'Come into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly.
Tony was not comfortable going into there, even with such an escort, and not sure he should believe her about it being empty, but it was. He was not sure what she meant by her making up for that previous time, or seeing to him properly, or he might not have gone in with her so easily, but he could not refuse her either without seeming like a boor.
She sat him on the change bench beside several piles of girl’s personal clothing and underwear, carelessly discarded, and openly on display. He was conscious of that and what he could see, and began to feel vulnerable and at a disadvantage with evidence of so many girls around him.
He could sense them; a tingling all over his body, even feel them reaching out to him, calling out to him in a ghostly kind of way and with all of their myriad virginal smells upon panties and other things permeating the air like a heady perfume and sending gentle exploratory fingers into his coveralls, pulling at them and touching at his skin. Bringing him to life.
She saw how nervous the poor lad was and, as he grew more nervous, she became more relaxed and assured.
It made him nervous about her intentions, clad as lightly as she was; exceptionally lightly dressed, and what they might be walking into, but there was no one else in here, and wouldn’t be for almost forty minutes, or so she said.
He began to perspire, and his eyes were looking around nervously. She noticed that and smiled.
Once she was sure he was not about to run off, she took a wash-cloth and walked to the sinks along the wall behind him to damp it down as she talked to him all of the time about nothing in particular, watching him behind her in the mirrors over the sinks.
While she was out of sight behind him, and waiting for the water to run warm, she stripped off her apology of a shirt, unclipped her bra, and took that off too. She also took the safety pin out of the top of her panties, used to pull the dead elastic tight about her to stop them dropping off her as she exercised (she constantly forgot to replace the elastic), and fastened it into the end of her bra for next time, so that she would not lose it.
She knew that he would be able to see her in the mirrors in front of where he was too, but she didn’t care. Just so long as he did not escape. She had closed the change room door behind them to help with that and had even brought the key inside and had locked it again. He may have noticed.
Without her safety pin, giving them some support at her waist, her panties were always in danger of dropping from her completely as she jumped around in the gymnasium or on the hockey field. They had settled quite precariously low on her hips as it was, once that safety pin was gone, but were still hung up at her hips. Just.
They would be easier to take off now. She would not have minded if he had turned to see all that she was doing as she bent over the sink, and maybe he did, but he’d see enough in those mirrors anyway.
She wiped herself extensively across her body and under her arms and breasts with that same wet washcloth, and then down into her panties and between her legs, to remove any perspiration and odors on her. Nothing like a stinky, sweaty vagina after exercising, and she didn’t want to put him off like that.
She replaced her shirt on her damp body, though it didn’t settle far before being hung up on her nipples, which had gone hard.
Her shirt now clung to her snugly where it rested on her breasts, and there were small rivulets of water running down her wet abdomen into her panties. A few more drops of water weighting them down, and with time, they’d drop with the drag of gravity.
She brought her shirt down to just cover her nipples but not much else of her breasts.
She dropped her bra onto her pile of clothes as she returned to him with the warm cloth.
He seemed nervous, so maybe he had turned to watch her for a few moments if he hadn’t seen enough in the mirrors.
She did not stride out to walk, but moved carefully so her panties stayed up, fortunately, clinging to her where she was wet, though they were perilously low and still loose on her. She then sat in front of him, aware that her thin shirt emphasized everything about her breasts, while covering and hiding none of the swelling, hanging below the bottom of her shirt.
She slowly rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbow as he watched her breasts, washing his hands and arms briskly with the warm washcloth to see them better, splashing them both quite generously with water and not caring how her breasts moved around in front of his face as she did that, threatening to drop out from under her shirt at any moment as it rode ever higher.
He was unable to take his eyes off them. He wanted to run, but she wasn’t going to let him. and she’d locked the door.
His forearms were almost as big as some of the younger girls’ legs and were covered with hair. Despite the obvious strength there, and in the rest of his body, he had been gentle when he had protested about her leading him in here.
She sat across from him on another bench. He seemed ill at ease to be so close to this young woman facing him so lightly dressed, and caring nothing that she had no skirt on to cover her. Her panties…? She might as well not have been wearing any for the little they covered of her there.
She moved his hands to rest the backs of them on her bare legs, above her knees as she saw to the tender inner parts of his arms and wrists.
Not only did she not have a skirt on, but she obviously had no bra on, either. He could see all of that clearly enough for himself, the way her thin and short shirt was clinging closely to her upper body, and suggestively revealing everything beneath it, from proud nipples impudently poking out at him behind that thin fabric—driving him wild already—to the curvature of the bottom of her substantial breasts, clearly visible beneath it.
He wanted to reach out and hold them to see if they were really as he was seeing them.
The way her panties rested there too, and low on her body, revealed some slight wisps of light-colored hair above their loose and sagging waist band. Her panties were not flat on her but seemed to be pushed forward, as loose as they were, by more hair trapped behind them as he could see, as she did not have her legs close together. The water she had splashed upon herself had not helped, but had made her threadbare white panties, translucent, almost transparent, rather than leaving them opaque, revealing the suggestion of wondrous things behind there in the hair.
What was even more disturbing was that he could see more hair at the edge of her flimsy panties, which were also very loose on her legs, and tended to pull away from her legs the way she was sitting, opening in an interesting way, where they were worn and stretched. It was all very unnerving for him. His mouth was dry, and he could feel his heart beating strongly. She would sense that too.
She paused and looked up at him, smiling so charmingly and innocently.
She had the most wonderfully expressive eyes. He wanted to lean forward and fall into them and drown, but there were other things he could also see that attracted him just as strongly.
She was tending to his arms, pulling at them as she saw how high those stings extended, and at the same time, feeling that his hands, inching ever closer to her as she saw to them, resting on the top of her legs, were now touching her, at her panties. One of his little fingers had even hooked, nervously into the edge of one leg. He would now feel some hair on the back of that, and adjacent fingers. This was going even better than planned.
“How remiss of me. You know, I don’t think we were ever introduced properly, were we?”
He shook his head.
He pulled his hand back, moving her panties to one side as he retrieved his hand to shake hers. She reached out and grasped his hand, shaking it and setting her breasts dancing again enough for more of them to appear under the bottom of her shirt. Now he really was nervous.
“Tony Harcourt… but you know that.”
Yes, she did. He didn’t remind her how she had threatened to report him to his older brother.
“Tony. Anthony." She smiled at him.
“Well, Tony, I shall apologize again for my bad manners of yesterday, and I think I can say that with us now having met under much more relaxed circumstances, we’ll get on like a house on fire.”
Iris moved closer to him, to check about his face and neck after she had put his arms back onto her legs to even hold her at the waist if he wanted to as she leaned in to undo a button on his coveralls to see more of his neck.
He was not at ease with his hands in her lap at that point, and even more obviously pushing into her body, low down on her where her panties were, moving them around just as before, as she looked higher up his arms. She knew what she was doing to him. She moved closer to him with her legs opening up to go on either side of his.
She was still not close enough.
She moved forward even more, pulling the small bench with her, and spreading her legs much wider apart as she did so, on either side of his.
She seemed unaware of her panties coming away from her even more noticeably as she did that, and no doubt revealing more hair and possibly other interesting things behind there, too, as she intended. And all of it, disturbingly interesting to him.
She didn’t care, and ignored it all, and what may be now tantalizingly visible there as she reached to bathe about his neck with that damp cloth, where he had been stung a few times, or that her shirt was climbing ever higher on her as she reached, and moved.
He seemed as nervous as a kitten, as more of the lower swell of her breasts and even her areola began to appear beneath the open bottom of her tank top. It might only be a matter of time before her entire breast was revealed there. Or a little deliberate action.
He had probably never been that close to such an assured or careless young woman before, nor one so lightly dressed—almost not dressed at all—sitting so temptingly in front of him, revealingly so.
There was much more than just a hint of hair there now, and she was studiously careless of what she was showing him as she raised her arms to wash him; her abbreviated shirt rising on her as her arms rose, revealing first one breast then the other.
She had to smile at that, while ignoring all of it. Her sense of empowerment, using her well-developed body to unman and torment him, as millions of clever women had done with other men before her through all of time, was enlightening. The power of a woman’s temptingly and progressively revealed body was a potent force, as she could see by his rapt attention to her, tormented by what he could see, and more that he would like to see. And touch.
She realized that she had just been presented with knowledge of a not-so-secret weapon that would always ensure that she got her own way in everything concerning a man, if used wisely. She began to realize just how desperately she wanted, needed, the intimate and focused attention of an interesting and interested young man. This one. She could see that he was mesmerized; helpless to avoid looking at what he could see enticingly revealed in front of him at the edge of her panties at the legs, and visible under her top now sitting more on top of her breasts than covering anything. He nipples were even exposed.
Iris smiled and fluttered her eyebrows at his discomfort and tried to put him at ease; an impossible task under the highly charged circumstance.
She spoke softly. “Don’t worry, no one will come in to see us like this, Tony, and I can assure you, you are quite safe in my hands. Or perhaps I should be worried about being safe with you.” She smiled, already knowing the answer to that.
She would be as safe as she wanted to be.
She felt like being even more mischievous now, having seen the effect she already had over him, and there was still a lot of her hidden. She had a strange smile on her face and she was breathless herself at what she intended to have happen now that she had made up her mind about it. If she could make it happen.
He gulped and was obviously uncertain about what she intended. She had no intention of letting him run off, however, without her apologizing properly and making up for her earlier poor behavior in whatever way seemed appropriate, or even, entirely inappropriate.