"I can't just up and leave this way."

"Sure you can. I can buy you anything you need."

"I know, but that's not what I mean." She looks him straight in the eyes. "I want you to let me do something for him first."

"It depends on what that something is."

She hesitates. "I want to act out one final fantasy for him." She whispers the details in his ear, and he smiles.

"I might enjoy that myself." He thinks for a long moment, then sighs and nods. "All right," he says. "I guess the poor schmuck deserves that much."

"Don't call him names. He's just simple-minded."

"Too simple-minded for you."

She says nothing, because this is true.

The man smiles, but mixes it with a warning. "As I said, go ahead and have your fun. But don't fuck him."

"He's still my husband, you know."

The man's smile disappears. "I said, don't fuck him. Not if you want to be with me."

She nods, then kisses him hard. He puts his hand up her skirt and touches her through her sheer pantyhose, his fingers tracing along the edge of the lacy panties she is wearing under the silky nylons. It leaves her breathless when the kiss finally ends.

"See you soon," she says.

Candy arrived home at about five thirty on Friday to find her husband, Dave, sitting on the couch in the living room reading Leg Show magazine.

"I see you found the little present I left you," she said, dropping her purse on the coffee table and snuggling into the cushions next to him.

"Mmm hmm," said Dave. He was totally engrossed in the magazine, which was open to the popular How'd We Do That In Public? feature.

"Looks like you found something you like." She looked at Dave's pants -- or, rather, at the huge bulge that had formed there. Reaching out with one hand, she lightly scratched her manicured nails across the front of his jeans.

Dave jumped and sucked in a deep breath.

"Feel nice?" said Candy.

"Oh, yeah," said Dave. He turned to her and kissed her deeply, letting the magazine drop off his lap as he reached out to run one hand up her smooth nyloned thigh. As usual, Candy had worn a mini skirt to work, complete with shiny tan pantyhose and four-inch heels. Hell, lately it seemed as though she went to work looking a little sexier every day. If she hadn't told him how her boss was always saying how professional she looked, he would have been worried.

But there was no reason for that. He trusted his wife.

The kiss ended after a long moment, when they both had to come up for air.

"Let me see the pictures," said Candy.

Dave retrieved the magazine and held it open across both their laps. "See this?" He pointed at a gorgeous blonde wearing a skin tight micro-mini skirt and extremely shiny pantyhose. One group of pictures showed her on what looked to be a commuter train. In a sequence of three shots, she lifted her skirt first, showing off her shiny nyloned ass; then pulled her pantyhose part way down; then sat down on a bench seat and crossed her legs in a very prim and proper fashion. With her pantyhose pulled partially down as they were, the nylon was wrinkling very visibly at the tops of her thighs and all around her knees. The cotton panel even showed below the hem of her skirt, but despite all this she sat looking out the window, totally bored, as if nothing was wrong at all -- an attitude and expression that made the pose seem even sexier than it already was.

"She's hot," agreed Candy. "What is it you like so much about her?"

"The way she's just sitting there, like nothing's going on, with her pantyhose all... wrinkly," said Dave. He let out a long shaky breath.

For some reason that Candy had never quite been able to fathom, the sight of wrinkles in a woman's nylons drove Dave crazy. Instead of criticizing him, however, she'd indulged him in a fantasy along those lines when they'd been invited to a party at her office last New Year's Eve. Her outfit had consisted of a clingy black silk mini dress with tiny spaghetti straps and an open back that dipped all the way to her waist, black five-inch heels with sexy ankle straps and open toes, black garter belt and panties, and tan gartered stockings.

To make his fantasy a reality, the stockings were extra tall instead of the medium size she normally wore, and she had also adjusted the straps of her garter belt until the darker nylon at the top of the stockings was just barely covered by the hem of the skirt. The result was a pair of nylons that wrinkled very visibly at every possible spot -- behind her knees when they were bent, in front of her knees when she stood straight, and all around her ankles no matter which way they were turned. She'd made it a point not to notice any of this, and at one point Dave had taken her aside and told her that the combination of her appearance and indifferent attitude had forced him to go into the bathroom and jerk off because he'd actually started to cum in his pants. Far from being angry, Candy had been extremely pleased -- after all, she figured, what are fantasies for if not to make the fantasizer cum? She certainly hadn't complained when they got home. Jerking off hadn't seemed to slow the Neanderthal down at all -- he'd saved more than enough to make the early hours of January first quite memorable for her. Afterward, Dave had told her it was one of the best nights they'd ever had together.

Now he went on, "I like to think that when the train gets to her stop, she's going to stand up and walk off the train with her pantyhose just like that."

"Ooo, kinky," said Candy. She started massaging Dave's hard cock through his jeans. He groaned aloud. "She does look like she has no idea there's anything wrong with her pantyhose, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yeah," breathed Dave. He was thrusting upward against her hand now. Candy slowly undid his zipper, then reached in through his underwear and pulled his cock free. It was dripping with pre-cum juices. Candy teased the tip of his prick with a fingertip, and thought about a variation he'd suggested shortly after the New Year's Eve incident. He wanted her to do the same type of thing with a pair of pantyhose, by cutting the waistband off so they would fall down and get more and more wrinkly as she walked. She'd laughed it off then...

"You remember when you asked me to wear my pantyhose with the waistband cut off?" she asked quietly. She curled against him and brought one nyloned knee up toward his lap.

"Yeah..." Dave could barely even talk, his heart was thudding so hard inside his chest.

"Maybe we could try that." She moved her silky knee slowly up and down his cock three or four times, brushing it lightly with the soft fabric of her pantyhose, then circled her fingers around his cock and slowly moved them from the tip to the base.

Dave moaned, his back arching uncontrollably upward from the couch. "Tonight?"

"Sure," said Candy. She stroked his cock again, and Dave actually whimpered. "Of course," she went on, "if I'm going to get all dressed up, we definitely have to go out somewhere."

"Yeah?" Dave was seconds from losing it. Just the thought of what his beautiful, sexy wife was proposing...

"Mmm hmm. But it's up to you." She stroked his cock once more; Dave looked at her, wide-eyed, ready to explode. His mouth moved, but his voice was completely gone.

She looked right back at him. "Okay, tell you what. If you cum right now, I'll go change into something sexy, including some pantyhose with no waistband, and then you can take me out to dinner. But if you don't cum -- well, we'll just forget all about it."

Candy traced a fingertip slowly up the bottom side of his throbbing cock, and Dave's answer shot out of the tip like a jet. Cum splashed all over the outside of Candy's hand. A fair amount went even farther, landing on the side of her nyloned knee.

"I'll take that as a yes," she smiled, pumping his cock furiously with her hand. Dave groaned and twisted back and forth as a second jet of cum spurted out. This time Candy moved her knee closer, and purposely directed the stream of cum onto her pantyhose.

"That was impressive," she said, as Dave finally began to calm down. "But look what you did to my pantyhose."

Dave looked at the globs of cum that were already soaking into the shiny tan nylon on the side of Candy's knee. Then he looked at Candy with a huge grin. "Guess I overshot."

"I guess so," admonished Candy, smiling again. She stood up and adjusted her tight miniskirt back into place; Dave watched, fascinated, as the glob of cum started to trickle slowly down her leg.

"Now, you get cleaned up, then call and make dinner reservations someplace while I go change." Candy saw what he was looking at, and smiled to herself. "I don't have an outfit exactly like the one in the magazine, but I think I can find something that will work just as well."

Candy started toward their bedroom. "Don't you want anything right now?" asked Dave.

She looked back and smiled. "I'll wait."

Candy chose her clothing carefully for their adventure. Of first importance was a pair of pantyhose that wouldn't fall completely off after only three or four steps if she wore them without a waistband. After some thought, she selected a brand-new pair of L'Eggs Sheer Support control tops from her dresser drawer, picked up a pair of scissors and sat down on the edge of the bed. Working very carefully, she snipped through the thick waistband near the vertical seam at the back, then turned the scissors ninety degrees and slowly began snipping along just below the waistband itself. The high-quality pantyhose developed no runs as she proceeded, and after about a minute of careful cutting the waistband came off in a long strip. Taking a bottle of clear nail polish from her makeup drawer, she spent another two minutes dabbing the liquid all along the top edge of the pantyhose where the waistband used to be. She blew on the fabric gently, making sure the nail polish was dry, then set the altered pantyhose aside and went to her closet to pick out an outfit.

"Hmmm..." Candy perused her collection of clothes, eyes sweeping back and forth across the impressive array of sexy outfits she owned. "Something slutty," she said, aloud in case Dave was listening somewhere near by, "but the skirt can't be too awfully short if I want to be able to walk any distance... ah hah."

Candy reached in for two hangers, then laid them out carefully on the bed. After picking out some sexy shoes -- a pair of white four-inch sandals with open toes and a complex web of thin ankle straps -- she began to undress.

Reaching behind her, she unzipped the back of the tight blue 18-inch miniskirt she'd worn to work, wriggled out of it and let it drop to the floor, then unbuttoned her thin white sweater and let it slip off her shoulders. Next to come off was her bra, which was lacy and thin, but still covered her breasts somewhat properly. Her shiny tan pantyhose were next; she folded them carefully and laid them on top of her dresser. This left her in a pair of lacy white panties and nothing else. The altered pantyhose were the first item to go on. They felt quite normal as she slipped them on and pulled them slowly up her long legs, but that changed quickly as she stood up and pulled them up around her waist. The body-shaping control top clung to her hips quite nicely, but it was a very weird sensation not to feel a waistband pinching against her. Being the extra-support type, the legs of the pantyhose were also very tight and shiny.

Candy sat on the edge of the bed and put her high heels on next. She wanted to have a good reason not to chicken out, and figured that having to undo the complex straps of her sexy white four-inch shoes would do the trick. As she lowered herself onto the bed, she felt her pantyhose start sliding down in back, and by the time her shoes were on and the straps were done up, the movement of her legs had caused the top edge of the pantyhose to slip almost an entire inch down her hips.

She stood up, willing herself not to fix her pantyhose, and strutted slowly over to her dresser. From a drawer full of bras she selected a lacy white affair that was intended strictly for teasing, not to provide any type of support at all. It was very sheer and thin, and the inner edges of the cups were cut in a way that actually left part of the dark circles around her nipples exposed when she slipped it on.

One of the hangers she'd taken from the closet bore a white crop-length jacket, and she put this on next. It had two buttons to hold it closed, but even with both of them done up the jacket still had a deep enough V-neck effect between the lapels to show off plenty of Candy's awesome cleavage -- plus a glimpse of her lacy white bra when seen from the side. It also left her firm midriff completely exposed.

The elastic-waist skirt she'd taken from the closet was white as well, with a soft pattern of flowers scattered over it. It was made of a silky material and was actually semi-sheer; one time she'd worn it without a slip, and just as she headed out the door to work Dave had commented that he could see the color of her pantyhose right through it.

And that was exactly what she was after right now -- she wanted whoever looked at her to be able to see the top edge of her pantyhose slowly working its way down her ass beneath her skirt. The 19-inch length of the skirt, while still definitely in the mini category, was also enough to ensure she'd be able to walk a reasonable distance before she had to find a place to stop and pull her pantyhose back up.

Candy slipped the skirt on, still willing herself not to adjust her pantyhose -- which had now slipped a full two inches down from their original height -- then stepped in front of her full-length mirror. What she saw was exactly what she'd hoped for: a somewhat sophisticated, yet slightly slutty appearance. At that instant, Dave knocked on the door and stepped in. He took one look at Candy and let out a long, slow breath.

"Ho-ly fuck," he said softly. "Wow."

"Look at this." Candy lifted the hem of her silky sheer skirt, showing Dave her low-riding pantyhose with no waistband.

"I am not going to be able to handle this," he said.

"Yes you are." She dropped her skirt back into place, then looked into the mirror, checking her hair. "Now tell me where the reservations are."

"I called that new place in the mall you said you've been wanting to try. We have to be there at seven." He hesitated. "I picked that place because it's right at the end of the mall. That way, you know, you only have to walk a little ways from the car to the entrance."

"On the other hand," said Candy, "you could always park at the other end of the mall, so I'd have to walk the entire length of the place." She smiled devilishly.

Dave grinned. "I thought about it."

"Then let's do that," she said. She kissed him lightly on the lips, then took his hand and led him out of the bedroom. "Now let's get going before I lose my nerve."

The ride to the mall was an exercise in distraction for Dave. Candy hadn't yet adjusted her pantyhose even once; he'd actually seen the nylon slipping down her legs as he held the car door open for her and watched her get in. It stood to reason, of course, that the very act of sitting down had made her pantyhose slide down her ass quite a bit. Now, as he drove, all he had to do was look over to see her pantyhose wrinkling very visibly around her knees.

Candy, meanwhile, was staring out the car window as if she was bored to death -- very much like the woman in the magazine had been doing. It made him crazy.

After about a fifteen minute trip, Dave turned into the mall parking lot and drove to the end of the mall farthest away from the restaurant they were headed for. At Candy's insistence he also parked as far away from the entrance as possible, then shut off the car and hurried around to open the door for her.

She waited until he was ready, then slowly swung her legs out of the car. Dave had a perfect view up her skirt, and saw that the cotton panel of her pantyhose was already riding part way down her thighs. He said nothing as Candy stepped out of the car and stood up, wisely letting her gauge the need for adjustment for herself.

As they started walking toward the mall entrance, Candy slipped her arm through Dave's and leaned against him. "If you knew how wet my panties were right now, you would just about die," she said.

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm." She snuggled against him. "I can't wait until later."

They made it to the mall entrance and went inside. Dave held the door for Candy, then followed her in -- and his jaw dropped when he got his first look at her legs from a distance. The nylon was wrinkling in back of her knee on one leg and in front of her knee on the other with every step she took. It was even wrinkling at her ankles because of the height of her heels.

Suddenly she stopped walking and got an "oh shit" look on her face. "I think I might have to make an adjustment," she said, her face turning beet red.

"Whatever you say," said Dave.

"Let's go in here." Candy stepped toward a pet store, the closest shop to them, squeezing her legs together as she walked. Inside, she made her way toward the back of the place with little mincing steps, then went behind a big stack of fifty pound bags of dog food. Dave kept a lookout -- and also kept on eye on her -- as she quickly bent at the waist, using her fingers to tug the loose nylon up her legs, then just as quickly reached under her skirt -- revealing that the crotch of her pantyhose had fallen all the way down to the hem -- to grab the top edge of her pantyhose and yank them up into place.

It took all of ten seconds, and her pantyhose were back in their proper position. Candy was just stepping out from behind the pile of dog food when a young female clerk stepped over. "Can I help you?" she said.

"Just looking," said Candy. Dave nodded.

The girl looked oddly at Candy, then turned away. Dave and Candy got out of there as fast as they could.

"She probably thought I was stuffing packets of bird seed inside my pantyhose," giggled Candy. Dave laughed with her, then moved to take her arm again.

"Not this time," she said, pulling gently away. "You walk behind me. Act like we're not married." She seemed to catch herself, then went on quickly, "I mean, how else are you going to watch?"

"True," said Dave. He dropped several steps behind her, and Candy started walking down the mall corridor. She didn't mince her steps, but didn't strut either -- she simply walked naturally, at a medium pace -- her heels clicking on the tile floor, the hem of her skirt swishing teasingly back and forth...

Dave wasn't one to miss a chance, and his eyes devoured his gorgeous wife. She looked so sexy, and just the thought of what she was doing almost killed him. He looked at her skirt -- then looked closer. What was...

"Oh, man," he said to himself, suddenly realizing he could see through her skirt just enough to make out the dark color of her pantyhose underneath it. As he watched, as she walked, he could actually see the top edge of her pantyhose slipping downward, bit by bit.

He also noticed that he wasn't the only one checking her out. Her long shiny legs, perched on four-inch heels and nicely displayed by the flirty hem of her short skirt, attracted stares from other men like magnets attract iron filings.

When he saw through her skirt that the top edge of her pantyhose was about at the top of her ass, he noticed that the first wrinkles started to become visible on her legs. They began at the back of the knees -- tiny at first, barely noticeable. They gradually flared out to the sides, slowly becoming more and more pronounced. He looked up at her skirt then, and found he could no longer see the top edge of her pantyhose at all -- it had fallen down so far that the natural swell of her skirt was hiding it from him.

She passed by an empty bench, and without warning stopped and sat down. Dave stopped a few steps away, then moved to one side toward a low brick wall surrounding a tree. As he pretended to lounge against the wall, Candy crossed her legs, put her purse on her top leg, opened it and began to hunt through it. As she did, she hiked the purse toward her a few inches, in the process pulling the hem of her skirt up along with it. It looked accidental, but Dave knew better.

Then his eyes zeroed in on her legs, and he almost came in his pants. Her pantyhose were almost duplicating the scene from the magazine. The dark nylon of her control tops showed plainly below her hiked-up hem on one side, and it was obvious the nylon was not clinging tightly to her skin at all. She lifted the top leg for a moment, as if getting more comfortable, and he got a very clear glimpse of the white cotton panel riding part way down her thighs. The nylon formed a sexy fan at the sides of her knees, and as she twisted the foot in the air around at the ankle, Dave could see the nylon wrinkle and unwrinkle quite visibly there as well.

At that instant Candy seemed to find what she was looking for in her purse. She pulled out her wallet, looked inside it, then put it back in the purse and zipped it up. Then she uncrossed her legs and made as if to stand up -- but sat there for a moment, looking up and down the mall as if trying to decide which way to go. Her skirt was still hiked up, exposing her control tops...

"Nice legs, huh?" A voice next to Dave made him jump. He turned to see one of the mall's floor sweepers, a kid that looked to be about nineteen, leaning on the handle of his wide dust mop, watching Candy just as intently as he'd been.

"Yeah," said Dave. "Nice everything, if you ask me."

"You got that right," said the kid. He was bright red in the face and actually shaking slightly.

"I wonder if she knows she's losing her pantyhose," said Dave, finding a certain nasty pleasure in talking about his wife this way to a total stranger.

"I don't know," said the kid. "I mean, if she did, would she be just sitting there like that?"

"Maybe. She might be doing it on purpose."

Dave worked hard not to smile as the kid sucked in a sharp breath. "Holy shit. You think so?"

"Let's see what she does when she stands up," said Dave.

If was as if Candy could hear him; she stood up at that instant, and immediately dropped her purse. Dave and his new cohort watched as she squatted down very gracefully, bending forward a bit as well.

Dave could just imagine the top edge of her pantyhose sliding almost completely down around her ass.

Her movements also caused the hem of her skirt to rise, and made her knees bend sharply backward. As the hem moved back, it exposed more and more of her control tops, making it obvious that her pantyhose were riding very, very low. The extreme angle of her knees and ankles also made the nylon wrinkle beyond belief in both places.

She retrieved her purse and stood up. Her skirt swished back into place, a dark strip of control-top nylon plainly in view below the hem. The nylon wrinkled in front of her knees at once, and her pantyhose were now riding so low that they didn't even unwrinkle completely behind her knees either.

A clothing store was right at hand, with several racks of dresses outside the entrance. Acting quite nonchalant, Candy stepped over to the closest rack and pulled one of the outfits outward to look at it. A little more control top peeked into view as her pantyhose fell down just a bit more.

"Oh, man," breathed the kid. "How can she not know!"

Candy let go of the outfit, then looked down at her right foot. Balancing on her left foot, she lifted the right foot up to her hand and wiggled the heel of her shoe as if testing it to see if it was loose.

Her pantyhose went wild at the knee. The wrinkles were obviously in her line of sight, but when she finished with the heel of her shoe, she simply put her foot back down, put her weight on it experimentally, seemed to find it was okay, then took a few steps around the clothing rack and pulled another outfit outward to look at it.

Dave heard the teenager next to him groan. "Oh, man," the kid breathed, and Dave smiled to himself. Candy was going to make the poor kid cum in his pants. Actually, she was going to do it to both of them -- his own heart was pounding in his chest, and he was almost ready to lose it himself.

She had them both rooted to the spot, no matter what. She turned her other side toward them, letting them see a sliver of control top on that side too, then leaned to that same side a bit, reached down, and scratched an imaginary itch on her thigh -- right at the spot where the darker nylon of the control tops met the sheer nylon of the legs. Her fingers pushed the loose nylon up and down -- more down than up -- and then she straightened and took another step around the rack.

They actually saw the seam she'd just touched slip down her leg almost a quarter of an inch. She took another step, and the seam slipped downward again.

Dave was almost cumming now. His eyes were locked on Candy's hemline, waiting...

Candy stepped back the other way, and the crotch of her pantyhose just peeked into view below the hem of her skirt. The cotton panel was unmistakable for what it was. She had to do something now...

And she did. Candy looked down with a very irritated expression, reached under her skirt, grabbed her pantyhose and hiked them up several inches, dragging some of the loose nylon on her legs along with it. There was absolutely no attempt at a full straightening of her pantyhose -- just that quick tug, and then she smoothed her skirt back into place, stepped around the rack again, and pulled another outfit outward to look at it.

"I told you she knew," said Dave quietly. "I think she just doesn't want to take time out to really fix them."

Suddenly the kid groaned quietly and his body trembled. "Fuck!" he said, under his breath. Dave knew immediately what had happened; he was clenching his own balls tightly in an effort to keep from unloading himself. Candy's show had been too much for the kid, though; when Dave turned to look, he was hurrying away with his dust mop.

Candy looked at him then, smiled and crooked a finger at him. Dave walked over to her, grinning like a fool.

"Hey, lady, did you realize your pantyhose are falling down?"

Candy looked down at Dave's pants. The bulge in his jeans was huge. "I saw you two watching me."

"I think you made that kid cum in his pants."

"What about you?" asked Candy, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I came pretty close," breathed Dave.

"I'm feeling pretty hot myself," admitted Candy. She glanced at her watch. "Let me fix myself one more time, and then we can head for the restaurant."

At Candy's suggestion, they took a booth in a far corner of the restaurant. It was a steakhouse where customers placed their orders on the way in; all Candy and Dave had to do now was visit the salad bar and wait for their meals to arrive.

Candy leaned across the table. "Tell you what."

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to go into the ladies room and really fix myself up one last time. If you'll run and get the car after we eat and pick me up right outside, then I'll try not to touch my pantyhose again until we get home."

"Okay," breathed Dave.

"You go to salad bar while I'm gone," she said, then picked up her purse, got up and headed toward the restrooms.

When Candy made it back to the table five full minutes later, Dave was already half way through his salad. Candy modeled discretely for him; after seeing that her pantyhose were once again perfectly in place and shiny smooth, Dave glanced at her jacket and noticed that she had undone one of the two buttons and was now showing a tremendous amount of smooth cleavage.

"Watch my purse," she said. Candy dropped it on the seat right next to him, then strutted away toward the salad bar.

Dave looked down, and almost choked on his lettuce. The top of Candy's purse was open, and he could see white lace inside. Moving the purse to a more private spot, he opened it farther and looked inside -- and went beet red in the face as he discovered her lacy white bra and her white panties stuffed inside.

He looked over at the salad bar, watching Candy fill her plate. No panties, no bra, pantyhose that were falling down with every step she took, her jacket unbuttoned right to the center of her incredible tits... Dave got a hard-on that felt like a piece of granite.

"You're bad," he said, when Candy sat back down.

"Oh, you checked my purse, hmm?"

"Yes, you pervert."

Candy just smiled. "You should see how far down my pantyhose are already."

Dave looked around, then quickly leaned part way out of the booth and looked under the table at Candy's legs. She had them crossed, and he was rewarded with the sight of dark control-top nylon just up inside the hem of her skirt. The nylon at the knees was also wrinkling very obviously indeed.

Their meals arrived soon after; they devoured them in record time, both anxious to get home. Afterward, they left the booth and Dave followed Candy as she walked slowly out of the restaurant.

Her pantyhose were falling fast. The nylon was forming progressively larger and wider folds and wrinkles all around her knees and ankles, and by the time they made it out to the mall concourse, just the tiniest sliver of the dark nylon of her control tops was showing below the hem of her skirt again.

She found an empty bench near the door, sat down and crossed her legs. The condition of her pantyhose was quite obvious to anyone who care to look.

"Go get the car," she said simply.

Dave almost ran through the mall, but it took him a full ten minutes to make it back around to the entrance where he had to pick her up. He jerked the car to a stop and ran in -- and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Candy standing at a pay phone carousel in the center of the mall. She held out her palm, down by her leg, signaling him to wait. So, instead of approaching her, he stepped over to the far side of the mall, leaned against the wall and looked around.

The kid with the dust mop that had been watching her earlier was there, keeping a close eye on her as he traveled back and forth along the far side of the mall aisleway.

Dave looked back at Candy, and saw that a second show was about to begin.

She appeared to be having a very cozy conversation with someone. Dave watched her for a moment, then realized what she was doing -- she was making it look as though she was describing her outfit to whoever she was talking to.

Candy traced her fingers along the inside edges of the lapels of her jacket, pulling them apart slightly, looking down at herself, obviously telling her listener about how much cleavage she was showing and letting him know she was not wearing a bra. Then she looked down at her legs.

Dave glanced at the mop jockey, and smiled to himself when he saw how the poor kid was rooted to the spot.

Candy was bending slightly, running her free hand down her leg, feeling the loose nylon. She lifted the hem of her skirt slightly, looked at the control top of her pantyhose hanging at the middle of her thighs, then laughed softly into the phone and let her skirt drop back into place.

She turned sideways now, leaning against the carousel, then bent one leg at the knee and placed her high heel against the pole in the center. The nylon went wild at her knee, and there was no missing the strip of dark control top nylon that instantly came into view below the hem of her skirt.

Candy talked and laughed a bit more, then looked right at Dave. For just an instant her smile faded... but then it was back so quickly that Dave wasn't even sure it had really happened. With a final giggle, she put the phone back in the cradle.

Her purse was on the floor next to her feet. Dave was holding his breath, expecting her to bend down for it...

Candy nonchalantly reached down, grasped both skirt hem and pantyhose together, and pulled them both up to the upper middle of her thighs. It was incredibly obvious that she wasn't pulling them up all the way -- the entire control top could be seen briefly, bunched in her grip -- but when her hands got to that height, she simply let her skirt drop, then bent gracefully at the waist, picked up her purse, and started walking nonchalantly toward the mall exit. Her pantyhose were still wrinkling madly around her knees and ankles as she walked.

Dave looked at the kid with the mop; it looked as if he had unloaded in his pants again. For his own part, Dave was surprised to find that he hadn't done the same.

After waiting a moment, Dave followed Candy out. She was leaning against the car, legs bent in a sexy pose, nylon wrinkling at every possible place, looking around as if she was bored to death, waiting patiently for him. The crotch of her pantyhose was just peeking into view below the hem of her skirt again.

"You are incredible," said Dave as he stepped up and opened the door for her.

"Thank you," said Candy. She straightened and stepped around to get in -- and as she did, her pantyhose crotch came completely into view below the bottom edge of her skirt. True to her word, she did nothing except get in the car. Dave swallowed hard, shut the door, then hurried around and got behind the wheel.

The drive home was delicious torture for Dave. Candy hiked her pantyhose up so the cotton panel was just out of sight underneath her hem, then crossed her legs and looked out the window, acting bored. The nylon was wrinkling and folding over on top of itself in every way imaginable. From this side, Dave could also easily look between the lapels of Candy's half-unbuttoned jacket and see the erect nipple of her right breast.

She was so hot...

"So, who was that on the phone?" asked Dave, laughing nervously.

"Huh?" Candy looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected the question. "What do you mean?"

Dave frowned. "Nothing, I guess." But then he figured it out -- she was so turned on she wasn't thinking straight. Of course, he wasn't either -- all HE could think about was getting her home and into the bedroom...

But there was a fucking car in their driveway.

As they pulled in, Dave saw Candy's boss get out of the car and wave.

"Shit!" said Dave, half under his breath. Candy looked down at her feet and said nothing.

"Hey, guys." Gary Bowman was a wealthy attorney, too good looking for Dave's comfort. If Candy hadn't assured him a hundred times that her boss always treated her with the utmost respect, he would have wondered...

Nah. He trusted his wife.

Inside the car, Candy fixed her pantyhose as quickly as she could, pulling them up all the way, then refastened the top button on her jacket and stepped demurely out of the car. "Mr. Bowman," she said, nodding and smiling a bit nervously.

"Hi, Candy." He looked at Dave. "Dave, right? I'm really sorry, but I need to steal your wife."

"Huh?" Dave blinked, not getting it at first, then grinned as he realized Gary was making a joke.

"Sure, go ahead," he said.

"That... contract we were talking about just before you left?" Gary looked at Candy with his eyebrows raised. She swallowed hard and nodded back. Gary went on, "I think we really should finish it up tonight if we can."

Candy looked at Gary. He looked intently back. Then she turned to Dave, and started to open her mouth.

He cut her off with a raised hand. "Go ahead, if you need to." Her business was important, after all.

Candy closed her mouth and started toward Gary's car -- the stopped in her tracks when Dave cleared his throat and called after her.

"Hey. Don't you want to... change first?"

Candy looked at Gary, as if seeking his decision.

"You look fine," said Gary. "It's not like we're going to be seeing any clients tonight."

Candy shrugged at Dave. "I guess not." Opening the car door, she stepped in with one foot, then paused and gave him a little finger wave.

"Bye."

Dave waved back. As he watched them drive away, his balls aching in frustration, all he could think about was how his gorgeous wife was going to keep her boss from finding out that she wasn't wearing any panties or a bra, and that her pantyhose didn't have any waistband...

"I wonder what Dave is doing now." Candy adjusts the waistband of the queen-size control top pantyhose Gary has ordered her to wear, then squirms into the one-size-too-small blue denim mini skirt he has picked out for her.

"What's it been, about six months?" Gary picks up the belt she was hoping to wear and tosses it into the closet.

"About that." Candy zips up her skirt and struggles to button it. The fabric molds itself so tightly against her body that she can barely breathe.

He has also picked out a skimpy pink tee shirt for her to wear. Since he hasn't given her permission to wear a bra -- and by now she knows better than to ask -- she slips the tight shirt on over her naked breasts, trying not to notice that her nipples are totally visible through the semi-sheer cotton. The shirt is also a cropped style, and without a belt she knows the back of her skirt will flare outward and expose the waistband of her pantyhose whenever she bends or sits down.

She also knows, from experience now, that the darker nylon of the control tops will show below the bottom of her little skirt after a short while. The queen-size pantyhose that Gary constantly makes her wear are far larger than her proper size, and she can already see wrinkles in the nylon at the back of her knees and around her ankles as she slips into the pink 5-inch spiked heels he has chosen to complete her outfit.

"Well, how do I look?" Candy models for Gary, but he only glances at her.

"You look fine."

She adjusts her hair in the mirror, and blinks back a tear as she realizes just how slutty he has made her look.

"Where did you say we were going?" She forces a smile, steps up behind him and presses her firm breasts against his back, letting him feel the hard points of her uncovered nipples.

She is actually surprised when he doesn't pull away.

But his voice is cold. "A barbecue. Janet invited us over to meet her husband. Bob, I think."

Janet? Oh, yes -- she's Gary's secretary now...