I'm not sure how I arrived at this point in my life.

The last couple of years have been difficult for me, as I have been uprooted to the city that I grew up in as a result of my husband's offer of a big promotion. Where we lived previously allowed a complete sense of freedom to be myself. I am a latent exhibitionist by nature. What I mean by that is that I don't go out of my way to show off or feel the need to have everyone looking at me. However I become quite aroused when I am encouraged to take erotic changes. I enjoy feeling sexy and doing sexy things.

I would much prefer to make love lying prone on a picnic table under the stars then hidden away in my bedroom. It is just how I am.

My husband seemed to know when we first met that I had this little itch that needed to be scratched now and then.

I am not a nudist, but the thought of being outdoors in a public setting where I might be seen wearing just a bra, panties, and heels sets me over the edge. I guess that makes me an R rated exhibitionist.

Anyway, our move back to my hometown along with my husband's promotion to a position where he would be meeting and interacting with new people all of the time pretty much ended my scratching of this itch. I am finding however that if the itch isn't scratched at least a little bit from time to time, my latent desire to show off will push itself to the forefront until I act on it.

This most likely explains why I have accepted my second task from Mr. David Barclay, (He told me that I could use his name) which is quite a bit more risqué than the first one.

I decided to go back into the work force and have been employed by a large insurance company as a supervisor in their customer service or call center area. My team answers calls regarding coverage questions, status of claims, takes complaints, etc.

I have been doing this for almost 5 months now and really enjoy my return to a career.

Despite my performance I am still considered the 'new girl' and have found myself to be the subject of many conversations: the kind of conversations that stop abruptly when you enter into the general area of the people having them.

I enjoy what I do and it keeps me from wanting to scratch my little itch or so I wanted to believe.

I also have found a fondness for writing erotic stories very possibly as a replacement to the activities that were left behind when we moved. Besides all of this I have two growing daughters and Mom's propensity to strip outdoors no longer seems appropriate. If it weren't for the itch, I could easily leave my past behind and move forward.

My other pen name on Literotica is HarleyFatboy1. I choose this name because our first motorcycle was a HD Fatboy, which provided quite a few arousing adventures for my husband and myself.

I decided to open this account on Literotica to post only stories of me and use my other account for my fantasy stories. So over time I will be deleting many of my first postings under my other pen name, as they were all about me, and reediting them to add to this account i.e. my life experiences account.

As I have already stated in my story, "The Task", I met David Barclay when he emailed me to compliment me on my stories. We subsequently exchanged emails about writing and story lines and found a mutual interest in the nature of submission and dominance.

He occasionally would hint about me performing tasks assigned by him.

Not to rehash what I have already written, but I pretty much ignored his hints as he was someone on the Internet (scary) and I was trying to leave that part of me behind. All of the reasons seemed so logical: a woman just turned 40, two children on the verge of teenhood, a husband respected in the business community, my own reputation, etc., etc.

On the other hand I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to and Mr. Barclay lives in Great Britain. What would be wrong with seeing what sort of tasks he might come up with?

We agreed on some parameters and as you have read on my other account, I performed my first task for him and, I guess, myself.

We also decided that the taskmaster will be Mr. Barclay and that my Internet friend will be David.

Mr. Barclay suggested another task but required some information about my style of dress including underthings, availability for tasks, type of work that I perform, etc.

I will admit that I blew up a bit at him as the first task had filled me with so much angst and anxiety that I was convinced that my little foray back into erotic risk taking was basically a one and done. Mr. Barclay did a very good job of calming my nerves and despite the constant feeling that I might throw up; I have to admit that I really enjoyed the first task.

The second task is much more daring; significantly more daring.

I have included our email exchanges to let you read about it firsthand.

The Emails

Elizabeth,

You are to creatively find a way to let the most members of your department at work know that you are wearing leopard print panties, coordinating suspenders, and stockings.

I want you to come up with 2 or 3 suggestions to achieve this task and submit them to me for my review. I will then assign the one that I prefer for execution. You should have your suggestions in my inbox, no later than Thursday.

I will be looking forward to your suggestions.

Mr Barclay

Mr. Barclay,

Thursday arrived much quicker than I anticipated or maybe quicker than I desired, as it represents a commitment on my part once I submit my suggestions.

It is somewhat ironic that I am writing this from my desk at work, as whatever is decided will be performed here. Gulp!

I have three suggestions that I will list in the order of least anxiety producing and least exciting to most anxiety producing and most exciting.

First, I could simply give accidental upskirts to my co-workers, which really isn't in my nature in a work environment. It wouldn't necessarily cause discussion through the department and wouldn't be that exciting to me. The trying on of shoes is much more my style of accidental upskirts, as you required of me in your first task.

I am rather meticulous about how I dress and despite the fact that I wear suspenders; my stockings come to the top of my thighs so the chances of seeing my stocking tops are pretty slim. I also regularly make visits to the bathroom to check the clasps and pull my stockings up in case they might be sagging.

I prefer suspenders over pantyhose, but not as any sort of come on to other men. They are so much more comfortable for me to wear and they represent a form of exhibitionistic behavior as well.

Second, which was my original plan, is to spill coffee or in my case, an iced mocha on myself towards the end of our monthly department meeting. I would excuse myself and rush to the bathroom to keep the stain from setting. Once there I would remove my skirt entirely and clean it and dry it standing in my blouse with my leopard print panties, suspenders and stockings available for anyone who enters the bathroom to see.

I know that a number of my co-supervisors would come in to check up on me, not necessarily that they would be concerned, but more to see my embarrassment.

When I was hired they bypassed a number of in house applicants that were close friends with my co supervisors. This has added to the tension of some of them wanting to see me fail.

Also, I am the only one that consistently dresses in business attire i.e. skirt and pants suits, and I know that some feel that I think that I am better than they are.

My display of leopard print would be talked about across the department within minutes of them seeing me in the bathroom.

Now why would I be willing to subject myself to this sort of talk? It would be such an unusual and potentially exciting experience to know that everyone is talking about my undies.

Everyday I would have to go to work realizing that my leopard print was a top subject of conversation as I try to notice any difference in how they look at me.

It would be absolutely delicious.

This brings me to the third suggestion. It is something that actually happened to a good friend of mine and until just three days ago I had completely forgotten about her experience.

She was in a department meeting a few years ago. From what she could determine, she had gone to the bathroom before the meeting and must not have paid particular attention to whether she had rebuttoned her skirt. The meeting room had wire-backed chairs, which our meeting room has as well.

When she stood up to leave the meeting, her zipper caught one of the twisted wires so perfectly that it pulled the zipper down and simultaneously yanked her skirt down as well.

She had the presence of mind to grab her skirt and immediately sit down so no one noticed, but what if I didn't have that same presence of mind?

I used to obsess over the thought of this constantly and wonder how it would feel to be the one losing their skirt. It creates so many mixed feelings ranging between absolute dread along with a latent desire to show off that I can't even imagine it.

I can't quite explain why, but I want to try it or at least dare myself to try it.

Yes, it would be extremely embarrassing and the thought of doing it on purpose sends my anxiety through the roof. Yet, I love this feeling, as I feel so alive.

Every first Wednesday of the month we have a department meeting to review our call statistics and talk through what we can do better. My four fellow supervisors, two managers, and department director attend the meeting. Four members are female and three are male.

My suggestion is to reenact my friend's experience but actually lose my skirt as I stand up from my chair. I have even experimented with different skirts to see which ones would completely slip off of me.

The talk of it and of me would echo through the building.

The meeting isn't until July 3rd, so I would have all of this time to think about it. It would drive me crazy.

Maybe this is a version of "My Dilemma" after all.

I await your decision.

elizabeth



My dear Elizabeth,

It seems to me that you have told me what you really want to do. I quote; "I can't quite explain why, but I want to try it or at least dare myself to try it."

Your scenario creates a lovely image and since it is the one you clearly wish to think about, plan, and execute, I feel it would be churlish of me to deny you the opportunity.

So Elizabeth, I am willing to grant you your wish as follows -

In your meeting on July 3rd you will wear a suitable skirt along with your leopard panties, suspenders and stockings. During that meeting you will contrive to have your skirt tangle in the chair back. when you stand up with your arms full of papers, laptop, or whatever other items you need in that meeting, you will ensure that you skirt is pulled down to your ankles, and you will be unable to immediately correct this situation because your hands are full off papers. In your surprise and shock it seems to me that you would perhaps panic and naturally drop all the papers on the floor. This would ensure that your dilemma was brought to everyone's attention and that their natural reaction would be to rush round and assist. Your choice of blouse or shirt will ensure that it is short enough to provide an unrestricted view of your panties, suspender straps and stockings.

Of course, regardless of what happens on the day, you will write a story for literotica chronicling the whole process, from our initial exchange on this task to the final outcome.

Elizabeth, I am pleased to be able to allow you to carry out the task that you have so eloquently asked me to allot, and I do look forward to our email exchanges over the next couple of weeks as you plan the execution of this task.

And finally, Elizabeth, if you choose to accept this task, and execute it to the best of your ability, you must email me with your acceptance.

Good luck.

Mr Barclay.

Dear Mr. Barclay,

I accept the task as you have dictated it to me. This is a much easier decision as the task is still a ways off and the full ramifications of it haven't set in as yet.

Presently it fills me with excitement, as I have never dared even thinking about something like this other than in a fantasy situation. As the time gets closer I will undoubtedly have to face the reality of it.

I am surprised at how calm I am as I write about this, but guarantee that this won't last. Probably by Monday, July 1st, I will be begging you to call it off.

The other thing that I noticed is that the meeting occurs the day before a national holiday, which gives me a day away from work following the task. Most people try to take Friday off as well, so the full impact won't start until the following Monday.

If I really am going to do this, the timing of it is perfect.

Have a wonderful weekend.

elizabeth

Preparation

Mr. Barclay's email to me assigning me to my next task sends a delectable tingling up and down my spine. Just the thought that I have another task to perform is like receiving permission to misbehave. Also the fact that it will require a fair amount of preparation excites me to no end, as I will be thinking about it constantly.

Whether I am able to actually perform the task is almost beside the point. Preparing to perform an exhibitionistic act is enough to keep my body vibrating for the next few weeks.

I find myself spending the weeks prior to July 3rd, the required date for my next performance, selecting the perfect skirt and blouse for the event. As all of my skirts fit between the sizes of "a little too tight" and "a bit too tight" (Damn baby fat) nothing seems to drop immediately when I unzip it.

Then for some reason I remember my husband's tuxedo pants with a very long zipper that has allowed me to have some delicious fun without fully removing his pants or even pulling them down. I now realize that it will be the length of the skirt's zipper that will open the skirt enough to drop from my waist.

I now search my skirts for long zippers and find one in the perfect shade of tan to coordinate with leopard print panties.

I am typically home alone from the time my daughters leave for school and my husband leaves for work, so I am using this as my practice time. Although my daughter's are on their summer breaks, both have taken jobs at the local mall, so my schedule is thankfully unchanged.

Pulling the skirt up my legs, I simply hold it shut around my waist as if it is unbuttoned and unzipped. I place a kitchen chair in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom and sit down leaving my skirt undone. I face the mirror full on so I can see what the others in our monthly meeting will be able to see and I stand up.

Down goes my skirt making my heart take a little leap and everything from my waist down is exposed. The flush of sexual energy through my body surprises me as I stare at my reflection.

God, can I really do this?

I go back to my closet and look for my shortest blouses to wear with my tan skirt and to provide the most exposure to my lower half. It is easy enough to find them, as the tails are shorter than the rest.

Two blouses are perfect as they have a squared bottom; look perfectly fine when untucked; and they barely reach the top of my skirt. One is a nice deep crimson and the other is chocolate brown.

The crimson one matches my garter belt, so it becomes my best choice. I also like how the deep red color offsets my leopard print panties.

The rest of my mornings are spent practicing unbuttoning and unzipping my skirt with one hand without making a noise or drawing any attention to myself. The kitchen chair comes in quite handy as I use it to serve as my conference room chair.

By the end of the week I am quite adept at undoing my skirt.

Each and every time that I stand to allow my skirt to drop, my entire body reacts in a most delectable manner. I knew that the idea of showing myself off at work would create these sensations, but can I really do this?

Every time I think about dropping my skirt at work, my entire body goes into overdrive. It is difficult to explain exactly how it feels but the combination of feeling embarrassed, humiliated, exposed, vulnerable, and on display is like an aphrodisiac to me. It's not that I need to feel this way all of the time or even most of the time. However I have found that I can't go without these feelings for longer than a year or more.

I am dreading the arrival of July 3rd and at the same time I can't wait. Some days it seems that the hours just drag by and others it seems to fly. The thought of what I am preparing to do certainly makes my workdays go fast.

I find myself staring at the other people that will be in the meeting and imagine what their reaction will be. This is when I feel the most anxious and excited.

I don't think that I am even able to properly communicate all that is going on inside of me, but suffice it to say that it is all incredibly arousing.

Hello everyone. My name is Elizabeth and I am an exhibitionist.



The Performance

Wednesday, July 3rd arrives much like any other work Wednesday, however this particular Wednesday includes a ticking time bomb. That time bomb is my agreement to perform a task at our monthly staff meeting.

I didn't sleep much last night more from the apprehension of my upcoming task than from any anxiety over it.

I guess that we all reach a point in our lives where 'normal' becomes boring. Is this what they refer to as a "mid-life crisis"?

Well it seems that mine has hit me square in the face.

I am bored, missing my old ways, and want to do something outrageous; or so I think.

This morning my daughters are already out of the house and my husband will be stepping out very soon, leaving me to my regular morning prep and singular thoughts about my task.

I am already vibrating from head to toe. I am visibly shaking from the anticipation of this upcoming event that I want to do.

Yes, I said that I want to do this. Ever since a friend of mine had a near miss with her skirt being pulled off by a stray wire from her chair during a meeting, I have fantasized about this happening to me. As I have already stated the combination of surprise, embarrassment, and exposure is akin to an aphrodisiac for someone like me.

For over 20 years of my live I have enjoyed being sexily adventurous as my many stories and photos can attest, but lately I have felt trapped. Maybe it was the performance of the first task that reignited the embers or sharing my experiences on Literotica. It really doesn't matter, as today I am committed to being adventurous again.

In a way I assume that this is similar to a junkie needing a fix.

Instead of dreading this day, my mantra for the past week has been, "I can do this." It is like the ultimate dare to myself along with Mr. Barclay's assistance by making it my next task.

The feeling of anxiety, apprehension, and sexual arousal, along with the socially unacceptable aspect of losing my outer clothes in public has been my drug for so long. I can't really say if this is my last time or the start of another string of exhibitions, but it certainly will be my most daring; if I can do it.

Sadly, so often fantasy is so much better than reality. If I do go ahead and drop my skirt I only hope that my fantasy of it is close to how it really plays out.

I want my co-workers to be shocked as they discover that I wear stockings and a garter belt. I want the men to have a look on their face that tells me they clearly enjoy what they see. I want to feel embarrassed and excited at the same time. I am so afraid that I will just feel dumb standing in front of everyone with my skirt down around my ankles.
My anxiety is forming as I obsess over what might happen.

Trying to remain calm, I give my husband a kiss, closing the door behind him and I am on my own.

With every nerve ending in my body tingling I fill the tub with water and began to shave my legs for the third time in five days, along with another area that grows unwanted hairs.

I towel off checking my work in the mirror and feel that I am ready for my performance.

Although I have been vibrating constantly I don't think that the full effect has hit me until I pull my tiny string bikini leopard print panties up my legs and over my tingling areas.

Looking at myself in the full-length mirror located on the back of our bedroom door is such an eye opener.

My panties cover very little of me, fore and aft, and are about to be seen by quite a few rather important people at work i.e. two managers and the director of my department.

I really haven't known any of these people for very long, which actually will make my task simpler. I find it easier as well as more exciting to be exposed in front of people that I don't have any relationship with. It seems to be a particular aspect of my style of exhibitionism.

I am half regretting my preference for teeny bikini panties as I assume none of my co-supervisors wear such sexy undies.

I push the thought out of my mind as best I can, knowing that if I let it linger, I will lose my nerve.

It still feels like a game to me and although my body is reacting to my planned performance, my mind still doesn't seem to accept it as real. It worries me to some degree as to when my mind might catch up with my body.

I know that I will chicken out if and when the feeling of pure panic takes me over.

I wrap my garter belt around my waist and connect the clasp moving it to my back. It is a dark crimson color that offsets the leopard print as well as accents it quite deliberately. With my crimson colored blouse I should leave a lasting impression.

I actually catch myself smiling as I continue to mark my progress in the mirror. I like the look and I feel very sexy. But do I really have the nerve to show my co-workers?

I sit down on the bed and pull each one of my tan stockings up my legs making sure not to catch them on anything in the process. I attach each stocking to my garter straps and smooth the thin nylon material up and down my legs.

I also take the time to make sure the stocking tops are perfectly level on my thighs.

I feel as if I am going out on a special date with my husband where I am planning on being quite naughty. Just the thought is quite intoxicating resulting in more than one little twitch from my leopard covered erogenous zone.

I can't tell if I am completely numb to what I am about to do, but despite the constant vibrating, I am perfectly relaxed other than when I start thinking about the consequences. I am going to be the topic of discussion for quite a while afterwards as well as being stared at by most everyone in the building.

This makes me very nervous and yet I feel that it will be quite enjoyable to see how everyone reacts along with the kind of attention that might come my way. It is often that a 40 year old Mom is the "hottie" at work.

Then I slip on the deep crimson nylon blouse that immediately displays two tiny nubs of hard flesh poking against the material. Due to the dark color, a person would have to be looking for them, but once found, they would be quite apparent.

I rarely if ever have gone to work without a bra, and when I did I was always wearing a jacket, so today will add another element of exposure to my performance. Thankfully I am not that well endowed, so all that might be obvious to anyone will be my tiny bumps pushing on the fabric. Pretty much the least of what will draw their attention to me.

Most of the younger females of my staff seem to show off much more than this on a daily basis, so I am prepared to be a little less proper today.

My blouse is a perfect length as it barely reaches past my navel offering a full view of my entire garter belt, string bikini panties, and stocking tops. And besides all of that it almost perfectly matches the color of my garter belt.

I can feel the anticipation building inside of me as I continue to look at myself in the mirror. What I am looking at is precisely what I plan to show off i.e. a crimson red satin blouse that won't cover my crimson red garter belt, tiny leopard print string bikini panties, tan stockings, nor my tan heels.

Am I really prepared to do this?

Courageously I think to myself, "I can do this." But can I really?

I then pull my skirt up over my legs, button the button in the back and zip up the zipper.

I have decided to unzip my zipper at the start of the meeting while everyone is making small talk as they always do before the meeting starts; that way no one will be any the wiser.

Then as the meeting is underway, I can subtly undo my button and remain seated until it is over.

As we all rise, I am planning on scooping up my reports and notebook and simply letting gravity do the rest.

I put on a pair of tan leather 4 inch heels, which gives the illusion that my legs are much longer than they are and does wonders for my derriere. Oh sweet vanity, thy name is Elizabeth.

Other than my nerves, I guess I am ready.

My drive to work is uneventful and other than the constant vibrating, I still feel ready to go.

Our monthly meeting is scheduled for 10:00 and admittedly I may be in a fog of possible denial right up until 9:50.

As I am sitting at my desk going over our monthly call reports for the umpteenth time, my mind seems to catch up to my body with the full realization that I am about to drop my skirt in a meeting attended by my fellow supervisors, our two managers, and the department director.

But instead of my head filling with thoughts of "I can't do this," I find myself thinking just the opposite i.e. "I can do this."

It has become my mantra for the morning as the time slowly ticks away.

It seems so crazy to even be considering this task, and yet, here I am sitting in my cubicle in front of my computer screen with every nerve in my body on full alert. I can't keep my legs from shaking, so I began to take deep, slow breaths to calm myself down. The next 90 minutes are excruciatingly slow. I have probably visited the bathroom 4 times already. It seems that when I am very nervous I have to tinkle, and I am very nervous,

At five minutes to the hour I take a deep breath, rise from my desk, gather my reports and notebook, and make my way to the conference room. Two of my fellow supervisors that join me say something to me but I don't hear anything other than a constant ringing in my ears. It is like a white noise keeping me focused on what I am about to do.

Maybe focus isn't quite the right choice of words, as I am obsessing over it. Can I really do this? And, why would I even consider it?

I am nervous, more nervous than I have been in years. But it is a good kind of nervous; much like the first time I stripped down to my bra and panties outdoors and sunbathed in public. (Read my story, My First Outdoor Exhibition).

I haven't felt this alive in years and don't want the feeling to go away.

I do want to do this.

I enter the meeting room and find a chair. I need to sit down so as not to show how much of me is shaking.

We all exchange our usual greetings and it helps me to calm down. As I look around the room I find myself wondering what they will all be thinking in less than 60 minutes from now when the meeting ends and I am standing in front of my chair with my skirt on the floor.

Now my hands are shaking so I grip the tabletop to steady them.

I am sure that if anyone was intently watching me, they would see how distracted I see to be.

As the meeting gets underway, I realize that I was so caught up all of the thoughts going through my mind that I forgot to take the first opportunity to unzip my skirt. It is already 15 minutes into the meeting and I still haven't done anything that would have me committed to the task. My skirt is still fully zipped and buttoned.

I start to think about all of the sexy activities that I used to perform and silently exhort myself to at least unzip my skirt. It doesn't commit me to do anything further, and I won't feel like such a chicken should I decide to not follow through.

I also think about my best girlfriend from where we used to live and how she would have told me over and over again how I have to do this.

"Ok, OK" I think to myself. "Just undo the zipper."

Thankfully everyone is looking at our first quarter stats, so I very quietly reach one hand behind my back while at the same time making sure that no one suddenly focuses their attention on me, and as simple as pie, my zipper is all of the way down.

The first step towards my 'accidental' exposure is complete.

It is funny how every so often a woman or a man in our office walks around with their zipper undone. I can feel the difference between zipped up and unzipped immediately.

I feel exposed. A wonderful tingling takes over my body.

I feel so naughty, and am starting to believe that I can do this.

The anxiety and excitement flooding all of my senses is intoxicating reminding me of so many past experiences that I have had and still want to have. I want to do this.

Thankfully I have spent a great deal of time with the reports beforehand and thus am able to contribute to the conversation as well as to give some recommendations for improving our wait times. I don't want to seem absent or distracted; so I concentrate on the conversation as best I can.

It also keeps my mind off of the next step, which essentially fully commits me to the task.

Knowing now how it feels to have my zipper down while sitting in a meeting actually provides an incentive to undo my button as well. I am starting to feel aroused.

As a general discussion on staffing issues breaks out it seems like the perfect time to execute the last step of my task. My hands are leaving moisture prints on the conference tabletop. I take a very deep breath and reach behind my back for the second time since the meeting has begun and scratch my lower back. Right at this moment I am certain that I can't go through with it. My mind is flooded with all of the reasons why this isn't a good idea. And why even subject myself to the weeks of ridicule and hidden discussion that will undoubtedly follow.

I hadn't expected my conservative side to rear its ugly head particularly since I was enjoying having my zipper down so much.

I can feel my face flush and tiny beads of sweat starting to form.

I continue to scratch, as everyone is involved in the conversation and pretty much resolve to forget the task and to pull my zipper back up.

At this exact moment something is said regarding staffing that perks up my ears and I respond to the comment offering a possible solution. So many call centers have staffing issues that remain unsolved. I have spent a great deal of time thinking about how to attract the right people to a job that requires you to be on the phone all day and feel that I might have some good suggestions that would help.

I am quite pleased by the look of appreciation on my manager and director's faces as a result of my input as well as the look of envy from some of my fellow supervisor's.

I have definitely just been noticed for my knowledge and expertise.

I feel quite proud of myself and for some unexplained reason again reach behind my back and my fingers adeptly undo my button.

It is as if my conservative Mom persona merged with my sexy exhibitionist persona giving the go ahead.

"Oh God." Immediately I can feel the waistline of my skirt open up and move southward as if it is no longer on. It feels like my skirt is lying on the chair instead of providing any coverage to my backside.

Every area of skin, from my knees up to my crotch, begins to quiver. Thankfully the discussion on staffing issues has been postponed for another meeting to be scheduled for next week, as this one is running out of time. I find it extremely difficult to maintain any focus on the discussion while being fully aware that nothing is holding my skirt up any longer.....nothing.

It occurs to me to just stay seated and redo my skirt as everyone leaves the meeting, but I no longer want to be safe. Having just been noticed for my input has encouraged me to bring another kind of attention to myself. Oh, the complicated mind of an exhibitionist. I still can't believe that I actually did it. My skirt is completely undone, the meeting is almost over, and my soon to be exposed areas are being very wicked indeed. They want me to know that they are going to enjoy what comes next very much no matter how embarrassing it might be for me.

I want to cross my legs and squeeze, but this is neither the time nor the place.

Essentially my itch wants to be scratched, which essentially is why I am now sitting here with my skirt completely undone.

Everyone gathers up their materials and belongings including myself. The meeting has gone so well for me that for just a second I forget what is about to happen next. After all I have been sitting and contributing to the discussion for the past 10 minutes with my skirt entirely undone.

Every time I leaned back in my chair I could feel the wire back against my garter strap instead of my skirt. I like how it feels to realize that I have purposely unbuttoned and unzipped my skirt while sitting in a staff meeting.

As everyone stands up, I linger in my chair exhorting myself to "just do it". Nike would be proud.

Without any further thought or fear of consequences I close my eyes and rise from my chair. Immediately my skirt slides off of my waist, down the front of my leopard print panties, down my stocking covered legs, and gathering around my tan high heels as it hits the floor. It is so sudden that I don't have to feign any surprise at all as "Oh god!" slips out of my mouth and in my futile attempt to grab my descending skirt my papers and notebook slip from my hands falling mostly on the conference table with some of the loose pages floating to the floor.

Then it is as if everything is in slow motion as everyone's head turns towards me. I watch as each face slowly lights up with the recognition that I am no longer wearing my skirt. Their eyes grow wider as some mouths stand wide open and others form little smiles.

Not a single person looks away, and by the angle of their stares they all are focusing on my leopard print panties, crimson red garter belt, and tan stocking tops.

For an exhibitionist like me this is the moment that I crave most as it causes the most excitement. The slight change in temperature sends goose bumps to my exposed thighs and makes me fully aware of what is no longer covered. If you have ever undressed at a beach with your swimming suit on under your clothes, you will have a sense of what I am describing. You can feel the change in temperature as more and more of your skin is exposed to the fresh air and at the same time you can sense people looking at you as you disrobe. The absence of my skirt alerts my brain to the fact that I am wearing less than I was just a mere second ago. For me that awareness is the most arousing part of my exhibition.

I know that I am standing in a conference room at my place of work in my underwear while being stared at by my coworkers. It is so embarrassing and so exhilarating for me simultaneously.

This is the exact convergence of conflicting feelings and sensations that I have been missing, and now it is back in full force.

My lower lips clench in a very arousing manner and I know that my nipples are at full attention. I am definitely turned on.

The entire scene is frozen in time as I stand still with real shock on my face. I had never expected how quickly my skirt would drop thinking that I could still abort the task if I had second thoughts. My skirt had a mind of its own as I would have had no chance whatsoever to keep it from falling once I stood up from my chair.

My shock only adds to the intensity of feelings adding to my physical excitement.

The reality of this situation is better than the fantasy.

The sexual arousal, which would usually require 15 minutes or more of foreplay, has taken less than 10 seconds, unless you count the time sitting with my skirt undone.

I am extremely embarrassed by everyone's attention as they scurry around me to pick up my fallen papers.

Their efforts to help me only act to pin me between the chair and conference table making it virtually impossible to bend over, so I grab my notebook off of the conference table where it fell and hold it in front of my crotch.

One of the managers and the director of our department are males. I have my manager standing directly opposite me across the conference table and my director almost immediately behind me. One is staring directly at my notebook-covered crotch and I imagine that the other is visually exploring my leopard print covered derriere.

Since my notebook only measures 5" by 7" and considering that a person in my state of skirtlessness doesn't spend the time to look exactly where their notebook is placed, I can't tell what exactly is covered and what is still exposed. For the most part I don't really care. I am hating and loving every moment of my exposure.

I do know for sure that my director has a completely unobstructed view of my leopard print bottom and since I haven't noticed any movement on his part, I can also assume that he is fixated on it.

My nipples are at full attention and my clenched lips are now both quivering and salivating. Everything about it is so sinfully arousing for me.

I have already written in earlier stories that I was raised in a very strict religious family and credit a great deal of my childhood to my desire to act out. This is the ultimate in acting out for me and my body is reacting to it.

I need to sit down and to bury my head before the other women will notice how much I am enjoying my exposure.

I am the absolute center of attention with all eyes on me. What more could an exhibitionist want?

I plunk myself back into my chair no longer attempting to recover my skirt. The flurry of activity continues around me as all of my dropped papers are picked up and arranged in front of me.

When I am excited, I mean excited sexually, I get all red and blotchy on my face, neck and chest. The blotches are in full bloom, which is to my benefit as it makes it look like I am terribly embarrassed as opposed to terribly aroused.

No one has left the conference room and I can feel all of them continuing to stand and stare at me. One of my co-workers asks as a general question, "What happened?"

It is interesting to hear their conversation as they speculate how my skirt had come undone. Most of it has to do with catching the back on the chair, so I know that it will be simple enough for me to confirm their assumptions.

I finally am able to lift my head and look at everyone. While still sitting down, I reach for my skirt, which is now completely off any part of my body including my feet, picking it up and placing it on my lap like a napkin, while at the same time saying, "Well, that was one way to end a meeting." This seems to break whatever tension was in the room as everyone laughs.

I take a quick glance at my chest and easily see my very erect nipples making little bumps on the front of my blouse.

Considering how wet I am it is no surprise.

The look in everyone's eyes particularly my manager's and director's is absolutely intoxicating. I can tell that everyone is shocked to see my under attire, and it is quite obvious that they all enjoyed my exposition: all for different reasons.
Before they go on their way, my director asks whether I am OK, which is almost comical. I respond that other than being totally embarrassed I am fine, which isn't close to the truth. The truth is that I am on an incredible high from the whole experience.

I don't remember being so aroused with every nerve ending in my body vibrating as if I am in the middle of the most delectable foreplay with a fabulous orgasm well on the way.

My director takes control and asks everyone to clear the conference room to let me put my skirt back on. They all leave closing the door behind them or so it seems.

I finally have a moment to let everything that has just happened to sink in.

The mixture of shock, (How fast my skirt dropped from my waist) embarrassment, (Being seen by my fellow supervisors and three bosses in tiny leopard print panties), and arousal, (wearing nothing but a blouse, panties, stockings, and garter belt in our company's conference room while being stared at by my two male bosses) was beyond all of my expectations.

God, I am so excited that I find it difficult to breath. Without a doubt this is the most exhilarating experience I have ever had.

I reach one hand under my skirt napkin and touch myself between my legs. Just the mere pressure of my fingers on my crotch almost sends me into spasms. I quickly take my hand away and focus on getting dressed.

I push my chair away from the conference table slipping one leg after the other into my skirt. Standing up I pull it up to my waist buttoning and zipping it up.

As I am doing this I swear that I hear the conference room door click all of the way shut. Was someone just now watching me get dressed and more humiliating, did they see me touch myself causing my eyes to roll back into my head?

Maybe one of my co-workers is a little voyeur.

I may never know the answer or time will reveal it to me.

Once I exit the conference room two of my fellow supervisor's walk with me to my cubicle saying over and over again how embarrassing it must be and how unusual it was that the chair had caught my zipper. I just agree with their statements of concern and thank them for their help, but what I really want is to be left alone to let every part of me to calm down.

I think that my nipples could cut glass, and my lower lips just keep twitching like I am on the verge of an orgasm. At least it certainly feels that way to me.

I have to get out of the building. So I use my lunch hour to escape the constant buzz about my skirt mishap. I figure that by the end of next week the entire building will have heard some rendition of my unveiling along with my choice of undies.

This just excites me that much more.

I decide to email Mr. Barclay to let him know that the task has been performed and to keep me from sitting in my car and playing with myself. Yes, I am that aroused.

He replies with this email:

Wow, well done, congratulations, brave, stupid, exciting, embarrassing, intoxicating..........

Clearly you are on a high and I will be looking forward to hearing the details. I'll also want to know what you hear on the office gossip grape vine.

Very pleased to hear you also enjoyed the experience.

Keep up the good work.

Mr Barclay

After I email Mr. Barclay from my car I drive to a park just about a mile from work which follows a small stream as it makes its way through the city. I have found that during the day the park is unusually absent of people and has become my refuge after a particularly trying morning, although this certainly doesn't fall into that category.

I park the car on the street and walk to my favorite bench. Although it is situated directly alongside a paved walk, I am often alone for the 40 minutes or so that I sit there.

My entire body is absolutely vibrating with what I just did. I am as high as a kite with pure sexual energy and excitement.

My mind is essentially playing a repeating reel of thoughts: "I can't believe it. I can't believe that I did it. Oh my God, it all felt too good. Did you see the look on my manager's face? I thought he was going to squirt himself. Did I notice an erection in his pants? Maybe he was the one that I thought was peeking at me. I am so excited right now I can't believe it. Did you see the look on everyone's face when my skirt dropped to the floor? My God, if I touch myself right now I will orgasm. That was so incredible, I can't believe it. And my director was behind me and never moved. I wonder what he was looking at."

I try to calm myself down, but it is virtually impossible. I am as sexually charged as I have ever been so I pull my skirt up my legs past my stocking tops just to get some cooler air in that general vicinity. I want to do it again and again, but know that it will never be the same. The first time is always the best and the most intense.

I am oozing liquid from my excitement, which is another reason I have pulled my skirt up.

I am hoping that the cooler air is akin to a cold shower.

Maybe this would be a good place to explain the difference between "sexually charged" and "horny". Being sexually charged has my entire body vibrating with raw sexuality. This always accompanies any exhibitionistic act that I may perform. It makes me feel high as a kite from the excitement and I absolutely love it as it lasts for days.

Horny is simply wanting to have sex or to orgasm. This certainly can accompany my sexually charged feelings but is just a small part of the whole.

Right now I am very sexually charged.

As I start to calm down I pull my skirt a little higher moving my legs wide apart and start to analyze why leopard print panties are considered so seductive. All I have to do right now is look down and my leopard print crotch is clearly visible. The air feels good and seems to be doing a good job of airing me out.

I can't say that I am really less lit up, but at least my breathing has returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, so I decide to head back to work.

I am sure that you would like to read that the entire time my skirt was up at the park, a young voyeur was staring at me and that he approached me as I started to leave, but that is the difference between fantasy and reality.

And for me this was stock full of fantasy filled "WOW".



P.S. When I got back to the office following my very needed lunch break, I had an invite on my calendar to meet with my department director at the end of the day. I, of course, accepted and found myself just as nervous to meet with him, as I was to drop my skirt. Particularly since he had a very clear view of my leopard print bottom for an extended period of time and I had never been asked to meet with him before.

At the appointed time I walked up the stairs to his floor as a way to calm my nerves and after knocking on his open door I entered.

He looked up from whatever he was doing when he heard my knock and greeted me with a wonderful smile of acknowledgement. He then proceeded to tell me how impressed he was with my comments regarding our ongoing staffing issues and hopes that I will be able to expand upon them in our upcoming meeting.

I thanked him for the compliment and assured him that I had quite a few ideas on how we could attract the right people to our department. All the while I couldn't help but wonder how much my "accidental" striptease had to do with him noticing me.

I certainly wouldn't encourage anyone to follow my lead, but it seems that my exhibition may have helped my career. Imagine that!

P.S.S. I now have another invite on my calendar for lunch with my manager for next week. Maybe I should write a book on how a woman can get ahead in business. Pun intended.

P.S.S. A couple of my co-supervisors have dropped by my cubicle and have asked me about wearing garter belts and stockings. They told me that like myself they hate pantyhose, but have always felt that garters and stockings were not appropriate for anywhere but the bedroom. Maybe I can convert a few of them to my way of thinking and find some good friends in the process.

The results of this task just seem to be getting better and better.