Stockings

Her fingers tripped easily down the buttons of her shirt, popping each one out without hesitation, allowing the fabric to fall open and expose her soft, voluptuous cleavage. The cool air was divine against her skin and she waved the edges of the garment a few times to enjoy the breeze. Then, slowly, gently, with his eyes watching her, she slipped the shirt down one arm, then another, and tossed it onto the back of the chair.

She turned slightly to gaze at her reflection in the mirror; her bra, white with black floral patterns embossed onto it was one of her favourites, and she smiled as a finger traced the pattern, teasing a nipple through the fabric. Then, shaking her head, she continued to undress.

Reaching behind her, she grabbed the zip of her pencil skirt and pulled. Wiggling her hips gracefully, she pulled the skirt down her legs, down her thighs and her calves, to drop in a crumpled pile around her ankles. She bent at the waist to pick it up, showing her bottom, encased in white briefs that matched her bra, to the keyhole. Then, straightening up again, she tossed the skirt aside to join her shirt, and sat demurely on the chair.

She pulled her left leg up, bent at the knee, reaching out to the top of the stocking and starting to roll it down her leg. Her fingertips thrilled on the silk stockings, and she smiled again as the fabric slid off her foot; the soft, shimmering material in her hand belied the sheer seductive power stockings could exert when she wore them.

Still being watched, she let the stocking hang formlessly over the arm of the chair and pulled her right leg up, pulling off her second stocking. Hanging it over the arm of the chair again, she looked at her leg, straightening it up in the air close to her chest, and running her fingers down her skin...

“Ohhh, yes...”

Her head snapped to the right as she heard a moaned whisper at the door, and she fancied she saw a shift in the light from the keyhole, as if the eye of some unseen voyeur had suddenly pulled away...