LINGERIESTORY | FLASH - Romance Stories with Godly purpose
LingerieStory Romance, Shorts and Flash Collections is created and edited by AltarAdlar, mostly written by a selection of J&C writers including Jeans, Miss M (or any of EstherVera or MarieClaire or VerAshley or Marina) of the LingerieStory Enterprise official writers. A small portion could come from contributors who are acknowledged and given credit (and do not carry the “Official” tag but we are still working on it. To contribute to LingerieStory and stand the chance of ultimately becoming a contract author or get special tickets to writing workshops and literary events, pick any one of the story collections you prefer, write your own fiction of 5 pages or less under that collection, and send to altaradlar@aol.com using ‘LS Collections Contribution’ as subject. Include the story in the body of the email plus a little profile of yourself. All submissions must be original and owned by you. By submitting your story you grant us license to use the story for LingerieStory. Only selected entries will be published. Good luck and happy writing.
NOTE: There’s currently no call for submissions!
The Character Profiles
Basically for each story, two profiles (with variations of course) are contrasted:Oh yeah yes! She’s a good girl. She never does any bad girl stuff. She’s beautiful but studious. She stays home and helps with chores. She dresses moderately. Her primary colors are white. Her clothes are ‘fine but just there’ or ‘exquisite but not sexy’. And her underwear! Her underwear collection is – simply underwear, mostly white, nice but worn not to be seen.
You will think her the most faithful kind of girl – wife material even. You won’t be blamed for thinking her a virgin, an angel even.
And oh yeah yes! She’s a bad girl. None of that goody two shoes good girl stuff for her. No way. She’s beautiful or attractive and very sociable – in fact she’s a flirt and can give a good tease or striptease at the drop of a hat! There’s good reason, on meeting her first time, to assume your gregarious best friend has already met her! She parties, she clubs, she loves to have fun. And her dressing will blow your mind! She’s way damn too sexy and photographs well too. She loves loud colors – red is a favorite. You should see her dress up! You will be forgiven if you think her a celebrity. She’s way too good to look at. And her underwear! Her underwear! You do not only have to imagine how exotic she can get – she would even show you if you’ve not seen her in her undies yet, if it feels right! There are all kinds of colorful stuff, all ranges and designs of undies, all hues of the rainbow but lots of red in her special underwear drawer. She’s always proud to show them off too, especially when she’s dancing! She just loves to dance, and will do it just because she’s happy. And she’s always happy. Then her short flowery skirts and dresses leave little to the imagination. “This one is a pretty devil,” you might think. “She lost her virginity a long long time!”
But for both of them, you could be so so wrong you know!
“Swan Junior Girls High” A LingerieStory Flash Fiction by Jeans
“Oh God! I should have worn my tiny black panties instead! This white one is easily noticeable.” She bends her legs under the seat only so she can tightly squeeze out the space between both knees.
“Boys!” she breathes and presses her legs tighter. “Always trying to see what panties I’m wearing! Always! I hope the principal calls me in next so I can get the hell out of here.” She shifts her bum on the cold aluminium seat. Sweat breaks out on her forehead despite the fact that the expansive reception has air-conditioning. “God! I’m so uncomfortable.” She adjusts her legs and uses both hands to pull her black skirt down over her knees but it doesn’t quite cover it. “Why oh why am I the only girl in here this morning?” she moans and turns to look at the principal’s ugly secretary typing into the computer with the sweeping-hand wall clock above her head, paying her no attention, and prays she would just look up from the damned keyboard and tell her to go in. Any punishment from the principal would be much more preferable to this torture.
But no such luck.
“Stupid boys!” she cusses silently again as she catches the eye of one. “Always trying to peek through my legs, since those stupid private hair first began to appear!” she says under her breath, begins to stare straight at the floor, then at her fingers which she also tweaks while rubbing the left hand with a moisty right palm. She turns her head to look at the five teenage boys sitting directly opposite her on the alloy seats of the reception to the principal’s office, waiting for the principal’s punishment too, chatting in whispers, none bold enough to look her in the eyes, none confident enough to sit near her, all quickly throwing eyes her way whenever she makes any movement, hoping to catch even a glimpse of what’s under her school-issue black skirt, she imagines.
“Damn this short skirt!” she cusses silently. “It’s too short. Doesn’t cover me properly at all!”
Just at that moment another girl, a tall, thin lighter-skinned beauty with braided hair like hers throws the door open and walks in, then screams “Joy, hi” before looking towards the secretary and covering her mouth with both hands to show she realizes she should be quiet and make no noise in here. The secretary is staring at her but this girl doesn’t seem to care about the look anymore than she has already shown.
With relief flooding her heart at the arrival of someone else the teenage boys could stare at, Joy looks up at her friend, her face a dazzling brightness. “Nkem, what’s up!” she says, offering her left hand, relief very evident in her voice.
Nkem slumps into the seat beside her still holding the long slim hand. “Fancy meeting you here. What did you do miss-goody-two-shoes?”
Just as Joy is about to say something, to show her resentment or displeasure at being called miss-goody-two-shoes, Nkem stops her with: “What’s with these boys? Why are they giggling like fools?”
“You better pull down your skirt and close your legs quick!” Joy tells her, looking at her knees.
Nkem looks down at herself. The hem of her school uniform, now wrucked up, is so high up her thighs. She has full thighs, much like the rest of a rich body.
“Why?” she asks.
“Those boys over there have been trying, ever since I got here, to look through my legs. They think I don’t notice them.”
“Perverts!” Nkem cusses, looking at them but with a smile on her face.
“Not so loud – they will hear you. And you are not closing your legs. They can probably see your panties from over there. That’s why they are giggling I think.”
“So? I’m wearing my favorite red panties. Let them look all they want. I don’t care!” Nkem says, almost shocking Joy but for the fact that Joy knows her craziness only too well. “Anyways, I know I’m getting detention today again. I hope you do too just so you can stay with me after school. My teacher is a jerk. Why were you sent to the principal? What did you do?”
Still amazed at the height of brazenness, or wantonness, of her friend, Joy hesitates, thinking she’s not like this at all. “I slapped a guy for something he did and when the teacher asked me why, I didn’t say. I couldn’t tell her and the boy lied that he didn’t know why,” she finally says.
“Who did you sleep with … sorry, slap? Just being funny.”
“Bamidele. You know him. It’s the same boy who’s forever staring at me with moon eyes.”
“Wow! I do. He’s so handsome.”
“Nkem, be serious.”
“I am. But … That’s new! You slapping someone! When did that ever happen? When did you ever do such?”
“I had good cause.”
“What good cause could Swan Junior High’s princess perfect have for hitting someone for the very first time, ever? What did the boy do to get you so pissed to the point of slapping him? You who would never even hit a fly!”
“I’m not princess perfect. He provoked me.”
“By kissing you rather than pecking you on the cheek? I always saw that coming. He’s in love!”
“What! No, he didn’t!”
“He grabbed you in a hug in front of the entire class then?”
“C’mon Nkem, he wouldn’t dare! He said something to me. He said something very nasty!” She frowns upon a very lovely young face. “Something so nasty it got me very angry. I just so hate him. I do so hate him now. I hate boys!”
“What? What did he say?”
“He said … That boy! I wish I had slapped him harder. I feel like going back to slap him again!”
“Wow! Whatever he said must have been very bad! You’re so boiling! He insulted your father?”
“No. Why would he?”
“He called you a moron … or a broom for being so slim and tall? I know you don’t like that.”
“What? No!”
“Then what? What did he say! Spill it, little girl and stop being cagey. I’m grabbing at straws here.”
“He said … ” she flushed. “He said I was wearing white panties!”
“Lola” From the B r a S t o r y Collections, A LingerieStory Flash Fiction by Jeans
“Dad, I need a new bra!” the girl screams. She just doesn’t understand why this is happening to her, why she alone has to have this bra issue. She remembered how it went just two weeks ago.They had been about to go out then and her dad had been ready for the last twenty minutes and impatiently waiting while she readied herself in her room. She knew he was muttering to himself again about women taking so long getting dressed. She knew her dad was forever moaning over why women have to take so long getting dressed. He had been that way with her mother. And now he had become so with her. But, she thinks, he doesn’t understand that everything just has to be perfect, for ladies.
“Dad, this bra doesn’t fit.” she had said then.
“Why?” her dad asked.
“It’s too small.”
“But that’s exactly the same size I got for you just recently.”
“I know. I checked the size.”
“So how come this doesn’t fit?”
“That other one no longer fits either and I have given it to Sarah. That’s why I need another one.”
“Oh! How come?”
“I don’t know. Guess it’s getting bigger.”
“What’s getting bigger?”
“My breasts, dad. Except you think the bras are shrinking instead.”
And now, just two weeks after that, she requires a change of bras. Again. For a fact, due to the frequent changing of bras, she’s become some kind of expert at bras and knows exactly what kind she prefers, even though she has never bought any herself. Her daddy always does the buying.
So, she doesn’t understand why these breasts keep out-sizing her bras. Her friends don’t have the same issues and don’t need to change bras as often as she has to, though for a fact everyone tells her she’s also bigger and looks older than they are. They tease her about it too. Worse still, the boys! She has begun to notice the eyes of boys on her. No, not on her for they have always looked at her, but on her breasts! Yes, their eyes no longer focus on her face but now roam regularly to her breasts. And it’s always causing her to become self conscious. She doesn’t know how to handle this.
“Dad! I said I need a new bra!” she calls out to him now, again, over the sound of the football from the TV.
“Not again!” the 17-year old help, Sarah, pausing and looking up from doing the dishes in the kitchen, says to herself, rolling her eye-balls.
“What! Lola, this is the third time this month you are saying that. I thought I bought you four pairs the last time just so you’d leave me alone for a while. What do you need another one so soon for or have you outgrown them again?”
“Unfortunately, yes, Dad!” she says quickly, in a still-raised voice. “These don’t fit. It’s not my fault!” she adds, forcefully adjusting the cups to get them to sit over the base of her breasts as she moves away from the open door to go look at herself in the mirror.
Sarah completely stops washing so she can listen to them. “Who told you to keep growing every minute of the day?” she says, smiling.
“Whose fault is it? Mine? We have to get your mom to look into this, since you don’t like Sarah’s assistance,” Lola hears her dad say. He didn’t sound close. He should be by her door by now to see for himself because he doesn’t sound like he believes her but he isn’t.
“Dad!” she calls and hears nothing. She unstraps the bra, holding it in her left hand. “Dad?” she screams louder and the next sound she hears is: “Goal! Goal! Goal!” It’s her dad’s voice of course.
“He’s probably jumping around the room too,” she mutters to herself. She moves towards the door and steps out. He doesn’t seem to appreciate that this is really bothering her …
Her dad is just now sitting back down on the cushion, his eyes still riveted to the large flat screen TV where the boys in blue jerseys, finishing their celebration, are re-organizing for the restart when Lola walks into the sitting room.
“What the …” he begins but immediately stops halfway, mouth wide open.
Standing before him in the well-laid out expansive living room is his over-developed, little-over-fourteen-year old only daughter and child, in luminous pink panties and nothing else, clutching a pair of white brassiere in her right hand, with impressive gravity-defying pointing breasts stuck solid on her chest.
“Dad, your mouth is open,” she says, just standing there.
Sarah peeps through the kitchen door, sees the back of the baby of the house and ducks back in. “What is this girl doing? Trying to seduce her own father?” she continues muttering to herself.
“Lola, go back to your room, now. I’m watching football,” her dad says, eager to get her out of here, eager to get back to his game but more amazed at how much of a woman his little girl had become and the instant adult, incestous/non-family effect it has just had on him.
“Dad, what about the new bra I’m asking for? This one is too small …”
“I said go back to your room. I’ll be there in a moment.” He adjusts his legs. One shouldn’t get turned on by one’s daughter, right?
Lola stalks off, sulking, pissed that her dad often ignores her, especially during the now increasingly-frequent football matches on the cable channels but not before throwing the bra at him.
Surprised, he picks it from off the couch where it had fallen and stares at the lacy contraption, feeling vastly different. Feeling strange. Of course it had been him who bought it for her and had handled it then but now, holding it, it’s different. It had been worn. It had been worn by his daughter. He feels sexual and is ashamed at this.
And this is serious. He had sent her away so he could compose himself and so she could go put some clothes on. She probably has no idea that any man could get turned on by a sexy and half-naked woman, or girl, no matter who she is, only he knows it’s not right to dwell on it with some. Well, something has to be done about this situation now.
Completely forgetting the football match now, he heaves his bulky self from off the couch and begins to walk towards her room. For a minute it occurs to him that she might just be doing this intentionally. For just a minute because he instantly perishes the thought. He knows for sure that she’s really a Godly girl, a Jesus-lover to the best of her understanding.
“What now?” Sarah says as she watches the dad approach Lola’s room, clutching Lola’s bra in one hand. “He won’t touch me even when I show him that I want him to but he’s going after his own daughter?” she asks, rhetoric. She stares after him through the door, anger slashing across a dark face.
As he nears it, he sees that the door is open and calls out: “Lola? Lola, are you in there?” He slows his walk, dilly-dallying for a while. He’s doing this just so that she knows he’s coming and so not take her by surprise. It would give her enough time to do what’s right too.
You would think she would have found some clothes and thrown it on just as his head pokes through her open door without him knocking but she hasn’t. She’s just lying in bed staring at the ceiling, both hands under her head, obviously still angry from the sour expression on her face. Her teenage breasts still perked facing the roof and only slightly succumb to gravity this way too, the dark nipples bold and like two eyes.
He hesitates by the door. “Why haven’t you put some clothes on yet?” he says, rather sternly.
She turns to look at her daddy. Then she smiles. She can’t really stay angry at her dad, never could. He has always been there for her where her mother has paid more attention to her job at the bank and has no time for anyone, not for her, not even for her dad. And especially because her dad is acting a bit strange now.
“Come on in, Dad. Why are you hanging by the door?”
He walks towards the bed and dumps the bra on her body. “I should stop buying you underwear. And you should not be naked in front of a man. Put on some clothes now.”
“C’mon, Dad. It’s okay for you to buy my undies and for you to see me wear them! All my friends say it’s okay. After all, you are my daddy!”
Swan Senior Girls High A LingerieStory Flash Fiction by Jeans
“No. My nipples are dark. Very dark,” she writes on the BBM and presses the enter button on her BlackBerry before looking up, flashing a perfectly-contrived innocent face at the teacher in front of the class. She’s bold and beautiful and the Prefect in charge of Socials at Swan Senior College and has very many friends, males especially, from her school, the surrounding school and the coolest university campus in the city but she has never been a good scholar and never pretends about it. In front of the class, the male teacher is busy dissecting the intricacies of the mathematical adjunct but her issue right now has nothing to do with mathematics but everything to do with how to party tonight with her new 2nd year University of Lagos boyfriend who is currently online. This is why she’s sitting at the back of the class rather than at her usual seat and has put the device settings to mute.
“But you are so fair. How can they be dark?”
“I don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”
“OK then. It’s cool.”
“So what else do you want to know?” she asked, to move him on from that uncomfortable subject.
“What are you wearing?”
“My school uniform of course. What else should I be wearing? I’m in school!”
“I know. I meant under it.”
“Oh. Ok.”
“Yes. So?”
“So what?”
“C’mon Rebecca!”
“Ok. Pants. And bra. What else would I be wearing?” she self-consciously closes her legs and looks around, then at the teacher.
“What kind?”
“What kind of what?”
“What kind of panties and bra?”
“You mean the color and type I guess. Striped boy shorts and black bra.”
“Wow. That sounds nice.”
“So what about you?”
“What am I wearing?”
“Yea.”
“Just boxers and singlet.”
“Where are you?”
“In my hostel room.”
“Ok. No lectures?”
“Just got back from one. Pretty boring.”
“Yea. Mine is too. What colors?”
“You mean what I’m wearing. Boxers’ mainly black and the singlet is white.”
She doesn’t respond for a while.
“Hey!” He writes then buzzes her.
“Hey!” she replies.
“Some girls I know wear tights under their uniform.”
“No. I don’t do that. I don’t like that.”
“What’s a boy shorts like?” He’s been trying to picture it without any luck.
“Don’t know how to describe it. It’s like normal panties but it’s not. Panties are smaller. Mine has three buttons down the front.”
“Still don’t get it.”
“You will have to see it to get it then.” Immediately she sends this, she realizes what it could mean. “I mean, not on me sha,” she adds quickly.
“Who else will show me?” he asks.
“Don’t you have female friends?” she asks.
“I do. Lots. But you want me to ask them to show me their panties?” he asks.
“So?” she replies.
“You won’t show me but you want them to show me?”
“Yes.” She’s serious.
“Okay,” he says.
“Cool,” she replied.
“You don’t mind?” he asked.
“Why should I?”
“What if something happens with one of them?” he asked.
“Something like what?” she asked.
“What if in the process we do more than look at my friends’ panties?” he said.
“What else can you guys do?”
“Ah, you are so naïve!” he declared.
“Whatever,” she said.
“What if we end up kissing? Or even touching?” he said.
“Why would you do that with a friend?”
“Because a ‘friend’ is showing me her panties. I could get turned on,” he said. “We could then end up having sex. It happens. Feelings.”
“You dare not!”
“I dare not?”
“I’m your girlfriend. I’m the only one you should be having those kinds of thoughts or feelings for!” she declared.
“And yet you won’t show me. You want someone else to do it. Ok but you will be responsible for whatever happens between me and them.”
She’s silent for a while, thinking. “Ok,” she says eventually.
“Ok what?” he asked.
“Ok I’ll show you.”
“That’s good. When?”
“When we see.”
“Are you coming over to my place?”
“No way! I don’t like what happened there the last time and you know it.”
“Yea so you have said. Then when? Where?”
“At the party.”
“The party?”
“Yea”
“So you wanna still come? Tot u guys have vigil in church tonight. It’s Friday now!”
“Not going. I’ll find a way to sneak out of the house. Wanna be at the party with you.”
“But you guys never miss vigils.”
“It’s my dad. He’s the one making us go all the time. It’s not like we really wanna.”
“It should be you wanting to go. So he’s forcing you guys?”
“Well, not really. Just that we don’t go because we really want to. We go because he makes us. He will punish us if we don’t!”
(It concludes this way – she makes like she’s going to the vigil, sneaks out and off to the party with her boyfriend. They abandon the party and go to a hotel where she loses her virginity to him. She returns next morning afraid but everyone thinks she found her own way home from the vigil without following the car, just as she had planned.)
"Crystal"A LingerieStory Flash Fiction by Jeans
“I don’t like the line it makes on my bum,”she says with a smile. Happiness was in order for her. The office was almost empty.
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