From: jeff@netlinkcorp.com (Jeff )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Shown - (ff)
Date: Mon, 08 Apr 1996 02:52:19 GMT

				Shown
				 by
			Charisse van der Lyn

	I don't know how I ever agreed to the challenge. Arrogance,
excitement, the reward? I don't know. And who the hell was Steven to
even suggest it, an e-mail friend. I had never met him, and wouldn't.
I could have ignored his dare. I could have lied and said I had done
it. But I didn't. All I had to do was to get on an elevator with a
change of clothes; then on the way up to the top floor I had to change
outfits.

	It was surprisingly simple to set it up so that I could prove
to Steven than I had met his test. I merely had to hand my camera,
which date and time stamps each picture, to someone in the lobby and
ask that he take my picture in front of the elevator. And, I would do
the same at the top floor.

	Each outfit had to be skimpy enough that there would be no way
I could wear them both and simply slip one over the other. I chose a
red mini with a zipper up the back and a translucent white blouse. The
photograph would show my bare tits through the blouse, and he would
have to take my word that I was wearing matching red panties. My
second outfit was a short brown, woolen skirt and matching jacket with
a cream colored blouse that could never hide my black bra. I picked
the 101 building, with 60 floors, and which has a nice restaurant on
the top, my reward. I decided to go during the early evening so that
most of the offices would be empty, and although someone could get on,
it wasn't likely.

	By the time I had gotten everything together, I really didn't
want to go. I'm forty years old. I'm attractive, but I'm not a twenty
year old girl who, if caught could say it was a sorority prank. What
could I say? Nothing. But, somehow I couldn't bring myself to back
out.

	By the time I had parked my car my heart was racing, my hands
were sweating, and I was feeling excited. I found the express
elevators, at least I could minimize the likelihood of someone getting
on to the top 20 floors only. A young man in a suit was looking at a
paper. I asked him if he would take my picture, for a friend. He did,
but as I turned to get on the elevator a couple got on with me. I hit
the button for the 48th floor, got off. My hands shook as I waited a
few minutes before going back down, and I could feel myself oozing
with excitement. God, how I wanted to take care of it. But now, more
than ever I knew I had to give it another go.

	I kept thinking of my age, and how crazy this was as I waited
for someone to take my picture again. Looking at myself in the
mirrored wall opposite me, I could easily see my nipples pointing hard
and red through the fabric of my blouse. "Slut." I jumped at my own
loud, strangled voice.

	Two more times I got on the elevator, each time someone got on
with me. The second time I actually started to unbutton my blouse
anyway, but the other passenger was an older man, gray haired,
distinguished, and something about him suggested that he'd call the
police on me, rather than enjoy seeing me strip.

	I was hot, frustrated and wondering if this weren't a big
mistake I had ever made when I heard someone talking to me.

	"Are you waiting for the elevator?" a woman's voice asked.

	I turned. "Yes," I said to the woman. She was younger, maybe
late twenties, attractive, dressed like a successful lawyer or
executive, and she was staring at my breasts, as she held the open
elevator door for me. I started to get in, but remembered the
photograph. "Here." I handed her my camera. "Take a quick picture of
me, please."

	She grinned, held the camera to her eyes, and clicked off a
shot. Her eyes asked questions she was too polite to voice as I took
the camera back and walked into the elevator with her.

	The door closed and I knew the moment had come, in spite of
her... or perhaps because of her? As the elevator began to move, I
knelt and quickly opened my bag. I looked up at the other woman.
"Don't ask why," I said in an excited whisper, "but I've got to change
before we get to the top floor." I could tell that she was enjoying
looking at me.

	"You'll never make it." She grinned.

	I took a deep breath, stood, and unbuttoned my blouse, letting
it drop to the floor. I reached behind me, unzipped my skirt, and
wiggled out of it while trying to keep my panties from slipping down
too. I was suddenly conscious of how my breasts jiggled as I stepped
out of the skirt.

	She reached past me and hit the button for 40th floor.

	The elevator stopped and the doors opened, I grabbed my blouse
and held it in front of me, but no one got on.

	"No," she whispered and hit the "Door Close" button. "I'll
hold the elevator for you."

	I smiled as the doors closed and the elevator remained
motionless.

	"My name's Debbie." She pulled out the red "Out of Service"
button. "I just hate to see you rush."

	I could feel the red creep up my neck and face. "It's a bet,"
I said.

	"I'm sure," Debbie said as she crouched to look though my bag.
She pulled out my clothes, piece by piece. She held my second pair of
panties against her cheek. "Black silk," she said. "I'm impressed."
For a moment, before putting them down, she held them to her lips,
closed her eyes, and kissed them.

	Her dress rode up her thighs. I looked down at the dark purple
lacy tops of her designer stockings and the purple straps of her
garter belt. I felt myself tingle and ache for her. It had been years
since I had made love to a woman, and I fought hard to not reach up
under her dress and grope her like I was some adolescent in heat.

	"My name's Traci," I whispered.

	She nodded. "You'll need help, Traci," she said, reaching up
and hooking her fingers in the elastic of my panties.

	"God!" I sighed. I dropped my blouse and let her pull my
panties down.

	As I stepped out of them, I could smell the musty odor of my
sex in that tiny elevator.

	She grinned up at me. "You're all wet," she said looking back
at my crotch. "And such a beautiful bush."

	"Eat me," I heard myself sigh.

	One of her long, delicately fingered hands slipped behind me,
pressed into my buttocks, and urged my overheated nest into her smooth
cheek. Her other hand smoothed my hairs away from my moist slit. I
looked at her finely manicured carmine fingernails on my mound as if I
had never seen fingers there before. She buried her face against my
mound. I felt her hot breath burning me, and as she kissed me and
moaned, her tongue began to explore the cleft of my vulva through my
tangle bush. It pushed between the puffy folds of skin and flicked
against my clit. I had been so close before, but now, I felt my knees
give out and I sank to the floor. Debbie guided me down, while her
mouth never left my pussy. I began to buck uncontrollably, and she
slipped two fingers deep in my hole. Her touch was electric, as if I
were a virgin and this were my first time.

	I pulled my knees up against my chest and held them there,
wantonly displaying myself to her. My heart swelled as part of me felt
pride that I could be here, like this, being loved by a beautiful
woman almost half my age.

	She slurped and licked and kissed my pussy, as she finger
fucked me.

	I writhed under her mouth and came in seconds.

	After a moment or two, I reached down and ran my fingers
through her dirty-blond hair. "Let me do you." I said.

	Debbie sat up, and while cupping my sex and slowly fingering
me to another climax, she began to straighten out my clothes. "You've
got your bet to win first." She removed her hand, leaving me humping
air. "Come on." She helped me to my feet and began to dress me in my
second outfit.

	I was dizzy and giddy. And I so much wanted to have her. "It
can wait," I protested as helped me on with my jacket.

	Debbie pushed in the "Out of Service" button and the elevator
resumed its climb. When the doors opened, she stepped out, she aimed
my camera at me and took my picture. "Looks like you've won."

	We had drinks and ordered dinner. Debbie was a lawyer, and,
remarkably, she was thirty-seven. I explained the entire bet to her,
and said that it had worked out better than I could ever have
imagined. I kept hinting that we should go somewhere so I could return
her favors, but she deflected my suggestions as well as my attempts to
touch her under the table.

	"I want to make love to you," I said. "Let's get out of here."

	She smiled at me. "You are so naughty." She stood up and
whispered in my ear, suggesting we go to the ladies room.

	I wasn't sure about this, but her smile was so warm and
confident that I happily followed.

	We giggled and primped in front of the mirror while we waited
for a woman to leave. "I've never - " I started to say had no idea
what we really could do in a stall. But Debbie took my hand and led me
into the large handicap stall on the end. She locked the door and in
one motion grabbed my crotch and was French kissing me with the
abandon and strength of a man. When she broke the kiss I swooned back
from her, breathless and in disarray. I could feel my lipstick was
smeared and my eyes were half closed with the warm tingling of her
soft lips kissing me so brutally. I wanted to feel my breasts pressing
against hers again; my nipples hardening, pushing into her yielding
flesh. And I wanted her to hold them in her hands, her red nails like
the petals of a blossom around ripe fruit, guiding my nipples to her
mouth.

	Her eyes sparkled. She sat down suddenly on the lid of the
toilet and pulled me down over her lap.

	"You are a naughty bitch," she said, speculatively, as if
floating the idea for someone else to comment on. She pulled up on my
skirt. Her delicate hands pressed and stroked my bottom.

	I moaned and closed my eyes as I gave into her touch. Her
quick hands slid my panties down, then she drew her finger slowly
through the cleft of my wet, hungry, sex. She wormed her moistened
finger between my cheeks and into my tight bottom-hole until it was
deep in me.

	I squirmed on her lap as she wiggled her finger around in me.
It was wonderful to have her in me like that.

	"Ooo... yes," I moaned as she fingered me.

	Abruptly, she pulled her hand back and slapped me hard. I
jumped with the searing pain, and the suddenness of her attack. Tears
welled. I started up, but she held me down. I tried to speak, but my
voice choked with fear and panic.

	"Shut up," she said. Again and again she slapped me. My eyes
ran with tears, and my ass stung more and more with each slap.

	When she stopped, she made me stand up and she slid my panties
completely down. She stood up and wiped my face dry. Then she crumpled
my panties into a ball and tucked them into my bag.

	"Debbie?" I whispered, unsure of where things were going.

	"Shhh... quiet, cunt." She grabbed my ass and began probing my
tiny hole again.

	I snuffled, half in pleasure, half in fear. My bottom relaxed
and nipped at her finger. I wanted her to enter me there again.

	"You're so lucky you met me." Her breath was hot on my face.
"I can see you're just a slut." The tip of her finger pushed into me
again. "You're a slutty, bitch, cunt. A slave cunt." She jerked my
blonde hair in her elegant fist and she her finger jammed deeper into
me. "For now you're my slave cunt." She smiled. "And I'm going to take
your bet a lot farther than you had ever expected."

	I couldn't believe how I felt, a mixture of lust and shame,
and how I wanted her. I loved her.

	She withdrew her finger and pushed me to my feet. Standing up,
she drew out a tissue wiped her finger.

	I squeezed my bottom-hole, missing her touch.

	"Get dressed," she said, unlocking the cubicle and stepping
out.

	I was a mess. Wet and sticky. I wiped myself clean. I smoothed
out my dress, patted my blouse and jacket. I stepped out. The light
seemed brighter, colder. Debbie was standing at the sink washing her
hands. I stood next to her, straightening my hair.

	Debbie held her finger to my nose. "Smell it."

	It was musty. It had been in my bottom. I blushed.

	Debbie kissed my cheek. "You smell of sex," she whispered.
"Slut."

	Coolly, she turned and finished washing. I watched her as she
moved in slow motion. Her hands. Her mouth. I knew she was right, I
was at her slave.

	We paid the bill and waited for the elevator with a
businessman. When the doors closed behind us Debbie pushed me against
the wall opposite the man. She reached down and lifted my skirt. The
air felt cold against my naked sex. "Show the man how you play with
yourself."

	I couldn't. But the man did turn to look, and Debbie stepped
out the way. "Go on," she whispered in my ear, "show him your twat.
Talk to him."

	Tears welled in my eyes. I knew I had to touch myself for him.
I reached down and slid my fingers through the sticky damp hair of my
pussy.

	"Look at my pussy," I whispered. "See how hot I am."

	Debbie pulled my legs apart. Then she squeezed my jaw. "Don't
look away."

	I stared at the man, noticed that his pants bulged and he
covered himself as he watched me masturbate. In spite of the tears and
embarrassment, I loved knowing I had made him hard. I wanted him to
take out his tool, I wondered what it looked like, and felt like, and
tasted like... .

	"Watch me touch my cunt." My voice choked and cracked with
humiliation. "I'm really naughty... see me play with my cunt... my
twat... for you."

	The elevator slowed, and Debbie pulled my hand away, letting
my dress cover me again.

	"I'm masturbating for you." I cried, as she pushed me towards
the door. When it opened we walked out ahead of the man and into the
cold night air.

	It took a few minutes for me to calm down. "Debbie?" I said.

	"Honey," she kissed me on the cheek. "You'll get me, promise.
But first, I'm going to exhibit you like you can't imagine." She stuck
her tongue in my ear, then whispered, "and when you cum you'll cum
like you never have before."