tries to
hold it down as she walks as slowly as she can.  She wishes she
had not worn heels, as they add a motion to her hips that makes
the skirt swish around, probably exposing her panties.

When Lisa returns to her cubicle, she is glad to be out of sight,
and eagerly returns to her work.

At about 11am, she gets an email from Steve.  "Lisa, please come
to my cubicle.  I have the paperwork you requested."

Lisa reads the email and scowls.  Usually, Steve brings her
paperwork when it's done.  Clearly, he wants her to have to walk
across the office.

She stands up and tugs down her blue pleated skirt as low as it
will go.  She thinks it is covering her panties, but she is
worried.  She pauses, takes a deep breath.  She thinks Steve will
be impressed, and the thought reawakens her arousal.  She hopes he
will touch her.

She walks between the long rows of cubicles, occasionally noticing
glimpses from her male coworkers.  Some of them poke their heads
out of their cubicles after she passes.  They try to be subtle,
but she notices them.  She hears their chairs squeak; it is the
only sound except for the sound of her heels on the linoleum
floor, announcing her humiliating parade.

When she reaches Steve's cubicle, she steps in, away from the
prying eyes.  Steve looks her up and down and smiles.

"You've outdone yourself, Lisa," he says.  "When I said world's
shortest skirt, you took it to heart, didn't you?"

Lisa blushes.  "Can you see my panties?"

Steve looks carefully.  "Um, no, not quite.  They're covered."

"Good.  Do you like it?"

Steve smiles.  "I do.  I like that shirt, too.  Nice and tight."
Lisa blushes, and feels herself get wet.  He approves!  He looks
her in the eye. "Say, did I see you on the first floor this
morning, with a Japanese girl? I couldn't tell, but I thought
maybe she was wearing a shorter skirt than you."

Lisa panicked.  "No, that couldn't have been me.  How could anyone
be wearing a shorter skirt than me?  Look at this thing!"

Steve laughed.  "Yes, I suppose you're right.  But maybe, when I
saw you, you were wearing a longer skirt?  Perhaps your green
one?"

Lisa remained silent.  She knew she was caught.

"The rule was that you had to wear the world's shortest skirt all
day.  You've only half followed it, haven't you?"

"But . . ."  Lisa was scared.  How could he take her panties
now?!?

"Maybe you should, therefore, be half punished."

"No, please, Steve, come on, look, this skirt is clearly short
enough!"

"Don't try to cheat me, Lisa.  Now, the punishment was for you to
remove your underwear.  So your half punishment is for you to
remove half your underwear.  Remove either your bra, or your
panties.  Your choice.  You may come back here in 5 minutes with
either in your hands."  Steve turns away.

Lisa doesn't know if she can do it, but the instruction from
Steve, she realizes, has awakened in her a lust and excitement
that is by now familiar but no less intense.  Yes, of course she'd
do it.  As she walked to the restroom, she considered her options.

If she removes her bra, she is certain that the outline of her
nipples would be visible through her thin blouse.  But if she
removes her panties, in this tiny pleated skirt, then she will
truly be naked.  Nothing will cover her ass, and everyone will see
her most private parts if she so much as turns a corner too
quickly. She could not have that.  She decides to remove the bra.

And that she does, while watching herself in the restroom.  She
pulls off her blouse and unhooks the bra.  Looking at herself in
her mirror, she realizes just how large her breasts are.  And as
she buttons her blouse, she realizes just how tight -- and low cut
-- it really is.  She had worried so much about her skirt that she
hadn't realized how much her buxom chest was exposed.  And now,
without the bra, the full shape of her breasts and nipples were
evident through the thin, almost transparent blouse.  What will
her coworkers think of her now?  As she looks at herself, she lets
her right hand creep under her ever-so-short skirt and touch
herself through her panties.  Why does it feel so good to be so
exposed?  Do I enjoy this humiliation?  Why am I so horny?

Knowing that the clock is ticking and that Steve is waiting, she
takes one last look and gives her skirt a final tug.  She makes
the long walk back to his cubicle, her bra hidden in her hands,
and delivers it to Steve.

"Good choice," he says.

Lisa thinks, will you fuck me now?  Please?

Steve puts the bra in his drawer and gathers a large, disordered
stack of papers from the top of his desk.  He stands up and hands
the stack to Lisa.

"This is all the work you've given me over the past couple days.
It was a lot but I've been working hard.  I hope you find it
acceptable."

Lisa looks down at the stack of papers.  Forms, letters, memos,
purchase orders, inventories -- everything she asked, all filled
out.  But she wished the stack were more orderly.  She could
barely hold all the paperwork in her arms.

"Do you mind if I organize the stack a little before I go?"

"Yes, I do mind.  Please, I don't want to see them anymore.  Go."

And with that he pushed her by her ass out of his cubicle.  Just
like the night before, Lisa yearned to feel his hand more, but the
push was ever so brief, and Lisa found herself in the hall holding
the ungainly stack of papers with both hands.

She started to walk back, and realized that her skirt was swaying
as she walked, probably flashing her panties.  She tried to free
up one of her hands to hold it down, but she almost dropped the
papers.  While recovering, she heard a sharp yell: "LISA!"

It was Steve.  She turned around to look at him, and as she did so
the stack of papers fell and scattered around the floor.  Other
workers heard the yell and they all poked their heads to see the
commotion.  What they saw was Lisa, the bitchy, arrogant young
professional, wearing the world's shortest skirt and a tight,
see-through blouse, surrounded by a stack of papers and holding
only a file folder, swaying open, its contents on the floor below.
Everyone in the office eagerly awaited her picking them up.

-----------
I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.  It was written especially for
Biker who has shared his own illustrative talents at his Yahoo!
group, bikersplacetoo.  An illustration of the above chapter
appears there.

This chapter was also inspired by young Japanese schoolgirls, who
replace their sexy sailor-girl uniforms with even sexier skirts,
socks, and shoes as they shop in Shibuya or Harajuku.  Trendy and
wild, I vote them the best dressed on the globe.

For pictures of Japanese schoolgirls, try www.shortskirts.net.

Please send comments to flapaddict#yahoo.com, replacing # with @.
All comments are welcome.
<1st attachment end>


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