A Subliminal Task

A few weeks back I received an email from a man who wrote to tell me that he had thought about a task for me to perform. He promised that it would be highly erotic stating that he had thought about it for quite awhile before finally writing me.

He suggested that I visit the mall wearing a micro mini skirt and high heels with a tiny thong underneath. He went on to say that I should spend time at the food court making sure that I attracted attention eventually ordering something to eat and then sitting down. Only I was to sit next to a complete stranger asking whether they would mind company for lunch.

After lunch I was to walk through the mall to see how much attention I received.

I really didn't think much of the email or the suggested task(s) particularly since I have two daughters, one a young teen, and the other a pre-teen and thus find myself at the mall on a fairly regular basis.

When I do go to the mall in the summer months, I often wear a very short skirt along with either 3 inch heels or sandals with a 2 inch heel.

I don't wear micro mini's as I categorize them as skirts that just reach past a woman's crotch by 2 inches or so.

I certainly wore them when I was in my teens and early 20's, but now having reached the start of my 40's, it would feel a bit desperate i.e. any everyone look at me.

My short skirts reach about mid thigh and probably stretch the definition of age appropriate.

However I feel good in them and find them perfect for warm summer days.

Thus other than the micro mini, the suggested task seemed routine except to have lunch with a complete stranger. Something that I wouldn't do anyway.

However this is where it gets a bit weird.

This past weekend my daughters wanted me to drive them to the mall so they could pick out some shorts for the summer.

My husband was golfing with friends and thus I was on my own for the day.

So off to the mall we went.

I put on a white cotton stretch skirt with a tan window pane pattern that reaches just to mid thigh. It is a bit tight across my derriere which can create some very visible panty lines.

I pretty much wear short skirts throughout the summer months as I prefer them to shorts.

I added a plaid midriff blouse in a shade of brown to compliment my skirt along with my favorite summer heels. They are a khaki colored linen fabric with a tan leather trim style of pump with 3 inch heels.

Yes, I am one of those women that wears heels almost all of the time unless I am doing something where heels just aren't practical such as at the beach, jogging, etc.

I feel that heels add a distinctive touch to either a more formal or a causal style of dress.

It sets me apart.

Besides all of that, it makes my legs look longer and my backside stick out.

Underneath I put on a pair of pale blue nylon bikini panties with tiny bows on each hip. Once summer arrives I pretty much change my under-wardrobe to all pastel colors. Yellows, pinks, pale blues and greens, lilacs, etc. in both bras and panties. It suits my idea of summer wear.

My demi bra matched my panties having lace cups with very narrow shoulder and back straps.

I purposely leave my blouse unbuttoned to the very start of my bra cups; not necessarily to show off as I really don't have much to show off.

It simply is another part of my summer style.

If I should bend forward towards you, you would get a very good look at the color and style of bra that I am wearing along with the general shape of my tiny breasts as the bra would provide a small separation from the cups and my skin.

For god's sake, it is summer. Why not show off a bit.

So this is what I had chosen to wear on my chauffeur errand to the mall.

Once we arrived I parked the car and accompanied my daughters to the doors of the mall. We headed to one of their favorite teen clothing stores and once there found that a couple of their girlfriends were looking to add to their summer wardrobe as well.

At this point I thought that I should let them enjoy the time with their friends and told them I had some shopping to do of my own and would meet them at the entrance to my favorite department store in about an hour.

My daughters and their friends actually like me to shop with them as they enjoy my opinion (they think that I am cool for a Mom), but I still felt a bit like a fifth wheel.

I trust my daughter's taste in clothes finding them to be quite a bit more conservative than I am.

Maybe that is why I am "the cool Mom".

I told them that I would see them later and headed to the department store to get a coffee drink. One of my little weaknesses that I try to limit as much as possible. Have you ever seen the amount of calories that a macchiato has?

Not exactly the favored drink for bikini season.

One of my favorite department stores has a coffee vendor right outside its mall doors with tables and chairs for customers. It allows me to easily order and sit without all of the hustle bustle found at the food court.

I walked the halls of the mall until I arrived at the coffee vendor, ordered my drink, paid and sat down at one of the tables waiting to hear my name called.

On my way to the table I picked up a couple of paper napkins. Just as I reached the table I managed to drop them on the floor watching the air currents turn them into falling leaves as they floated this way and that.

Once they settled in place, which had them about 6 feet from each other, I squatted down to pick up the nearest one.

If you have ever squatted in a short skirt, it is never a question of whether someone with the right angle will see up your skirt, it is a question of how much they will see.

It was at this precise moment that I looked straight ahead while reaching for the first napkin and noticed a nicely dressed man in what I would guess to be his late 50's or early 60's watching me. I was sitting on my haunches attempting to keep my knees together while at the same time, not settling too low so that my derriere would be peeking out from between my ankles.

If I were to judge the change in the gentlemen's expression, I would say that I hadn't succeeded in either one, the other or both endeavors.

He did a very nice job of focusing more on my facial expression than on looking up my skirt. Still there was no doubt that I had flashed him.

I felt a warm flush of embarrassment mixed with a slight twinge of excitement spread throughout my body.

The flush of embarrassment was heading north and the twinge of excitement was heading south.

It was at this precise moment that I remembered the email outlining the suggested task.

As I remained squatting with my knees facing the gentleman, he stood up from his chair, walked over to the other errand napkin and picked it up.

Being only a step away, he graciously reached out his hand to mine and pulled me from my squatting position.

Thus he was able to ascertain that my bra matched my panties in one simple motion.

Again his glance down my blouse was quick as he again focused more on my face.

I thanked him for his assistance and kindness wanting to imply that not staring up my skirt was appreciated He responded that it was his pleasure.

At that moment I heard "Elizabeth" called from the coffee vendor and excused myself. As I took my drink from the counter my hand was shaking and I had to take a couple of deep breathes to calm down.

For all of the familiar reasons that couples with kids have, it had been a while since my husband and I had had sex. So my body was a bit overly sensitive to any kind of experience that may fall into a sexual category. Knowing that a nice looking man had just seen up my skirt and down my blouse seemed to fall into that category.

I proceeded back to my table and sat down facing the gentleman as it seemed to be rude to now face the other way.

I said something lame about my tendency to be clumsy and he responded that being able to squat on a pair of high heels seemed anything but clumsy.

It was a very nice response making me feel comfortable talking with him.

I smiled feeling the same flush of mixed emotions pass through for the second time.

We then engaged in small chit chat regarding why I was at the mall and why he was there. He liked to come on Saturdays just to people watch.

He was very well mannered and extremely subtle with his glance as I only caught him looking at my legs twice.

I don't like being leered at as it makes me uncomfortable. At the same time, if a man doesn't look at my legs when I am wearing a short skirt, I will be disappointed.

This gentleman seemed to have mastered the art of looking without leering.

At the same time it is a bit of a funny feeling having a conversation with a stranger that has just seen well up one's skirt as well as well down one's blouse.

My mind would keep straying to ascertain what he might have seen and how much.

It caused intermittent shivers of nervousness pass through me, unless it simply was the iced coffee drink.

I do believe that it was the prior.

What added to my awareness of having just been exposed was the email with the task. Other than wearing a tiny thong, I had essentially performed the task.

We probably talked for 20 minutes; nothing flirty or suggestive. Pretty much the kind of conversation you would have with anyone that you are meeting for the first time.

As I finished my drink, I told him that I had a bit of shopping to do before I rejoined my daughters and thanked him again for his help.

As I was getting up from the table, I realized that I had given him another look well up my skirt.

You see when a women is sitting down in a short skirt and wants to slide sideways to slip her legs out from underneath a table, she basically has two moves.

The style and grace motion keeps the woman's knees tightly together as she moves both legs out from underneath the table at the same time.

The "Hey look what I am wearing" has you move one leg out creating a fairly wide gap between your knees allowing anyone with the correct viewing angle a good look up your skirt.

My conversationalist had such a viewing angle.

I had become so relaxed during our conversation that I had forgotten that I was still in a public place talking to a complete stranger. Besides the table top was a thick wire mesh essentially revealing anything located underneath the table.

As I slid my left leg to the side creating the "gap," I immediately saw the gentleman's eyes lower to my skirt.

It was too late.

My legs were at least 18 inches apart and I knew that my sky blue covered crotch was completely exposed.

As I continued my motion to get up figuring at this juncture what's the point I saw the change in the gentleman's eyes. His pupils became larger and a slight glint of pleasure spread across his face. The edges of his lips raised slightly in a smile.

There was no doubt that he enjoyed the view that I just provided.

The now very familiar flush of embarrassment and slight twinge of excitement again invaded my body.

I have this thing that is a bit difficult to explain. I am intoxicated by the look on a man's face when it tells me that they enjoy looking at me.

It undoubtedly derives from growing up in a large family where the tendencies towards self-doubt and lower self confidence abide.

When I experience a clear look of approval like the one that I was now experiencing, I want it to last longer.

It took a strong dose of my womanly appropriateness to not leave my knees apart allowing my new found voyeur to look to his heart's content.

My lower lips began to swell and I felt a slight pulse beginning to vibrate my awakening kernel.

There was no doubt that I was getting aroused.

If the gentleman had asked me to lift my skirt for him or just to remain as I was with my knees wide apart, I can't say that I would have refused him.

"The look" has that kind of effect on me.

Now don't misunderstand me, I do not go out of my way to stimulate "the look" on men's faces. I am like most women. I enjoy being looked at as it makes me feel good about myself, but I am not going around flashing my panties or wearing "hooker wear" to attract attention.

It is just that when something like this happens unexpectedly and I see "the look'" I become weak in the knees. My heart rate increases exponentially. My throat becomes dry. And my lower regions start to salivate.

Yes, I am saying that I become aroused.

And it isn't the fact that any man with a look will have this effect on me. It is a very specific look that arouses me.

My husband has it. But besides him, I may have seen it a dozen times in 20 years.

This is probably very fortunate for me and my reputation.

Who knows how many times I might have found myself "showing off" to someone?

I am particularly vulnerable when I am feeling sexually charged, which was the case on this particular day.

I didn't wake up with the feeling not even realizing that I had it until this moment at the Mall. However when I saw this man's expression as I unknowingly revealed my panties to him, I knew that I was sexually charged.

In case you aren't sure of my meaning i.e. I was feeling horny.

I knew that I needed to get away hoping that he had no idea what the expression on his face was doing to me.

It seemed that he didn't.

Thank goodness for unsuspecting men, who probably get a very strong sense of something going on, but have no clue what that something might be.

Another factor that has saved my reputation over the years.

I told him that it was nice meeting him and he replied that he hoped to see me again sometime.

Something in how he lingered on the words "see me again" caused me to swallow as if something had stuck in my throat.

Was this just my overactive imagination influenced by so many twinges and pleasant pulsing, or did I just hear him tell me that he enjoyed seeing up my skirt?

I tried my best to put one heel in front of the other while limiting the movement that walking in heels creates in a women's hips, knowing full well that he would be watching me walk away.

It just seemed natural that following our conversation along with my double exposures, that he would watch me leave.

I was lucky that I didn't trip on my own feet, but finally made it into the safety of the department store.

I walked into the women's department pretending to look at the summer styles while my entire body shook in reaction to what had just happened.

I needed to settle myself down.

I grabbed a couple of short shorts from a rack and found a dressing room. There I simply sat down allowing the mini convulsions invading my erogenous zone to subside.

I can't say that I fully recovered from the experience once alone in the dressing room. I tried on the two pair of short shorts that I had taken from the rack.

One light weight denim pair was so short that my cheeks showed through the leg openings, and if I bent forward at all a hint of pale blue nylon was exposed as well.

They certainly didn't seem like a style that I would wear.

Still just as my daughters found me standing at the cash register, this particular pair was being put in a shopping bag with its receipt.

When my daughters saw what was in my bag, they simultaneously said, "Mom, you can't wear those. Your butt will show."

They were right and yet this is what that look can do to me.

On the way home I thought to myself that now every trip to the mall will be preceded with a feeling of anxious excitement and trepidation. Thank you very much.

If you are wondering whether I ever wore the short shorts.

Yes, the very next weekend to a summer music festival.

In fact it does lead to another story about which I will have to write sometime.

So, is this another task completed?