Showing Pink: The Sequel

I had just got back downstairs when Maria phoned. 'I got your message,' she said. 'What happened?'

'A long story,' I told her. 'But it started with a well-intentioned visit to your gym.'

'Oh, dear! Do you need me to do something for you? Bring you grapes, perhaps? Chicken soup?'

'Maybe grape juice,' I said. 'Fermented. If you're not doing anything towards the end of the afternoon. Although I suppose Nigel's back, is he?'

'He was. Briefly,' Maria said. 'He's had to go to some conference in Leeds this weekend.'

'Well, in that case, you could always come and rescue me from drinking on my own. I'll even make you supper.'

'Done!' Maria said. 'I'll see you about five. Do you need me to bring anything – apart from some wine?'

'Maybe your camera,' I said. 'I need a photo of me in my red dress and it doesn't work very well in the mirror.' I could almost hear Maria frowning at the other end of the phone, but she said that she would.

By the time Maria arrived – shortly after five – I had made a quick chicken lasagne and I had the ingredients for a salad all washed and trimmed. I was also halfway through my first glass of wine.

'So, what happened?' Maria asked.

'Well, I had warmed up and I was just doing what Dwayne had told me to do with the weight thingies, and something went snap in my leg.'

'Oh, no!' she said. 'And Dwayne's bloody useless when anything goes wrong.'

'Well, at least he went and found Max. That much was useful.'

Maria smiled. 'Oh, Max. The physio? Yes, he's cute.'

I nodded. Maria and I were clearly of one mind when it came to Max. But I didn't think that I needed to mention Max's housecall. Or his fit-as-a-buck-rat masturbating brother.

Maria and I sipped and chatted for the best part of an hour and then I decided that I had better get the lasagne into the oven and get the salad finished off before the wine did too much damage.

'This red dress ...' Maria said, as I mixed up a little vinaigrette for that salad. 'Something new?'

'Not really. I bought it in a sale last year, but it's a bit dressy for work, and so I haven't really worn it that much.'

'But you need a photograph of it?'

'I do,' I said. And then I quickly changed the subject.'

After we had eaten supper, I had a brief second thought about my red dress plan. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe I could make do with a selfie using my full-length mirror. But Maria was suddenly raring to go.

'Right! Are we going to photograph you in this dress that is too dressy for work?'

'Well ... I, umm ....'

'Come on,' she said. 'Apart from anything else, I'm dying to see it.'

'Mmm ... oh, alright,' I said. 'You have another glass of wine, and I'll just go and get changed.'

'Wahoo!' Maria said when I came back downstairs. 'That's fabulous.'

'You think it looks OK?'

'No, not just OK. Fabulous,' she said.

Fabulous? Well, yes, for what was a simple knee-length, long-sleeved dress that buttoned almost to the neck, it did look pretty good. I think it was something to do with the way in which the beautiful soft-and-silky fabric draped.

'OK, where are we going to do this?' Maria asked.

'I was thinking if I just perched on the arm of the sofa.'

'Yeah, that works,' Maria said. She took a couple of shots and then checked them on the screen on the back of the camera. 'Yep, that looks pretty good,' she said. 'In fact ... that looks very good.'

'And now I'm thinking one with me hitching up my skirt slightly.'

Maria frowned and then smiled. 'You're the boss.'

I drew my skirt up so that there was just a hint of my stocking tops showing. This time Maria didn't bother with the frown; she just smiled.

'Any more?' she asked.

'I think perhaps one with the top few buttons undone. What do you think?'

Maria's smile just got wider. 'Are you going to tell me what this is all about?' she asked.

'Hmm ... we'll see,' I said. 'But if you've got that, I'll just get rid of the dress and you can take a couple of shots of me in my slip.'

'Very ...,' she paused, 'sexy,' she said. 'Is that new?'

'Umm ... not that new.'

'Anything else?'

'Well, it would be a pity not to get a shot of what's underneath,' I said. ('Underneath' I was wearing a three-piece pink and white set with embroidered swirls and little pink bows, and pale stockings.)

'You sexy little minx,' Maria said. 'Aren't you a dark horse!' She clicked off three or four shots and then went to put the camera down on the table.

'Maybe just one more,' I said. And before my courage deserted me I slipped off my knickers.

Maria laughed. 'Why do I get the feeling that these photos are not for your family album?'

'And how do you know that they're not?' I asked.

'My guess is that there's a man in all this somewhere. Am I right?'

'My lips are sealed,' I said.

'I knew it.'

I guess the fact that it was Maria, and the fact that we had, by then, drunk quite a bit of wine, made the whole thing seem ... well, quite funny, I suppose.

'Well, whoever this mystery man is, I don't think he's going to disappointed,' Maria said as she reviewed her handiwork. 'I can just imagine the grin on Nigel's face if he was to receive some photos like these.'

And then it occurred to me. 'So why don't you send him some? I'll take them,' I said.

Maria giggled. 'Don't be silly.'

'It's not silly,' I said. 'It might be a nice surprise for him – all alone up in Leeds.'

Maria giggled again. But I could tell that I'd got her thinking.

'You said the other day that he must have more than a hundred, umm, shall we say "bedroom" shots of you.'

'Yes, but they're photos that he has taken,' Maria said.

'Just one little one,' I suggested. 'Knowing you, I bet you're wearing something sexy under those clothes.'

Maria frowned briefly and then peered inside her shirt. And then, having done that, she pulled out the waistband of her trousers and peered down there too. 'Well ... I suppose they'll just about pass with a push,' she said. And she giggled yet again.

'Come on, then.' I grabbed the camera.

Maria hesitated. But not for long. 'OK. But I think I'll need another sip of wine first.' She took another sip of wine – and a deep breath – and down came her trousers and off came her shirt.

'Pass with a push?' I said. 'I'd say hot enough for a double page spread in a lads' mag.' I took a couple of photos. 'Nice,' I said. 'Is that it?'

'Oh, I suppose we could give him a bit of tit,' Maria said, and she reached into her bra and pulled out her left breast.

I took another couple of photographs. 'Way to go, girl! Are we happy now?'

'Well, Nigel is a bit of an arse man ....' And Maria turned around and lowered her knickers, pointing her naked – and delicious – bum towards the camera.

We took the memory card out of Maria's camera and downloaded the photos onto my lap top. On the bigger screen, they certainly did look quite arousing. And then I took the photos of Maria and emailed them to her phone. (I don't think she noticed that I also kept a set for myself.)

For a few minutes we just sat there giggling like a couple of naughty schoolgirls, and then Maria said: 'Well, I suppose I had better be on my way. If these photos have the effect I think they will have, Nigel is going to be expecting long and explicit phone sex.'

'Aww. I was hoping that I could listen. You know, pick up a few tips.'

Maria laughed. 'No way, sister.'

'Oh, OK,' I said. 'In that case, I suppose I'd better call for a cab.'

By the time Maria had headed off to surprise Nigel, and I had loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and tidied up the kitchen, it was still only nine o'clock, so I logged on to see what was happening in the online world of exhibitionists and voyeurs. To my surprise, it was relatively quiet. TopTownTina seemed to have come and gone, pausing only briefly to demonstrate her masturbation technique, and Girl11 had a few tantalising treats for the foot fetishists. But that was about it.

I poured myself a large glass of sparkling water (I'd had quite enough wine for one night) and set about tidying and tweaking a selection of my photographs.

The first photo that I posted was of me – well, me from the chin down – in my red dress. 'Do you like my new soft and silky dress, boys?'

Within a few minutes, there were several very positive responses – including one from BrightonShiner who thought that the dress would look just perfect 'cashly throne' on the floor next to his bed. I assumed that he had meant 'casually thrown'. I also hoped that I would no longer be wearing the dress when it was casually thrown.

The second photo that I posted was a cropped shot of me hitching my skirt part way up my thighs. 'What do you think, boys? Am I wearing tights? Or am I wearing stockings?'

'Stockings please!' Baxstreetboy replied. So Baxstreetboy was there – wherever 'there' was on this Saturday night.

'Do you think so, Baxstreetboy? Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?'

And then it was time to post my third photo. 'I'm afraid that all of your lovely comments are making me quite hot and bothered, boys. I think I may have to undo a few buttons. What do you think?' And I posted a cropped shot showing me unbuttoning the top few buttons and revealing just a hint of lace beneath.

By now the comments were coming thick and fast.

'Oh, dear. You're making me feel even more hot and bothered now, boys. I think I may have to take my beautiful dress off altogether. What do you think? Would that be a good idea?'

The reaction to my suggestion could best be summed up by BigDick101 who simply said: 'F*** yeah!' Although given the nature of the forum, I'm not sure why he felt the need for the asterisks. Why couldn't he have just said 'Fuck yeah'? After all, I assume that's what he meant.

The fourth photo was of my beautiful pale powder blue slip with its exquisite lace trim. Even I thought that it looked too good to be hidden away. The way in which it draped over my boobs and hips was just so sexy. The 'boys' seemed to think so too.

'Is it just my imagination, or is it really warm tonight, boys? I'm thinking that it may be too warm even for a light and lacy slip. I think it's going to have to go, boys.' And it was time for my fifth photo: my three-piece pink and white set with embroidered swirls and little pink bows, and pale stockings. 'It seems you were right, Baxstreetboy. I am wearing stockings.'

'Fantastic TinkerBel!' Dodger said. 'I love the sussies and stockings.'

'Perhaps I wore them especially for you, Dodger. What do you think?'

By the time I had posted the five photographs – and entered into a bit of sexy banter with the resident voyeurs – it was ten o'clock, not late, but quite late enough for me. It was time to post my final photo for the evening: the knickerless shot.

'Time to say goodnight, boys. I've already taken my knickers off. Now it's time to take my furry pussy off to bed. Anyone want to join me?'

'In a heartbeat, TinkerBel,' Baxstreetboy said. And at least a dozen others – including Mrs KentCpl – also offered to join me under my duvet. Yes, it had been a pretty successful evening.

As I lay in bed that night, thinking about everything that had happened, about Maria and about all the hot comments and lascivious suggestions that my photographs had elicited, I found myself reaching for my favourite toy.

I started slowly, gently, allowing my imagination to wander hither and thither. But the lazy times didn't last. Before too long, the thought that I had shown my furry pussy to all those randy men (and more than a few randy women) had me working my clit like there was no tomorrow. And when I came ... well, let's just say that it was probably a good thing that my new neighbour David was off paddling his canoe in Austria. And I hoped that my neighbours on the other side were either in a really deep sleep or else had their telly turned up really loud.

The following morning, Sunday, I slept through until almost nine o'clock. And, considering how much wine I had consumed the previous evening, I felt surprisingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Thoughts of my virtual strip tease were still very much on my mind, and I must confess that I was tempted to tickle the tingle that my naughty thoughts encouraged. But, in the end, I decided that a quick trip to the loo was perhaps more important. And then it was downstairs to make a pot of tea. While I had woken without any trace of a headache or queasy tummy, I did have a bit of a thirst.

While I waited for the kettle to boil, I logged in and re-read some of the comments from the previous evening. Yes, the virtual me had certainly received an enthusiastic reception. And there were still more comments that had been posted after I had gone to bed. One commenter, someone going by the name TruckMe, had generously credited me with helping him 'to spunk three times in one night'. Well, I'm always happy to help where I can, TruckMe. The kettle boiled and I finished making the tea.

I had just sat down again when the doorbell rang. At first I thought that it might have been Maria. Maybe she had left something behind last night. I even had a quick glance around the kitchen and the living room as I walked towards the door, but I couldn't immediately see anything. No abandoned knickers or anything like that.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see that it was Max. 'Oh, hello. You're out and about early.'

'I hope it's not too early, he said. 'I've just given Benjamin his breakfast, and I thought that I'd take the opportunity to look in and see how you were.'

'Umm ... good,' I said. 'Yes. Yes, much better. Thank you.'

'Good.'

'I've, umm, just made a pot of tea. Can I tempt you?'

'That would be nice,' Max said. 'Thank you.'

I led the way to the kitchen and got another mug from the cupboard. 'Milk? Sugar?'

'Just a splash of milk, thanks. So ... no more twinges?'

I sort of rocked on my leg to demonstrate – I hoped convincingly – that my leg was pretty much back to normal.

Max nodded approvingly. 'With small sprains and tears, some ice, a little anti-inflammatory, and lots of rest seems to be the best recipe to kick off the recovery.'

'I may have added a glass or two of wine to that recipe,' I said.

Max smiled. 'Well, the basic recipe does need to be fine-tuned to suit the individual. Especially on a Saturday night.'

I handed him his tea. 'So I take it that you also live somewhere around here.'

Max named a street that meant nothing to me, and I think I must have shaken my head slightly.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'I even have to remind some of the cabbies where it is. It's one of the little backstreets, just behind Queensway.'

I still couldn't picture it.

As we sipped our tea, Max suddenly spotted my red dress draped across an arm of the sofa in the next room. 'Gosh what a nice colour,' he said. 'Is that a dress?'

'Umm, yes. Yes it is. I suppose I really should hang it properly, shouldn't I. My friend Maria popped around for supper last night, and I got it out to show her.'

Max nodded. 'Yes, it's quite a distinctive colour, isn't it? A sort of soft red, if you know what I mean. Funnily enough, I saw a dress that was almost identical last night.'

'Really?' I said.

'Yes. The dress I saw last night was quite, well ... soft and silky. I guess that one is too.'

'Soft and silky? Yes, I suppose it is,' I said. 'To be honest, I haven't worn it that much. It's a bit dressy for work.'

Max smiled. 'But perfect for a Saturday night.'

'I suppose so. And Benjamin was pleased to see you?' I said, trying to change the subject.

'Well, I think he was probably pleased to see his breakfast. Whether he was especially pleased to see me is another matter. I think he'd be pleased to see The Man in the Moon if he came bearing food.'

I nodded. 'Yes, cupboard love,' I said.

But Max was keen to return to the subject of my red dress. 'So, your dress ... does it have buttons?'

'Buttons? Well, umm, yes,' I said. 'Yes, it does.'

Max nodded. 'The one I saw last night had buttons too. At one point the woman who was wearing undid a few of them.'

'Really?' I said.

'Yes. And she was wearing a rather beautiful blue slip under the dress.'

'You saw that?' I said. 'Gosh, she must have undone quite a lot of buttons.'

'I think she got quite warm. Maybe she had had a glass or two of wine. Anyway, for whatever reason, she took the dress off.'

I took a very unladylike gulp of my tea. 'Really! Just ... took it off?'

Max nodded.

'I see,' I said. 'And the slip?'

'Well, after a while, she took that off too.'

'Gosh, she must have been very warm.'

Max smiled. 'Warm? I think hot would be a better word,' he said.

'You think so?'

'I do. Anyway ... since I'm here, would you like me to just have a quick look at your leg?'

'Well, umm, yes ... I suppose so. You know ... since you're here,' I said. 'Although under this bathrobe, I'm, well, completely naked. Not even any see-through knickers today, I'm afraid. So perhaps we had better go upstairs ... Baxstreetboy.'

Max nodded. 'OK. After you, TinkerBel.'