But Doug seemed very happy with the situation, and started taking more photos. I simply didn’t have the option of telling him off or arguing with him about it – I may just be a volunteer, but I take my work very seriously and approach it in a highly professional manner. So I concentrated on listening to my caller’s woes, and being both sympathetic and supportive in my responses. I ignored Doug as he took his photos, even when he lifted up my skirt and photographed my laden panties from every conceivable angle. After a while he pulled my skirt back down, and because my legs were tired I sat down on my chair, figuring that the poo was too dry now to make much of a mess.
I didn’t even notice when Doug left – when my caller finally hung up (having promised me not to do anything silly until she’d had a good long heart-to-heart with her parents), I noticed a post-it note stuck to the desk beside me. My ‘ignore Doug’ strategy had worked so well that I had not even seen him put it there. It read something like, “Love you lots and lots, and thanks for being such a good sport! I’m off home to bed – see you tomorrow, my darling.” Which was all very sweet, but the bugger had left me sitting in my messy panties and taken my clean pair home! I was extremely ticked off with him at that point. He had obviously enjoyed my story so much that he wanted a sequel!
Over the next few hours, as I sat there talking to people with troubles far worse than my own, the poo warmed up against my skin and began to feel less nasty. In fact it was getting quite comfy – after a while I barely noticed it except when I shifted position.
Janet had arrived an hour and a half into my shift, but she didn’t comment on the smell until we both had a rare moment of quiet between calls. This was at about three-thirty I suppose. All she said was that she could still smell my accident from the night before, and she suggested opening a couple of windows. I almost giggled with relief when I realized she had no idea I was still wearing my messy panties. It was a warm night, so I agreed that we should open the windows.
I went to the loo a couple of times during my shift, and I was seriously tempted to empty my panties into the toilet and risk blocking it up, just to pay Doug back. But I had after all promised him we’d take more photos at home the next evening, and by this time I was feeling somewhat ambivalent about having a great big lump of poo fitting snugly against my nether regions. It hardly smelled at all by now, and as I said it was getting quite comfy.
I had to make sure I never turned my back on Janet, of course, because of the significant bump in the back of my skirt (which is quite tight, if comfortably stretchy – you may remember it, it’s the short yellow skirt with little red and blue birds just above the hemline. I wore it to Dad’s birthday party last month.)
I was still on a call when June arrived at eight o’clock in the morning. I was worried she would ask about the smell, but I guess the open windows had allowed the air to circulate enough so that the smell did not build up. I finished my call at quarter past, and then I cautiously left. I figured by now I could probably get away with taking a taxi home, so I called for one and thus, half an hour later, I was back at home with none of the problems that had plagued me the day before.
If things had gone badly I might have been more annoyed with Doug, but as it was, I was prepared to forgive him for his prank. So I got ready for bed, stripped off everything but my panties, wrapped a towel around my middle, and climbed into bed. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep.
I woke up at four o’clock and, since Doug would not be home for a while, I decided to write this letter. It’s now nearly seven, and here I am, still sitting in my huge pile of poo (now almost dry and getting rather stiff). Doug isn’t home yet – he called from work at about five thirty and said he was having to work late. I had a go at him for leaving me with no underwear but my messy panties, but he was very surprised to hear that I had spent the day wearing them – he said he had put my clean panties in my purse. Nice of him to tell me!
Now I think I shall put on some clothes – another short skirt, perhaps, though not such a tight-fitting one – and take a walk down the road to post this letter and a cheque for the phone company. And then, who knows? I might do some shopping at the supermarket. Now that my poo doesn’t smell too bad any more, I don’t mind being out in public with messy panties. Actually I think it will be kind of fun, chatting to the cashier and other people in the shop, with them being completely unaware that I am wearing messy panties! I know that Doug will get a kick out of it when I tell him about it.
Anyway, I didn’t intend to ramble on at such length – sorry if it made for dull reading. I trust that you are both well. Give my love to the cats, and my best wishes to old Mr. Oakley. I hope his leg heals soon.