Chapter 2

The next morning, Jillian could hear Jeff’s hangover from her bed. The cursing as his alarm went off, the shuffling walk of a man in pain, the sigh of pleasure as a fresh cup of coffee touched his lips.

She considered getting up and seeing how he was, but her bed was warm, and she didn’t have anywhere to be until Monday, the first day of her new job. As he grumbled off to work, she reflected on the previous night - would Jeff be awkward, after what had happened?

Hopefully not - as far as Jillian was concerned, nothing awkward had taken place. He’d admired her ass, she’d let him have a quick grope in the back seat of the cab.

Besides, she thought with a smile, he certainly seemed to enjoy it. What’s a little butt-touching between friends?

When 11am rolled around, the young woman finally forced herself out of bed. Today represented her first day of freedom - freedom from her awful job at B&R, freedom from having to wear the same palette every day, and - it seemed - freedom from hangovers.

She hadn’t gotten completely smashed, but after the amount that she’d had to drink last night, she would normally have expected at least a headache. For whatever reason, she felt great, and so Jillian decided to head to the mall and buy herself some new outfits to celebrate.

She was standing in line for a coffee when she noticed.

The man across the room from her. He was, she had to admit, being subtle about it - but he was definitely checking her out.

He was definitely checking out her ass.

A naughty thought popped into Jillian’s head, and while she tried to ignore it, it quickly grew.

She’d gotten away with it yesterday ... why not?

After all, she was a strong woman. A strong, powerful woman. She had the power to control men, to control their reactions. It would be an act of rebellion, an act that showed what a strong, powerful woman she was.

And besides ... she wanted to.

Following your desires. Wasn’t that what strong, powerful woman did?

Jillian looked the other way. She wanted to make it seem accidental, like she just happened to be scratching an itch. One hand slowly ran up her bare leg, and when it came into contact with the mid-length skirt she’d picked out that morning, she didn’t stop.

As her hand moved, it lifted up her skirt, until her panties were clearly visible to the man who’d been staring at her - and probably the rest of the Starbucks as well.

The sound of someone choking on their beverage told her that she’d been noticed. For the next minute, as she waited in line, she oh-so-casually scratched her lower back, leaving at least half of one butt-cheek clearly visible to everyone in the room.

When her name was called, she pulled her hand away. As her skirt fell back into place, Jillian could have sworn she heard the sound of disappointment from every man in the room.

That was fun, she thought with a grin.

When Jeff came home from work that day, he was surprised to be met by his housemate’s exposed legs.

“Uh, Jillian...” he said, scratching his head, still clearly feeling the last lingering effects of the previous night’s drinks.

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d mind - when I got home, I just needed to get out of those pants!”

That was a lie. First of all, Jillian hadn’t worn pants since the previous night - after her escapades at Starbucks, she’d gone on a shopping spree, looking specifically for clothes that emphasized her best feature. The (male) shop assistants had been more than happy to help out, and after two hours of men staring at her ass, Jillian had practically floated home.

Why stop there? she’d told herself. After all, it wasn’t anything sexual - in a moment of honesty, Jeff had told her the previous night exactly how much he appreciated her ass, and she figured letting him see a bit more of it around the house wouldn’t hurt.

And so she’d changed, into a bulky jumper ... and a petite pair of pink panties that disappeared up her crack after just a few minutes of wearing them.

As she’d predicted, Jeff didn’t mind.

The rest of the weekend followed a similar pattern - at home, she just wore panties. While she was out and about, Jillian would give a little show to anyone she caught checking out her ass (a frequent occurrence). At first she continued pretending it was accidental - scratching an itch, finding excuses to bend over and pick something up. She went to the gym in a leotard, forgoing the running shorts she’d normally wear over them.

The sight of her bending over to pick up her towel caused a personal trainer to accidentally drop a thirty-pound weight onto his client.

On Sunday, however, she wore stockings and went shopping for a thong. G-strings had never been held much appeal before, but she was curious to see if Jeff would say anything - aside from appreciate staring (which he tried to mask every time she caught him), he hadn’t mentioned her choice of apparel so far - he’d either forgotten their conversation in the cab, or decided not to bring it up.

Apparently guys like stockings, she told herself. She’d thought her outfits were getting their fair share of attention before, but with the stockings, people were actually stopping to stare as she walked past. In response to their blatant leers, she’d given up on pretending not to notice - any time a guy looked at her, she would lift her skirt up to show him what she was wearing underneath.

At the start of the day, that was a pair of form-fitting boy shorts. After an hour of shopping, however, the shorts had been replaced by a white G, which split her ass perfectly in two.

It didn’t exactly match the stockings she was wearing, but no one really seemed to mind.

The salesman had asked if she’d rather be helped by a woman, but Jillian had insisted that he was the man for the job. After getting his opinion on several pairs, she’d felt compelled to go further.

“How does it feel?” she’d asked, taking his hand and putting it onto her mostly-bare ass. His fingers never even touched the thin piece of material, but his stammering response had been overwhelmingly positive.

“Good,” she’d beamed, and bought one in every colour.

Dinner with Jeff had been awkward. He’d arrived home to find her putting the finishing touches on a roast pork, wearing a pastel-pink sweater and a G-string to match. She’d thought that if he didn’t comment on her choice of underwear, he’d at least say something about the heels, but he’d just gone red and mumbled his appreciation as she carved him a slice.

“How was the date?” she asked.

“Hmmm?”

“Weren’t you at coffee with that girl from the club? Millie, or Nellie, or...”

Jeff just stared at her blankly, clearly struggling to keep eye-contact.

“Your date, Jeff,” she said with a laugh. “What was her name?’

“Oh! Uh, um ... oh shit, what was it...”

“Never mind,” Jillian said, unable to keep the smirk off her face.

Jillian’s first day at work went almost as well as her interview. As soon as she strode in on her new five-inch heels, she knew the flouncy mini-skirt had been a strong choice - it attracted every eye in the building, and with every step she knew she was making a killer first impression.

She settled into her new desk quickly - she was sharing a cubicle-space with a guy named Ryan. Ignoring the hand he’d held out, Jillian went straight for the hug - which, after a brief moment of confusion, he returned warmly.

As they embraced, the strangest thought struck her. Wouldn’t it be nice, she mused, if he were to fondle my ass as we hugged.

The soft touch of the salesman the previous day had felt so good, and of course Jeff’s administrations in the cab had been a highlight of the night. It wasn’t a sexual thing, Jillian reminded herself - it just felt so nice to be touched.