Ad Men

The executives from Dupont got the point, as their cocks began to point as well, toward Miss Holloway.

Babs and Penny strolled into the office, and Mr. Draper stood up.

Mr. Draper had not chosen randomly. Babs and Penny were among the more attractive girls within the office, and that was saying quite a bit. Sterling Cooper knew that good appearance can be as important as good work, particularly within advertising, where their product was itself a matter of display and presentation.

Babs was particularly striking. She seemed to being modeling her appearance after the glamourous Eva Marie Saint, with finely sculptured facial features, high cheek bones, sky blue eyes, pink lips (her favorite shade) and creamy smooth, immaculate skin. One would naturally ask, or at least wonder, if Mr. Draper hired her primarily for her looks. And, her attractiveness did not end with her prettiness. She had long, shapely legs, and full, thrusting, large breasts, which were even more prominent than those of Miss Holloway. She loved to wear tight, form fitting sweaters that did much to display her prominent boobs, strongly reminiscent of the sweater girls Lana Turner and Jane Russell. They jutted from her body like large pointy cones. The office boys would chuckle about being careful that they didn't poke out their eyes.

Today, she was wearing a pink cotton sweater, a tight, somewhat darker red plaid cotton skirt, and pink nylons. She was really a fetching sight.

"After all, gentleman," Mr. Draper continued, "It's now the 1960s, and the modern girl has something more on her mind than simply comfort, doesn't she?"

The two secretaries smiled at Mr. Draper. He was certainly right about that. Mr. Draper did have a good understanding of the needs and wishes of the modern woman, as would be expected for any successful advertising executive.

Miss Holloway understood more fully what Mr. Draper was suggesting. She did not become the Office Manager by just sleeping with management. Actually, she had slept with Mr. Draper, and with Mr. Slattery, but she had also fully deserved her position. "Absolutely, sir," she said, as she hitched her skirt up a bit higher, "Why wear such lovely nylons if they can't be seen."

A few gasps could be heard from the executives from Dupont, as well as from Penny, as Miss Holloway's skirt rose up her thighs, almost all the way to her panties.

"Yes," Mr. Draper articulated, putting out his cigarette. "That is our proposal, gentleman, our campaign." Miss Holloway had coined it well: "Why wear such lovely nylons if they can't be seen."

Mr. Grundleman was confused. "Mr. Draper, we don't manufacture skirts, and even if we did, I seriously doubt that the general public is ready for some sort of mini-skirt."

"'Mini-skirt' would be a good name for such a dress, Mr. Grundleman," he replied, lighting up another Lucky Strike, "and perhaps the public will in fact demand such a skirt, after they see your ads."

The executives imagined how provocative, and lovely, it would be to have ladies wearing such short skirts. Their cocks twitched with their imagination, which they recognized was little more than a bizarre, perhaps perverted, fantasy.

"Your nylons will create the desire, the need, through your ads, providing the desire to see your product, her nylons, her legs wearing your nylons. For example, one such ad might present a woman in the manner of Babs," he said, as he strolled over to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. "She is expressing her disappointment that none of the gentlemen within, for instance, a boardroom could see her nylons, as they are, indeed, so attractive. The slogan could be, for instance, 'If only skirts were shorter!'"

The eyes of the men lit up. This did sound intriguing. They certainly wouldn't object to such a radical shift in women's wear.

"Babs, please, lift up your skirt."

"Of course, sir," Babs replied. She did not hesitate. She wasn't Mr. Draper's personal secretary for nothing. She reached down for the hem of her skirt. It was a bit difficult to pull up, as her skirt was down to her knees and quite tight. It took a considerable amount of wiggling to get it up past the top of her nylons and she accentuated her squirming and wriggling to increase the effect of the pleasurable sight. She was wearing pink lace, floral woven stockings, held up by a pink garter belt. The cocks of the men swelled anew with appreciation at the fine product their company had constructed.

Mr. Draper exclaimed, "Is it not a shame to hide such beauty, gentlemen?"

Nobody could possibly disagree.

Babs smiled proudly as the men's eyes feasted on the sight of her lovely legs. She was quite proud of them and did not at all mind showing them off. She did indeed wish that skirts were shorter.

Mr. Draper wrote in large letters across the whiteboard mounted on the easel: "After all, they are Dupont."

It was an instant and obvious hit. The Dupont executives all nodded with approval, although it wasn't entirely clear whether their approval was for the proposed slogans, or the sexy legs that were being displayed so enticingly before their eyes. It would be sweet enough for Babs to be showing them her sexy legs, but to do so in this setting, within a boardroom, as a secretary, with her skirt pulled up, made it so very much more appealing, more provocative, more arousing.

"Yes, yes, I see your point, Mr. Draper," Mr. Grundleman said, but he, as the boss, was not to be swayed by simply the sight of pretty legs. This would be a major advertising campaign, one of considerable cost and commitment on the part of Dupont. "But is that really all you have?"

"Would you like to see more, Mr. Grundleman?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Babs, please, let Mr. Grundleman get the complete picture."

"Mr. Draper?" Babs knew fully what Mr. Draper meant, and it wasn't what Mr. Grundleman had meant. Babs didn't mind showing a little leg, even a lot of leg, but more than that? She just wasn't too sure that she wanted to go further. She had done many things for Mr. Draper, and for other rich men, certainly a lot more than raising her skirt to show her panties, but it had always been in the privacy of a bedroom, or at least a hotel room. Never in public, never like this, like a stripper at one of those seedy clubs in the north end of the city.

Miss Holloway stepped forward to help Babs, and especially Mr. Draper. "Yes, of course, Babs. We're all adults here and this is business. It's just business." She turned to speak to Mr. Grundleman. "In fact, if you like what you see, perhaps there might be a position for Babs in your campaign, Mr. Grundleman?"

It was really Mr. Draper who would have the authority to pick the models, but Mr. Draper appreciated the astute proposal of Miss Holloway. Babs might need further incentive, and allowing Mr. Grundleman to participate in the selection could also be helpful in securing the contract.

Mr. Grundleman assented. He had caught Mr. Draper's meaning. He would, of course, prefer a more direct response to his question, but a little momentary digression would not be terribly harmful.

In any case, Babs needed no further encouragement. Fashion models made quite a bit of money, they were very, very popular at night clubs (even more so than stewardesses) and they certainly met very eligible and desirable bachelors. She had never imagined going from secretary to fashion model! This was in fact a very fortunate opportunity. Plus, she would not be asked to show anything more than any other model, or at least lingerie model. She pulled her skirt up well past her thighs to fully display her matching pink lace panties and garter belt.

It was beautiful sight. A couple of hands moved surreptitiously beneath the conference table to adjust, and lightly stroke, hard cocks straining within slacks.

Babs was ecstatic over the opportunity to actually become a model, but she did naturally blush at the fact that she was standing in the boardroom, her skirt lifted all the way up to her waist, displaying her sexy panties to these older male executives, and to her bosses. It was one thing to provide guys with a little quick peek at a nylon, of a thigh. She did this of course many times within and outside of the office. But, this did seem to be really quite explicitly sexual, if not rather dirty. This was the type of thing you saw in those risque detective magazines that were so obscenely displayed across the top of magazine stands: pictures of women, young ladies, in various stages of dishabille. She felt quite uncomfortable at having all these men staring at her, and so obviously staring at one place in particular. She fought the intense urge to cover herself, to provide herself with at least some modesty.

Babs did have a very full pussy mound, and it was nicely, tightly, snugly wrapped in her panties. She was not shaved. Very few women did back in the early 1960s. There was no camel toe to be seen. But, one did clearly see the outline of her feminine mound: the little rise of soft, feminine flesh.

Babs turned one leg in a bit and bent her knee, as if she could hide the mound of her cunnie with her thigh, but that only made the pose more provocative, revealing her unease, her discomfort with her state of undress, thereby making it all the more significant, personal, and appealing.

"Hmmph," Mr. Grundleman cleared his throat, trying to gather himself, trying to get back on track. "I'm really not too sure that we could have this in the ad."

Mr. Draper disagreed. "Well, I think you could. This is indeed the modern age of mankind, culture, and advertising. Animals are being launched into space, Andy Warhol turns a can of soup into art, our country has never seen a more profound concern with regard to the civil rights of its citizens." Mr. Draper was indeed a very forward and modern thinker. "But, frankly, I'm not actually proposing this for the ad. The eyes would naturally drift away from the nylons to the panties. Penny, what nylons are you wearing today?"

"Yes, yes," Mr. Thompson, a junior Dupont executive, spoke up. The junior Dupont executives always left the speaking to Mr. Grundleman, but Mr. Thompson really couldn't help himself. He so much wanted to see what Penny was hiding under her skirt.

Penny really wasn't so sure that she wanted to pull up her skirt. She had no aspirations to be a model, although she easily could've been. She had an Audrey Hepburn look, with short dark hair, curly bangs, large and velvety brown eyes that slightly tilted up at the outer corners and that seemed to sparkle like the diamonds she longed to obtain. She was not, though, a gold digger by any means. Indeed, she conveyed innocence, with a sweet smile, violet lips (her favorite shade), girlish dimples, and an elfin giggle.

Mr. Draper stepped over to her, behind her, and said, "The model would look quite forlorn, and the ad would read, 'Why must skirts be so short?'"

Penny did look a little uncomfortable, but it wasn't because her skirt was too long.

Mr. Draper kneeled down behind her, stuck his cigarette in his mouth, and, eyes blinking from the smoke, he lightly ran his hands up and down Penny's thighs.

"Oh my," Penny gasped.

Mr. Draper continued. "She just bought a new pair of Dupont nylons, and nobody could see them at all." He started to pull her skirt up himself.

"Mr. Draper!" Penny protested, but she did not actually stop him. It was clearly not the right time to refuse management a little indiscretion. After all, Babs already had her skirt pulled up, and Mr. Crane had done this a few times in the privacy of his office, even so far as to expose her panties. Her faced reddened further at the thought of doing that here. Mr. Draper really wouldn't pull her skirt up that high, would he? She expressed her ambivalence, her modest protest, by wiggling around and pulling back down on her skirt, ineffectively fighting Mr. Draper's effort to pull it up.

The men, however, found her struggle all the more endearing, and enticing. Girls who were fully willing to lift their skirts were very rare and certainly very delightful. Many eyes continued to glance over at Babs, who was now standing quite demurely with her hands clasped behind her pantied bottom, looking ever so appealing. But, girls who feigned objection, who made it difficult to uncover them, would make the eventual prize all the more delightful, as if they were indeed uncovering a very precious and well guarded treasure that was not easily obtained.

Mr. Draper's masculine strength, as well as his authority, eventually overcame Penny's doubts, or at least her resistance. Her skirt was pulled up to the top of her thighs. "Mr. Draper," she exclaimed, "This so naughty."

"Naughty but nice," he countered, returning his cigarette to his fingers, "so very, very nice. After all, they are Dupont."

The Dupont executives were never more proud of their product. Penny wore bridal stockings, which made her modesty more fitting and more adorable. They were sheer white, with three inch lace trim at the top, capped by white satin bows and faux pearls, along with a ruffle garter. As the executives admired the sight she blushed like a virgin bride, and perhaps she was, at least a virgin. She certainly did look like one, and a most desirable one at that.

Mr. Draper grandly drew his hands across the air before him, as if he was reading across a billboard, the smoke of his cigarette tailing behind: "Why must you wait for the wedding night, when it's a Dupont."

Penny wondered if she should feel so self-conscious. After all, if this was her wedding day, she would bare these thighs and nylons to all her family and friends, as her husband pulled from her the ruffled garter. But, still, that would itself be a bit embarrassing, having her husband reach up beneath her crinoline wedding gown, all the while apprehensive about perhaps showing too much. What if her guests saw her panties?

"Would you like to see her panties, gentlemen?"

"Mr. Draper, please, goodness. My panties?"

"Penny, don't you think the fine men of Dupont should know how much we value, how much we appreciate, their business?"

"Oh, Mr. Draper, I really don't know." Switching to RC Cola had been difficult enough, but actually showing clients her panties? It wasn't even yet clear that they would be Sterling Cooper clients. Is this really within her job description? She vowed to carefully review her contract when she got back to her desk.

Babs and Miss Holloway could see Penny's hesitancy, her ambivalence, and they came to her aid. They strolled up to her. Babs' skirt was still pulled up to her waist and the eyes of the men shifted from Penny to Babs' pink panty bottom waving back and forth as she approached Penny. Was there anything prettier than a pink panty girl? Probably a lot of things, but each male breathed a deep sigh of satisfying pleasure as he followed the path of Babs' wagging bottom.

Babs took a position to the left of Penny; Miss Holloway to the right. Babs placed a reassuring hand on Penny's shoulder. "It's really alright, Penny. It's just a little friendly peeking. Nobody will touch anything." She said, "See?" as she stepped back from Penny, letting her see that she was showing off her own panties with no apparent ill effects. "I don't mind at all."

Penny, though, was no Babs. Penny did mind. Models might have to be comfortable with exposing their panties to strangers, but secretaries did not. No, there was really something wrong, quite inappropriate in fact, about all this.

Miss Holloway stepped in. Managing the secretaries was her job, and she was not about to have on record that they lost the Dupont account because one of her gals would not pull up her skirt. She whispered to her, "Penny, we need this account. It's important for the firm, for our success." She added, "for your salary."

Penny looked Miss Holloway in the eye and whispered back, "What about your skirt?"

It was a rather bold challenge on Penny's part. A secretary at Sterling Cooper did not defy the Office Manager. However, it was not often that a secretary was being asked to raise her skirt and bare her panties. Actually, it did happen quite a bit, but always in respectful privacy of her boss' office.

Miss Holloway was momentarily speechless. But she knew that the Dupont account might be in the balance. She turned and smiled at the visiting executives, then turned her back to them, bent over, and raised her skirt up past her bottom, bearing before their eyes her round, and brightly green, tightly wrapped, bum.

Miss Holloway did feel a bit uncomfortable showing these men her pantied bottom. She had shown them close to the same thing only minutes earlier, but that was different. That had been entirely her own idea, and it had only been a brief, a very brief, flirtation. This was now much more. This was considerably more blatant, perhaps even obscene.

Penny knew that she really couldn't refuse now. If she didn't do it Miss Holloway would be assigning her all of the contract typing, which was really the most boring of all the secretarial work. She closed her eyes, in fact squeezed them shut, groaned, and reached down to pull her skirt up higher, even high enough to reveal the beginning of her panties. She wondered if Mr. Crane might give her a spanking later in the day, when he heard what she had in fact done.

It wasn't much but it was perhaps the best part: the first sign of her panties was the first sign of her cunt, a very soft white cushiony pouch peeking out beneath her skirt. And, Penny's panties were perhaps the sexiest of them all, as they were a sheer silky white lace, so sheer that one could make out a wispy sight of what seemed like her feminine lips. The panties were a wonderful match to her stockings, as these were the panties of a bride, one trying to be as virtuous and sexy as she could for her new hubby on their wedding night. Instead, though, she was being as sexy as she could be for the visiting executives from Dupont.

It was the men's turn to be momentarily silent, or more precisely, stunned. Posing before them were three very attractive secretaries, all with their skirts raised: Babs and Penny showing them their lovely feminine pouches: one pink, one white; Miss Holloway showing them her bright green, womanly rounded rump, with her cute little pouch peeking out as well.

Mr. Grundleman broke the silence. "Yes, Mr. Draper, I think I do like this proposal. I like it very much: 'If only skirts were shorter.' Yes, yes, it is quite catchy and does have an appeal." He was speaking to Mr. Draper, but his eyes were focused elsewhere. "Do you really think it will work?"

"Of course it will. 'After all, it is a Dupont.' Miss Holloway, please, why don't you get the good faith contracts."

Miss Holloway stood up, feeling quite grateful to be able to do so, although smiling at their success, her success, in landing the contract, and smiling a bit as well at what she had just done. After all, bending over for the executives wasn't all bad. Skirts were indeed really awfully long.

Babs and Penny kept their skirts up as Miss Holloway retrieved the good faith contracts from Mr. Draper's desk. One did not want the gentlemen to become distracted, to lose their motivation at the last moment. Babs in fact strolled around the table to provide each of the men fresh cigarettes, as well as a closer look at her Dupont stockings, and her pink panties. "Your nylons are so silky smooth, Mr. Dupont," she said flirtatiously. "Here, touch them, feel for yourself."

Mr. Grundleman did so. His company's stockings never felt so nice, so lovely, stretched across the young lady's equally smooth thighs. In fact, out of the eye sight of the other men, which wasn't easy as most eyes were turned toward Babs, he snuck his fingers up higher and lightly touched Babs' even softer and sweeter cunnie mound.