Colin Johnson: The panty lovers

"Really?" responded the voluptuous yielding young model, a trace of sensuality in her voice as she teasingly drew down the zipper. "Let me see if I can't find a way to-persuade you…"

"Good Heavens, at this rate, I'm going to be drunk as an owl before the party even starts," protested Ann nervously as Pauling handed her another glass of champagne. The innocent but tempting young model was wearing a green frilly party dress, chosen for her by Mr. Pauling, which emphasized her full dramatic figure and revealed her heavy swollen breasts almost to their tender brown nipples.

Jenifer, Pauling and a scattering of other Wonder-Wear executives were waiting with Ann in the company's cocktail room for Birindelli and his team to return from a business dinner with the Salt Lake City buyer and his assistants. At one end of the hall was a dressing room where the two models would change into the various costumes and fashions Wonder-Wear was trying to sell. A bar had been set up to keep the liquor flowing and a white-suited bartender was busily uncorking champagne bottles.

"Don't worry, these deals are just excuses to net juiced," declared Pauling. "Here come the big boys now. They've probably all had six martinis apiece at dinner."

"Not Mr. Benson," asserted Ann worriedly. "Mr. Birindelli gave me a description of him that said he's active in church affairs and doesn't smoke or drink!"

"Watch out for him honey," joked Jenifer with a lewd grin. "A guy that doesn't smoke or drink must be saving his energy for something. Hey, are you nervous or something?"

"Just a little," admitted the brown-haired girl. "Posing for the camera in your underwear is one thing, but walking around in a room full of men… I didn't realize that's what special promotional assistants had to do."

"Nonsense," insisted Pauling, who had been listening carefully to what Ann said. "That's just an insignificant part of the job. Your business is to charm that client. Make him want to buy Wonder-Wear because you and he are friends. This is a very high-powered psychological sales technique you're participating in."

As Pauling spoke, the group of senior executives entered the room and Ann's eyes followed an extremely tall lanky man of about fifty whom she recognized from the description she had been given as Judson Ty Benson. The Midwestern business magnate was a thin as a scarecrow and wore typical Western-style clothing with a checkered shirt, a string tie and steel-rimmed glasses which made him look like a circuit preacher. Feeling a gentle shove from behind, Ann stepped forward to be introduced, now glad that she had had a couple of glasses of champagne to give her courage.

"And this is one of our smartest young promotional assistants," Birindelli informed the tall gangling man. "Ann, shake hands with the boss."

"As the Bible says, 'Work and ye shall prosper'," quoted Benson, shaking hands stiffly with Ann and examining her carefully through his old-fashioned spectacles. "I am what I am today because of a life-time of clean living and honest labor, Mr. Birindelli," he informed Ann's boss.

"Of course, Mr. Benson, and we all admire you for it," Birindelli smiled back at him insincerely with a wink to Ann out of the corner of his eye. "Miss Larkin, why don't you get Mr. Benson something to drink?"

"Surely," the young model began, but Benson cut her oft with another biblical quotation.

"'The fruit of the grape brings madness to fools', as the Good Book says, young lady," he instructed her. "I never touch liquor."

"I believe we may have some orange juice," offered Ann smoothly, knowing that Birindelli was watching her sharply, waiting to see how she would handle the situation.

"Not Florida orange juice?" inquired the visiting businessman, wrinkling his brow.

"California, naturally," Birindelli assured him and Ann walked quickly to the bar, thinking that Benson was about the strangest individual she had ever met. The bartender poured a glass three-quarters full of fresh orange juice and promptly filled it up with Vodka.

"What are you doing?" hissed Ann, angry at the man's stupidity. "This is for Mr. Benson and he doesn't drink liquor!"

"Then he shouldn't know what Vodka tastes like," retorted the bartender calmly, handling her the glass. "Anyway, Mr. Birindelli's orders and I guess he knows what he's doing."

Apparently he did, since Benson accepted the glass with his peculiar preacher's smile and drank deeply.

"Avoid Florida orange juice, my dear," he informed her, smacking his lips. "Contains all sorts of impurities!"

"Oh, I will," Ann assured him, taking another sip of her champagne. "Thank you for the warning." Mr. Benson lectured on about the necessity of living cleanly and avoiding impurities of all kinds and Ann quickly glanced around the room to see how the party was progressing. Jenifer was busily chattering to a young man who was apparently Franklyn, Benson's right-hand man. Several other pretty girls from the Wonder-Wear staff were circulating through the party, making sure that everyone's cigarette was lit and everyone's glass was full. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder why Mr. Birindelli had chosen her, his least experienced assistant, to be Benson's companion at this party. Surely Jenifer or one of the others would be more relaxed and sophisticated. But, as the bartender had put it, Birindelli always did seem to know what he was doing.

"Ann," said the vice president with a soft pleasant voice. "I have an idea. Why don't you and Jenifer show Mr. Benson and his staff the Pink Cloud and some of our other outfits? I'm sure he could get a better idea of how they look if he could see them actually being worn by someone as pretty as you."

Birindelli was behaving as if it were an idea which had just struck him rather than a carefully-organized operation they had been planning all day, but Ann played along with him.

"Fine, Mr. Birindelli. In fact, we brought the whole Wonder-Wear line up with us just in case someone wanted to take another look at it." And then she turned to Mr. Judson Benson, who was knocking back his fourth specially-prepared California orange juice, and gave him an apologetic little-girl look.

"Of course, we're not professional models, Mr. Benson, but we'll do our best."

"The Lord asks of each of us our most earnest endeavor," agreed Benson, slurring his words a little.

Ann gave him her most winning smile, hoping that no one could see how nervous she was, and went off to collect Jenifer.

"Everything's going like clockwork," Pauling informed the two attractive models as they entered the dressing room. "And I think you're sweeping Mr. Benson off his feet, Ann. Now get into your outfits and go!"

It was not as bad as she had imagined it would be. Never in Ann's entire life had she drunk so much champagne in one evening and her entire body felt warm and rosy. The room was hot and she felt comfortable and natural in the brief undergarments which Pauling had left out for them to model. She made a point of not looking at herself in the mirror whenever she put on a new set of underwear or one of the frilly nighties which the company manufactured for fear that she would be covered with embarrassment if she saw how much of her was showing.

From time to time, she thought of how shocked and horrified her husband would be if he could see her now, but somehow the idea filled her with amusement. Frank was a dear man, but sometimes he behaved like such a stuffed shirt. These people, she decided, really knew how to have fun and even Mr. Benson was beginning to kick up his heels a little, under the influence of a number of California orange juices spiked with Vodka.

"Do you like this one, Mr. Benson?" she asked innocently as she showed him an almost-transparent white nightie which she would never have dared to wear sober.