Chapter 1

Probably the thing I like most about our Valentine's tradition is that it was unplanned – or at least the first one was. I won't go so far as to say it was an accident; the sort of thing that happened to us that summery weekend in Feb 2010 could only happen by accident in erotica. It was a combination of adventurous spirits, quick thinking, and knowing your partner.

Geoff and I are very open and honest with each other in the bedroom. Neither of us had much experience when we got together and I found that I had to give him instructions to make sure I didn't get left behind. Just simple stuff like telling when he did something I liked and gently letting him know the stuff I didn't like. Hey, it works on dogs; why not on men? (Sorry, that one really was sexist.) Once the lines of communication were open during the act, it became easy to talk about it when we weren't doing it. Like over a nice breakfast of Eggs Benedict, for instance.

I found out that Geoff loves me in short little skirts that flip in the breeze. I know what you're thinking: all guys like girls in short little skirts that flip in the breeze, right? But Geoff isn't watching me when I'm wearing a little skirt, he's watching the other guys! He's taken to carrying a camera and trying to catch the expression on their face when they first see my knickers. You'd think the timing would be nearly impossible, but he's got quite a few good ones. Sometimes we'll go out just to take photos; I'll sit on a park bench and Geoff will sit on the opposite side of the path, and then when a guy comes along I'll open my knees and fish around in the bag at my ankles. We go home afterwards and if he got a really good shot (for instance, one with both my undies and a guy checking me out), then we'll go to bed and "talk" about all the things that guy probably wanted to do. We're a bit like the Italians; when we "talk" we use more than just our voices.

The photos are Geoff's thing. My thing takes more time. I do like it when guys see me – even though I usually miss it – but what I really love is when they come back for more. Some guys will double back for a second look in the park, but I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about bailing them up in a confined space where they can't help but look. The Sydney trains are probably my favourite. Loose fitting tops in peak hour when you have to stand are good, but short skirts in those seats that face each other are by far the best. I like to pick out a guy who doesn't look all young and dumb and full of cum; no sir, give me a young, studious-looking guy. A little bit geeky, but not too much. Someone who's really going to appreciate a flash of panty, but not cum in his pants.

I start it out slow. Knees close, but not together; you need to let them know that you're a little bit careless and that if they're persistent then they might be rewarded. It doesn't take long. Most of them are looking by the time I sit down, but if not they will be within a few seconds. I like to read a book, that way they can see I'm not taking any notice of them, and the barrier of the book over the hem of my skirt makes it all the more realistic that I don't know I'm flashing.

I'm not a tease though. I don't promise the opportunity of a peek and then fail to deliver. Once I know they're looking, I get started immediately. Usually I lift one leg to slowly scratch my ankle and then put it down with my knees further apart and my little skirt hiked a bit higher. Once they can see my panties, then it's a case of rinse and repeat. You can't just sit there like a bump on a log, you have to provide a show. Give a little more, sure; but take a little bit away too, just to keep them sharp.