Another Task

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.