Transferred to Dayton

"Like it?" Brett finally asked.

I glanced up at him, then at Kerri, to find her looking at me like she was awaiting my decision. I decided it made sense to direct my response to her.

"It's ... it's absolutely amazing," I said, still kneading the feet at my side. "Kerri, you are full of surprises, and they're all good ones. I've never seen anything like this before."

"I'm glad you like it," she responded, a little sheepishly. [I guess I would tend to be sheepish also if I were sitting spread-eagle, exposing my genitalia to a fully clothed person in front of me.] "It has proven to be a good conversation starter at my gynecologist's office."

That comment made both Brett and me laugh. True to form, Brett then jumped back into the conversation.

"You'll notice we achieved Kerri's goal of being able to hide it completely if she wants. Everything except the part on her back can be hidden by a bikini bottom or panties. Ker even has a high-waisted bikini that hides that part, too."

"At least most of my bikinis," Kerri clarified. "A few of them—"

"Yeah, that's true," he said, cutting her off. "Your Wicked Weasel doesn't get the job done, for sure." Brett chuckled, then added, "But it still looks fantastic on you, baby." He leaned over and down to cover her lips [the ones on her face] with his, and they shared a tongue-engaging kiss in front of me.

Brett wasn't finished with the kissing session yet, but the bottomless kissee pulled her lips away long enough to murmur, in between kisses, "And I don't know which ... <kiss> ... panties you mean ... <kiss><kiss> ... Brett, because, mmm ... <kiss> ... any that I have probably ... <kiss> ... wouldn't, like, mmm ... <kiss> ... cover, mmm ... <kiss>." Kerri didn't finish her sentence, but instead lifted one of her hands to the back of Brett's head and pulled him in, and they didn't come up for air for ten seconds or so. I think she did that because about halfway through her talking Brett had slid his fingers down onto the amaryllis and was gently stirring the folds inside it. By her reaction, I'm guessing she didn't mind. [This was impossible for me to miss, you understand, because it happened within arms reach in front of me. I presume Brett already knew, but it occurred to me that if he needed instruction on how to properly pollinate a flower like this, I'd be more than happy to demonstrate.]

Just before she pulled away from Brett's lips, Kerri snaked her other hand out from wherever it was and placed it on top of his. She also moved her legs for the first time since she first laid them across my thighs, pulling her knees up and together, and her feet back until they were propped up against the edge of the ottoman, still straddling my legs. This meant I had to stop massaging her feet. It also meant their two hands were sandwiched between her thighs. She started talking quietly to Brett again, whose face was still a couple of inches from hers.

"Okay, he's seen it now. I think that's enough."

"Ah, Ker ... I know he'd like to see it in full bloom. That's when it looks best." He paused to give her another short kiss. "It's perfect, because he is just going to head back to California." [Yes, I know I probably should have interrupted at this point, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. They were sharing a private moment. That and I just discovered I was an anthophile.] "Besides, m'love, you are an exhibitionist, and you want him to see it that way, too ... don't you." That last part wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Kerri's response to that was the same quiet multi-purpose whine/moan that I'd heard several times now.

"Right, baby?" Brett added, leaning in for another kiss, then pulling back slightly. "You do, ... don't you." Again, no question was being asked. He began slowly nodding his head up and down. "Hmmm? Right?" As close as they were, I expect his nose was rubbing hers. After another few seconds, Kerri sighed and giggled softly, then started nodding with him. Brett gave her one last lasting kiss, then straightened up to his original position beside her.

As he changed positions, Kerri pulled both of the hands that had been in her crotch up to her lips, and kissed the back of Brett's hand as she looked directly at him. "I love you, Brett," she said softly. "Thank you for knowing that." She was smiling at him. He winked at her and smiled back in response.

Up to that point I had thought there was some mild coercion going on, but her statement dispelled that. Brett knew his wife well.

The recently confessed exhibitionist next turned her face to me, still smiling. Now her expression indicated excitement, almost like a kid on Christmas morning who has just been told it's time to open the presents. Still there was a bit of a blush in her cheeks, as if she knew she was getting away with being a naughty girl.

It turned out the present to be opened was for me. Very slowly, her eyes on mine the whole time, Kerri spread her knees wide apart, fully revealing her tropical flower again. Once more a finger began to gently stir the pink throat of the flower, except this finger was slender and had a painted, manicured nail. [I probably don't need to tell you this new development caused even more stirring in the front of my pants.]

Brett placed his hand close to his wife's near the top of her thigh. "I think you're right, Ker. None of the panties you own would cover it." He shifted his attention and spoke to me for the first time in a while. "Heh, not that it matters, because she doesn't actually wear panties very often."

"Only on Tuesdays," Kerri said. The two of them glanced at each other and snickered.

"Tuesdays?" It was an innocent question from me.

"Yeah, well ... we have a little game we play every Tuesday just for fun," Brett started to explain. "See, Ker usually goes without them. Sometimes she'll put some on, like, when she wants someone to 'accidentally' see them"—he again gave Kerri knowing glance when he said that—"to get a reaction, because she has a few that are reaction worthy. She has several she ordered on-line that are plain colors, but have stuff printed on the front ... actually made to look like signs you might see at a business or wherever. One says 'Open. Please use this entrance.'" He chuckled, and so did I.

"Another says 'Full service. Open 24 hours.' which I also like. What was that other one, baby?" he turned to Kerri and asked, then remembered it himself before she could respond. "Oh, yeah! The black ones. They say, 'Caution: Removing this cover will activate contents.' Ha! I like that pair, too!"

"Anyway, the thing about Tuesday," Kerri continued, picking up the story (and quickly enjoying her part in telling it ... I could tell that by the enthusiasm in her voice), "is that I always start out wearing panties, but then Brett sends me a text at some random time during the day telling me to take them off. The deal is, within five minutes of that text I have to send him back proof that I did it." She paused for just a moment, and was ready to continue when Brett jumped in. [I suspect Kerri was accustomed to his propensity to do that, because she didn't look bothered by it at all ... she just kept happily fondling herself for the next several minutes as they told the story in tag team fashion.]

"But she has to do it basically where she is at that time, that's the rule. She can't go to the ladies' room and take them off—well, like, if she's already in there anyway she could, but where's the fun in that, you know?"

"That's happened a couple of times," Kerri interjected.

"She can move within the same room, or stand behind a nearby partition ... something like that, but it has to be kept to a minimum."

"Most of the time I'm at my desk, so it isn't that hard to pull off. Oh, I just made a pun, didn't I?" Kerri laughed at her own unintentional play on words. "Anyway, I can just reach under my skirt, wiggle my panties down, and slip them into my purse. The proof step is pretty easy then, too, because I can hold my phone up between my legs and my skirt hides the flash."

"Skirt hides the flash?" Brett asked with a grin. "Isn't that a contradiction? Or if you were trying for two puns in a row, Ker, I don't think it qualifies."

"Funny, Brett. Anyway, I have to be careful, obviously, because while my desk is in an area by itself and no one else's is close by, it's just off a main hallway through the building, and people walk by with some frequency. Plus my boss's glass-walled office is just across from me ... I can see him and he can see me. When he is in his office I have to be very stealthy. I don't think he'd approve." Kerri giggled, then added, "He's about to retire though, so maybe I can be a little bolder for a while until they replace him." She wiggled her eyebrows, as if to say the prospect of that was appealing to her. I could see she enjoyed the risk.

"But, hey, those desk shots are some of the best ones," Brett said. "I have a whole private album of those proof photos on my phone. I call them the 'Tuesday Twats'!" He laughed and reached into his pocket to pull out his cell, excited to show me. While he was navigating, Kerry started talking again.

"So, one time I took them off in a file room when a co-worker was in there. I actually kept talking to him while I stepped behind a half-height file cabinet, lifted my skirt, and pushed them down. He just assumed I was bending down to get something from a file drawer. It felt really wild to do that with him just on the other side," she said with a big grin. "I could see him the whole time."

"A couple of times Brett has sent me that text while I'm driving to or from work. That's harder, even if there is less chance of actually getting caught, because I still have to stay on the road, and not cause an accident, obviously. I typically wait until a stoplight, but I guess it's another Murphy's Law that when I actually want the light to stay red longer so I can hike up my skirt to get my panties off and still be able hold the brake, it seems like it immediately turns green." I could envision the problem as she related it.

"Sometimes I'm right up against the deadline because I don't see the text right away, and then my panties are still around one ankle through several intersections. But my hubby insists that they have to be completely off before it counts."

"Here, bud, look at this!" Brett held up his phone and turned it toward me so I could see the screen. It was filled with thumbnails of vulvas from his 'Tuesday Twats' album. He chuckled, turned the phone back around long enough to tap one of the thumbnails, then turned it my way again. "Pretty unmistakable, huh?"

Yes, it was. The picture he chose was taken under a red skirt. Kerri must have been seated in an office chair, because part of the seat was visible at the bottom. Her lace-topped black stockings framed a bare mons decorated with the same flower that was at this moment still being caressed in front of me. [Because she had the camera's flash turned on and it was used in a small space, the picture was a little over-exposed. Forgive me. I had to throw in a pun of my own.]

"Yeah, no doubt about that," I said. He showed me a couple more photos; one was similar to the first, but the other showed a grinning Kerri in front of a mirror, holding her phone in one hand, while her other hand held up the front of her skirt, proving her panty-free state. The panties themselves dangled from her finger. Again I felt a pang of guilt for looking at such intimate, pornographic images of the woman I had danced with earlier, and who was slouched on the couch across from me, but she obviously knew what Brett was doing, and she didn't seem to mind him sharing them. In fact, after showing me that last one, he held the phone up in Kerri's direction so she could see it also.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that one!" she laughed. "It was taken in our company break room. A few seconds after I took it and dropped my skirt back into place, Brenda—that's one of my co-workers—came in to get some coffee. My panties were still in my hand, but I was facing away from her so she didn't notice anything amiss ... or maybe I should say, she didn't notice anything missing." She giggled again. "There have been a few close calls."

"So do you always wear skirts?" I asked.

"Always on Tuesdays!" Brett chortled, answering before Kerri could.

"Yeah, he's right," she confirmed, "although for the most part I wear dresses and skirts anyway. My employer is kind of 'old school professional' in its dress code, because we constantly have clients coming into the office."

"I'm sure a lot of those clients would come in more often if they knew what they might see," Brett offered.

"Occasionally in the winter I'll wear slacks like some other women do, but skirted suits or dresses with a jacket are standard fare. It's fairly tame, traditional stuff, so I try to make up for it by what I wear underneath."

"Or don't wear, I guess," I said.

"That's true," Brett responded with smile, "but Ker owns lots of sexy bras and garter belts and stuff like that that she wears, plus—like in those pics I just showed you?—she's usually wearing thigh highs underneath also. I love 'em."

"I like the feeling it gives me ... mmm ... to be secretly wearing something totally outrageous under my clothes ... no one I work with would ever guess that about mmm ... me." As she was speaking this time, Kerri's eyes were focused on that finger of hers that had been dutifully priming the womanly essence between her legs. During most of our conversation since she started, that stimulation appeared to be more casual; now she wore a look of concentration, and moisture was evident on both her fingertip and her labia. "I'll admit I'm begin-n-n-ning to real-l-l-ly like this, too."

Both Brett and I immediately understood what this was. Being the considerate husband that he was, he pitched in to help.

"Let me do this now, okay?" Brett said, pulling her hand away and replacing it with his. "You tell him about what happened the Tuesday before last in your meeting." He slid two fingers down between Kerri's outer lips, which because of her posture and her ministrations to that area, were already parted. He then scissored his fingers apart, which further spread her labia and revealed the darker pink and now very moist interior. Kerri's clitoral hood was obvious at the top. While continuing to hold her lips apart, he used a fingertip from his other hand to gently tease her clit. Then he looked up at me for a moment. "Now that's a beautiful flower, right?"

"Uh, well, all I can think of to say is 'wow'," I responded. "Yes, your woman and her flower are both very beautiful."

The tantalizing Tuesday model looked at me and smiled, as if to tell me thank you for the compliment, but her attention was elsewhere right now. Her eyes quickly returned to her pussy. It was apparent I couldn't compete with the sensations Brett was kindling there.

[Initially, when Brett discharged her fingers from active duty, Kerri simply laid her hand on the couch beside her, and, as Brett had suggested, started relating the story you're about to hear. Within less than a minute, though, attesting to the multi-tasking skill of the female gender, she re-enlisted that hand in another role while still telling the story. Reaching into the gap in her vest, she released the gold chains that were holding it together—they must have hooked inside there somewhere—and it fell to her sides. Her fingers immediately went to work circling and lightly pinching one of her nipples. Now nothing private was hidden. True, I had glimpsed a pink nipple serendipitously early in the evening, and had savored seeing her breasts in profile under the dim light of the dance floor, but now those same breasts, distended nipples and all, were completely bared before me. There was no jewelry or artwork on them, but I tend to think that women's boobs are art themselves.]

Kerri took a somewhat unsteady breath and started the story. "So, the last Tuesday I was in the office we had a—mmm, well, let me back up. On a monthly basis my boss participates in a meeting in our board room involving all the various departmental managers. It doesn't ... mmm ... always happen on a Tuesday, but this one did. They rotate responsibility for running the meeting, and this time it was his responsibility to ch-chair." She flinched just a bit at the end of that sentence, and her hand that wasn't busy at her nipple jumped down on top of Brett's. "Honey, that's extremely nice, but if you expect me to be able to tell this story, you'd better slow down just a little."

Her tormentor replied as I'd seen him do several times now; he leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. This prompted a moan from Kerri, probably because his finger continued to circle her clit during the kiss.

"Are you saying I'm distracting?" Brett asked when he pulled away.

"Only a lot," she answered.

Brett chuckled. "Okay, finish the story. Then, Kerri, my dearest, my lovely ... I will finish you! Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa!" That second part he delivered like you'd expect Snidely Whiplash to say it to the defenseless Penelope as he tied her to the railroad tracks, complete with sinister laugh.

Kerri first smirked, then responded in kind, reaching over (awkwardly) and running a finger slowly over Brett's cheek and under his chin. "Oooh, ba-a-a-by! That's sounds like it might be a promise!" she purred. [I guess that could have been Penelope. Maybe Penelope Cruz. Or some other actress of your choice with a sultry voice and bedroom eyes.]

"Anyway, so ... like, I don't usually attend those meetings, but my boss wanted me at this one ... I guess in case he needed something, because later he did need something, which is where it gets dicey. I was basically a passive participant, sitting ... mmm ... at this board room table with 16 or 17 other people. Then guess who"—she looked pointedly at Brett, and playfully backhanded his upper arm—"sends me a text message. You can probably guess what it was about." Kerri made air quotes with her fingers. "It said 'off in 5,' which looks pretty innocent if someone happens to be looking over my shoulder, but it means I have to ... mmm ... well, you know about that part."

Brett was still playing down below, now mostly just gentle caresses to her upper thighs and outer lips, but occasionally he would dip into the center of the flower, collect some of its sweet secretions on his finger, and then pull that finger straight up over the storyteller's clit. Under the circumstances, I could forgive Kerri's lack of concentration.

"We were about 20 minutes into an hour long meeting at that point. I couldn't really excuse myself and leave. And ... mmm ... besides ... mmm ... it wouldn't really be within the rules. I, uh ... I decided that since I wasn't really involved anyway, and the board room chairs have solid armrests, I'd be able to pull them down a little at a time without calling attention to myself. Walt, the guy beside me, looked to be pretty engrossed in the discussion and the paperwork in front of him, and there where two empty chairs between me and the person on the other side. So, over ... mmm ... over the next couple of minutes I was able to inch ... mmm, oooh, Brett ... one side down, then the other, until my panties were just o-o-ver my knees. I was sitting still w-waiting for ... mmm ... an opportunity to get them the rest of the way off. I was also planning how to reach down and get them off the floor—see, I figured they would pretty much slip down my calves to my ankles by them ... by themselves."