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Painfully Shy Copyright © Julian Renard 
Carina made her way through the crowded room with three drinks held
precariously in her hands. Her friends, Karen and Terri, were
almost in sight at a table by the far wall but progress was
slow. The throng was thick and it was going to take some time
to navigate her way over.
She dreaded the thought of spilling her drinks over someone and causing a scene. Painfully conscious of being under-age, she was desperate to avoid drawing any kind of attention to herself. Karen had loaned her a silk blouse and tight mini-skirt which she had guaranteed would make her look, at the very least, two years older but Carina was still doubtful. She made her way slowly towards a row of heavily filled planters that formed a divider down the centre of the room. Between the planters and the seated people there was a gap just wide enough to squeeze past. It was a slightly longer route but it seemed preferable to constantly excusing herself to complete strangers just to get through. Finally reaching the first row of planters, she turned sideways. As she edged her way along, the back of her skirt brushed against the plants and she prayed that it would not catch and tear on anything. She had navigated, in crab fashion, past two large round tables when her worst fear was suddenly realised. Her skirt had become snagged. She stood there for several moments, unsure of what to do. With her hands full of drinks, she found herself totally helpless and must have looked it. "Need a hand there honey?" Asked a man from a nearby table. Carina blushed bright red, devastated that someone had noticed her and, worse yet, spoken to her. "Uh, no thanks." She muttered, "I'm looking for my friends." She made a point of lookin around the room. "Lots of luck." the man replied with a laugh and to her total relief he turned back to his table of friends and instantly forgot about her. Her relief was short lived however, since she was still stuck. If only she had a free hand she could sort out the problem but there was simply nowhere to place the drinks. She could not dream of asking anyone to hold them. What would she say? She decided to try moving about a little to see if she could gently tug her skirt free. She could even make it look like she was trying to see through the crowd for her friends. Before she could put her plan into action, something happened that nearly made her drop her drinks. A hand had reached through the thick foliage to rest on the inside of her leg just below the hem of her skirt. She instinctively brought her legs together, but as she did so, the hand pulled her backwards and threatened to tip her off balance. The thought of falling over backwards into the planter was enough to make her widen her stance again and to her momentary relief, the tugging stopped. The foliage was too thick to see who it was and her efforts were only getting her strange looks from across the nearest table. She pretended again to look for her friends and they quickly lost interest. The hand remained where it was, moving ever so slightly against her skin. The feel of it had left her totally flustered. She blushed hotly and felt in danger of swaying back without any help. A more confident person would have reacted with proper outrage but Carina was painfully shy and out of place in this overwhelmingly unfriendly place. What if she reacted and someone realised that she was under age? They might call the police and then her parents would find out. She would simply have to deal with it herself. Unfortunately, she was finding it hard to draw an even breath, let alone form a clear thought, because the hand was moving gradually higher. She could not believe that this was happening and that no else around her knew a thing. Strangely, she did not feel threatened. A single outcry would most certainly bring someone to her rescue but, for the moment at least, the consequences of that seemed far worse than what was happening to her now. The higher the hand crept, the more confused she became. An exquisite fluttering sensation had started inside her, leaving her unable to move and barely able to breathe. Moments later the hand fleetingly brushed her small lace panties - her only contribution to the sexy outfit. She gasped sharply and barely managed to stifle a small cry but no one seemed to notice amongst the surrounding din. She swayed precariously, wide eyed with disbelief at what was happening to her. Under almost any other circumstances, she knew her reaction would have been quite different but the excitement of being out in such a revealing outfit, had done something strange to her. And that hand! She had touched herself but it had felt nothing like this. Here she was, in a public place, with a stranger's hand under her skirt, lightly stroking her through the thin, soft material. The thought alone was powerfully erotic but the actual experience was devastatingly so. The rest of the room faded into insignificance as that unseen hand continued to caress where no one else had ever touched her. All she could think to do was take a sip from each drink so that her shaking hands would not spill them. In the meantime, she had become weak in the knees and her face had grown incredibly hot. She was not so naive that she didn't know what was happening to her, but was at a loss as to what she could do about it. Her saviour came in the form of a voice from the other side of the plants. "Hello Dave, are you with us mate?" It called out over the background noise. With mixed emotions she felt the hand smoothly withdraw and only barely heard the owner's muttered response. She was free! Stepping quickly away from that dreaded spot, she took a few moments to compose herself. Then, flushed, dizzy and perilously close to a climax, she shuffled in a daze towards her waiting friends. Copyright © 2000 Julian Renard.
julian975@yahoo.com
All rights reserved.
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