Secret Sins Ch. 02

"Oh, and Lieutenant..."

I turned to face him, waiting, fearful of what was coming next, but also unexplainably anticipating it.

"After today, I trust there'll be no further need for me to dictate how you're to present yourself at these meetings?"

" ... No, Sir."

"Are you sure? You hesitated."

"I'm sure, Sir. I'll open my blouse for you."

"I might want more than that."

I didn't answer, only stared, rooted to the spot until he said, "Hike that skirt and show me your ass."

Stunned, my jaw sagged again, but I only hesitated a second before I turned and did as he instructed, pulling my skirt to my waist. My panties matched my bra, the crotch widening out halfway up my tushie to cover only the tops of my cheeks, my black garter belt riding my hips above them with it's black straps running beneath, completely visible through the translucent undergarment, to the tops of my stockings.

With renewed embarrassment and arousal, I stood like that, black regulation heels about a foot apart. Timidly, I looked over my shoulder, wondering how much of my pussy he could see, and waiting for him to get enough of this view while hoping he was happy with it.

"Turn around."

Again, I followed his directions, turning to face him while adjusting my grip on the skirt so I could also hold the tails of my blouse away from the front of my panties and garter belt. He had to have a clear view of the tuft of trimmed, golden brown pubic hair and my pussy below, mashed against the soaked sheer,

"That's very nice, Lieutenant," he complimented, his breathing now a little heavier. "And I see you've enjoyed this meeting. Do you always wear lingerie under your clothes?"

"Yes, Sir," I quietly confirmed.

"Good. Keep doing that. You're excused."

Letting my skirt fall past my knees, I exited his office without looking back. Then, as I hurriedly walked out of the office alcove, I only flashed Marilyn a polite smile when she bade me goodbye, hoping it didn't look as forced as it was. Down the hall and through the security door I went, not even acknowledging Bob as he wished me a pleasant day, not even so much as looking at him, my heels clicking on the stairs and then clacking on the sidewalk as I wasted no time getting to my car.

I felt like my head was going to explode with a combination of frazzled nerves, personal shame and intense sexual arousal that was so great I could barely stand it as I sped away from the curb in the direction of North Central. I couldn't even think, the events of only minutes before seeming so unreal that I couldn't focus on just one of them, or how I'd let any of them even happen. In that condition, I shouldn't even have been driving.

By the time I pulled up to the house, I was still pretty freaked out and almost as horny as I was when I was tweaking my nipples for Major Hurdle. Sitting in the air conditioned confines of my car, I wondered how I'd cover any outward signs of upset, hide any evidence of what had just happened to me from Donna. Suddenly worried that there might actually be a wet spot on the back of my skirt, I then wondered if I could angle my way up the stairs without her seeing. If there was, perhaps my skirt was dark enough that it wouldn't show?

But I continued to just sit there, my hands on the wheel, fingers gripping it like I was speeding as fast as the car could go. With an effort, I removed them, wiped my palms hard on my skirt and closed my eyes. After taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm myself down, I tried to make sense of what had happened.

It wasn't working

"(Siiigh!)"

"Okay... Get a grip, Tara..."

After about a half minute, I was able to think.

I'd exposed myself to the Major at his request. No, I'd exposed my undergarments to the Major at his request. No. I'd exposed myself in my undergarments to the Major at his veiled suggestion/threat. That was it. I did what he'd implicated I should do so that my parents, or I, possibly both, wouldn't end up posted to some Hell on Earth that was even worse than Iqaluit. Yes, that was why I did what I did. He'd strongly hinted around at possible rewards as well as possible punishments, and I was wise to do what I did in mine and my parent's best interests. A few wrong, or right words to his uncle at Territorial HQ would make all the difference either way and, given this, my reaction was completely understandable and justifiable, wasn't it? Of course it was.

And there was no question that a part of me enjoyed it. Yes, all the justifications I've just given were, in themselves, reason enough to do what I'd done, probably the biggest and best reason and, without these, I know I wouldn't have, but the fact that a part of me enjoyed it existed and couldn't be denied. Sitting there in my car, I was suddenly sure that he knew I would do it, too. He knew I was attracted to him, respected him, that I was impressed with and liked him. I mean, it wasn't as though I actually believed that his AC was broken. He even knew that the only thing we both needed was a solid reason because, as I've said, without those veiled threats along with their opposing implications of rewards, I never would have done any of that, regardless of that part of me that had enjoyed it. I never would have consorted with a married Officer.

Then it hit me that, incredibly, throughout the whole ordeal and even during the drive back to Rae Street, I hadn't even thought about his wife, not even once until that moment and, though I didn't like Alessa, I couldn't help feeling bad for her. No woman deserved that, and I suddenly felt like dirt for allowing him to manipulate me like he had. But, I really didn't have any choice, did I? He'd seen to that for both of us, hadn't he?

With a heavy sigh, I finally got out of the car, the day's oppressive heat immediately attacking my uniform as I walked around it to the sidewalk, my guilt and self-recrimination taking a backseat to sudden thoughts of my next meeting with Major Hurdle. What would he have me do? What would he maybe do to me? Would he make me get my boobs right out of my bra?

My arousal hadn't really abated while trying to ascertain for myself just what all had happened in Hurdle's office and why. These thoughts of next Friday's possibilities brought it back in spades and, as I passed our sign, I very much wanted to do something about that. With Donna there, however, I didn't see how I could. Cursing that damned Kayla for ever introducing me to internet porn, I opened the front door and left the sweltering outside heat, trading it for the sweltering heat inside as I closed it behind me.

Standing in the front entryway, I could go no further, frozen to the spot despite the heat by the sight I was presented with. Donna had brought a small portable stereo and, from the floor, it was blaring Megan Trainor's All About that Bass. With her back to me, she painted the rear wall of the front room, rolling away without her top as she sang along, hips swaying and jerking to the music. Without that long top, those hips and incredible tush were on full display in her skin-tight Capris, her black bra strap in stark contrast to her light skin.

As I've said, I didn't consider myself bisexual and, despite that odd and troubling attraction to her that I'd felt from the first day we'd met, wondering whether or not Donna enjoys pornography, or about her lingerie, or even picturing her screwing her ex-boyfriend, never made me doubt that. All that was just my own perverted imagination at work, but I've gotten off on a lot of lesbian videos, such as Hypnotized Sex Slaves, because the situational aspect of them, the forbidden nature of same sex couplings, turned me on. And, once I'm sufficiently horny, I can get off to almost anything so, in my current state of arousal, I couldn't help but appreciate what I was seeing in what I might call a non-scriptural way.

In retrospect, and in my defense, I of course see that I was suffering from un-fulfilment after what was, in effect, the first sexual experience of my life, unless one counts masturbation. While it was true that Hurdle never touched me, it was still a sexual experience that involved another person and, at the time, watching Donna, I was drunk on the essences of my own hormones, badly needing satisfaction as I stood there, perspiring again in the cloying heat.

With her long ponytail bouncing and whipping around, perspiration rolled down her back as I watched, feeling my pussy oozing, and when she suddenly twerked her tushie to a specific part of the song that good Christian girls shouldn't even be listening to, my senses stuttered. It was mind blowing, her shapely tushie doing that, seemingly just for me as my lips parted in awe and sudden desire for sex of some sort, even if it was with another woman, but especially if Donna was that other woman.

And then she happened to turn around, going for the paint tray on the floor when she saw me standing there, staring at her.