Before we got married, my wife worked part-time at a bookstore. Like many bookstores, it had tall shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling, accessible only by sliding ladders. Her boss was around fifty; initially, he was the one who climbed the ladder while my wife handed him the books to shelve. After a while, they swapped roles. She noticed that he always kept a close eye on her. She usually wore jeans, but occasionally she wore skirts. Whenever she wore a skirt, there always seemed to be books that needed shelving; he would position himself beneath the ladder, wanting to see what she was wearing underneath. Normally, she wore standard tights and panties. She often told me about the days when there was a lot of organizing to be done.
Then I suggested she wear something sexier—like black stockings with a garter belt. She was hesitant at first, but eventually, she gave it a try—not often, but every now and then. When she arrived at the shop in the morning and her boss saw she was dressed sexily again, there would once more be plenty of work up on the ladder.
He would stand beneath her for minutes at a time, handing her one book after another. If a customer came in asking for something, he was reluctant to step away to help them.
All the while, she would be wearing panties under her skirt or dress—until I suggested she try going without them...
Sure enough, one afternoon she went to work in an airy summer dress, having left her panties at home. That evening, she told me she had arrived at the shop already quite aroused. Naturally, her boss suspected there might be something for him to see. When he looked up and realized what was visible, he dropped the entire stack of books he was holding.
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