The Panty Perils of Me 26

I am getting together with Professor Eric for the fourth time.

Who knew when I accidentally checked the incorrect box for night courses at the U that my mistake would turn out to be such an exciting opportunity to find my boundaries and desires without others forcing me or telling me what to do for their desires?

I wanted to have him all to myself this time. I also wanted to get him all worked up.

I had recently gone to lunch with a number of my co-workers to a restaurant that had just opened. It was called The Teahouse. It styles itself after an authentic teahouse. Each table was enclosed inside a private room with wood and rice paper walls. You stepped up into each dining area, leaving your shoes on the entrance step. The tables were only 2 feet off of the ground and you sat on pillows. Each dining area had a double set of doors that slid open and closed for privacy.

It also had the standard section where the guests sat around a large cooking surface while the cooks put on a display of flipping and slicing your food in front of you.

But I was interested in the separate dining areas.

Although it was quite awkward to sit on a pillow with a short skirt, I quickly learned how to kneel with my feet under my bottom. This position still showed quite a bit of my legs and some of my stocking tops, but certainly was better than allowing my male co-workers a clear view up my skirt.

However with Eric, I had something very different in mind. I was in one of my moods; the kind that has me wanting to act out sexually. Once one of these moods comes upon me, I have found it easier to just go with it instead of fight it.

So I emailed Eric and invited him to join me for lunch at The Teahouse. My email included a proposition as well. I bet Professor Erik that I could give him an erection without ever touching him. If I succeeded than he would have to masturbate in front of me while we were in our private dining room.

So how do you feel when you are getting dressed knowing that you will be purposely showing off your intimates to another person? And the purpose of showing off your intimates to this other person is to get him excited. Excited to the point of bursting.

He likes panties and I like to show mine to him.

Wouldn't that make for a perfect relationship? However, we are both married and committed to our spouses, although I guess not quite enough since he brings out my naughty side.

So here I am pulling on my pair of nylon ivory string bikini panties that have a sheer front with verticals lines of material to offset the sheerness. I am looking at myself in the mirror to see what I intend to let him see. My stomach is doing flip-flops and my throat is dry as I gaze at my reflection. My trimmed mound is plainly visible through the front netting and I can see a little glistening of moisture starting to form. The sheer material extends down low enough so the beginning of my lower lips can be seen and they are starting to drool. They are already swollen with excitement and slightly parted as if to bestow a tender kiss on a lover's cheek, although these lips don't exactly kiss.

I begin to chastise myself for even considering doing what I intend to do. It is to no avail. My secret desires and latent need to exhibit myself have already taken over. As I have already stated, I am in one of my moods . I steady my trembling hands pulling on a white silk blouse neglecting to wear a bra underneath. My perky little nipples push against the silk in their attempt to put a permanent dent on the fabric. I look at them in the mirror as I button my blouse leaving the top two buttons open allowing my luncheon date a tiny glimpse of my barely there cleavage.

I was one of those girls that bloomed very late and my particular blooms developed more as tulips than sunflowers. I can't say that I don't wish that I was bigger, however; I have become quite satisfied with my breastlets just as they are.

I enjoy seeing my nipples so erect and firm pushing against the silk fabric. They certainly make up for my lack of size.

My blouse reaches just to the top of my panties and I have this delicious thought using it as my only clothing. Yes, I am definitely in one of my moods.

My navy blue thigh highs come on next. I love how smooth they make my legs look becoming the perfect contrast to my white blouse and ivory panties.

Almost reluctantly I pull on a navy blue pin striped skirt and zip the side zipper closing the eyehook. Sitting on the bed and looking again in the mirror, I notice how easy it will be to let Professor Eric look up my skirt. I watch myself as I move my knees wide apart and then back together again. It causes a very nice feeling all though my lower region.

I picked The Teahouse because it is a traditional Japanese style restaurant with tables barely two feet off of the floor requiring the diners to sit on pillows either cross-legged or with their bottoms resting on their heels. It makes for a very interesting decision if you are a woman with a skirt or dress; that is if you are not like me; at least not like me today.

My matching suit jacket goes on last covering my telltale nubs at least until lunch.

I always wear what I consider to be sexy lingerie, but it usually doesn't take me 30 minutes to get dressed.

So how does one get dressed when they are purposely going to show off their intimates to another person? One gets dressed with a purpose.

My morning at work seems to last forever and it is difficult for me to concentrate on anything other than my luncheon appointment. I am not the best employee today as I am filled with anxiety and apprehension; the good kind. The kind that makes everything below your navel twitch and quiver with excitement.

I realize that I never checked to see whether we needed reservations. I call The Teahouse and a lovely female voice comes on the phone speaking in broken English. I explain to her that I am hoping to entertain a male companion for lunch and wondered whether I required reservations. She is quite perceptive and noticed immediately my emphasis on the word "entertain". She asks me if I am interested in a special dining experience for my guest.

God, if I wasn't in one of my moods, I certainly would have responded, "No thank you. I am just hoping for a nice private lunch." I would show up and let Professor Eric look up my skirt for an hour while we enjoyed our meal. But I am more than curious, so instead I say, "I am very interested."

She tells me that she will make reservations for us at 12:30, but that I need to get there as soon as I can. The time is now 10:30, but I manage to explain to my manager that I need to take 3 ½ hours off due to an unexpected situation. I am fortunate that my manager appreciates me and doesn't require any further explanation. Off I go.

I arrive at the restaurant and walk inside. A beautiful Japanese woman with jet-black hair held up in back by long thin chopsticks that are crisscrossed in her hair greets me at the door. She is wearing an ivory colored kimono with cheery blossoms embroidered in the material. The wonderful twist to her traditional garb is that the kimono is a mini dress.

I tell her that I am the woman that had just called about the special dining experience, but somehow she already knows. I wonder if I stood out as I expect most women don't wear a short suit skirt and heels to a traditional Japanese teahouse.

She takes me into the dressing area behind the kitchen and tells me to undress to my undies. I look around seeing that the entire staff including the hibachi cooks are all female. Other than the Geisha hostess, they are all wearing Japanese tunics in a dark red material with wide sleeves and black velvet trim on the cuffs and on the mandarin collar. The tunics are very short reaching just past their bottoms. Underneath I can see white lycra short shorts. I am beginning to like this place more and more.

As I am getting out of my clothes, the hostess explains that I am to be a Geisha in training, which is what the entire staff is supposed to be dressed as. We are not considered to be worthy to wear the mini kimono until we have served our masters successfully. It sounds like my kind of role-play.

"Do you want to be very risqué?" the hostess asks me as she sees my sheer front panties and lack of bra. I simply nod in reply.

She tells one of the servers in Japanese something and off the server goes. When she returns she has a deep navy blue tunic that will make me standout from the rest of the staff as if being Irish in an all Asian community wouldn't serve the same purpose.

I slip the tunic over my head and am able to take a hold of the hem to pull it down my torso. It is that short. My tunic stops about 3 inches from my crotch letting anyone looking at me see the very start of my sheer front panties and the very bottom of my ivory clad cheeks. Another of the staff hands me a pair of the white short shorts, but my Geisha instructor shakes her head. Instead of heels, we ware ballet slippers.

"You are ready except for makeup," she says and directs me to follow one of the other servers.

I then am seated in a kind of barber chair and the traditional white face and ruby cheeks of a Geisha are applied to my face. When they are finished I am transformed into an extremely sexy and provocative Geisha trainee. I am now barely recognizable under the makeup and doubt very much whether anyone will be looking at my face anyways. The timing is perfect, as they have just opened the doors for lunch.

I am assigned to one of the servers. She is a beautiful Asian girl in her twenties with traditional Japanese features. I stand almost an entire head over her, which makes for a very interesting contrast. She takes my hand saying, "Hurry, please" and pulls me out of the dressing room, through the kitchen, out past the hibachi's and through the hallways with the private dining rooms. I assume that she is taking me to my dining area to await Eric. Instead I find myself in a long line of other servers all placed just inside the front door to greet the incoming guests and wait to be assigned to the diners.

I am shocked to find myself on display as the business community arrives for lunch.

When I was here the week before no one was in any sort of costume and it appeared to be just a new restaurant. In the matter of one short week it had transformed itself, just like they had transformed me, into a very sexy themed Japanese restaurant catering to a mostly male clientele. I was relieved to see a very large Japanese man dressed in a black suit making his presence known. My server/trainer, Rita, pointed at him and said, "Not to worry," indicating that we were undoubtedly safe from most activities other than playful slaps and "accidental" touching.

It was 12:00 and I had 30 minutes before Eric was to arrive.

We are assigned to a group of four men and another group of three, who requested a tearoom. The group of three has a woman with them smartly dressed in nice fitting black slacks and a gray silk blouse.

The group of four men includes my manager who for now has no idea that I am the one standing in front of him with my panties on display about to serve him and his companions.

I feel like I am going to throw up.

The hostess recognizes my reluctance. Placing her hand on my arm, she tells me that this is just to make my experience that much more memorable and to show me how to behave when my special guest arrives. Somehow she knows me inside and out.

We show our guests to their assigned teahouses having them sit down on the step so we can remove their shoes. I watch how my trainer squats down instead of bending forward to take each man's shoes off. I was in the process of simply bending forward until I realized how my tunic would end up halfway up my back if I continued. I guess that I did have a bit to learn to perform for my special guest. I squatted down just like Rita keeping my knees tightly together so I didn't show off too much, but I still knew that my nylon covered lips could seen through the small opening between my ankles. My manager noticed as well and I felt my entire body tremble in reaction to his look.

It was very much like wearing an extremely sexy Halloween costume where no one could recognize you, although you could recognize them.

We then rose up and stood on either side of the sliding doors opening them and bowing to our guests as they entered their teahouse. Just the simple act of bowing brought my tunic up and over my bottom as I could feel the slight change in temperature across my nylon-covered cheeks. Once our guests were seated on their pillow, Rita showed me how to kneel down at the end of the table bending our knees and sitting on our feet. This position took the already tight fabric of my panties and pulled it up and into my cheeks. When I reached behind me to adjust my developing thong, Rita quickly stopped me with a single shake of her head.

I was learning quickly that we served our guests above all else.

We presented the menus and asked for drink orders. To better echo the theme and tone of the restaurant, I found myself trying to mimic Rita's broken English. Rita glanced at me with approval.

We repeated the same process with our party of three. Although as I was taking the woman's heels off she discreetly slid one of her stocking feet between my ankles and rubbed my crotch with her toes. My eyes closed and I let out a little moan that caught Rita's attention. She seemed quite accustomed to what was happening to me, as she didn't show approval or disdain regarding our client's sexual interaction with me. It occurred to me that women guests could get away with much more than the males, as I doubted that our large protector was apt to throw any women out of the door.

The next part was a bit tricky as it required me to get much more up close and personal with my assigned guests. When we brought the tea and sake along with cups it required Rita and I to go into the small room and work our way around the diners in order to serve them. We weren't allowed to stand, but had to kneel and walk on our knees as we placed the cups in front of each person, and then poured either the sake or tea for each person. This had me reaching around and through my assigned guests who took every opportunity, of which there were many, to look at my barely clad bottom. I had to force myself to ignore their stares and "accidental" rubbing across my cheeks. My manager was particularly interested in watching my backside as I shuffled myself between his companions. There was no way to prevent my tunic from rising up to the top of my now disappearing panties. Every little sideway glance that I took towards my manager confirmed his desire to see my cheeks.

The thought of him finding out that he was looking at one of his employees caused my face to flush and goose bumps to form on my bare legs.

As for my other assigned guests, the female guest remained true to her desires and took every opportunity to find my lower lips and provide them with some manual attention as I directed my serving efforts to another member of her party. She definitely knew how to get the most from the least amount of effort. By the time we had served their lunch order, I was ready to orgasm.

Just to think that only 90 minutes ago I was sitting in my cubicle at work thinking about my lunch date with Eric, and now I am flashing my undies for complete strangers all except for one.

It was all so exhilarating as I felt so humiliated and embarrassed over my continuous exposure while at the same time thoroughly enjoying every second of it. So what's new, right?

I couldn't wait for Eric to arrive.

The hostess found me as I was finishing clearing the dishes for my table of four. I had just been slapped across one of my almost bare cheeks by my slightly inebriated manager and needed to extricate myself from his reach. Thankfully she instructed another Geisha in training to take my tray and let me to the front door.

I had described Eric to her and so she knew who and when to expect him.

You were coming up the walk just as I got to the front door. As you came in, the Geisha hostess greeted you with a light bow and a welcoming smile.

I loved how you enjoyed her mini kimono and I watched you look her over. You never leer or stare at a woman, but you drink in their vision as if we were a fine wine to savor. It gives me tingles when you savor me. The hostess bowed towards you and then nodded at me. It was the first time that you noticed me standing there. Maybe I should be upset, but the sight of a fully made up Geisha in a mini kimono certainly can offer a distraction worth taking, and besides there really was no way for you to recognize me unless you had a photographic memory of my legs. I in turn bowed to you and gestured for you to follow me. They had done just a good job with my makeup that I could tell that you hadn't figured it out to be me as yet.

I could feel your eyes on my legs and panty-covered cheeks as I purposely wiggled as I walked in front of you. The mood that I had been in all morning was getting worse or better depending upon your perspective. I liked it.

You followed me keeping just the right distance so you could see how short my tunic was. I relished every moment as if you were looking at me for the very first time. I guess in a way you were, as you still had no idea who I was. When we were outside our teahouse I motioned for you to sit down on the step so I could remove your shoes. I then squatted down, only this time I left a space of 4 to 5 inches between my knees. As I took off your shoes, you didn't disappoint me. One glance at my ivory covered crotch and you exclaimed, "Elizabeth?" I looked at you and smiled saying, "I will be your personal server today," in my best-broken English. Your expression told me all that I needed to know.

I opened the teahouse doors and bowed my head as you entered. You started to talk to me, but I put one finger on my lips and repeated, "I am here to serve you."

Once you sat down, I then knelt down at the edge of the table with my bottom resting on my heels and asked you for your drink order. I added in my newfound accent, "I would recommend the sake and tea, if you please." You nodded in agreement and I rose up again bowing towards you feeling my tunic raise up over my bottom and hoping that you noticed as I closed the doors behind me. Rita was assisting me in the kitchen and already had the tray set with the tea and sake pitcher along with the cups. I took them and hurried back to you.

As I had learned, I knelt down with the tray placed on the stairs and opened the sliding doors. Your camel colored pants were impressively tented in front causing a little ripple of delight to pass through my entire body. I picked up the tray and again knelt down inside the room shuffling on my knees towards you until I was near enough to serve you. Leaning forward as far as I could knowing that my posture would cause my tunic to completely raise up and over my string bikini panties I placed both pitchers in front of you along with the cups. I purposely placed each item one at a time so my tunic was constantly shifting up and down allowing you to see my barely covered derriere. I watched for your reaction simply by constantly looking at your lap.

Your erection was already free from the tiny white panties that you had promised to wear for me as I could make out its silhouette poking against the soft fabric of your trousers. I expected that by the time I was finished placing the pitchers and cups I would see a wet spot starting to form on the camel colored material. I was not disappointed.