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Captive Audience Ch. 1

If anyone had asked me a week ago what I'd be doing today, the last thing that would have entered my head would have been...well maybe I'd better let you decide for yourself.

I had the afternoon off, I'm self-employed and am in the fortunate position of being able to choose when I work. In fact, I really only need to work a couple of days a week to make quite a respectable income. Anyway, I'd been browsing round a few shops and decided to look around one of those charity shops, you know the type, they sell all sorts of bargains and bric a brac.

My mind must have been elsewhere because I was snapped back to reality by a voice saying, "It's really not your colour." I looked down and to my horror realised I was holding an awful looking floral dress. Blushing from head to toe, I dropped the offending garment instantly and turned to challenge the speaker defiantly. Unfortunately I seemed to have temporarily lost control of my tongue. I made a few gurgling sounds, then gave up.

The speaker smiled knowingly and walked away. I watched as she approached another customer and began speaking to her, seemingly oblivious of my presence. I continued to watch her for several minutes before moving to another section of the shop. Even then I kept glancing over my shoulder self consciously to make sure she wasn't still watching me.

It was almost as though I needed to prove to her that I wasn't some sort of pervert, that I had nothing to hide and was simply browsing, which of course I was. I glanced at her once more, what was it about her that bothered me so much, granted she was quite attractive, in fact, considering she was probably in her mid to late forties, she was extremely attractive, but far too old for me. She was after all, at least fifteen years my senior. Anyway, I preferred slim ladies not, how did the magazines describe her type, full figured? Yes that was it.

And I also liked girls who used little or no make up; she must have needed a trowel to apply that lot. And that hair of hers, the colour had to be out of a bottle, I mean, at her age she would be bound to have some grey hairs, not deep brown, anyway, I liked blondes. I had to admit though, she did have great legs, but someone of her age shouldn't be wearing such short dresses, she should grow old gracefully. No, I decided, she was definitely not my type. So why couldn't I keep my eyes off her?

I waited until she'd finished serving the lady, then picking up a book from a nearby table; I walked over to the counter and handed it to her. "That's 50 cents please." She said, her deep sexy voice tinged with a note of sarcasm. I blushed again and fumbled for the money. Then it came to me; "It was for a friend." She locked onto my face with her deep penetrating brown eyes. "What was?"

"Errmm, the dress, you know, the one I was holding, it was for a friend."

"Really, male or female?"

Like all liars, I hadn't expected to be cross-examined and blurted out, "Female of course."

She smiled, "Do you buy many dresses for girls?"

"Sometimes...the ermm, the girl I was buying that for was burgled and most of her clothes were taken, I thought she might like it." Oh damn what a stupid thing to say.

"That's terrible," she said seeming genuinely sorry. "It's very thoughtful of you to try to help her." I couldn't believe she'd fallen for it and what's more, she was praising me for my actions, and then she dropped the bombshell. "Look, I'll tell you what, you're not in a hurry are you?" Was she going to ask me out? What the hell, she was quite a good-looking woman.

"No, not particularly." "Good, I'm about to close up, why don't you wait here and I'll show you some of the stuff that came in today, maybe you'll be able to find a few things for your friend."

Without waiting for me to reply she ushered the last of the shoppers out and locked the door behind them. Oh shit, what had I got myself into? I could hardly make some excuse after all I'd just told her I was in no hurry. She walked past me waving her hand for me to follow. We walked through a door into what seemed to be a lounge room. I learned later that Dianne, that was her name, lived on the premises rent-free in return for working in the shop a few hours a day.

She sat at the end of a sofa and crossed her long, black stocking covered legs exposing a great deal of her thighs. I found myself thinking what a pity it was she was wearing tights instead of stockings. She gestured for me to sit beside her which I, somewhat nervously, did. I wasn't sure if she'd noticed me looking at her legs but the slight smile on her face hinted that maybe she had.

"What size?"

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

"Your friend, what size is she?"

"Oh I see...ermm...well she's sort of..."

"Is she my size," she sighed, "Smaller or larger?"

"Smaller."

"About your size maybe?" She asked, again there was the hint of a smile.

"No definitely not," I replied quickly, "She's slimmer than me."

"She couldn't be much slimmer or she'd be all bones." She sounded almost disappointed.

"No, not a great deal, but definitely slimmer."

"No problem, you're not very tall, I suppose she'd be about your height would she?"

"Yes, about the same." I replied, relaxing a little.

"Good, I'll make us a coffee, then we'll see what we've got." She unwound her legs and disappeared through a curtain into what I assumed was the kitchen.

Returning with the coffee she resumed her position on the sofa. I was once again treated to a full view of her shapely; nylon covered limbs as she slowly crossed them. "Is there something wrong with my legs?" She asked, sliding her hand up from the ankle to the thigh as though to pull the stocking tight.

"Not a thing," I replied, distracted by her action. "I mean...ermm...no, nothing at all."

"I'm relieved, I thought maybe you didn't approve the way you were looking at them." She continued to stroke them, her eyes fixed firmly on my face as if gauging my reaction. I picked up my coffee and tried to appear nonchalant as I sipped it. "My ex husband used to love my legs, for some extraordinary reason he used to go almost crazy when I wore stockings instead of tights. I never understood that, after all, it's the same material, there's just a little less of it. I remember he used to beg me to wear stockings, would you believe I had to tie his hands behind him before I could change, it was the only way I could control him."

It was about this time that I found myself wishing I'd worn something baggier than jeans. I don't know whether it was the thought of seeing her wearing stockings, or the idea of being tied up by her, but whatever it was, it had an instant effect on my manhood and the look Dianne gave me left me in no doubt that she'd noticed the bulge. "Does your friend wear stockings errmm, I'm sorry, I don't even know your name, I'm Dianne." She reached out her hand to shake mine, the same hand that had been touching her leg.

I could hardly control my shaking as I took it in mine and said, "Phillip."

"Delighted to meet you Phillip, well, does she?"

I decided to make it seem as though I was unaffected by the thought. "Yes, quite often as a matter of fact."

"Lucky girl, I haven't worn them in ages and they're far more comfortable than tights. It's just that, well quite honestly, if men see you wearing them in the street they seem to think you're easy, so the only place you can wear them is at home, apart from that I'm not sure I have the legs for them anymore. Does she use suspenders or a corset?"

"I...ermm.... Suspenders mostly." The truth was I had never met anyone who wore either, in fact, the only place I'd ever seen them was in magazines and shop windows. "Oh of course, you said she was slim, she'd have no need of a corset would she. But then there's something very sexy about corsets, don't you think? The way they squeeze you in and hold you tight. I always used to get so horny when I wore a corset for my ex. Maybe there's one in the clothes that arrived today; I once found a beautiful black satin one. I doubt it had been worn more than twice, I wonder what happened to that? Oh I remember I packed it away when Trevor left. More coffee?"

By now I was almost doubled over in an effort to hide my erection, Dianne seemed not to notice my predicament after her initial glance in the direction of my fly. She poured herself another coffee and continued. "I remember the first time I wore that corset, Trevor was almost foaming at the mouth by the time I released him." She chuckled as she recalled, "I used to tease him mercilessly, I miss those nights sometimes. I don't suppose...no of course not, forget it."

"What?" I asked anxiously, praying she would offer to show me some of her outfits.

"Oh nothing, I was just thinking maybe you'd like to see me dressed up how I used to be, but I doubt you'd be interested in a plump old hag like me after your young friend. Don't worry, I won't embarrass you by asking."

"But you're not a plump old hag, as you put it, you're a very attractive woman and I'd love to see you dressed up."

"It's very nice of you to say so, but I think you're just being kind."

"I'm not I swear," I almost shouted in my eagerness to convince her. "I'm sure I'd be exactly like Trevor, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you."

"Oh believe me, I could soon fix that, maybe...why not for the hell of it. Okay, take your shirt off."

I was a little confused at this; after all, it was she who was going to be changing clothes, why did she want me to undress. I opened my mouth to ask her, but before I could speak she left the room. What the hell, I thought, maybe she feels it would be less embarrassing if we were both undressed in some way. I waited a few minutes, feeling a little stupid sitting half-naked in a stranger's home. When Dianne returned I was disappointed to see she was still fully dressed. "I thought you might like to join me in the bedroom while I change."