old thing? Modesty? Hadn’t she shed that? She yanked the offending garment up and off, tossed it into a corner, scurried into bed and slid deep under the covers.
Why the rush? So she wouldn’t see herself bare? Was that how it was going to be? A constant battle between her newfound pride in her body and all those sad years of puritanical conditioning? She was
She always had a penlight under her pillow, just in case she had to get up in the night. Constance snuggled down with her knees up, making a tent out of her bedclothes, and turned the light on. The bulb was actinic, and gave a blue-tinted light that washed the colour of her skin out. The pinkness had disappeared, leaving her very white. It made her breasts look as if they had been sculpted out of pure snow. She cupped her left breast. It was soft but resilient, and very warm, almost feverish. Her nipple wasn’t soft, though. It was quite hard. When she squeezed it between two fingers, it felt like rubber. A harder pinch made her gasp. A little tug drew pangs of pleasure from deep inside.
Jeff would have killed to watch her play with herself. He’d asked her for that but of course she couldn’t do it for him, not back then. Now?
Even stimulated, her nipple was still snow-white in the flashlight’s light. Somehow, it looked a bit evil – like the skin of a girl vampire in a movie.
She’d noticed that effect long before, though not in an appreciative way. She and her cousin Sarah had told each other ghost stories by the light of that bulb, shining it up under their chins to make themselves look scary. Once, Constance remembered, Sarah had put the bulb inside her mouth so that the light showed through her cheeks.
There was a thought. What would it look like glowing through the skin of her …?
Constance tucked her pillow up to elevate her head. Her knees came up higher and spread wide. Two very decadent fingers parted the lips of her sex. The lens of her penlight slipped in easily, as if she’d been lubricating. Perhaps she had. She pinched her lips closed just below the lens.
How pretty it looked!
Her skin was glowing from within her body, glowing pink now, not white. Her flesh must have filtered the ultra-violet out. She moved the light. The glow followed suit. She pushed it deeper. The glow faded, then brightened as she pulled it back. And faded. And brightened. And … and … and …
Look at me, Jeff! Watch me fuck myself with a penlight! Look at me. I’m going to get there. I am. I am. I’m so close … I’m …
Oh! Oh!
That’d been nice. It wasn’t quite like when Jeff had done it to her with his fingers, cock or tongue, but it was still very pleasant. That was an interesting lesson. While she waited to get back with Jeff there were ways she could cope with her growing need. She’d known that some girls got themselves off with their fingers, of course, and she’d try that, now that she was bad, like other girls, but she’d never considered using things.
Wouldn’t Jeff be surprised when she let him watch as she diddled herself with a penlight!
For the fourth time that Saturday morning, Shirley shook her head and told Constance, ‘I don’t think so.’
Constance pouted. ‘Why not? Doesn’t it look good on me?’
‘It looks great. Very sexy.’
‘Then?’ Constance checked herself in the boutique’s mirror. She’d never gone for a ‘tailored’ look before but it certainly worked for her. The minute she’d seen the trim little black-with-white-pinstripes suit in the window she’d known she had to have it.
‘The skirt, for a start,’ Shirley told her. ‘It only just covers the tops of your stockings, and then there’s a slit another three inches higher. The fit, for another thing. It really emphasises your shape.’
‘So?’
‘It looks like what it is, Connie, a whore’s version of a business suit. It’s “business” all right, but not the sort of business we’re in.’ She paused, looking thoughtful. ‘Connie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’
‘About what?’
‘You know I support you coming out of your shell, a hundred per cent. You’ve transformed yourself and I’m proud of you.’
‘With your help.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe too much of my help.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You don’t go out at night, not to clubs or the like, and the sorts of things you’ve been buying lately are designed for night-time wear. They might be a bit too sexy even for singles bars, unless you want to give people the wrong idea.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘What I’m saying is, there’s talk around the office. You might have crossed the line in some people’s eyes.’
‘Crossed what line?’
‘The one between “classy-but-sexy” and “scorching”. Not that you look cheap, far from it. You look great – great enough that when you go to the water cooler, every man on our floor suddenly gets thirsty. How many of them have asked you out?’
‘A few,’ Constance confessed.
‘But you’ve turned them all down? If you went on dates to clubs you’d have a chance to show off all you wanted.’
‘I don’t know if I’m ready for clubs and dates yet.’
‘Still carrying a torch for Jeff?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Then?’
‘It’s hard to explain.’
‘You want the men to look but not touch, is that it?’
‘Shirley, the old me, she isn’t exactly dead yet. There’s still a bit of a puritan inside me. The way I am now, well, I could pull back if I had to, retreat into who I used to be, dressed the way I used to dress. On the other hand, if I got into a relationship the way I am now, that’d make the new me the real me and bury the old me for ever. I’d be burning my bridges. Does that make sense?’
‘Do I understand your words? Yes. Do those words make sense? No.’
‘Well, I’m buying this suit, anyway.’
‘But not to wear for the office, please?’
‘OK.’
‘Connie, you know what you need, apart from getting fucked good and hard and often?’
‘No, what do I need?’
‘To give the new Connie a test-run. See if you like her well enough to live with her, and without the old you.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Find
