SUMMER AND SANDY by Gotommax

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Summer and Sandy by Gotommax

'Tis The Season - Some Christmas-themed Pinups by Elias-Chatzoudis

MOVIE MANIA PART 2 OF 2 by Downing Street

“Oooh! Oh, that is soooo niiice,” Doris breathed, her eyes half-closed. She was lying on the sofa in her apartment, once again pleasuring herself with a high heel. This one was attached to a silky black ankle boot. The other boot and a pair of white, lace-patterned stockings were the only things Doris still had on. The rest of the hot Hugh Mussobay outfit she had worn to the office that day was scattered about the livingroom rug.

The television was playing but Doris wasn’t paying any attention. Her long hair was splayed out across the pillow, damp with perspiration. Her nipples were erect, and her free hand fondled them lovingly. “Soooooo fucking niiiiice,” she murmured dreamily. She had been on the couch for more than an hour, ever since returning from a late-evening showing of The Magic Watch. It was about time for bed, but Doris needed one more come. That film always made her horny.

In fact, it seemed the whole day had conspired to turn her on. First, there was the highly favorable reaction from all the men in the office, and on the street, when she wore her new Hugh Mussobay suit to work. It was from the Professional line: teasingly tiny skirt to highlight her legs, adorable tight sweater beneath the contoured jacket. Doris suddenly realized she was born to wear tight sweaters. She had hesitated a little about wearing something so different to work, but quite a lot of the other office girls were sporting Hugh Mussobay styles so she figured what the heck. Samantha thought it was ace.

Doris had half expected a little static from the group supervisor, who was a bit of a stickler about office decorum. In truth the woman had seemed a little out of it the last little while. She did comment on Doris’s suit, but only to mention that the boots were a nice touch. In conversation, she admitted that she had been to see The Magic Watch herself “a couple of times” with her daughter, and a few more times by herself. They ended up wasting a half hour gabbing about their favorite scenes.

The incident with the section manager was another ploy to get her steamy under her silk. The manager was a confirmed leg man. When Doris tripped into his office in her rump-riding mini, her long legs shaped attractively by the high-heeled boots, he looked at her like he was seeing a vision. “Doris!” he said, staring. “What’s all this?”

Doris smiled. Her sexy lace stockings glinted as she stepped over to his desk. “This,” she said, “is a cup of coffee.”

After a moment the manager tore his eyes away from Doris’s thighs long enough to register the steaming cup in her hand. “You—you brought me coffee?”

He was so cute when he was flustered. “Of course,” Doris replied. “You do take sugar, no cream, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Thank you! But Doris, what’s all this, I mean—” His attention drifted down to her legs again.

“And these,” Doris went on, “are the weekly expense reports. All ready for your signature.” She placed a sheaf of typewritten pages on his desk.

The manager was still trying to catch up. He looked down at the top page. “But—but these aren’t due until tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d like to see them done a little early for once,” Doris said. While he was looking down she undid the single button on her suit jacket.

The manager looked at the stack of papers, then at the cup of coffee. When he looked up to say something, he noticed the full half moons of femininity displayed by Doris’s snug-fitting sweater. “Doris, I must say,” he said carefully. “Those are... quite impressive—the reports, I mean.” He licked his lips. “Your forms are... very well filled out. How did you get those done so smoothly?”

She adjusted her straining sweater with one hand. “Oh, a couple of us stayed late a couple of nights. It’s no big deal.” She was enjoying the manager’s attention more than she expected.

Doris felt a gentle pulse of warmth. She shifted one foot forward, trying to get him to notice her legs again. He did.

Doris had always resented the frequent overtime that her job required. That week, however, she had decided that it was time she showed a little dedication, especially if it helped out her section head. At the very least, she had to make up for all the time she had wasted shopping and going to the cinema. Besides, even if she worked a few hours in the evening, she could still catch her favourite film. To accommodate the growing crowds, the theatre was running The Magic Watch pretty well continuously from noon to midnight every day.

The film’s reputation as a hot date movie was spreading. The police had become concerned about the increasingly frequent reports of public indecency and lewd conduct in the area around the Riverwood Theatre. The movie was so sexy, a lot of couples seemed to have difficulty waiting till they got home. Rocking cars were a common sight in the parking garage behind the cinema.

To prove that that they were not responsible, the theatre management had generously invited anyone on the police force to come see the film for free. Doris had heard all this from an off-duty police officer, a young woman, while she was standing in line for the film a few nights earlier. At least, she said she was a cop; she sure wasn’t dressed like one.

The manager was looking pleased. “Well,” he said, “fresh coffee delivered to my desk. Reports done ahead of time. You know, I could get used to this.” His gaze lingered on her lacy nylons.

Another wave of warm giddiness washed over Doris. Impulsively, she sidled over and half-sat on the arm of the manager’s chair. She leaned close. “Be careful what you wish for, Kirk” she whispered. “You just might get it.” She dipped her head and kissed him quickly on the lips.

Before the man could react Doris was on her feet again, wiggling and jiggling to the door in her extra-high heels. She paused at the door to throw back her long hair in a deliberately feminine gesture. “Give me a shout if you want to go over the reports,” she said sweetly. “Or if there is anything else you need.” He was still staring as the door closed behind her.

Well, that was... fun, Doris decided, as she wandered back to her cubicle. She liked the idea of doing a little extra to please a man—the section head, rather. He was married, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be, well, friendly.

The way he was looking at her had gotten her unexpectedly worked up. Everybody was looking at her in this outfit. For a moment Doris considered slipping into a washroom for a little hand play, but she decided against it. What kind of a professional got herself off in the can at work?

Doris might have stuck to her resolve had it not been for the computer tech. Derek was a youngster, barely twenty, fresh out of technical school. He maintained the computer network and gazed longingly at all the women in the office. He had always had a soft spot for Doris.

She noticed him in a cubicle near the photocopier, on his knees under a desk, as he so often was, tinkering with the computer cables. Doris watched him try to work while being constantly distracted by the girls tripping over to use the copier. The nightclub look had become very popular in the office recently. Doris shuffled up to him quietly. “Hi Derek!” she said brightly.

If the reaction of the section head to her leggy new look had been gratifying, Derek’s response was doubly so. He looked up abruptly, his hands full of cables and wires. “Wha? Oh, oh... uh.. h-high, D-doris,” he managed. “Wow, you look... great!” His gaze was almost worshipful.

“Now, now, no flattery,” Doris teased. She stood with one leg forward, drawing attention to the little slit up the side of her skirt. “What are you up to? Getting your cable straightened out?”

“No, I’m just...uh, just..., like, trying to get the network up on... ow!” He stood up too fast and hit his head on the keyboard shelf.

“Oh, be careful, Derek,” Doris soothed. “Hey, would it help if I held your cable while you decide which slot to plug it in?” She shifted her weight just a little. Her white stockings contrasted with the shiny, dark boots and miniskirt, highlighting her perfect legs.

“No, uh, no, uhm, thanks, that’s all right, uh, Doris, I uh, j-just have to... to, fix this system...” He was almost babbling. Doris felt another wave of affection break over her, like a warm Pacific comber hitting a Hawaii beach. She glanced downward. Was there a lump in Derek’s trousers? The poor boy had been getting an eyeful all day. He must be terribly distracted. Maybe she should...

She decided to leave before she did something completely inappropriate. “Well, listen Derek, if you need a hand with anything, just whistle, OK?” She winked at him, then shuffled off to the photocopier. She knew Derek was watching her go.

A few minutes later Doris was sitting in her cubicle, trying to work. She kept turning the incident with Derek over in her mind. What had come over her? Showing off for the earnest young man had been intensely pleasurable. Just the hint of his erection had brought on a nearly overwhelming urge to help him, to please him, to serve him. Kiss it and make it better, she thought wildly.

Right here in the office? The idea was preposterous. Yet at the same time, she felt a pang of regret. The lad was clearly aroused; to leave a man suffering like that seemed so... wrong.

Quite by coincidence, the situation resolved itself. Some time later, Doris had occasion to visit the archives in the basement, trying to find an old file. If she could clear up this lingering accounting problem, the manager would be pleased.

The place was a labyrinth. Unexpectedly, she heard noises coming from a back room: panting sounds, and whispers. She stepped closer. She peered into a small storage room where computer parts were kept. Derek was there, and so was Samantha.

The young secretary was sporting a long, orange-red dress of some stretchy, plastic fabric that clung to her full curves like glossy varnish. The dress had a black zipper up the front that was unzipped a long way, from the bottom up. Her nylons were sleek and sheer; her tall platform sandals glistened like candy apples. Nice outfit, Doris thought approvingly.

But what was going on? Derek was sitting on an old table. He seemed very agitated. Samantha was standing half in front of him, whispering softly. After a moment Doris noticed the steady movement of Samantha’s left arm, and it came to her. Sam was giving him a hand job!

Doris stifled a gasp. Leaning on the doorjamb with both hands, she watched, fascinated. By the look on Derek’s face, his peak wasn’t far away. Samantha’s arm was flying. She was still whispering. Doris couldn’t quite make it out, but her voice was low and urgent, egging him on. Derek leaned back on his hands, throwing his head back. Almost there, Doris thought. Come on Sam, the boy needs to come, don’t stop now! Doris was getting hot herself. She fondled one breast through her sweater.

Derek cried out, and his body began to jerk spasmodically. Doris knew he was coming. Yes, Derek honey, go for it! The realization that Derek’s distress had been alleviated brought her a wave of relief.

But it was too much for Doris. Quickly, lest the recovering couple spot her there, she retreated from the door. The lost file could wait. Walking as fast as her high heels would let her, Doris made her way back to the main office and propelled herself into the restroom. She found an empty cubicle, locked the door, yanked down her moist underthings and used her fingers to take care of her own, urgent needs.

The session in the washroom allowed her to get through the rest of the day. She had stopped off to see the Magic Watch on the way home from work and her desire bounced right back. Seeing all those happy couples making out in line and in the theatre really got to her. There had been nothing for it but to hurry home and indulge herself for a long while on the livingroom sofa.

Doris dropped the boot onto the carpet and replaced it with two fingers. She had lost count of the number of times she had climaxed. They were all good. Yet the satisfaction was superficial, like eating junk food when she needed a hot meal. Something important was missing.

Should she call him? Doris had broken up angrily with Roger when she found out about his fling. He swore it was a mistake, a one-time thing, but Doris hadn’t listened. She tossed him out. There had been shouting.

She picked up the cordless telephone off the endtable and cradled it against her bare chest. What would Gwen say? Her friend had always been firm whenever Doris wavered about forgiving Roger. “Listen,” she had said over lunch one day, “guys that cheat are like dogs that chase cars: once they get a taste of it you can’t train them out of it.” She waved a hand dismissively and went back to her salad.

Doris wasn’t sure Gwen still held such firm opinions. The last time Doris dropped in on the bookshop where Gwen worked, her friend had been up a ladder, cheerfully loading books on a shelf and giving her boss free shots up her extremely short Hugh Mussobay skirt. She was wearing ridiculous platform sandals in day-glow colours that matched the rest of her outfit. The narrow soles looked high enough to make walking a challenge, much less climbing a ladder. Her boss was standing beneath her, handing her books. He was all smiles.

The incident reminded Doris of the library scene in The Magic Watch. The hero, caught in some act of juvenile voyeurism, used the watch on a severe, scowling (but fantastically well built) librarian. Beneath her drab clothing the librarian just happened to be wearing red silk underwear, as the ensuing sex scene demonstrated.

Doris contemplated the movie scene for a few moments, until she realized that her fingers had wandered off to enjoy themselves between her legs again. She drew a long sigh. This simply wouldn’t do. She picked up the telephone and punched a number.

“Hello, Roger? Uh, hi. It’s me. Yes, I know, it’s been a while... Yes. Yes, I remember Roger, but... well, we don’t have to be mortal enemies, do we? Good, I feel that way too. Listen, I was just thinking, maybe... maybe you’d like to get together sometime? No, please, I promise, we’ll just go out somewhere, nothing more. We don’t have to talk about... anything.”

Doris flicked an erect nipple experimentally. It was so pleasant to hear Roger’s voice again. “Really? OK, how about tomorrow?” Damn, that sounded way to eager. “Yes, I know it’s the middle of the week, but it would just be for a little while, right? I know a wonderful movie we can go see...”

Doris was just touching up her lipstick the next evening when the doorbell rang. She checked herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing her long hair down, sweeping over her shoulders the way Roger liked it. Just a little make-up to dramatize her eyes and lips. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

Now remember, this is no big deal, she told herself. It’s not even a date, really. They were just going to go see a movie, like friends. There would be no talk about... that. Then why had she gone shopping for a new Hugh Mussobay outfit just for this non-date? And why had she spent so long fussing with her hair and make-up? Well, that didn’t mean anything. She wanted to look her best.

When she was certain everything was perfect, Doris approached the front door. She enjoyed the way her high platform heels slowed her walk and exaggerated the flex of her hips. She put her eye to the peephole. Roger was standing in the corridor, handsome and curly-haired as ever, with a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

Doris took another deep breath, steadying herself. She opened the door. “Hi Roger,” she said softly.

“Hi Doris,” Roger replied, “It’s good to... to see...” He left the sentence hanging. Maybe he hadn’t expected to see his curvy ex-girlfriend dressed like this. Her new Hugh Mussobay dress was irridescent red, stretchy-tight and daringly short, making the most of her shapely young legs. She wore sleek hose and knee-high stretch boots in glossy black.

Roger was staring. “Uh, excuse me, miss,” he said at last. “I’m looking for Doris. She used to live here—b-before the goddess moved in.”

Doris felt herself getting warm and tingly all over. She took a step toward him, managing her six-inch platform heels with ease. “I’m glad to see you too,” she said. Her nylons had little clusters of flowers woven into the fabric, right where her thighs finally disappeared beneath the hem of the mini-dress. Her earlier resolution forgotten, she melted into Roger’s arms and kissed him, long, slow and hungry.

“Did you miss me?” she whispered, licking his ear.

Doris took Roger’s arm for balance as they made their way home down the darkened street. In these boots it was extra nice to have a man to lean on. “So, what did you think?” she asked.

Roger studied her curiously. She watched his brown eyes gleam in the gloaming. “It was... entertaining; I’ll say that. A harmless light comedy.” He was choosing his words carefully. “But Doris, uhm, this isn’t exactly the kind of flick I would have expected you to choose.”

“What’s the matter,” she teased, drawing his arm around her. “Girls can’t enjoy sexy films?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just... well, your taste always ran to more... sophisticated films.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. In her boots she was as tall as he was. She smiled contentedly. “Oh Roger, you think too much.”

The evening had held a number of surprises for Roger, Doris knew, not least of which was the long wait in line to get to see the film. He hadn’t expected the cinema to be packed full on a Wednesday night, nor to see so many provocatively dressed women in attendance. Doris wondered if the barely concealed sexual shenanigans going on in the line-up and in the auditorium had turned Roger on. They certainly had her steamed up.

Maybe it was just as well that she left Roger with the flirty, micro-skirted usherette while she bought the popcorn. There was a tiny storage room off to one side of the concession stand, and the door was open a crack. Doris caught sight of movement behind the door. She glimpsed a Hugh Mussobay cheerleader shoe, the kind all the girls in the concession stand wore, and a man’s leg in dark pants. The pants had a stripe down one side, like the usher’s uniforms. The leg bearing the cheerleader shoe wrapped itself around the pantleg, which seemed to be slipping downward. There were shuffling noises, and the legs began to move back and forth. “Faster! Please!” whispered a young, female voice.

Doris chuckled. Kids were so impulsive. She got her popcorn and soft drink and went to find Roger. She got back just in time. A hot redhead in a tiger-striped bodysuit was coming on to him like a brush fire. The woman was practically in his lap already. Doris sat down on his other side, scowling at the redhead. She liked the bodysuit though.

Doris enjoyed the feel of Roger beside her as they ambled back to her place. She asked Roger to accompany her up to her flat. He was still hesitant, unsure what to make of her new attitude.

They reached her door. Doris unlocked the door with her key and stepped inside. Roger stood on the threshold, looking uncertain. He leaned forward, tentatively, for a good-night kiss.

Their lips met. Instantly Doris boiled over. She flung her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, while the kiss became long, hot and insistent. Roger stumbled forward. Doris almost jumped on him, so great was her need. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, while slamming the door shut with one hand.

He started to say something but she shushed him with her lips. She began tearing his clothes off, starting with the shirt, while her lips and tongue explored his mouth, his face, his chin. She was breathing hard. He had his arms around her. Doris pushed his hands downward, onto her tightly covered rump. She groaned in excitement when he got the hint and slipped one hand under the hem of her foreshortened dress.

She leaned back long enough to attack his belt buckle. Still on one leg, she lost her balance, pulling Roger with her so they half-fell onto the carpet, just as Roger’s pants crumpled around his legs. They were both panting now, fumbling with undergarments. His cock came free, steel hard and ready for action, seeming even bigger than Doris remembered it. “Hurry,” she gasped.

She spread her legs wide. Roger’s hand was busy beneath her dress, preparing to overcome the obstacles of panties and pantyhose. But the former were already absent, and the latter had a cleverly designed slit in the front panel, anticipating the activity that the rest of her outfit so cheerfully encouraged. “Oh man, that is sexy,” Roger breathed, raising himself on both arms. He lowered his hips slowly, letting Doris guide him into her with both hands.

She was slickly wet, offering no resistance. “Yessss, Roger,” she sighed as his cock slid home. Then, as he began to piston up and down into her tightly receptive pussy, she let loose an avalanche of affirmatives, following faster and faster as her peak approached: “Yes Roger, yes, yes, yes my darling, yes, harder, yes, yes, oh god yes, like that, yesss, yesssss oh yes yes Yes!”

The pace of their lovemaking became frantic. Doris thrust her hips upward to meet Roger’s downward strokes. She raised both boot-clad legs and wrapped them around his back, holding him closer. Her flower-gilt nylons glinted sleekly. Then, with one final, aching cry of “Yessssss!” she came explosively. In the midst of her orgasm she heard Roger grunt, then felt his own release pulsing deep inside her.

When the shuddering spasms of their mutual climaxes finally subsided, they lay on the deep carpet for a long while, catching their breath. Doris smiled with the realization that she hadn’t even gotten undressed. Raising herself on one elbow, she kissed her ex-boyfriend on the cheek. “You may as well stay the night,” she whispered.

A few days later, Doris was again basking in the afterglow of sex as she dawdled on the street, in no particular hurry to get home. Her bootheels made a musical clopping sound on the pavement. It was well after five in the afternoon; Doris had been kept late again by the section manager, who wanted to “review some reports”. As usual, that meant a happy half-hour on her back on top of his desk with her heels in the air.

She was just passing the Riverwood Theatre. The queue for the next showing of The Magic Watch extended the full length of the block and disappeared around the corner. Some of those people would have to wait for the eight o’clock show.

Thoughtfully, the cinema had put out plastic chairs along the sidewalk so people could sit down. Most of the chairs were occupied by men of various ages, with their dates in their laps. As usual, the line-up was a love party. There seemed to be a unanimous agreement among the happy couples that necking and petting was the best way to pass the time.

Naturally, the women in line were dressed to look their best. Many were decked out in strutty, Hugh Mussobay outfits inspired by the characters in the film. Doris was wearing one herself, a shiny blue, PVC shorts-and-top outfit that flattered her captivating curves and bared her navel. The top had big white laces drawn tight across the bosom, thrusting her big breasts up and out, and matching the laces on her calf-high, white, platform boots.

She wore a little jacket over it at work. Otherwise Derek wouldn’t get any work done at all. As it was, the boy needed a good hand or mouth job at least once a day to keep him happy and productive. Doris and Samantha took turns.

Doris had picked up her outfit at the new Hugh Mussobay megastore that had just opened in a refitted warehouse. She was glad of it. The shops were more intimate, but they tended to be crowded, especially after school hours. Doris remembered hearing something on the morning news about discipline problems at the local high schools, where more and more of the senior girls were trading in their school uniforms for Schoolgirl fashions from Hugh Mussobay. The giggly woman reading the news had a hard time taking it seriously.

There were so many people waiting in line, Doris decided to cross to the far sidewalk. She noticed a young fellow looking her over while his date nibbled on his neck. She winked at him. Her shiny nylons glinted in the late afternoon light as she crossed the street.

Doris was not too surprised to see a police car parked in a little cul-de-sac off the street where the Riverwood Theatre stood. A single officer was sitting there, probably keeping a tactful eye on the crowds. He was certainly keeping an eye on Doris as she sauntered by, her curves and C-cups so fetchingly displayed. He was smiling. Doris liked that. Pleasing men felt so satisfying.

The driver’s side door of the police cruiser was open slightly. Doris almost thought she caught a glimpse of movement inside the car. Curious, she found an excuse to wander down the side street a bit, keeping to the shadows of a building. When she could see inside the car, she caught her breath.

The officer was not alone. Another cop, presumably his partner, was kneeling on the seat beside him. She was a compact brunette, hair cut short to suit regulations. Above the waist she wore the standard police uniform, complete with equipment belt and hat. Below the waist she wore nothing but black kneeboots and fancy lace stockings. She was leaning over her partner’s lap, her mouth bobbing up and down on his dick in a slow, lazy way, like she was happy just to pass the time, and in no hurry to make her partner come.

Doris leaned back against the building, her eyes round in surprise. What had the officer done with her pants? Doris could just make out a garter strap and a flash of high-cut, lace panties beneath the edge of her shirt. She recognized the boots-and-hose outfit from the policewoman scene in the Magic Watch. The male officer was leaning back in his seat, toying with his partner’s hair while he enjoyed the long, slow, blow job.

Doris found her pulse quickening. This was even sexier than the movie. She toyed with the laces on her tight half-top, letting her fingers linger on her breasts. She considered trying to sneak closer to catch a glimpse of the cop’s cock, but she didn’t want to disturb them. Finally, with an effort, she turned away. She started walking home a little faster.

Across the street, a leggy usherette from the cinema was selling soft drinks and handing out Hugh Mussobay catalogs to the people waiting in line. Another was selling movie posters.

The posters were very popular. Many women where Doris worked had them hanging above their desks, despite the official policy of no personal decorations in the office. Of course, it was the group supervisor who usually enforced that rule, but the woman had two or three posters in her own office. Doris had heard a rumour that the group-soup was sleeping with one of her daughter’s boyfriends. If true, that would explain both her cheerful disposition and her new, young-look wardrobe.

Doris stopped again to admire the giant posters that had been plastered across the entire glass face of the cinema. They all showed scenes from The Magic Watch, done in bright colours, with the geeky hero swinging his watch in front of a host of happily hypnotized hotties. The oddly compelling, black-on-white spiral swirled in the background.

Doris seriously considered joining the queue to see The Magic Watch. It had been almost three days since she had seen it last. Regretfully, she decided against it. She would have to hold out until her date with Roger on the weekend. She still had office work to do that evening, not to mention some sewing for the office manager. But by now she was so worked up that she would need at least twenty minutes with her vibrator before she could do anything. She almost ran the rest of the way home.

“Well Sylvia, I don’t know about your review, but I’d certainly give your new look four stars,” the man on the television said.

Sylvia Swift tugged down her tiny miniskirt and wiggled her bum enticingly. “I don’t know about that,” she replied. “It’s not even feature-length. More like a short subject!” She laughed gaily.

Doris laughed with her. The television was on as usual in Doris’s apartment, and she was half-listening to Sylvia Swift banter and flirt with her leering colleagues on the morning show while she went about getting ready for work. Some while ago the blonde entertainment reviewer had abandoned her black suits in favour of more feminine styles, and as her hemlines steadily rose, so did the show’s ratings. Viewers enjoyed seeing her try to sit on the low couches the show used without revealing everything.

Doris put the dishes in the sink. She closed her briefcase and made one more check before heading out the door. Today she was dressed simply, in an orange sweater and black mini, tan nylons and high black boots. The tight sweater lovingly outlined the curves of her full chest, while the ultra-brief skirt put her entire legs on parade, and allowed her to flash her little orange panties whenever she bent over.

The boots were mostly for Roger’s benefit. There was little chance that he would get up to see her off; the poor boy had been all tuckered out by the time Doris finally let him go to sleep the previous night. Still, Roger liked boots, so Doris made a point of wearing them around the house. She had let him sleep, but left his breakfast on the bedside table.

“OK, OK, so The Magic Watch isn’t exactly deep,” a spacy Sylvia Swift said on the television. One of her co-anchors was ribbing her about changing her review. “But it is lots of good old-fashioned fun. What’s wrong with that? We have enough serious films. There is room in the cinematic firmament for some good fun. After reconsideration, I’m giving The Magic Watch four stars!” She crossed her knees, a simple act that undoubtedly woke viewers up all over the city. Today her stockings had a line of red roses up each side.

Doris flicked a lock of hair into place and made sure she had everything she needed. She picked up her briefcase and some dry cleaning she had taken in for the section manager. He wasn’t that fond of boots, so Doris always changed into something more to his liking when she got to the office. She examined her make-up critically in a hall mirror.

“And you say The Magic Watch is set for national release soon, Sylvia?” someone on the television said.

“Yes, that’s right, honey. Starting next week, The Magic Watch will be opening at theatres across the country. So everyone can finally get a chance to experience this wonderful, wonderful film.” Doris reached over to switch off the television. “Look for it, everybody,” Sylvia Swift beamed. “Coming soon, to a theatre near you!”

MOVIE MANIA PART 1 OF 2 by Downing Street

“This film is more than juvenile; it’s juvenile delinquent.”

Doris chuckled to herself as she went about making breakfast. The portable television on the buffet was tuned to the local morning show. Sylvia Swift, the show’s very blonde, very intense entertainment reporter, was presenting one of her scathing reviews of a movie she didn’t like. She found a lot to dislike about this movie, a low-budget, indie film called “The Magic Watch.”

Doris crunched her cereal while Sylvia Swift expertly trashed the film. Evidently it was intended as a sexy comedy. The plot involved a young man who inherits a magic pocketwatch. He uses it to hypnotize and seduce a succession of beautiful women. Doris could understand how Ms Swift, the champion of deep, artful cinema, would not be impressed by that plotline.

“This so-called comedy is the first big-screen release from an outfit called Mesmer Films, whose specialty is video soft porn featuring a hypnotism theme,” the reviewer concluded. “Let’s hope it’s also the last. The director, a complete unknown by the name of Hugh Mussobay, is also credited as the producer and the script writer. That’s at least two jobs more than he can handle...”

Doris finished her coffee and carried the dishes to the sink. She glanced at her watch: time to get to work.

As she reached over to turn off the television, the show’s regular hosts were bantering with Sylvia Swift. “Thanks, Sylvia, for warning me about that one,” said the co-host, a blandly handsome man with a giant smile. “And you say The Magic Watch is playing only at the Riverwood Theatre?”

“Unfortunately, yes, Bill,” the attractive blonde replied. She was wearing an elegant black suit. “At least until the owners wake up and decide to screen a motion picture truly worth paying money to see. This film is an insult to that fine old movie house.”

Doris turned off the set. She knew the Riverwood Theatre well. She walked by it every day on her way to the train. She picked up her briefcase and headed out the door.

Doris was reading the Times in her favourite coffee-shop one evening when her friend Gwen and her boyfriend dropped by. Gwen was a pretty girl, with curly dark hair and big, expressive eyes. She drew up a chair beside her boyfriend. She and Doug were just passing by on their way to the theatre, she explained.

“What’s the flick?”

Doug said, “It’s called ‘The Magic Watch’. It’s playing at the Riverwood. Have you seen it?”

Doris set down her cup. “No, I haven’t, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. Guys, I think you may be in for a major disappointment. I heard Sylvia Swift’s review of that film. She made it sound pretty dreadful.”

“Oh no, it’s a hoot!” Gwen cried. “An absolute riot!” She had one arm around Doug’s neck.

“You’ve already seen it?”

“Twice! We liked it so much the first time we decided to go back a couple of days later. It grows on you, you know? We’re going to go see it again tonight.”

Doris was frankly surprised. The same film three times in a week? Sylvia Swift, whose opinion Doris trusted, said this film was childish, sexist tripe. Both Gwen and Doug insisted that it was simply great entertainment. “Besides,” Gwen added, grinning, “it’s fun to make out in the back of the theatre.” She turned to give Doug a long, intense kiss. So long, in fact, that Doris started to look around to see if anyone was watching.

“Hey you two,” she interrupted, “Maybe you should get a room.”

“Sorry,” Doug said, pushing his girlfriend away for a moment.

Gwen snapped her fingers. “Say, I have an idea. Why don’t you come with us?”

“Oh, no, no thanks,” Doris said quickly. “You two run along. I just want to read the paper and spend some time at home.” She didn’t want to be a third wheel when Doug and Gwen were obviously in such a physical mood. Gwen hadn’t let go of her boyfriend since they walked in.

Gwen slid her chair over closer to Doug’s. “Doris,” she said, suddenly serious, “you need to get out sometime. It would do you good. Please don’t tell me you’re still mooning over Roger.” While she spoke she lifted one leg and casually hooked it over Doug’s right knee. She was dressed in a blue sweater with stripes across the chest, coupled with a short navy skirt and matching hose.

“I’m not mooning,” Doris countered, a little defensively. “Especially over Roger. I am totally over him. But you two are on a date. I’d just be in the way. Besides, it’s the middle of a heavy week for me.”

Privately, Doris was wondering about Gwen. The way she had her legs spread was hardly ladylike, especially given the miniskirt she was wearing. Doris wondered briefly if she had already been drinking, something other than coffee. While Doris was speaking, Doug dropped one hand to Gwen’s thigh and began to stroke up and down in a casually possessive way.

It took some effort to talk them out of bringing Doris along. “OK, but you gotta promise me you’ll see the Magic Watch sometime,” Gwen conceded. While they were discussing it, Doris watched Doug’s hand slide up under the high hem of Gwen’s skirt.

Doris said something noncommittal. Doug looked at his watch. “Listen, baby, we had better get going. The film starts in fifteen minutes.”

Gwen looked momentarily disappointed as Doug took his hand away, but not at all concerned about being addressed as “baby.” She got to her feet and smoothed down her short skirt. They said good night and headed out.

Doris watched them go, wondering. Gwen was wearing black slip-ons with stylish block heels. Doris couldn’t remember Gwen ever wearing heels without complaining about them. She was walking half in front of Doug, keeping her body close to his. Doug was sort of steering her along with one hand on her bum. They stopped outside the coffee shop to share a kiss and an embrace which stopped about two shades shy of public indecency.

The sun was just setting the next evening when Doris found herself walking past the Riverwood Theatre. It had been a long day. She glanced at the gaudy posters in the window. The title of the film was sprawled in big letters across an image of a harmless-looking man swinging a big watch on a chain, with images of wide-eyed women all around. The background of the poster was a shiny black and white spiral, made to look like it was moving by some printer’s trick. “Held Over” said the banners across the bottom.

Doris stopped to look at the posters for a moment, briefcase in hand. She was amused. She had fully expected the film to close in a few days, given the reviews it had been getting. A couple of her friends at the office had been to see The Magic Watch. They both insisted it was great fun.

Doris looked up at the marquee. The early showing would begin soon. She studied the garish poster, with it’s oddly attractive spiral. She could use a little mindless relaxation. She shrugged and joined the trickle of people entering the theatre.

Well, that wasn’t all that bad, Doris decided, stepping out of the theatre a few hours later. Quite entertaining really. She swung her briefcase as she walked the few blocks to her townhouse.

The Magic Watch was neither high budget nor high concept, but it was funny and fun. The plot was simple. There were many detailed scenes of the lead character swinging his grandfather’s pocketwatch back and forth, back and forth, while chanting stereotypical hypnotic things to some impossibly gorgeous bimbo. The scenes always ended in hot sex.

The film was so dumb that Doris was surprised that she enjoyed it. It did get dull in places. When she looked around the half-filled theatre, Doris noticed other people staring at the screen blankly, evidently bored as well.

The auditorium was half full, not a bad crowd for a B movie on a weeknight. The theatre employees had slipped into the back to watch the film too. Even the kids from the concession stand and the girl that sold tickets at the door were there. Doris was puzzled by that. Wouldn’t they have seen the film about a dozen times by now? The girls were wearing new uniforms that featured rather brief A-line skirts of the same style that Gwen had been wearing the other night. They seemed to be having great fun showing off and flirting with all the guys.

Doris took her time strolling home, reviewing some of the better scenes from the movie in her mind. The scene where the young man tried to hypnotize his girlfriend and accidentally hypnotized her mother too was pretty good, even if the “mother” looked barely 20. The sex scene that followed was a little gratuitous. But very hot.

Doris arrived home. She kicked off her shoes and threw her briefcase on the sofa. It was too late now to look at those files, and she was hardly in the mood after that silly movie. At least now she could make conversation with Gwen next time she saw her.

A few days later, Doris stood on the sidewalk wondering which was more foolish: that she was going to see The Magic Watch again, or that she was willing to stand in line to see it again. For such a dumb little flick, it was surprisingly hard to forget. All week long she had found herself remembering one scene or another. The film kept drifting back to her at work, at home, even when she lay in bed. The memories always made her smile.

The movie would have been easier to dismiss if friends and office mates hadn’t kept talking about it. It seemed that half the office had been to see The Magic Watch, many of them twice. Finally Doris couldn’t stand the distraction any more. She had to go back and see what all the fuss was about.

It was Tuesday, just under a week since Doris had seen the film the first time. She was a trifle surprised to see a short queue waiting for the late showing, on what was traditionally the slowest day of the week. The line was mostly young couples; perhaps the word was out that this was a good date movie. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. The couple in front of Doris were arm in arm, passing the time whispering to each other and trading kisses. It was a little embarrassing.

Eventually the early show ended. A stream of people tumbled out the doors of the cinema, laughing and talking. Doris watched a handsome couple stroll away. The girl was wearing a pair of expensive flared jeans, very tight around the waist. She was leaning on her date while he gently stroked one finger up and down the crack of her ass. Doris sighed. It had been six months since she had received that kind of attention from a man. She thought of Roger and her mood hardened.

There was another wait inside at the concession stand. This was definitely a popcorn movie. There were brochures on display in the lobby for a new line of clothing, inspired by the film. Predictably, the brand was called “Hugh Mussobay” as if the film director was also a designer. Doris shook her head. Talk about cross-marketing.

She picked up one of the brochures and flipped through it. The clothing was mostly the kind of sexy, brassy things that all the women in the movie seemed to wear. Doris couldn’t imagine herself in that kind of stuff. It looked too much like club clothes. She stuffed the brochure in her purse.

At the concession stand Doris was served by a happy blonde in a skimpy miniskirt who got her order wrong, twice. The girl just giggled indifferently. When Doris finally got her large popcorn and soft drink she discovered the ditz had given her the wrong change. She would have sorted out the error, but the popcorn girl had already turned her attention to the next person in line, a young man whom she was treating like a visiting dignitary. Doris carried her snacks into the darkened theatre.

I really shouldn’t be doing this, Doris scolded herself, a few days later. Sneaking out of work in the middle of the afternoon to see a second-rate movie was not exactly a career-building move. She felt like a schoolgirl cutting classes. But the matinee was the only time she could see The Magic Watch without waiting in line.

Besides, she needed a break. She hadn’t been focusing well on her work. She was too distracted this week. Scenes from the flick kept coming back to her, in all their cheesy glory. Again and again she had found herself sitting at her desk, blankly replaying the film in her mind and smiling softly. “Watch the watch,” the hero kept repeating to one busty babe after another, as if you could really hypnotize someone that way. Doris couldn’t help grinning every time she thought of it.

Doris wasn’t the only one who was loosing time because of that silly movie. Many of her friends at the office had seen it, often on Doris’s recommendation. They were always dropping by to laugh about it and compare notes. Their supervisor probably should have been discouraging such time wasting during work hours, but her daughter had dragged her to see The Magic Watch a couple of times too; she was content to let the latest fad play itself out.

The theatre staff had changed their uniforms again. All the girls were dressed like characters from the movie. The ticket-seller was The Housewife, the girls at the concession stand were all dressed as The Cheerleader, and the ushers were variations on The Office Worker. They looked great, though Doris doubted many women went to work in skirts that short.

She couldn’t be sure though. The day before, one of the bolder secretaries at Doris’s office had come to work in a grey-pinstripe suit with a tight skirt that barely extended past the bottom of the jacket. It had caused a lot of comment around the office. Not to mention a lot of staring male co-workers. Samantha said she got the outfit at one of the boutiques carrying Hugh Mussobay clothing. She decided to wear it to work just once—it made her feel delightfully wicked.

The young woman who took Doris’s ticket (dressed as The Girlfriend) explained that the outfits were a promotion for the film. Doris reflected that this film hardly needed promoting. The girl was laughing as she spoke, while half-heartedly dodging a young usher who was trying to grope her behind.

The Magic Watch was still enjoyable, even if by this time Doris knew the plot by heart. She anticipated her favourite scenes. She marvelled at how the women went blissfully blank-faced whenever the hero swung that stupid watch in front of them. She tried practicing that look but she couldn’t stop giggling.

There was a lot of making out going on in the theatre. One couple across from her was being quite shameless. Doris wondered why the ushers didn’t stop it. She looked to the back of the hall, where the theatre staff were watching the film. A male usher was standing by the doors, with one of the micro-skirted usherettes in his arms. She was kissing him about the face and neck while they half-watched the movie, slowly rubbing one leg against his. Doris turned back around, grinning. Kids.

Unfortunately, her enjoyment of the film was being increasingly eroded by the demands of her bladder. Too much coffee that morning, she supposed. She waited until after the scene with the policewoman, one of her favorites. It began with the cop pulling the hero over for speeding, but ended with him pumping her from behind after she voluntarily handcuffed herself to the door handle of her cruiser. Doris had difficulty believing that female police officers wore knee-boots and lace stockings beneath their uniforms.

She slipped out to the washroom and took care of business. She was just getting up to leave when sounds of commotion from the next cubicle caught her ear. She heard breathy whispers, gasps and shuffling noises. Intrigued, she glanced down, under the partition. A high-heeled shoe dangled in the air above a pair of men’s loafers, half covered by shorts and crumpled pants.

Doris drew in her breath. There were two people next door, obviously one of them a man. And they were doing it! The woman must have been kneeling on the toilet or something. Doris could hear her panting breath; she could see his legs flex forward and back. The old hardwood floor began to creak with a steady, building rhythm.

Doris hesitated, unsure what to do. The couple next door were clearly not aware she was there. Overcome by curiosity, she listened for a moment. “Hurry Jackie, hurry!” the woman whispered. The creaking began to go faster.

Doris bit her lip. This was more exciting than she could have imagined. She felt her own pulse accelerate. Slowly she sat back down on the toilet seat. Her skirt and underwear were already pulled down. It was so easy just to slip one hand down, between her legs, into her already moistening pussy. It felt marvellous.

The action next door was building steadily faster. There was an unexpected bang on the partition when they changed position. Doris jumped, but her fingers never stopped. “Fuck me, Jackie!” the woman cried, louder this time. Yesssss, fuck her Jackie, Doris agreed, fuck the living daylights out of her. She slid another finger inside herself. She leaned back against the wall and used her other hand to massage her breasts through her blouse. Oh lord that felt good. Fuck her Jackie!

The action next door became frantic. Doris could hear both parties huffing and groaning. The woman moved again, bumping the partition with one leg. Something fell to the floor.

Doris looked down, still stroking herself eagerly, to see a high-heeled pump lying on the floor. It had bounced across into her cubicle. The lovers next door were oblivious.

She reached down and picked up the shoe. It was brand new, and very stylish, in dark blue with white trim, bearing a broad, curved heel about four inches high. The soles had white platforms, no more than an inch. Doris turned it over in her hand. I could almost wear that to work, she decided.

She noticed the label, written in flowing script on the inside sole: Hugh Mussobay. The woman next door squealed. Doris felt the heat inside her grow even stronger. Without thinking about what she was doing, she brushed the heel clean on her skirt and then inserted it, slowly and sensuously, into her wet snatch.

It was perfect. She began to stroke with the shoe, in and out, in and out, brushing delicately against her clitoris on each stroke, gasping and bucking and stroking in synchrony with the wildly thrashing couple next door. It was as if the shoe was fucking her. Hugh Mussobay was fucking her. The movie was fucking her.

There were noises next door, an especially loud, gutteral, groan from the man, then the woman’s voice screamed, “Yes Jackie, yes, yes YES YES YES!” as she thumped on the wall, coming like a volcanic eruption. Doris knew she was coming because she was coming too, and hard. She barely managed to stifle her own scream as she doubled over on the toilet seat, awash in spasms of delight.

As she drifted down from her climax, Doris leaned back against the wall again, breathing hard. She looked at the shoe in her hand. Still groggy, she lifted it to her mouth and carefully sucked off her cream. Then she carefully replaced it beneath the partition.

The couple next door was hurriedly getting dressed. A delicate hand appeared and snatched the fallen shoe. There was more whispering, then the sound of the door to the cubicle creaking open and footsteps receding. Doris waited a few minutes so she wouldn’t be right behind them. She returned to the film just in time to catch the housewife scene.

Emerging from the theatre into the late afternoon sunshine, Doris found herself casting glances at other women’s feet, trying to find the lovers in the washroom. Quite a number of patrons were wearing a similar style of shoe so she couldn’t be sure. They seemed to come in a variety of colours. Doris thought they looked very attractive.

She briefly considered stopping off at a Hugh Mussobay boutique on her way back to work. Just to see what they had, of course. She took out the brochure that was still in her purse and studied it for a moment. The clothes were classy, but still too hot for daywear, Samantha’s new style notwithstanding.

Doris looked at her watch. Enough foolishness for one day: it was high time she got back to the office. She put the brochure back in her purse.

The nearest Hugh Mussobay boutique turned out to be just a few blocks away, tucked away in a corner of a local mall. It was both surprisingly large and surprisingly crowded for the middle of a workday. The decor was glamorous and glitzy.

“Hi! I’m Mandy!” a bright voice said. “Can I help you find something?” The girl was all dazzling smile and eagerness. She was dressed in a bouncy, bright red outfit consisting of a tight, sleeveless top, matching pleated mini and candystriped platform running shoes.

Doris put down the velvety stetch-pants she had been fingering. She smiled nervously. “No, no, that’s all right. I’m just browsing.”

“No problem,” said Mandy. Her smile had not dimmed. “Browse all you like. Take a look around the store, we have lots of great stuff!”

“Thank you, uh, I’ll just—”

“There are basically four style lines,” Mandy went on. “We call them the Homemaker, the Professional, the Debutante and the Schoolgirl. They’re sorta aimed at different age groups. It’s all wonderful things, though! Look, I’m wearing the Schoolgirl!” She flung out her arms happily and pirouetted a couple of times, dancing on the toes of her garish shoes. The little skirt flew up around her sleek young hips. Doris noted that her thong panties were also red—and rather skimpy for such a short-short skirt.

Doris recognized the outfit as a variant on the Cheerleaders in the Magic Watch. “Oh, you’ve seen it?” Mandy asked, interrupting her little dance. “Isn’t that just the coolest movie!”

“Uh, yes, actually, I’ve been to see it... a couple of times,” Doris confessed. “It’s so much fun, I keep going back.”

“Oh, and sooo sexy, too,” Mandy agreed, her voice softening. “I’ve been to see it, like, maybe a dozen times.” She giggled like a child with a secret. “You know what? We get free passes to the flick just for working here! I just love it!”

They spent a few minutes discussing the movie and talking about their favourite scenes, until Mandy was called away by another customer. “Go ahead and browse,” the girl said, turning to leave. “Take all the time you want.” She looked at Doris critically. “You look like The Professional to me, but you could try The Debutante too.”

Doris passed a little time just browsing. The boutique sold an extensive line of fashion clothing. The Hugh Mussobay signature was quietly sown into the label of each item. Oddly, there were no pictures about of Hugh Mussobay himself, unlike the majority of self-promoting clothing designers.

The Professional line was a sexed-up version of good working clothes. Doris found herself examining different items in terms of their effect on the men she knew. How would the section manager react, the guy who was always checking out her legs, if she showed up at work in one of these skirts? Or Derek, the young computer technician who had a bit of a crush on her—wouldn’t he love it if she came to work wearing this?

Thinking about it made Doris feel pleasantly warm. She thought about her pushy landlord, or the aggressive vice-president who seemed to love ordering everybody around. Wouldn’t they notice her wearing one of these spandex confections! Her thermostat slid from warm to hot. She checked to see if any of the dressing rooms were vacant.

After just browsing the skirts and dresses for a while, Doris moved on to just browsing the accessories and lingerie. She did try a few things on, just for fun. The changing rooms were decorated with publicity posters from the movie. Invariably, they showed one or more big-chested beauties smiling vapidly as the hero swung the pocketwatch in front of them.

Thinking about the movie kept Doris in a cheerful mood. She was secretly proud that despite Mandy’s assessment she could wear The Debutante line very well, and even looked hot in some Schoolgirl outfits.

When her feet got tired from just browsing the clothing, Doris hauled all her packages over to the shoe section and just browsed there for a while. It was easier to indulge one of the comfortable chairs and let a bubbly Mandy look-alike show her the various styles. None of the footwear was what one would call sensible. Still, some of the shoes and boots looked terrifically good on her feet. With all the just browsing, Doris never did make it back to the office that afternoon.

THE TITTY TWINS - A Short Series by Dynamoob