Sammy's Panties Pt. 03

After that, I was pretty intent on amusing Sammy as much as possible that evening and I hit the bullseye four times in total as Sammy exposed the red cloth of her panties. On one occasion she had to hold her stomach to control her convulsions and when she did she dragged her dress from her thighs and I saw through her pantyhose that the red panties were none other than those she had purchased from the hypermarket.

I decided to excuse myself between courses and went to my room. I wanted to wear the same panties as Sammy so I took those from my panty drawer that were size L and put them on beneath my trousers before returning to the kitchen. They were a bit uncomfortable because by now my cock was stiff and the head had escaped the waistband of the panties and was chafing against the zip of my trousers. I really enjoyed my secret and kept thinking to myself whenever I looked at Sammy,

"We're wearing the same panties you and me, you horny sexy woman."

Finally, I served warm Yorkshire puddings with a selection of accompaniments, chocolate sauce, maple syrup, vanilla ice cream and double cream. Everyone helped themselves but we all ended up with the whole assortment covering our puds.

"Marti can I have another one please," asked Sammy.

"They need eating sweetheart, they're better today than tomorrow," I responded.

The look on her face was precious, the relish with which she dressed the pudding was heartwarming, seeing her so at home particularly after her awful discovery when she had arrived back from Madrid earlier in the day. When Sammy had finished her second pudding she excused herself from the table and identified that she needed to use the bathroom. On her return, she no longer had chocolate sauce around her mouth. She walked over to the breakfast bar and taking a pen and a sticky note she began to write before returning to her seat at the table.

"Marti, this is my e-mail address, you must send me the recipe for those puddings. My mother is a great cook and I want to send her the recipe so that she can practise making them before I go back to Venezuela. That was one of the best desserts I have ever eaten," she enthused.

"Will do, I'll do it first thing in the morning," I promised her.

Finally, Marisol and Javi retired to Marisol's room and I took the opportunity to take the chair opposite Sammy.

"Marti, thank you so much for all you did for me today, you saved me I don't know what I would have done without you," Sammy told me.

"Thank you, dear Sammy, really it was a pleasure. You know the traditional U.S.blues song, 'It hurts me too. When things go wrong, so wrong with you, it hurts me too'. I was just being selfish, I was dealing with my own pain really. How could I bear to see you so upset?"

"Well you saved me, I owe you, Marti, Sammy declared. Well, I'll go to bed now in my new room so good night Marti," she said and blew me a kiss.

Sammy stood up and left the room leaving me rather weary after all that had happened during the day and shortly after her I went to my bed too.

-----

The following Sunday was a bright sunny day and I slept late. As I passed the kitchen door on my way to take a leak I could hear Sammy and Marisol speaking in Spanish. I heard Marisol swear which was really unusual, she was always of the sunniest disposition. Nature called so I carried on to the bathroom but on my return and needing coffee I went into the kitchen.

"Marti, the washing machine is not functioning we can't make it work. Marisol has telephoned Don Garcia. He anticipates that it will not be until, Tuesday before the engineer can come and look," Sammy informed me. Her laundry basket was at her feet.

"Oh for fuck's sake, what next?" I said with as much irritation as I could muster. Naturally, I was absolutely delighted. Sammy had been about to do her laundry, it probably included everything she had taken to Madrid with her and maybe more. Her decision to visit her cousin had been rather sudden. She was just about to send all her scent, all her exudates, her perspiration and secretions down the drain and at the last moment they had for the time being spared that fate.

Marisol addressed me and I learnt that Tuesday was also the day when the carpenter would begin to take up the damaged flooring in Sammy's room and that he expected to complete the job on Thursday. Would I be available to let the repairmen in the apartment was her next question because Don Garcia was out of town that day? I told her that I could certainly do that.

When I returned with coffee to my room I saw the sticky note Sammy had given me the night before with her e-mail address and it reminded me that I should send her the recipe for the Yorkshire puddings. I found the online recipe which I favoured and copied the link to a new page in my email on which I carefully wrote Sammy's electronic address. I added some extra tips to the page myself and then sent it off to Sammy's address.

It was a quiet Sunday. Sundays in Vigo can be a little like a rehearsal for a nuclear war. People go out and buy bread and then disappear into their shelters. There are exceptions during regular festival occasions. Certainly, it was quiet at our flat that afternoon. Later in the evening Marisol and Javi joined Sammy in the television room and I could hear them all laughing, I guess they must have been watching a comedy program it would all be lost on me. Javi left afterwards to go home to his parent's house as was customary for him to do on Sunday evenings.

All lights seemed to be turning green in front of me. The only thing I didn't need was that someone would throw a 'sicky' the following Monday morning. I don't work but under the circumstances, if I did I would definitely have thrown a 'sticky'.

I slept restlessly that night, aware even in my sleep of the awesome, wicked adventure I had ahead of me the following day. The same kind of restlessness that I experience the night before I have to wake early and take a flight. I couldn't miss the boat. I had the whole day ahead of me without interruption to explore the delight of a new found land. One that I had been longing to explore incessantly for weeks.

I rose at seven in the morning, unusually early for me. I couldn't sleep. I went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I needed to hear the telltale sounds of Sammy and Marisol leaving for work. Then I heard a door open and close and Marisol walked past the kitchen door on her way to the bathroom. Hip hip hoorah she was on her way to work. As soon as she had finished showering and returned along the corridor and shut the door to her room there was the sound of another door opening. We all listened to the telltale sounds of each other that indicated that the bathroom was unavailable or that the kitchen was free. Then red towelling passed the kitchen door and I knew that Sammy was alive and well and going about her daily business. Could anything stop me now?

At a quarter past eight, I was still having a prolonged breakfast. I would need all the sustenance for my long adventure ahead of me. Marisol, with her head down as a Monday morning demands left without a word and the apartment door closed behind her. Then the light of all light arrived in the kitchen.

"I don't have to start today until eleven o'clock today Marti, my first lecture has been cancelled. I can have a relaxing breakfast before I leave," said Sammy.

"That's nice," I responded truthfully, I liked her being around especially in her bathrobe with her feet exposed in her slippers and the scent of her shower gel and shampoo filling the air.

"Marti, I had to fill in an online form for a post as a junior pharmacist when I go back to Venezuela. It's in Caracas in the centre of the town and they need to identify that I am proficient in English. Could you have a look at it for me."

"No problem Sammy, are you going to bring your laptop here, send me the document or what," I asked her.

"I'll go and carry it", she said.

Sammy skipped out of the door and moments later she returned and put her laptop in front of me on the kitchen table, plugged it in and started it.

"The battery is not very good anymore I have to put it with the electricity. I really appreciate this Marti, I don't know what I would do without you," Sammy said.

Whilst I looked at the document Sammy was busy in the kitchen, she was feeding sliced bread into the toaster and I was waiting for her to take her hazelnut chocolate spread from the top shelf of the cupboard above her. That would require that she stood on her toes which would display the wrinkled soles of her lovely feet and maybe if she stretched far enough the bottom of all her little piggies. She was busy boiling milk too and after a little while brought toast, butter, hazelnut-chocolate spread and a mug of hot chocolate over to the table. We had swapped seats from the night before but we were still sitting opposite each other.

Sammy was engrossed in some Women's magazine and quite automatically without hardly looking would manage to butter her toast and spread a copious quantity of chocolate spread on top. However, her multi-tasking stopped there because with all that going on she apparently didn't notice that her robe was gradually spreading and falling from her thighs and revealing more and more of her luxurious milky skin. I had a ringside seat.

Conveniently the missing battery that was allocated space at the back of the keypad left a slot under the screen of adequate width to afford me a fine view of Sammy's thighs through the glass table top. I had every right to be looking at the laptop. I had a free view to enjoy watching the point of overlap of the two sides of her robe as it crept towards her honey pot.

"Is it possible to open this document again in another window and then I can make my own version of it. You could adapt yours according to the way I complete it? " I suggested to her.

Sammy stood up and as she did I caught sight of her bush. Except it wasn't a bush, more a well kept lawn for she had taken the mower over it and used her edge trimmers to create a little landing strip. I was equipped with an autopilot and I thought that even without clear vision I could have steered myself there using whichever senses happened to be available.

Sammy licked chocolate from some fingers and modestly adjusted her robe prior to coming to my side of the table and opening another version of the document. She said nothing because her mouth was full of breakfast but she did give affirmative grunts as she manipulated the software. I longed to hear such grunts again, the next time her mouth was full and she was dealing with my hardware.

She returned to her seat and continued with her breakfast. She had straightened her robe but I still had her knees and calves to letch but it wasn't quite the spectacle I had witnessed some moments before. Instead, I concentrated on watching her fill her face and slurp hot chocolate whilst making my own version of her document.

When I had finished I said to her, "Sammy I've rewritten it from the position of someone standing in your shoes."

I spun the laptop around to face her, I wasn't wanting her to return to my side of the table because she had given me an obvious hard on which I could neatly hide from her sight by the considerate placing of her laptop, bearing in mind the spy slot between the screen and keypad.

"That's brilliant," Marti, I promise to pay you back for everything you do for me.

Sweetheart, I thought to myself, as soon as you fuck off to college I'm going to help myself, don't you worry about it. However, I said with a smile, "All in a day's work for bicycle repair man."

Sammy understood the humour, young people have watched a never ending series of big box office movies about superheroes. She stood up once again and tidied up her stuff before washing up her breakfast things at the kitchen sink. I borrowed her magazine and whilst discovering that Spain has its own version of Cliff Richard, named Rafael, I watched her at the sink and wondered which lucky man would have this girl for a bride and hoped for both their sakes that he would have the profound sense to know what he had won.

Sammy left the kitchen with chocolate spread around her mouth. In about the time it takes for a woman to get herself ready to face the world, ages, Sammy reappeared in the kitchen. She was wearing jeans, her trainers with pink stripes, no socks and a parka coat with the hood up.

"You've turned into a mod or are you an Eskimo, or are you just off to rob the post office," I asked her.

She gave me a funny look, I don't think she was quite on my wavelength. "I'm a mod Marti, this and my blue dress are my souvenirs of Madrid. Don Garcia paid for both of them, cool don't you think," she requested tentatively.

"Fucking cool, chama, too fucking cool. Wish I had a scooter, you could put your arms around me and I could whisk you away into the night. Do you know the movie Quadrophenia," I asked her?

"Cult movie for young people in Venezuela Marti," she informed me.

I was a bit taken aback by that slice of info but really glad to hear it.

"Are you off Sammy," I said.

"I'm off Marti, laters," she said.

I had no idea where she had picked up that piece of London vernacular for expressing 'see you later', but what with Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and the rest I should not have been so surprised. I watched as Sammy left the door of the apartment building. It was raining, her hood on her parka served her well. Umbrellas are for conservatives and she didn't belong with them. She was a mod. I was glad, I was heading off to the non-conservative world of a modern liberal girl's knickers, bring it on.

I went straight to the television room, Sammy's temporary accommodation. Glancing around the room I saw that she had piled all her coats on the armchair and on the coffee table there were three neat piles, one of her trousers, one of her dresses and one of tops. Arranged beneath it there were her red slippers and two pairs of high heeled shoes, one black that she had worn the previous evening and one fuschia pink with blue heels that I had not had the pleasure of seeing before. Under the sofa, she had placed the three drawers that had been in the chest of drawers in her room. I had seen on the previous Saturday that two of those drawers, her panty drawer and her hosiery drawer were almost devoid of items but the third I had not seen passing before my greedy eyes.

I was aware that it was her laundry basket that carried all her treasure but I wanted to save the best until last. The laundry basket was standing by the window and it was, I knew, a treasure chest. I withdrew one of the drawers from underneath the sofa. It was, I guess in time of more opulence and less famine the site of some gorgeous nylon garments but it was bereft and contained merely three pairs of cotton socks, pink and black. The second drawer was Sammy's toy drawer. There was a lifeless semi-translucent orange dildo with raised veins and a nice girly pink and white vibrator with a clitoral stimulant appendage for extra titillation. The third drawer contained three tiny thongs that were really fucking sexy.

Something was wrong with my moment of glory. I went over to the laundry basket and removed the lid. It was packed. I could smell Sammy but she wasn't there. I picked the basket up by one of its handles and was about to tip it up and empty all it's contents on the floor but I didn't. She wasn't there. I put the basket down. I left the room and went to mine and I sat down on my bed and began to sob. She wasn't there. I couldn't do without her. I had arrived at a point of inflexion as the mathematicians call it when a curve changes direction and goes another way. I was exhausted. I was wavering, I didn't know my direction so I just crawled into bed and fell asleep.

I woke up some hours later when I heard Sammy's voice and a gentle knocking on my door.

"Marti, Marti, are you there, she called enthusiastically.

I was still in my clothes. I rolled out of bed and opened the door. There was an angel standing there.

Marti, guess what, I sent that application to Caracas and they replied already. They've given me first refusal of that post as a junior pharmacist in the clinic.

Lest go, Marti, she said with the usual mis-formulation of that imperative. I want to go and celebrate, come with me."

I was hardly on my feet but I followed her mis-formulated imperative and put on my coat and my pork pie hat, after all, what else could a man wear to accompany a mod girl in her parka. When we reached the door of the apartment I said to her,

"Let's go.

She wasn't listening and she grabbed my hand and pulled me through the door. Down at street level, as we stood on the threshold of the open door, the sky was angry and dark.

Surely looks like rain, I'll go and get my umbrella Sammy," I suggested.

"Fuck your umbrella, Marti," she said and took me by the hand and pulled me behind her.

Sammy led me to a bar in the Rua de Manuel Núñez, the most beautiful street in Vigo, there aren't many. It was empty, it was intimate, hardly that surprising at four o'clock in the afternoon on a weekday.

After we had sat down I said to her, "So how come you got off so early today then."

"We have two lectures with the same teacher on Mondays, she was absent. I only went in today to pick up assignments and see my friends. Guess what, Marti, we're having a fancy dress party next Saturday, I love wearing fancy dress. I don't know who I'm going as, have you any ideas," she said.

"I know Sammy, how about you go as a silly old English bloke and then to make it really realistic I could go instead of you and shag all of your girlfriends whilst you stay in the apartment and do my laundry and wash my dishes for me," I commented gleefully.

"In your dreams, Marti," she replied.

"How about a cat then, every other bird will go as one and if your costume is shit or you get pissed and behave really, really badly you can pretend it wasn't you and that it was some other bird, I mean cat-bird," I teased.

"Fuck off Marti, no, you've given me an idea, I'm going to go as a blok. I'm as tall as lots of the bloks in this town. I should be able to get a bloks suit cheap in the second-hand shops.

"Bloke, Sammy, as in coke, choke, toke, folk and joke," I corrected her.

"Fuck off Marti," she said between giggles.

"Where did you learn to speak with all this bad language, Sammy," I enquired.

"I've been listening to you Marti when you first get up in the morning," she replied and then cracked up into uncontrollable laughter.

"Charming," I conceded.

The next day, Saturday I woke up and went immediately to find some coffee. Sammy and I had stayed in the bar for hours the day before and we both arrived home a bit the worse for wear. Alcohol had loosened our tongues and our conversation had been intense throughout the time we were out together.

Sammy was already up and dressed and standing by the front door.

"I'm off to get a bloks suit, Marti," Sammy informed me and pouted and walked out the door of the apartment.

"I called out behind her sarcastically, "Yes and a very good morning to you too, dear."

Marisol, who was putting her laundry in the machine looked at me without saying anything but her face requested that she wondered what Sammy was going on about.

"Necesita un disfraz por una fiesta de sus amigos de la universidad, creo," I responded.

I had intended to convey to Marisol that Sammy was doing special shopping for a fancy dress party.

Marisol smiled as always except when the washing machine wasn't working but now it was again. The service engineer had sorted out the washing machine. Sammy's room, however, was still waiting for completion. The concrete floor beneath the laminate floor boards had become soaked with water and it was impossible to lay a new laminate floor until it had dried out thoroughly. Sammy would have to spend another week in the television room.