Daring

I am a little baffled by the reactions to the disturbing image I blogged about but that is only to be expected. I think some of you, at least, feel that this is something that happens to you too. That something you feel you don't like still intrigues you. Enough of that now.

It struck me that I am as embarrassed about silly fantasies as about wicked ones. When I started blogging I wanted to talk about all kinds of fantasies and share some of the personal and silly ones. I feel that I want to return to that. So here is a kind of fantasy that is one of those that are close to reality but still very much just an idea. And quite silly.

Heart is beating hard. Cheeks are hot. I almost stumble, feeling dizzy. My legs are trembling as I enter the bus and look around for a seat. I believe there must be something haunted in my gaze, something uncanny.

There aren't many passengers and most of them sit towards the front. This is good. This will make it easier, make it possible.

I go to the rear, almost no one there. I sit down, look around. Behind the seat I am protected. It will be possible. It is doable.

It is such a lovely day, sunshine makes the streets look cheerful, sunshine makes my head full of courage.

Why am I so obsessed? From where comes this idea? I can't do it. No, it is impossible. No one is looking. It is possible. I can't do it.

If someone tells me to do it. That is the answer. I am not free to do what I want. That is the key. I am not my own any more. I sit on the bus and someone is in charge. I have to obey.

I have to hurry. At the next stop someone may board the bus who will sit at the rear, someone who will see.

My hands tremble as I reach under my skirt, my lovely thin, white summer skirt. My fingers feel the fabric of my knickers. This is madness! I have to do it!

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and start to move the knickers down. Like a terrified bird I look around. No one notices me. They are all occupied with other things. That is good.

I shift my position, let the knickers slide down from my bottom. I can't believe I am doing it. Someone has told me to do it. I have to do it. I take a deep breath and continue.

Knickers glide slowly down my thighs. They are free from my bottom.

The bus stops. My heart stops beating. What happens if someone sits close to me? I can't put my knickers back on, and they will fall off if I rise. Have to move quickly.

The old woman sits at the front. A man rises for her. He walks back but sits down three seats in front of me. I can breath.

I slide the knickers close to my knees. Now it has to be done. I have to be quick. Still they are covered by my skirt.

In one movement I let them slip over my knees and with beating heart I feel them fall to my feet. I have to lean forward, free them from my feet, quickly. No one is allowed to see.

Panic takes a hold of me as my knickers get tangled up in my feet. I manage to free them and crumple them into a small ball in my hand. Now I am unclad.

I hide my knickers between the seat and the wall of the bus. I don't know why I have to do this. They have to be lost for me, left on the bus. Makes it more shameful. They will be there, on the bus, when I leave. Someone may find then and wonder, laugh at them.

My cheeks are red. Wonder if someone notice it?

One more thing to do on the bus. I start to pull my skirt up. I have to look around. No one is looking. I have to shift my position again, slowly working my skirt upwards.

I feel the rough seat against my skin. Makes me feel naked. Makes me feel exposed. It is me touching the world, it is my body close against the harsh reality. I am naked underneath my skirt and only I know I am. Only I know my skin is touching the world.

The sense of degradation sweeps through me. I am glad no one sees my humiliation. I don't do this myself. I have to do it.

Elation fills me, and a sense of confidence. And perhaps pride. Humiliation and pride, what a strange combination.

I feel alive, alive and bad.

Someone enters the bus and walks towards me. He can't be allowed to see. My trembling hands make sure my skirt is in order. He won't understand.

He walks past me and I am safe. I take a deep breath.

At the next stop I rise and my skirt falls down. No one can see that I am naked underneath it. I won't look back, won't check the seat. I just leave the bus. I am mad.

My skirt falls to just above my knees. That is scary. The wind may take hold of it, flip it up. Still no one can see.

Unless it is written in my face. Maybe it is. Maybe anyone who sees me knows I am naked underneath my skirt.

I feel naked, more than just knickerless. I seem to be unclad and that anyone looking at me sees how naked I am. My heart beats faster.

My knickers are still on the bus. They are forever gone. And I feel vulnerable, as if anyone can walk up to me, lift my skirt and touch me. As if politeness and inhibitions are gone. Any time now. I walk in a dream.

But I am just another citizen, another girl in skirt walking through the streets. My dream is my dream and soon I will take the bus home. Nothing has happened.

I wonder how I will sit on the bus home.