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A Day at the Market
by Michelle Easter. I’ve been going at things much to hard and need a break, and I’m happy to accept an invitation from my friend Kim, who’s studying medicine in the City of Jam, Jute and Journalism - that’s Dundee, Scotland for any non Brits reading this. I crash out on the floor of her bedsit, sleep late, take in the scenery, go shopping. Sounds boring? After the way I’ve been living it’s heaven!

Kim is a genuinely ‘good’ girl. Kinda prim. Not a virgin, but her current boyfriend, George, is only her third lover ever. I think she feels a bit guilty about having sex with him. He’s the type that’ll disapprove of a girl who goes to bed with him, but not feel the least bit of guilt about what he’s doing to her. Pratt! Also, my dear respectable friend Kim happens to be twenty years old, tall, blonde and utterly gorgeous. She doesn’t realise this. Me, I relax, slop about in my old clothes. Why compete? I could prance about stark naked in this girl’s company and nobody would spare me a second or even a first glance.

George brings along the odd pal to make a foursome, but nothing develops. His friends aren’t my type. Also, to be honest, it’s the wrong time of the month. Polite kisses are all I want or get. I think George disapproves of girls that kiss on the first date. Double pratt!

So I’m quite glad when Kim and I go to an open air market without male escorts. She seems happier and somehow friskier. Quite sexily dressed, unusual for her, in a mid thigh denim skirt, not a bum hugger, wouldn’t look short at all on me, but on a girl with legs the length of Kim’s it’s spectacular! I consider her a traffic hazard. Also, she’s in white knee length boots and not wearing pantyhose. I suspect my friend is enjoying an innocent little flaunt away from George’s eagle eye. And why not?

I find a country inn that does vegetarian food, and wash it down with club sodas. Kim has two pints of lager, again not her usual style. But then, I’m driving and she can indulge.

‘Let’s go to the car boot sale,’ she says.
‘Car boot. Auto trunk. You really should learn English, Michelle. It’s a sort of big outdoor second hand market about ten miles down the Perth road.’

Big it is. On an open field beside an airdrome. Miles from anywhere. Hundreds of autos. I queue for at least half an hour to park. Interesting collection of junk though. I’ve got to bend down a lot to look at things and begin to think jeans would’ve been wiser than a skirt, then watch my lovely companion crouch ever so modestly, taking care with her hemline, and realise nobody’s looking at me. We spend a long time going round the stalls, but have still seen less than half of them.

‘Michelle,’ says Kim, ‘better find a loo.’
I agree with her. We follow a sign, then try not to throw up. Thousands of people in the middle of the country, and there’s two choked, foul, portable johns to cope with them.

‘Find a quiet spot and crouch,’ I advise her.
‘What quiet spot?’ She’s right. The place is real busy, folks everywhere, no quiet corners at all. I notice guys standing by the fences, backs to the crowd. There’s the occasional woman crouching unobtrusively in the same area. Too much liquid with your lunch just ain’t advisable, it seems.

‘Over by the fence,’ I suggest.
‘What, drop my panties in public?!’ she is horrified. ‘We’ll have to go back to the car and leave, see if we can find somewhere along the road.’

‘There’s nowhere for miles, and the queue to leave is as slow as the queue to go in. No way you’ll make it, and I don’t want puddles on my auto seat. Go to the parking lot and crouch between the autos.’

‘Too public.’
‘OK, only one other alternative. Go in your panties.’
‘What, you mean deliberately wet my knickers?! No way Michelle.’
‘Fine, in that case I’m fresh out of ideas.’
‘But... my skirt would get wet.’
‘Not if you’re careful. You wearing nylon underneath?
‘Nylon lace.’
‘Ideal. Open your legs a bit, pee steadily, you won’t catch your skirt and your panties won’t even get all that wet. Choose your moment and nobody will notice.’
‘I.... No, Michelle, I couldn’t do that. I’ll just have to hold it.’
‘Up to you. You know more about bladder rupture than I do.’
‘You seem to know about going in your knickers.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ I admit calmly. ‘Sorry, I’m not into pain.’
‘Ooooh, when was the last time you did it?’
‘About five minutes ago.’
‘What!?’ she gasps. ‘You mean you... Deliberately... How?’
‘When you were bending down to look at that vase, and everyone else in range was looking at you.’
‘Oh.’ I see her digest the information, then there’s a distraction.
‘Look,’ says someone. Over the airdrome an airplane disgorges a half dozen brightly colored parachutes. Everyone looks up. From beside me I hear a discrete splashing sound, and turn to see my lovely companion stepping carefully away from a puddle on the grass. She squeezes her thighs together, smiles shyly at me. I wink back.
Now my friend is friskier than ever, stepping delicately like a two legged Bambi, wiggling her cute bum, the very picture of a woman who’s gone in her panties and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. We find a clothes stall selling cheap, skimpy underwear, and I buy myself a pair of filmy, flame red knickers with a black lace trim. Kim who, as far as I know, only ever wears white, does the same.

Things are quieter now. We go back to my auto. I open the passenger door wide, she checks there’s nobody behind her, a wiggle of her bum, a quick pull, and her wet lingerie is on the ground. I find a plastic bag in the trunk for the damp item as she sits on the passenger seat and pulls on her new panties. I open the driver’s door and perform the same operation. As we drive back my friend isn’t talking much, but she doesn’t have to. If ever I’ve seen a woman in a state of sexual arousal...

George is back at the bedsit, and Kim greets him with an enthusiasm which surprises him. I reflect on how surprised he’d be to learn what made her so randy. Suddenly I realise she’s not the only one. George has brought a friend who seems different from the usual creeps. Kinda dishy. Also, my period ended this morning...