SOUTHERN EXPOSURE (Part 2)
Copyright Kristy Leigh 2003. All rights reserved.
"Last one up has to kiss a pig!" Lisa yelled.
Squealing with laughter, the girls bolted over to the bars and clambered up the rungs in a tangle of hands, feet and elbows. Debbie claimed the first place by virtue of her superior athletic abilities (within the year, she would win bronze at the state gymnastics finals). Lisa and Jessie tied in second, although neither had any immediate plans to visit Farmer Gile's pig farm in the near future.
Once at the top, the three perched together gazing out across O'Connell Park towards the centre of town. As young children, the monkey bars had seemed infinitely tall and steep, a vast, looming monolith overlooking all of Ridgewick. Nowadays, the view was far less impressive, encompassing only the football oval and the west bank of the Bucknell River.
"Know who I saw holding hands with Suzy Catterson?" Debbie asked, apropos of nothing in particular. Lisa cocked her head to one side, face lighting up at the prospect of some juicy, small-town gossip.
"Who?"
"Bobby Hilliard," Debbie replied nonchalantly. Lisa wrinkled her face in disgust.
"Bobby HILLIARD? He's a GEEK!!"
"Yep. Saw them walking home together from the library yesterday," Debbie reported with an air of quiet satisfaction, "held hands all the way down Ridgewick Drive. You know Bobby Hilliard, Jessie?"
Jessica shook her head; she didn't even know who Suzy Catterson was. Nor did she care. Jessie's mind was elsewhere. Her hands fumbled with the hem of her dress, which she knew was going to ride up around her panties at the earliest opportunity. It was one of those immutable laws of nature: a little girl's skirt rose in direct proportion to the proximity of her underwear. Her recent adventure on the swings had proven that.
"He's this incredible GEEK," Lisa reiterated, figuring Jessie hadn't heard her the first time, "I mean, he's like THIRTEEN and he still trades POKEMON CARDS with his friends." Presumably, his friends were all geeks too.
Jessie wasn't really listening. Her cheeks were still burning like an Arizona sunrise. Her dress had turned into a balloon, revealing everything she had on underneath: her lean, tanned thighs, her dainty white underpants, her pouty little belly-button. By some miracle, Lisa and Debbie hadn't noticed, but the football guys certainly had. She could see them out on the oval right now, passing the ball from hand to hand and waiting for her to put on another free show. How would she ever live it down?
"Bobby Hilliard comes down here sometimes," Debra explained, cutting over Lisa's anti-nerd tirade, "he's the dorky-looking kid who wears the Fedora."
"Oh yeah - Fedora Boy," Jessie nodded. She had no idea who Debbie was talking about. She was having a great deal of trouble following the conversation; all she could think about was the way her dress had flown up over her waist a few minutes before. Worse still, she knew how this conversation was going to end. Sooner or later, Debbie would grow tired of Lisa's inane chatter. She'd get fidgety, grow restless, look for something else to do.
And here they were, sitting on the monkey bars.
"You know what ELSE he does?" Lisa steamrollered on, "he sticks a straw up his nose and drinks strawberry milk through it. I saw him do it one day in the lunch room!!"
Jessie started to zone out after that point, she had more important things to consider. Yes, here they were, sitting on the monkey bars, and Debbie was already looking bored with her friend's mindless drivel. Any second now, she'd lock her knees around one of the bars and swing herself upside down. Lisa would follow almost immediately, still jabbering nonsense. The two of them would hang there with their ponytails trailing towards the ground -
and then it would beher turn.
Jessie's features flared the colour of a ripe raspberry. It was going to happen again. She had no choice in the matter: just like on the swing, there was nothing she could do to protect her modesty. Her pretty white panties were going on view once more: in a matter of moments, she would have to drop between the bars, dangling by her knees six feet above the grass. Her dress would turn inside out, drooping slowly over her head. Jessica's pulse accelerated, a wave of sultry heat swept through her tummy.
Meantime, the Bobby Hilliard controversy raged on. Debra assumed the position of Devil's Advocate, arguing on behalf of the accused (primarily to annoyLisa who hated being contradicted on any subject).
"He hasn't drunk milk through his nose since the second grade," Debbie pointed out in condescending tones, "you'll have to do better than that if you want to nominate him dweeb of the year." She glanced in Jessie's direction, rolling her eyes with a dismissive shake of her head - another tell-tale sign she was losing interest in the discussion.
Jessica lowered her gaze, trying to suppress a stream of giggles welling up from her tummy. She couldn't help herself; Debs was getting ready to launch herself through the rungs. Jess could see it in her face; she was considering the action at that very second. There would be no last minute reprieve, no evading her just deserts. Jessie's fate was sealed. Her flimsy white panties were going on display whether she liked it or not.
(why had Debbie opted for the monkey bars anyway? The playground was full of slides, round-abouts and teeter-toters. There was even a large wooden fortress - Fort O'Connell, scene of countless Indian raids and massacres - over by the Big Dipper. Plenty of girl-friendly equipment which didn't require the lifting of her skirt. It was almost as her if friends were in on some intricate conspiracy to reveal her knickers to heavens)
"Yeah, well, he LOOKS like a nerd," Lisa was saying, "he wears black socks with white shoes. You know what THAT means."
"What - he's colour blind?" Debra inquired complacently. She straightened up and began swinging her feet back and forth beneath her.
Jessica's heart leapt into her throat. Debs was preparing to go head over tail, she recognised the signals. Jessie cupped a hand over her mouth to conceal a naughty, impish smile. She was feverish with excitement, molten silver seemed to be pumping through her veins. The moment was fast approaching. Light-headed with expectation, Jess waited for her expose to begin. Again, the suspense was almost unendurable.
"No - it MEANS he's a NERD!!" Lisa almost shouted in frustration.
"Sure - black socks, white shoes and a Fedora," Debbie replied placidly, "he must be a nerd."
"Oh, I give UP!"
"Yeah, quit while you're still behind," Debra agreed, yawning in Lisa's face. Stretching like an adolescent feline, she turned and looked over at Fort O'Connell, her gaze settling thoughtfully on the Big Dipper.
Jessie saw a faint ray of hope: Debbie wanted to play on the slippery-slide!
It was almost too good to be true. Her friend was going to climb down off the bars and trot over to the other side of the playground. Jessie's modesty was safe; there would be no unveiling of the panties, no free show for the teeming masses. The St Paddy's Football Brigade would have wait another day. Smoothing her hair back with a trembling hand, Jessie exhaled a sigh of pure relief. Abject humiliation had been averted by inches. Nothing could have been more embarrassing than parading her undies before half the town.
Still, she couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed. She had resigned herself to having her underpants shown off in all their alabaster glory, had actually been looking forward to it in the same hesitant, giggly way a little girl looks forward to being tickled against her will. There was a kind of reluctant delight involved in having your unmentionables placed on public exhibition. Well, what's done is done, as Aunt Cathy often said. The decision had been made. Jessie started to relax, allowing her galloping pulse-rate to return to its normal tempo.
Then, it happened.
Upfolding her legs without a word, Debbie leaned backwards and hooked her knees over a cross-bar. Slipping lithely through the grid, she swung herself upside down, holding her cap in place with one hand. She glanced up towards her friends, wordlessly inviting them to join her under the scaffold.
(oh NO!!)
A bolt of panic shot up Jessie's spine. How was she going to get out of this?! Lisa was already shifting herself into position, preparing to pitch over the side. It was so unfair: both her friends were wearing jeans. No one was going to see their underwear. Jessie had a vision of her fresh white panties, sweet and innocent and painfully feminine. How many of the boys were watching?
Face blazing maraschino red, she looked out across the oval, where the game was still in progress. A few of the football guys were staring in her direction, but most of them were still chasing the ball about the field. On the surface at least, the coast looked clear. Trouble was, Jessie knew it was a trick; they were all biding their time, waiting for the penny to drop. Every last one of them!
What was she going to do? Her dress was too short to tuck into the legs of her panties (which was what she normally did) too light to stay up of its own accord. What on Earth had she been thinking, wearing this thin, gossamer remnant to the playground when she knew they'd be playing on the monkey bars? Why hadn't she worn one of her tight denim skirts? She only had about a hundred of them. She could even have worn tights, it was certainly cold enough this late in the year.
All that was beside the point now; Jessie was swiftly running out of options. Lisa had just eased herself down through the rungs. In a few seconds, she'd be expected to follow, brief cotton sunfrock or no. She had no excuse, no way to explain her dubious behaviour. Why would she suddenly refuse to do something she'd done at least a thousand times before? It was a classic no-win situation. She really had no other choice.
No other choice at all.
Swallowing a deep, calming breath, Jessie hooked her knees over a bar and slung down between her two friends. Her dress fell away almost immediately, flipping inside out and revealing her thighs and belly, all the way up to her tummy button. She swung back and forth with her virginal white panties flashing brightly in the late afternoon sunshine, a rich carmine hue darkening her features. Her face betrayed no other token of the arousal she felt, although she was literally breathless with excitement.
Stay cool, she thought, moistening her lips. Just stay cool.
The girls hung together in a gently undulating row, their long hair streaming toward the earth. Three little bats in a belfry, quiet as church mice. After a couple of seconds, Debra turned to look at her lovely blond friend. Reaching out with her left hand, she pinched Jessie hard on the right bottom-cheek, just below the lacy trim of her panty. Her fingers left an angry red mark in the tender flesh.
"Ow", Jess said, rubbing her bottom to show how much it didn't hurt.
"You ought to wear jeans," Debbie commented mildly. Jessie shook her head in reply, peering tranquilly off into space.
"No, I don't want to look like a boy."
"Well, it's better than showing off your UNDERPANTS to like a MILLION people," Lisa said, oscillating slowly beside her, "I mean, EVERYONE in Ridgewick can see what you're wearing."
"Every boy in Ridgewick, anyway," Debra added. She seemed fascinated by Jessie's underpants. Reaching out again, she started playing with the little red tag on the waistband, stretching it away from Jess' dimpled belly. Her heart skipped a beat; several, in fact.The dress was creeping inexorably toward the ground, inverting gradually over her neck and shoulders. She was presenting even moreof her lingerieto the world than she had on the swing.
"YEAH!!" Lisa agreed, scandalised by Jessie's evident disregard for her steadily falling hemline, "you don't want the BOYS looking at your pants, Jess!"
"Why not?"
"Because they'll think you LIKE it."
Jessie shrugged unselfconsciously.
"So?"
Lisa threw up her hands in surrender; how could you argue with someone who didn't care if the entire eighth grade from St Patrick's School for the Criminally Insane was staring at her undies?
Of course, Jessie's supposed indifference was all an act. Truth be told, she felt completely mortified. Her dress had slipped down so far it was practically dropping off her body. Her smooth, ivory torso was on open exhibit, all the way down to her tiny pink nipples. This was almost as bad as being totally naked (except that wouldn't have been as much fun). Debbie's fingers stroking her tummy didn't make matters any easier. All the same, there was a sense of illicit, transgressive pleasure; a gasping, sensuous delight she couldn't quite admit to.
A brief lull in the debate ensued. Lisa popped a chupa-chup in her mouth (the only way to effectively shut her up, apparently) and drifted off into some intellectual twilight zone. Debbie continued fiddling with Jessie's skimpy white knickers, pulling on the tag and snapping the elastic. A cool breeze whipped through the park,stirring the trees like an Autumn whisper. Jessie shivered momentarily, feeling a delicious rush of gooseflesh cover her belly. This had turned out to be such a wonderful day.
"That dress is about to fall off", Debbie warned, tugging gently on Jessie's skirtline, "then you'll have to walk home in your underwear."
"No, I won't," Jessie replied, although the idea made her pulse hurtle into overdrive, "if it falls off, I'll just put it straight back on."
"If it falls off, those boys will come over and throw it up in a tree", Debbie said, gesturing towards the oval. She may have been right, judging by the amount of attention they were getting at the moment. The ball was still in motion, but very few of the guys were watching its movements, not even the legendary Robbie McEwan. Something far more entertaining was going on up at the Monkey Bars, something none of them wanted to miss.
"No, they won't," Jessie answered, "I'd be down off here so fast, they wouldn't get the chance." Her dress was now hanging completely over her face. She held the hem out of the way with her right hand, fighting a losing battle against both gravity and centrifugal force.
"Bet you they would," Debbie challenged. A mischievous smile touched her lips.
"Bet you they wouldn't," Jess answered.
"Would!"
"Wouldn't!"
"WOULD!!"
"WOULDN'T!!"
"OK, then - let's see."
Moving faster than her friend could react, Debra took hold of Jessie's dress and yanked it down with a both hands. Holding on by no more than a promise in the first place, the frock peeled off without the slightest resistance. Jessie's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, she gaped in open-mouthed shock. Her dress had vanished like a soap bubble, leaving her hanging upside down in nothing but her socks and panties.
Her lacy, white panties.
Jessica shrieked at the top of her lungs.
To be continued
Email me at kristyleigh2001@hotmail.com if you'd like to know if Jessie has to walk home in her underwear.