Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Devine Intervention by Danielshaw

   Marissa tries doing CPR in a denim miniskirt...

   On that scorching summer day, Marissa sought refuge in the bustling food
court of her local mall, indulging in her favourite refreshing smoothie.  A
sea of girls adorned in scandalously little skirts and plunging necklines
approached the food court, each one seemingly oblivious to the art of
preserving their modesty in a short skirt.  Her expression twisted with a
mix of disdain and disappointment as yet another group carelessly crossed
their legs, brazenly displaying glimpses of their panties pointedly in her
direction.

   Turning her gaze away from this disappointing sight, she surveyed the
scene before her.  To Marissa's dismay, not all the girls seemed concerned
about keeping their legs together, they shamelessly allowed them to part,
inviting prying eyes to explore forbidden territories.  And even amongst
those who remembered to close their legs, some were lax when it came to
pressing on their hemlines, a blatant disregard for concealing the telltale
pantie triangles between their thighs.

   Amidst the sea of scantily clad girls, Marissa maintained a steadfast
resolve to keep her legs tightly crossed, a stark contrast to the carefree
attitude exhibited by others.  A sense of pride enveloped her as she
recognized her mastery in navigating the domain of sitting in a miniskirt.
Yet, this display of skilled modesty did not go unnoticed.  Her immaculate
red puffy lips captured the attention of a group of college freshmen
nearby. Their gaze lingered on her, their minds wandering into dirty
thoughts, fantasizing about those luscious lips and picturing Marissa in
compromising positions with legs spread wide open.

   Placing her drink firmly onto the table, Marissa's attention shifted
from these unsolicited gazes to the gentle jiggle of her cute little
breasts contained within a snug white tube top.  A quick tug on the fabric
spoke volumes about Marissa's desire to maintain control over every aspect
of her presentation.  Annoyed by the lingering stares now gravitating
towards her thighs, she retrieved her phone and swiftly began texting
Lauren, a close friend who provided comfort amidst this world that seemed
devoid of proper etiquette.

   "When are you going to get here?" Marissa typed out, seeking respite
from this uncomfortable situation and eagerly anticipating Lauren's
arrival.

   Unbeknownst to Marissa, a figure occupied the seat diagonal to her, none
other than Professor Galloway himself, accompanied by his wife.  Donning a
pair of sunglasses, he deftly shielded his face from recognition while
allowing him an uninterrupted view of Marissa's captivating presence.  His
gaze fixated upon her tightly crossed legs hidden beneath the table, a
hypnotic sight that quickened his pulse and sent shivers down his spine. 
Although no panties were yet revealed, he could hardly contain his growing
anticipation.

   As Professor Galloway feigned interest in his wife's monologue about
work, his thoughts strayed toward Marissa's outfit, a short black denim
skirt that seemed uncharacteristically snug, perhaps even a couple of sizes
too small for her exquisite form.

   Inwardly captivated by Marissa's appeal, Professor Galloway found
himself barely registering his wife's words as they dissipated into the
background noise of the bustling food court.  It was a mere distraction
from the captivating potential awaiting him just under the surface of that
tight black denim skirt.

   As if possessing an uncanny foresight, Dr.  Galloway's prior assessment
of Marissa's skirt size proved disturbingly accurate, she had held onto her
black denim miniskirt since her freshman year of college.  Despite
experiencing a slightly delayed growth spurt over the years, she couldn't
summon the courage to part ways with this cherished garment.  It embraced
her enticing curves perfectly, accentuating all the right places, but given
her transition further into college, it had gradually become shorter,
testing the boundaries of acceptability.

   With her wealth of experience navigating the realm of miniskirts,
Marissa remained confident in her ability to gracefully maneuver most
situations.  However, she acknowledged that even this beloved skirt
possessed its limitations.  Never once did she dare wore it for class or
venture into "high-risk" scenarios involving extended periods of sitting.
Yet today's pleasant weather infused a flicker of adventure within her
soul, a daring notion blossomed as she contemplated sneaking in a quick
walk through the mall with her friends, all while clad in this audaciously
little skirt.

   As time ticked away, Marissa realized that she had unwittingly prolonged
the display of her tightly crossed legs at the food court.  A sense of
unease began to creep into her mind, prompting her to ponder whether it was
wise to remain seated or if she should take advantage of the opportunity
and casually browse around while awaiting her friends' arrival.

   Casting a vigilant gaze across the bustling expanse of the food court,
Marissa's eyes scanned for any potential lurkers, sneaky pervs intent on
ogling her exposed thighs.  As Marissa continued her observation of the
food court, she noticed something amiss.  A lingering feeling that a few
pairs of eyes were fixated upon her exposed legs, piercing through the
facade of innocent conversation exhibited by a group of college freshmen.
The realization stirred a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity within
her.

   "Whateveeer," she thought with a subtle smirk curling at the corners of
her lips, a silent declaration that their attention was no threat to her.

   With a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, Marissa returned her focus to
the digital realm on her phone.  Purposefully averting her eyes from the
lingering gazes that sought to penetrate the barriers surrounding her
crossed legs, she sought relief within the virtual confines of social
media.

   Dr.  Galloway's keen eyes meticulously studied Marissa's every move, his
thoughts veering towards a peculiar mix of fascination and desire.  He
couldn't help but notice the confidence that radiated from her, an alluring
aura heightened by her exquisite long legs, captivating hair and a face
that could mesmerize even the most jaded onlooker.  Yet, it was her
flawless ability to defend herself in an undeniably undersized skirt that
truly captivated him.

   Her air of self-assuredness radiated throughout the food court, setting
her apart from the other girls who appeared like novices in their
miniskirts.  The professor marvelled at how effortlessly Marissa showcased
her relaxation and control, a testament to her expertise in effectively
defending herself against prying eyes.

   Noticing the subtle moments when she rose from her seat to visit the
restroom, Professor Galloway's attention honed in on Marissa's instinctive
reflexes, her hand instinctively clutching onto her hemline as if guarding
it against any potential intrusion.  With each deliberate return to her
seat, she maintained a tight grip upon her skirt, only relinquishing it
once she had successfully recrossed her legs.

   Marissa's vigilant state did not go unnoticed by Dr.  Galloway.  He
recognized that today she was particularly attuned to potential threats
lingering around.  Yet he knew he possessed both patience and persistence,
a steadfast determination that whispered promises of eventual fulfillment
for his voyeuristic desires.

   As half an hour slipped away in the blink of an eye, Marissa remained
blissfully engrossed in her digital world, unaware of Professor Galloway's
unwavering scrutiny directed towards the alluring crease formed beneath her
thighs.  Oblivious to his intense stares, she continued fervently texting
her friends, eagerly discussing their impending meet-up and excitedly
deliberating on the various fashion items they planned to procure from the
mall.

   The strain of Marissa's tightly crossed legs began to manifest itself in
the form of a slight leg cramp, subtly reminding her that it was time for a
necessary adjustment.  Though her legs remained firmly crossed, she
recognized the impending cramp and the need to shift positions, a challenge
deemed too daunting by those less acquainted with navigating the perils of
a skirt as short as hers.

   Aware that she had no alternative but to address this physical
inconvenience.  Marissa paused for a moment, discreetly scanning both
directions to ascertain there were no prying eyes fixated underneath her
table before she attempted to recross her legs.

   Displaying a mastery over her modesty, Marissa swiftly switched the
position of her legs with precision.  A choreography executed flawlessly
with one thigh delicately slipping over the other.  Throughout this
intricate process, one hand dutifully shielded her gap from any intruders
seeking to breach its sacred boundaries.  Her commitment to safeguarding
and maintaining control over every facet of her being remained steadfast
even in moments demanding both grace and caution.

   Marissa's expertise and years of practice effortlessly concealed the
complexities of her actions, bestowing an illusion of ease upon them. 
Despite her proficiency, a fleeting sense of regret seeped into her
consciousness.  She questioned her choice of skirt as she cautiously
surveyed her surroundings once more, diligently ensuring that no prying
eyes had caught even a brief glimpse of her intimate secrets.

   A sense of satisfaction washed over Marissa as she observed the usual
cast of disheartened college jocks who yearned in vain for the coveted
pantie shot, whose desires she adeptly denied with ease.  A victorious
smirk danced across her lips as she resumed her focus on the lively
exchange with her friends on her phone.

   Meanwhile, Professor Galloway's disappointment became palpable as his
gaze shifted away from Marissa, an unsatisfied hunger left lingering in his
eyes.  The rare opportunity to witness what lay concealed beneath Marissa's
undersized skirt slipped through his grasp yet again, thwarted by an
existence he described as "boring" and "obstructive": his wife.  The
lingering frustration seethed within him like an untamed beast eager for
liberation, a longing that would drive him relentlessly toward new avenues
where he could satisfy his forbidden desires.

   For the time being, Marissa maintained her determination to keep her
legs tightly crossed, a trusted safeguard ensuring that her most intimate
secrets remained concealed.  The undersized denim skirt clung firmly to her
crossed thighs, accentuating the pronounced gap present in her lap.  As if
guided by an unseen force, her table's strategic placement cast a shroud of
impenetrable darkness upon the exposed area between Marissa's tightly
crossed legs.  Her secrets remained concealed from prying eyes, for now...

   After what felt like an eternity, Marissa's friends finally made their
entrance into the bustling food court.  Their voices carried with an
exuberant energy as they closed the distance towards her table, threatening
to shatter the fragile veil of secrecy she had carefully woven.

   "Marissa!" exclaimed one of her friends, unable to contain her
excitement as she approached.  The sheer volume of her words drew curious
gazes from nearby patrons, eyes that could potentially unveil Marissa's
guarded secret.

   Marissa couldn't help but break into a wide smile at the sight of her
companions.  Embracing the urge to rise from her seat and greet them, she
hesitated mid-action after uncrossing her legs in a swift motion that
betrayed an ever-present vigilance.  Instinctively, Marissa's hand darted
downward and clutched at the fabric of her skirt.

   "Wait!" Lauren interjected hastily, desperation colouring her voice. 
"OMG, I gotta show you all a picture of my new puppy!"

   The impending embrace was put on hold as Marissa's friend took out her
phone, a gateway to sweetness and innocence embodied within the captured
image of an adorable furry companion.  Squinting slightly to take in the
details displayed on the screen, Marissa maintained cautious composure
despite leaving herself vulnerable by keeping her legs dangerously
uncrossed.  Her hand remained gripping onto the front hemline of her skirt
with determination akin to holding a tightly-wound fist.

   As both their attention fixated on the tiny screen displaying boundless
cuteness, Marissa remained firmly planted on her seat, unknowingly exposing
her naked uncrossed thighs to potential voyeurs in the food court.  A group
of college guys nearby, eyes hungry for any glimpse or hint of
vulnerability, had been secretly observing her every move.  Their initial
disappointment quickly transformed into a wicked fascination as they
realized she remained resolute and unyielding in this seemingly vulnerable
state.  Unlike the other girls within their line of sight who would succumb
to accidental exposures with legs uncrossed or skirts hiked up, Marissa
defied their expectations, an enigma wrapped in allure.

   The guys exchanged knowing glances amongst themselves, silent
communication passing between them like an electric current.  As if
compelled by some unseen force, they turned away simultaneously from the
captivating display before them, acknowledging defeat in their quest to
catch a glimpse beneath Marissa's skirt.

   Professor Galloway couldn't help but chuckle softly, his eyes fixated on
Marissa's hand desperately shielding the last bastion of protection for her
modesty.  It was almost too easy to perceive the facade of false confidence
she projected, an act meant to cloak a trembling vulnerability that lurked
beneath the surface.  Amidst her years of experience wearing miniskirts,
Marissa had cultivated an illusion of fearlessness, skillfully deceiving
those who dared take a glimpse.

   However, Dr.  Galloway saw through this charade with unwavering clarity.
His perceptive gaze discerned the frightened girl concealing herself, a
pretty little thing on the cusp of surrendering her panties, yet clinging
desperately onto the remnants of control.

   Marissa's heart raced within her chest as panic coursed through her
veins, the current predicament unfolding against even her experienced
expectations.

   Professor Galloway remained seated, his gaze fixed upon Marissa's
delicate hand with perfect black nail polish, the very same hand that
valiantly guarded the precious hemline of her skirt.  And yet, even in the
midst of her apparent self-assurance, the professor detected a minuscule
tremor, a subtle crack in the flawless facade she presented to the world.
It was an unexpected revelation for someone who exuded such confidence with
every fibre of her being.

   "Ah, a tight undersized denim skirt.  Truly a masterpiece." he thought
with a devilish glimmer in his eyes, savouring the illicit thoughts that
danced within his mind.  As he nonchalantly brought the steaming cup of
coffee to his lips, he casually dismissed the incessant yapping of his
oblivious wife, a mere backdrop to the captivating spectacle unfolding
before him.

   With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Marissa exclaimed, "OMG, I wanna
tickle him!" Her face radiated with a genuine smile, one that Professor
Galloway had seldom witnessed before.  For the briefest moment, her hold on
her skirt loosened ever so slightly, granting a fleeting glimpse of
contrasting white lacey panties to the appreciative gazes of the college
guys nearby.  The sound of their giggles and whispered comments reached Dr.
Galloway's ears, arousing both frustration and intrigue within him.

   Though his wife continued to obstruct his view, unaware of the seductive
display unfolding under her oblivious watch.  While seething with silent
vexation at being denied the perfect vantage point himself, Professor
Galloway couldn't help but admire Marissa's unwavering determination in
safeguarding her precious skirt from prying eyes.

   Despite his wife's clueless interference preventing him from witnessing
the sight of Marissa's lacy white panties, Professor Galloway found solace
in the knowledge that the presence of adorable creatures, such as puppies,
had an unexpected effect on weakening her firmly closed legs.  While this
technique had exerted its miraculous power over many unsuspecting girls in
miniskirts, a secret pleasure he indulged in secretly.  Professor Galloway
was pleasantly astounded to discover that it held true even for a woman as
experienced as Marissa.

   He couldn't help but continue to admire Marissa's determination, for she
held her hemline firmly pressed between her squeezing thighs for much of
the time she was shown the adorable puppy on the phone.  It wasn't until
later that she finally succumbed to the irresistible allure of the fluffy
creature.  Like many things in life, he had always suspected that getting a
glimpse up Marissa's seemingly impenetrable skirt was indeed a true test of
patience, a delicate dance between temptation and restraint, ultimately
rewarding those dedicated enough to outlast her formidable defences.

   "You're thinking of getting another puppy, Maris?...looks like we'll
have to find you a new skirt first!" remarked Lauren with a playful giggle.

   Marissa's smile wavered ever so slightly as she registered Lauren's
astute observation of her silent skirmish with her skirt.  Feeling a mix of
surprise and vulnerability at being seen through, she swiftly rose from her
seat, initiating a partial hug while ensuring that one hand remained firmly
clasped onto the cherished fabric of her skirt.

   As Professor Galloway's gaze lingered on Marissa, he meticulously
studied her from top to bottom.  The way she stood there, visibly straining
to squeeze her legs tightly together in such a narrow stance, all in an
effort to prevent the little denim skirt from daring to ride up her
heavenly smooth thighs, it was nothing short of mesmerizing.  A primal
hunger stirred within him, causing his smile to widen as he savoured the
sight before him.

   Today felt different somehow, he mused with a knowing grin.  The
undeniable allure of the undersized skirt clung to Marissa like an
invitation, a silent declaration of her true sentiments towards it.  And in
that narrow stance she defiantly assumed, Dr.  Galloway found himself
captivated by the depths of her inner thighs revealed through every subtle
movement and restriction she imposed upon herself for the sake of modesty.

   "In due time, my old friend," he murmured, his voice tinged with an air
of anticipation.  It was as if he could almost sense the alluring presence
of her delicate white lace panties nestled deep between her thighs,
pleading for his undivided attention.  They yearned to be liberated from
the confines of darkness and secrecy, yearning to bask in the light that
only he could provide with his repertoire of sneaky tricks to uncross her
temptingly clamped legs and overcome those seemingly superglued thighs.

   As Lauren continued to taunt her about the challenges posed by her
little denim skirt, a deep flush of embarrassment crept up Marissa's
cheeks. She anxiously pleaded with Lauren to lower her voice, not wishing
to attract any further attention to the already rebellious nature of her
skirt and the vulnerability it exposed upon her thighs.  Yet, undeterred by
Marissa's pleas, Lauren persisted in tormenting her friend, playfully
suggesting they visit a shoe store first.  It was at that moment that
Marissa's eyes widened with apprehension.

   "No way!  Not with this skirt!" Marissa exclaimed urgently as she
fiercely tugged on both sides of her skirt, one final effort to fortify its
defences against any potential mishaps.  Walking away alongside her
friends, she couldn't shake off an unsettling feeling, whispering ominous
warnings that something unexpected was poised on the horizon.

   Galloway seethed with indignation, his fury simmering beneath the
surface as he remained resentful towards his wife for impeding his view. 
However, in a sudden surge of pure rage, his body betrayed him, succumbing
to the telltale signs of an impending stroke.  Unilateral weakness coursed
through his limbs, causing him to collapse onto the unforgiving ground.  As
gravity claimed its hold on him, his shades slipped from their perch.

   Panic seized his wife as she cried out for assistance, desperation
lacing her pleas for help.  Marissa's friends reacted swiftly, rushing
towards the fallen professor without hesitation.  Sensing their urgency,
Marissa trailed close behind them and immediately identified her perverted
professor amidst the chaos, he was unmistakable without his shades.

   Instinctively aware of the potential threat he still posed even in this
compromised state, Marissa pressed down on her skirt with a protective hand
and cautiously took a step back.  Even in his current state, there lingered
an insidious desire within him, to cast his gaze upwards and explore the
forbidden realm beneath her skirt.  Marissa knew all too well that it was
her vigilant defence that had just shielded her from an almost certain view
up her skirt at that very moment.  Grateful for her quick reflexes and
unwavering commitment to safeguarding her modesty, she silently thanked
whatever cosmic forces had intervened to spare her from further exposure
under such circumstances.

   As Galloway's consciousness waned, panic seized Marissa, making her
swiftly drop down onto her knees beside him to check for a pulse.  In her
flurry of movement, a surge of apprehension caused her legs to
involuntarily part slightly, a vulnerable moment that exposed the delicate
fabric of her white lace panties to the prying eyes of unsuspecting
onlookers.  Aware of the inadvertent display, she swiftly closed her knees
and redirected her attention back to Galloway's critical condition.

   Frantically searching for his pulse with mounting desperation, Marissa's
heart pounded in her chest.  Unable to locate any sign of life beneath his
skin, she rose from her kneeling position with a sense of urgency, mindful
this time not to repeat the previous unintended exposure.  Her hand
remained firmly pressed against the protective barrier offered by her
skirt, an anchor against further vulnerability.

   Standing there amidst the commotion that encircled them, Marissa
grappled with an unwelcome realization: she knew what needed to be done but
recoiled at the prospect.  Not like this, not in this undersized skirt that
left little room for modesty.  Not in front of this gathered crowd who
ogled without understanding.  Not while straddling him as she attempted
CPR. The thought flickered through her mind, a hesitant whisper reminding
her that she was woefully underdressed for such an onerous undertaking. 
Despite these reservations biting at every fibre of her being, Marissa
understood that trying was necessary, a responsibility she couldn't shy
away from even if every inch of her resisted.

   Summoning every ounce of courage she could muster, Marissa clutched the
front of her skirt tightly with one hand, a dire effort to maintain a
semblance of modesty in the face of vulnerability.  With flushed cheeks
betraying her trepidation, she once again knelt down on her knees, keenly
aware that her actions brought them all closer to an intimate view of her
panties.  The knowledge that Galloway lay before her, an evil figure who
had violated the sanctity beneath her skirt countless times despite her
relentless resistance, only intensified the raw emotions surging within.

   As Marissa positioned herself to begin chest compressions, doubts
settled into the corners of her mind.  Could anyone have possibly glimpsed
those fleeting moments when she kneeled down and presented a flash of white
panties?  Despite this uncertainty plaguing her thoughts, Marissa found
herself acutely aware and overwhelmed by a sense of nakedness, a searing
exposure that left no room for shielding herself from prying eyes.

   As panic began to resurface within her, Marissa pondered if she could
manage the chest compressions using just one free hand.  Yet, upon swift
consideration, she dismissed the idea knowing it would never fulfill the
crucial requirement of reaching a minimum depth of two inches.  The
realization struck hard, causing panic to surge anew through every inch of
her being.  She glanced around anxiously and noticed everyone's expectant
gaze fixed upon her, waiting for action.

   Remaining on her knees beside Galloway, Marissa acknowledged the gravity
of the situation and readied herself for what needed to be done.  Drawing
closer to him, she instinctively squeezed her thighs together as tightly as
possible, a reflexive attempt to guard against any unintended exposure amid
the chaos surrounding them.

   With a determined resolve, Marissa began the chest compressions, fully
aware of the risks that lay within her undersized attire.  Each forceful
thrust administered with precision caused her perky C cups to dangerously
jiggle inside her tube top, threatening to break free from their delicate
confines.  In a constant battle against imminent exposure, she found
herself repeatedly tugging up on her top in an effort to keep them securely
contained, an unfortunate spectacle that only served to draw further
attention to her strained struggle.

   Within this sea of silent bystanders, eyes were fixed upon Marissa,
observing not just her valiant fight with an unruly tube top and minuscule
skirt but silently hoping for a misstep.  Their collective gaze bore down
upon her, a mix of curiosity, anticipation, and perhaps even malicious
intent lived within their hollow stares.

   As the gruelling battle continued, fatigue crept its way into Marissa's
body, forcing her to momentarily lower her butt against her heels.  The
relentless task of keeping count of compressions demanded her full
attention, leaving little room for adequate defence of her vulnerable
skirt. Despite her efforts, she reluctantly accepted that at least one pair
of eyes in the crowd must have caught a glimpse of her white panties by
now, a realization that brought both embarrassment and frustration.

   To compound matters further, Galloway's unconscious gaze rested
perilously close to the enticing allure of the panty triangle peering from
beneath Marissa's skirt.  Though fleeting thoughts insinuated themselves
within Marissa's mind, whispers suggesting that perhaps this was all an
elaborate ruse engineered by Professor Galloway to indulge in his perverse
desires...  She quickly dismissed such absurd notions.  After all, with no
pulse coursing through his veins, he couldn't possibly fake his condition
just to satisfy his voyeuristic tendencies...not yet, at least.

   As Marissa's tireless efforts endured, a shift in the collective focus
of the bystanders became noticeable.  Their gaze began to stray from the
unconscious form of Professor Galloway and fixate more intently upon the
captivating sight of Marissa's skirt-clad figure.  Those positioned in
front of her cast eager, lingering glances towards the topmost expanse of
her exposed thighs, yearning to capture every fleeting glimpse of her
pristine white lace panties.  Simultaneously, those situated behind her
covertly relished in witnessing the occasional rise of her skirt, revealing
glimpses of her pantie-clad buttocks.

   Awareness flooded through Marissa, though she desperately attempted to
tune out the chatter around her.  But then it happened, an insidious
whisper that found its way into Marissa's consciousness: "Lace?" The single
word hung in the air like a cruel taunt, a reminder of a regrettable choice
in today's attire.  Instantly, embarrassment painted Marissa's cheeks
crimson as remorse flooded over her for selecting this undersized denim
miniskirt from her younger days.  In that moment, it felt as though every
gaze stripped away layers of clothing until she stood bare before them all,
not just physically exposed, but vulnerable beneath their prying eyes.

   Marissa, unaware of the professor's subtle movement, swiftly tugged her
skirt down and resumed her chest compressions with unwavering
determination. Oblivious to the flicker in Galloway's eyes, she remained
focused on the life-saving task at hand.

   In a flurry of deep compressions carried out with measured force,
Marissa continued her heroic efforts.  Then, as if by some divine
intervention, Galloway's eyes shot open, an awakening that could only be
described as miraculous.  He had been granted a second chance at life, a
gift bestowed upon him with one undeniable perk.  A front row seat to
witness something truly breathtaking: an up-close and personal view of
Marissa's delicate white lace panty triangle beneath her undersized denim
miniskirt.  Her panties remain hidden from prying eyes in the crowd but not
from him, not from this incredible vantage point merely inches away from
her intimate centre.

   As Marissa unwittingly persisted in her compressions, Galloway found
himself ensnared by the intoxicating allure of this unguarded moment.  He
found himself captivated by the small opening between her tightening
thighs, a path leading towards blissful darkness where he knew her panties
laid hidden countless times before.  But not this time, not from this
perfect angle wherein no fabric nor shadow could obscure his view.  He had
finally discovered the light at the end of the tunnel he had always yearned
for.  The glow of Marissa's panties against the backdrop of shadows
hypnotized him beyond measure, a culmination of desires long held captive
within his imagination.

   As Marissa continued her life-saving mission, Professor Galloway found
himself captivated by the sight before him.  Inch by inch, his eyes
devoured the divine view of Marissa's white lace panties, something that
had eluded his gaze for countless semesters.  In this near-death encounter,
he finally beheld the secret Marissa had concealed for so long, a hidden
treasure unveiled in all its glory.  His gaze lingered with unwavering awe
as he admired the delicate lace that adorned her white panties.

   The fabric embraced every curve of her womanhood grace.  Soft and
pristine, the white lace contrasted against the warmth of Marissa's skin, a
bewitching fusion of innocence and desire that intensified his longing. 
His gaze fixated on the dainty scalloped edges, each delicate detail
amplifying his anticipation.  Like an exquisite frame, they encircled her
most intimate contours, teasingly hinting at what lay beyond without fully
relinquishing their secrets.  The gentle stretch of the fabric revealed
just enough to ignite his wild imagination.

   The pristine whiteness radiated purity, an ethereal glow that pulled him
closer, extending an irresistible invitation to delve deeper into the
hidden world beneath.  It was an invitation he yearned to accept, a promise
of untold pleasures awaiting those daring enough to explore them.

   Taken aback by the unexpected sight of Galloway's wide-open eyes,
Marissa jumped, her heart skipping a beat.  Startled by this abrupt
awakening from what she thought was certain death, her instinctive reaction
sent a jolt of panic coursing through her veins, a reflex that caused her
tightly closed thighs to involuntarily part further, a moment of
vulnerability she never anticipated.

   In that fateful instant, as if governed by some twisted fate, Marissa
found herself at the mercy of an unfortunate circumstance, the worst
possible timing for such an embarrassing mishap.  Her face flushed crimson
with mortification, mirroring the intense embarrassment that engulfed her
very being.  With fear etched across her features, she glanced down toward
the state of her skirt, an undeniable symbol of vulnerability now
heightened beyond measure.

   Her once neatly arranged hemline had shamelessly ridden up to an
uncomfortable height, a blatant violation against Marissa's sense of
modesty.  As if mocking her misfortune further, her knees pointed directly
towards her perverted professor, an unintentional gesture that left her
delicate pantie-covered crotch staggeringly close to his prying gaze, a
mere inch away from being cruelly laid bare before him.

   In the bitter wake of her realization, Marissa found herself grappling
with a profound sense of loss, her once fiercely guarded secret, those
alluring lace panties she had so skillfully protected, now lay exposed
before her professor's gaze.  It was a devastating blow to her pride and
dignity, one that pierced the depths of her being and left a tear cascading
down her flushed cheek.  In this distressing moment, she felt as though she
had inadvertently surrendered something precious to Galloway, her dignity
intertwined with the fabric of those delicate white panties.  A turbulent
mix of humiliation and frustration surged within Marissa, an unwelcome
intrusion into what should have been a moment solely dedicated to saving
lives.

   Desperate to reclaim some semblance of modesty, Marissa instinctively
lunged into action.  With fierce determination etched across her face, one
hand swiftly descended towards her trembling thighs, their touch offering
both comfort and protection.  Gripping onto the hemline for dear life, she
sought to shield what remained from further scrutiny, a gesture fueled by
desperation and an unquenchable desire to regain some semblance of control
over this distressing situation.

   A twisted smile crept onto Professor Galloway's lips, a grim recognition
of the all-too-familiar sight, the telltale maneuvering of Marissa's hands,
so meticulously orchestrated to obscure and deny him the heavenly view he
so craved.  It was, in his eyes, a predictable act of panic, a desperate
last resort to salvage what remained hidden beneath her skirt.  The
professor had coined this particular move as Marissa's "panic move," a name
that carried both amusement and annoyance.

   Like an unholy ritual played out time and time again, her hands taunted
him with their ability to deny him of his desires, an unwelcome reminder of
past encounters when they had brazenly thwarted his voyeuristic attempts at
Marissa's panties.  These very hands had robbed him of numerous pantie
shots, a jarring reminder buried deep within his mind.

   Professor Galloway's penetrating gaze was abruptly shattered as he
finally tore his eyes away from the intoxicating sight of Marissa's white
lace panties.  His attention shifted upwards to her gorgeous face, covered
with meticulous layers of makeup that enhanced her already stunning
features.  The flawless foundation expertly concealed any imperfections,
while the precisely drawn eyeliner framed her innocent yet captivating
eyes.

   However, before the professor could fully appreciate this newfound
perspective, his attention was interrupted by a loud piercing scream.  A
blend of surprise and defeat resonated deeply within Marissa's vocal cords.
The shock had propelled her into a hasty attempt to distance herself from
his unsettling stare, a scramble driven by a desperation to escape.

   In an unfortunate twist of events, panic clouded Marissa's judgment as
she struggled to regain composure.  She clumsily attempted to rise from her
kneeling position, planting one foot on the ground in an unladylike manner,
an act born out of sheer instinct rather than refined poise.  However, even
as she clung courageously onto the resilient denim hemline with one hand,
her undersized miniskirt stubbornly resisted all attempts to press it any
farther between her gently parted highs.  The fabric offered little in
concealing the exposed secret beneath.

   Professor Galloway's jaw slackened in awe as he took in the scene
unfolding before him, the warm glow from the mall lights filtering through
Marissa's parted thighs, exposing yet another much-desired glimpse of her
most intimate secret.  In her desperate struggle to regain her footing,
Marissa's relentless attempts to retain control were futile against the
rebellious fabric of her skirt, revealing the lace-clad beauty beneath.

   As if granted a divine revelation, Galloway felt his heart race as he
stared shamelessly at the intricate lacework illuminated by the soft beams
of light, each delicate thread unveiled in its full glory.  It was as if
all his prayers had been answered, a testament to his unwavering devotion
and unwritten pact with some higher power that had finally allowed this
sacred illumination to penetrate through layers of resistance.  The
impenetrable fortress of Marissa's skirt had finally yielded.

   Overwhelmed by an intoxicating wave of lust-filled excitement, Professor
Galloway felt consciousness slipping through his grasp once more.  As
arousal coursed through his veins with unstoppable force, he began
succumbing to an insatiable hunger that pushed him further into
unconsciousness.

   Marissa regained her footing, a surge of determination fueling her
actions.  Without hesitation, she firmly gripped the edges of her skirt
with both hands and tugged it downwards, effectively concealing her panties
that had inadvertently captivated Professor Galloway.  Her legs now locked
tightly together, yet her flushed face betrayed lingering embarrassment.

   As Marissa's gaze fell upon her professor once more, she couldn't escape
the unmistakable hunger emanating from his eyes, a disconcerting mixture of
peer lust and undeniable desire.  A solitary tear escaped down her cheek as
a sense of betrayal mingled with overpowering defeat, a realization that
despite all efforts to shield herself from his prying gaze, she had become
yet another victim to his predatory intentions.

   The sudden collision between Marissa's despair and the unexpected
exposure of her bright lace panties proved to be too overwhelming for
Galloway's aging faculties to endure.  As if surrendering to this explosive
climax, consciousness wavered and slipped from his grasp, a hasty retreat
before impact with the unforgiving floor beneath.

   Adopting a narrow stance, she pressed both hands unwaveringly against
the front of her skirt, an unwavering guard destined never again to succumb
to his manipulative tactics any longer.  She would not be drawn back into
this twisted dance between them.  There would be no further compromise.

   The wailing sirens of the approaching ambulance sliced through the air,
drowning out all other sounds.  The paramedics swiftly descended upon
Professor Galloway, their gloved hands expertly performing chest
compressions in an effort to revive him.  With utmost care, they secured
him onto a stretcher before rushing him away from the scene.

   Now left alone amidst the fading chaos, Marissa maintained her
relentless grip on her skirt, a futile attempt to retain some semblance of
control during this whirlwind of emotions.  Overwhelmed by grief and
confusion, tears streamed down her face as she sought comfort in the soft
embrace of Lauren's shoulders, an instinctual sanctuary against life's
cruelties.

   In this moment of raw vulnerability, Marissa grappled with conflicting
emotions.  Pure intentions had driven her actions, a desire to assist and
aid someone who had tormented her for far too long.  Yet it clouded her
understanding as she struggled to comprehend why Professor Galloway
consistently resorted to such extreme measures in his insatiable quest for
access to what she had fiercely protected: her panties.

   Marissa found herself grappling with a profound sense of loss, having
inadvertently relinquished that which she held dear and defended so
valiantly for countless years.

   With sympathetic gazes fixed upon the distraught pair, bystanders
observed as Marissa and Lauren made their way toward the parking lot.  The
onlookers, oblivious to the true nature of Marissa's tears, assumed she
mourned the loss of a dear friend.  Their assumptions were far removed from
the truth that lay hidden beneath her sorrowful facade.

   With an outstretched hand and a graceful gesture, Lauren extended her
support to Marissa, guiding her towards the refuge of her car. 
Understanding the need for respite from the day's mortifying events, she
kindly offered to provide Marissa with a ride home, a comforting act born
from genuine compassion.

   Grateful for this lifeline amidst her storm of emotions, Marissa
accepted Lauren's offer with deep appreciation.  As she eased herself into
the plush interior of her friend's SUV, an uncharacteristic slip in
composure inadvertently caused her legs to part slightly, a momentary lapse
that revealed a glimpse of her delicate white lace panties.  Unbeknownst to
anyone around them, this fleeting display went unnoticed, lost within the
confines of their private sanctuary.

   As tears continued to flow down Marissa's cheeks during their journey
homeward, she clutched onto her phone tightly, one hand strategically
placed upon it as it rested upon her lap.  With thighs pressed together in
a desperate attempt to banish haunting memories, she yearned for nothing
more than to erase today's unfortunate series of events from existence, to
reclaim the innocence nestled between her tender thighs and restore
tranquillity to her wounded spirit --