The Queen's Knickers

I needed some time out from the office and I was in Waterstones bookshop in Warrington at lunchtime. I was wearing a gray business suit over black stockings and high-heel pumps feeling smart but not at all provocative. I was looking for a collection of Shel Silverstein poems for my niece and discovered that the poetry books were located on the bottom shelf in the children's section; so there I was crouched down, trying to retain some decorum, knowing my skirt was riding up, when suddenly I became aware of a man sitting with a child (grandchild?) who was colouring in a 'design the Queen's Jubilee Knickers' sheet at the table nearby. I smiled to myself as I realised his eyes were locked on my stocking tops which by then were just peeking below my skirt hem.

The Queen's Jubilee Knickers... now there's a thought! No, I really mustn't go there if I want to keep my sanity; who on Earth thinks up these competitions anyway? But I must confess that an involuntary smile spread across my face when I thought of my own Jubilee knickers.

Like so many English villages, Winwick had been planning its Jubilee bank-holiday party for months and I'd been on the look out for just the right outfit. Something tasteful yet Jubilee themed; a laudable aspiration... but the two seemed to be mutually exclusive until I found the most amazing, hand printed dress in the graduation exhibition at the local design school in Manchester. The designer was Lisa's most promising student and she persuaded me I would be making an investment I wouldn't regret when her protégé becomes famous.

To call it a T-shirt dress doesn't remotely do it justice, but the fabric was silky soft cotton and it flowed over my curves like smooth chocolate over a strawberry. Bat-wing sleeves, scoop neckline and drop waist; the print inspired by a fragmented and faded Union jack with black teardrops raining down to an inky pool at the hem which sat comfortingly close around my thighs. I loved the dress and I loved the feel of it against my skin and when I looked in the mirror, I couldn't help but smile, but what to wear under it? Everything I tried ruined the line and destroyed the feeling of being caressed as I moved.

Lisa looked at me across the paint spattered bench in her garden studio, puzzlement in her eyes. I'd just described the entire inventory of La Senza; Victoria's Secret; Pink; even M&S, and all the reasons nothing was right.

"Well, why wear anything under it, Cee? Of all people, you're the last one I'd have expected to worry about knickers."

"I know, I know, I know," I said, "but somehow it just seems wrong to wear a Jubilee dress without knickers... it's as if somehow the Queen will know and it seems kinda... disrespectful."

I saw the glint appear in Lisa's eye, a glint that made me squeeze my thighs together, swallowing as my mouth began to water and, lower down, a crackle of static from deep in my tummy coursed upwards, straight to my nipples which scrunched to attention. She picked up a paintbrush and drew it, absently, between her lips. I swallowed, mesmerised, caught in that spell she casts so easily yet seems quite oblivious to.

"Stand up." It was an order; I obeyed.

"Take off your knickers and skirt." Lisa was mixing paints on a palette; white, shades of grey, blues, a touch of pink.

It was no longer just my mouth watering and the wave of arousal was flowing over me like a blush. I held her eyes with mine and slowly, slowly shimmied my skirt up my thighs, pausing for a moment, savouring Lisa's expectation before easing it over my hips. Her grin said it all as her eyes devoured me.

"I guess the Queen's not looking today, then," she said. "Come stand in front of me."

Lisa knelt before me, paintbrush in hand. I felt her breath on that most intimate place and a gasp escaped me as I parted my legs just a little... and then a sharp intake of breath as cold strokes of paint outlined where elastic might be. Deftly, and with as skill I could hardly imagine, a pair of virtual knickers took shape. White, lacy, a blue bow at the waist and pink roses at the sides. I was melting, sure I would collapse into a little squidgy heap in the middle of Lisa's studio... but suddenly, my eyes snapped open as I felt the silky flow of her paintbrush trespass between my legs, across my lips, deep into my hidden folds, sending me to that place where the world is excluded and release is the only goal. Then, and with one flick of her tongue; firm, wet, erotic, perfectly placed... Lisa sent me over the edge, cascading on wave after satisfying wave into my fulfilment. I flung my arms round her neck and kissed her deeply, breathing in her scent, savouring her warmth. We collapsed in a heap and I knew I needed to bring her too, but I knew as well that I had found my Jubilee knickers.

I knew I was grinning insanely. I so enjoyed wearing Lisa's art and it always has that effect when I think about it. But suddenly I was aware again of my admirer and of my stocking tops which seemed to have become more obvious.

Surreptitiously, I looked around and there was no one else in that section of the store so, making eye contact with the man and smiling at him at the same time, I shuffled my position, transferring from one foot to the other, knowing that he would see a glimpse of thigh. Well, talk about rabbit caught in the headlights... he looked utterly flustered, turned bright red and began helping the girl with her colouring, obviously mortified to have been caught staring. Laughing to myself, I shook my head slightly and continued with my search, wondering why poetry was on the bottom shelf and musing about what one finds on the top shelf of a children's bookshop. And then I caught the flash out of the corner of my eye!

My admirer was taking pictures of his charge with his iPhone... At least, that's what it appeared like; except I was obviously in the background. I thought about being angry, but then he flashed me a brilliant smile and I just couldn't be cross, so I gave him a kind of exasperated smirk, raised my eyebrows and turned a little towards him on my heels, giving him a 'go on then' gesture. The man looked around as if not quite believing I meant him. Then, a broad grin on his face, he pointed the phone right at me. I almost felt the flash like a breeze against my legs and I wondered if perhaps I had parted my thighs a little too much; then I jumped up, blew him a kiss and left, wondering what secrets the pictures would reveal.