Henry Higgins?

The trouble with this, as I pointed out to him was they were both five foot tall asian girls not five foot eight, and that was without the heels he wanted me to wear. It was going to be very short. So of course I had to wear panties. I was determined to make my own little stand in a way that he could not complain about so I started to wear bright coloured panties around the office. Red, black, yellow, turquoise and pink. It was fun and my exhibitionist side would come out from time to time so I would bend over a filing cabinet. Just really letting Mr Young know he couldn't bully me. But that's when he started to like it. He would call me into his surgery regularly, particularly when there were certain customers in there I noticed. He would get me to ferret around in the bottom drawer or sometimes get a chair to stand on to open the windows. And now one of the other girls has told him that I didn't used to wear panties so he wants me to have no-panties days on Fridays. But that's no way to get on in the world is it?

I had to admit it wasn't. I also told her that she might just start with Fridays but sooner or later he would pressure her to leave them off every day.

The trouble was she secretly fancied doing it. I eventually hit on a little scheme.

'Look if you are sure about all this what you can do is go along with him. Always appear reluctant and make sure that you either get a tape of him asking you to do it or a copy of a letter where he tells you what to do.

When you get fed up of doing as he says, or if he gets outrageous you threaten him with the police or newspapers. Eventually he will get way out of line and you will have the perfect evidence to go to the papers. Or you could have him put you through training college to be a dentistry nurse perhaps.' She liked this idea.

'But don't go rushing it. I will get you a tape recorder that looks like a pen and you can wear it in your top pocket all the time.'

So that's what she did.

Chapter 8

It was September before I saw her again.

We were lying in bed one night, ten miles apart of course, when she said to me in a very teasing voice, 'Do you want to see more of me?'

'Of course,' I said, with my brain whirring in overdrive. Skype came to mind. Why hadn't I thought of that earlier. I would wait and see what her suggestion was before I brought it up.

'Next Saturday Billie is going up to Manchester to watch a football match and will not be back until very late. Mum is going with a neighbour to bingo. She never gets in before eleven. So I am free for the evening. I can get out about seven but will have to be back by eleven. Can we go out again.'

My heart surged. I started planning the evening.

'You like French I will take you to my favourite restaurant and I will organise the menu so that you can have a taste of everything the chef can do. I will design your own little tasting menu.'

She started giggling, ' But no figs please M'sieu LeFig. They would only make me laugh.'

I spent an enjoyable week planning a workable menu with the executive chef of a restaurant that I had used a lot for business. I told him that we would be ready for our first amuse bouche by seven forty-five and that I needed to be leaving sharp at ten thirty. I hired a car and driver for the evening but dressed fairly casually. I did not want to embarrass her by overdressing if she could not afford to dress up.

The night arrived and I was waiting on the corner that she suggested near her apartments at seven on the dot. She arrived about ten minutes later giggly and excited. She looked delightful. Her hair had been cut since I saw her last. There was a small fringe and it was cut to drop just onto her shoulders. And what shoulders. Just thin straps held up a deep blue, satin, shirtwaister dress, buttoned down the front, under a chain belt before dropping to mid-thigh. Delightful, dressy but relaxed. Not expensive but definitely classy. This was my new French Danielle.

I was nervous and she was bubbling.

I explained that as she had obviously enjoyed French food before I had arranged a menu where she could taste many of the different aspects of a good French menu.

As before we started with champagne, going on to a nice light red Sancerre with the meat courses, before spoiling her with half a bottle of Sauterne with the five or six desserts that were elegantly arranged on the one plate. The only thing that was not greeted with one hundred percent favour was the red wine, which she claimed was a taste that she needed to practice.

The earlier courses, the asparagus, the quails eggs, the oysters, the foie gras and two soups, a consommé under pastry crust and a vichysoisse were served in tiny portions, not much more than a mouthful, every six minutes as my instructions indicated. There were only four main courses, again small portions. The lobster and sea bass, followed by the rack of lamb, and the filet mignon.

I was pleased that she turned down the cheese, which I ordinarily love but would definitely have been surplus to requirements.

Chapter 9

We talked of course about Mr Young and her panties. She got very animated describing how she had been unwilling at first, but then for the first time a couple of weeks ago she had left them off on a Friday. Mr Young had given her a twenty pound bonus and then quickly persuaded her to come in every day thus attired. She had over twenty tape recordings of him requesting her to go without panties and three or four earlier requests that she give him the panties that she had on. She had plenty for whatever action she eventually decided to take.

He frequently called her into his surgery and she claimed that she spent almost as much time in there as she had on reception.

'I am really surprised however that he has never touched me,' she said.

I was fascinated that she expected him to want to touch. Well of course I am sure he wanted to touch. But she was surprised that he hadn't.

'So what would you do if he did touch?'

'Oh I would push him off,' she said. 'I really am a good girl. Well I don't mind showing off to people, but I really do not want to be thought of as a slag.'

I quizzed her to find out that while she was not a virgin, she had only made love with Billie and one other boy that he shared her with a year or so ago. The other boy had been somewhat higher than Billie in the gang hierarchy and it had been a matter of pride, both Billie's and the other boys that they shared Jane at least once. She had told Billie privately what she thought of the idea and told him that she would never sleep with him again if he did that to her one more time.

'Anyway,' she said, 'Sex is no big deal. It's not exactly earthshaking like you imagine from the books. Frankly I get more of a buzz from flashing people than I get doing it.'

I was fascinated again. I have never considered myself a Don Juan but I have never let a girl go home unsatisfied. I think.

I wondered whether I ever had a chance of getting her into bed. The love that I had always felt pure now meandered into lust.

The car was returning for me at ten twenty so we still had about thirty minutes before she turned into the proverbial pumpkin.

I took a chance of upsetting her.

'It is precisely ten minutes to ten. In exactly twenty five minutes I will be asking for the bill. You have five buttons on the front of your dress, I expect a button to be undone every five minutes if you want a lift home.'

'I can't not here. This is far too posh a place. No I can't. Can I?'

The moment she said that, I knew I had it right. She would get a huge thrill from this just because of the surroundings. Any anyway, I wanted a bit of fun.... For both of us.

She looked around before her ands dropped below the table for a few seconds.

'One,' she breathed.

She looked around again before apparently idly playing with the top one, high on her breast bone.

'Two.'

Her hands slipped down again below the table top.

'Three.'

She was breathing a little more heavily now. Around her freckles she seemed to be getting a little pinker. Warm perhaps?

Hardly ten minutes had elapsed before the fingers laced carelessly just below her bust, such as it was, were back on the table.

Four,' she smiled.

The fifth one was under her chain belt but easy to get to. I had calculated that the belt would hold the dress closed but probably allow it to gape. I was not too worried about the top, but the bottom was going to be fun.

'Five,' she whispered.

The little minx bent down to pick up her handbag, leaning towards me so that I could see almost down to her nipples. Her leg moved a little to the side but unfortunately did not push the sides of the dress apart.

I waved my fingers in the direction of the bar.

'L'addition s'il vous plait.'

'Do you speak fluent French,' she said.

I nodded and then added. 'What do you think you are doing?'

She had started to do the buttons up. 'Do you want to walk home?'

'Oh,' she said, blushing deliciously. 'And I don't suppose I get my coat until I get outside.' Was that fearful or stating a request I wondered.

I did not deign to answer. I saw my car draw up the other side of the road.

The waiter came with the bill and I paid. Danielle kept her eyes firmly on the table. The waiter kept them firmly on Danielle.

It was the first time anyone in the restaurant had noticed her state of undress.

He returned with her coat which I accepted and hung over my arm.

I heard her take a deep breath as we stepped out for the doors. I was just ahead of her. I stopped briefly at the bar as we went past, to thank the waiter and the manager, who were both waiting with a smile to see us leave.

I ushered her in front of me and took her arm as we walked towards the door.

'Head up, be proud. You have a wonderful body.'

From behind I had no idea how much was showing. I don't think she would know exactly either. I was betting it was a bit colder down the middle than before. A few men looked up to see us leave and when they did they did not lower their gaze again until we had passed.

We went through the door and into the street. There was a bit of traffic around so we stood on the edge of the kerb awaiting the opportunity to cross.

'Can I have your belt please. Perhaps as a keepsake.'

She half-looked up at me with a crazy little grin and a giggle, before handing me the belt.

I caught her arm to help her across the road. Halfway across she shrugged herself free, opened her arms and pirouetted the rest of the way across the road. Her dress was completely open and flying away from her body on both sides. There were not many of us around but the chauffeur and I both got a great view. He got an even better view as he opened the door and waited for her to get in. She laughed and sat comfortably in the car as I got in the other side.

'Wow. What a kick that was.'

'Yes,' I agreed. 'James got one too,' and we laughed all the way back to her flat where she alighted almost fully dressed once more. I still had her belt.

Chapter 10.

I was to wait three more months before I saw her again. As you can imagine I was cursing myself for not having even tried to make out with her in the car. I thought about her daily, but sadly the calls got fewer and fewer. Again it was just before Christmas that I was going to see her again. We were down to one call a week. At the start of December she told me that she had dumped Billie and my heart leapt.

But no, she still would not meet me even for dinner, let alone go out with me, whatever that meant. She told me that she had been to a posh hairdresser and that her boss had given her a couple of good rises and after a little blackmail had agreed that she could take time off to study part time. She was starting after Christmas.

But yes, she would come out to dinner with me the week before Christmas.

Cheekily she asked if I had anything left to show her, 'After the last posh French Restaurant.'

'Of course,' I replied, 'I will now show you some of the best of old English cooking. I think you will enjoy the Blumenthal Restaurant in the Mandarin Hotel.'

'It's very, very, posh,' I added recognizing her enjoyment that the venues had got posher each time. Her ambition was obvious even on the phone.

'I have just the dress,' she said. 'Not that I have anything left to show you,' she giggled.

'Unlike you,' I said. 'I am more than happy to explore old friends.'

That provoked more than a giggle, eventually culminating in a 'You should be so lucky. I will see you at seven o'clock on Tuesday.'

I picked her up at the appointed time and wow. That was going to be the word of the evening.

An elfin cut, white blonde, and yes, somehow she had changed her eyes.

Yes, she told me she had green lenses to colour her irises. She claimed that her 'muddy' coloured eyes did not match her freckles, which all the men seemed to adore, so it was easier to change her eyes.

She wore an ankle length black silk coat so I was on tenterhooks for her to reveal the much vaunted dress.

I steered her into the bar at the Hotel. We were not booked until eight thirty as she had given no hint that she would turn into Cinderella at ten thirty again.

She was impressed with the surroundings and, wow, the surroundings were impressed with her when I asked if I should take her coat.

Her slim body suited admirably the white shot silk dress that hung beautifully from her shoulders to mid calf. A touch of colour, a skin coloured silk flower just forward of her right shoulder was matched by the tone of her skin on the left side that stretched from her shoulder all the way to the hem. Holding it together were three small ties, one above her shoulder, one level with her bust, and the other at her waist. The ties held together the whole dress exposing a six-inch band of flesh and a remarkable lack of underwear. Wow. There's that word again.

It was amazing how she focussed the eyes of every man in the bar upon her.

We stood at the bar while I looked around for a table. We faced each other, her open side against the bar. I had no trouble connecting with the waiter who was hovering, taking in her every move.

'Any chance of a table for an hour,' I asked him.

'I'll see what I can do sir.'

Danielle pouted. She was definitely Danielle tonight- no plain Jane.

'I should warn you, she murmured. 'If you are going to make me sit down I take no responsibility for my skirt which does tend to flap open when seated.' She giggled, the first I had heard so far this evening.

I recognised her mood and replied that before we even went as far as a table we were standing at the wrong angle for her to reveal her open side to the bar. I moved to her other side to allow other bar patrons the view.

The barman came back after a few moments to say that yes, he had a table for us if we would like to follow him.

As we walked behind him we saw that a new table had been laid on a low dais, which would normally have held perhaps a display. Whatever it normally held, it could not have been better placed for showing off. It was the practically the focal point of the room.

I smiled and handed him a twenty.

'Thank you. That should do fine.'

Danielle had the grace to look not entirely comfortable as he guided her to the outside seat displaying all of her fleshy band to the room.

I held my breath as she was seated to see how the front of the dress was affected. The flap, which of course fell between her legs, managed to cover her pubes somehow. She crossed her left leg over her right as he placed out glasses and the champagne bottle on the table. This showed a lot of thigh, and they were great thighs, make no mistake, but she was able to wrap the flap of the dress over the top of that left leg.

She breathed out after the barman left us, as if she had been holding her breath all the while he was seating us.

'Well my Lady Danielle. Do you approve?'

I received the customary giggle. She seemed speechless.

'Don't be too obvious,' I told her. 'But look around in a moment and see how many eyes are on you. Even most of the women,' I laughed.

We had an enjoyable time in the bar before moving to the back of the hotel to the restaurant, which looked out over Hyde Park.

The Maitre d' saw Danielle, looked down at his pad and appeared to erase a notation from a corner table.

He led us to the windows and seated us alongside the central window with Danielle's left side again looking out into the body of the restaurant. Some other mugs were now going to get the table by the toilets, I assumed.

The service, as you would expect was immaculate and the food, a modern take on mediaeval British food was inspired. Her savoury porridge with frog's legs, then spiced pigeon, and my hay smoked mackerel and ribeye steak achieved the wow factor. A Tipsy Cake and Quaker Pudding proved my point to her that it didn't have to be French to be good.

We relaxed, her with a sauterne, and me, an Armagnac, as she told me the tale of getting one over her boss.

He had gone too far one evening trying to force himself upon her in his dentist's chair. She had produced her tape recorder and given him a list of her demands.

He was surprised to find out that a big pay rise and time off to study were just about her only demands. In return she would continue to wear no underwear and even, on this occasion only, help him to relieve his painfully erect condition. But no fucking.

He was backed into a corner but apparently delighted with the outcome. She had apparently given him a handjob fairly regularly since then, she admitted. She also said that she teased the hell out of him when they were on their own between customers, stroking the front of his trousers or squeezing past him, so perhaps he deserved the odd treat.

Billy was done and gone and as yet she had not replaced him although she had been out with a couple of guys from her school. She was learning French, of which she had done a little a few years ago at school. Her main course however was secretarial, leading, she hoped, to an occupation which she believed was achievable on so many levels. She intended to get to the top of the tree and I did not doubt that she could do it.

Talking to this sophisticated beauty was a world away from the first time we had discussed her friend Suzie's fig with the chef of Maman's.

The meal came to it's natural end with the presentation of the bill.

I started. 'Would you like to ...?'

I was at a loss what to suggest next. There was no dancing here in the hotel. But I certainly did not want to finish here.

'You have a double room booked don't you.'

I wished the ground had swallowed me up. How dare I assume, or even wish for such a thing.

'Yes.'

I eventually brought my gaze up to meet her's.

I received a long slow searching look in return before she giggled and said, 'Well come on then. No need to waste it. I have never been to a posh hotel room and I don't suppose it was cheap. But,'

My heart sank. I was about to be sworn to not touch.

'But, just before we go,' she said and pulled free the tie at her waist. Both ties miraculously disappeared into the body of the dress leaving it unattached from the bust down.

'An inch or two of elastic pulls back the ties,' she explained as I goggled at the new look.

Sitting now with her right leg over her left, the edge of the dress fell away now on her right hand side. 'Whoops,' she said. 'Time to leave before we get thrown out.'

I laughed, as much as anything relieved that I did not have to pledge not to touch. I stretched out a hand to help her rise which she did as discreetly as was possible. The dress fell roughly back into place, with no sign of any pubic hair but with a gap that now stretched from the middle of her thigh at the front to the edge of her buttock at the back. We waited standing talking to the Maitre d' for what seemed like an eternity while waiting for her coat to be delivered. Far from wanting to throw us out he was looking forward to welcoming us again. I am not sure whether it was my large tip or the sight of Danielle. Who am I kidding? He got large tips every day.