***
It was mid-morning on Saturday before Rachel was able to sit down with a custard cream and pick her iPad up.
She’d been telling herself all morning that she was going to logon and cancel her account to that stupid website, and she called up the page with every intention of doing so. A reminder flashed up to set her dares and she paused for a second, thinking what they would be. She didn’t want endless cock pics, but what else would she ask for? She closed the pop-up and looked at her nine boxes again, purely for research about the expected level of requests.
Show me your tits, show me your pussy, tits and pussy, oh, a tits and arse request, and back to tits and pussy. The same requests to see the same body parts made over and over. Come on, guys, you can do better than this.
‘Do something in public that no-one else can see which turns you on but scares you.’ Oh. OH! Wow, finally something different. She clicked on the username for ‘PeepingTom’.
Private dare – PeepingTom dares you to: Show me what you use to masturbate with. Accept?
Public dare – PeepingTom dares you to: Do something in public that no-one else can see which turns you on but scares you. Accept?
Personal dare – PeepingTom dares you to: Show me what you think is your worst feature, the one you hide from everyone…and I’ll tell you what I love about it. Accept?
Oh, that was easy for the private dare, Rachel knew straight away she’d take a picture of her rose and her fingers. Personal dare, well, that’d be my single roll of belly fat that never seems to go, even when I bother to diet, and the stretch marks from being pregnant with Robbie. Public dare…? Her last fantasy popped into her mind, heels and fishnet stockings were not her usual attire by any means, being stuck in mum-mode for too long. She wasn’t about to go walking around town with nothing else on, but if she wore her long black skirt, no-one would know, and if she sat on the bus by the window and carefully positioned herself with crossed legs, she could pull the skirt up, get a snap of the garter clips. Job’s a good ‘un. Sorted. Or was that too boring? What would other girls be doing? A damn sight more than her, probably. And they’d be younger, and prettier. And thinner. And…stop!
She could maybe go out with no knickers on, but that was it. Nothing more daring than that. It’d have to be enough. And if he didn’t think it was enough, old Mr PeepingTom, then he was a sex-obsessed seedy twat with no idea of how to keep a woman if he was lucky enough to get one. She sat up straight and nodded. Amazon proved to be her friend, just sneaking into the same day delivery availability for fishnets, a garter belt, and black patent high-heels. She decided to dye her hair with the pack she’d had on the side for three weeks — she’d do it this afternoon and get those grey hairs covered up, not that she was going to show her face in any of her photos but a frisson of excitement invigorating her.
She shook her head at herself with a grin, she’d gone from planning to cancel her account, to maybe wearing fishnets, to considering going out with no underwear on, all in the space of 20 minutes or so.
She clicked on ‘accept’ for PeepingTom’s private dare, but the pop-up message reminded her she needed to submit her dares first. Hmmm. She didn’t want the focus of all of them to be overtly sexual. Yes, this was a dating site, but she wanted more than a random hook-up. Whoever she met with would need to have more about him than whatever he had between his legs and be able to sustain a conversation in a bar or restaurant at least.
She opened the notes app and worked her way through the options, like she’d tackle a problem at work, until she had them drafted and quickly typed them into the website.
Private dare — you dare your matches to: Describe your favourite fantasy.
Public dare – you dare your matches to: Do a random act of kindness (non-sexual).
Personal dare – you dare your matches to: Tell me which fairytale character you are most like and why.
She looked at them. Were they okay? The private dare would reveal…well, she wasn’t quite sure what, but she’d like to read something different, not just a porn replay of a young, skinny, vacant-looking girl getting railed in the arse by an oiled-up, six-packed, mean-looking man telling her what a slut she was. No thanks. The public dare would weed out those just looking for sex because they probably wouldn’t bother going to that extent, and the personal dare, well, if they didn’t have a sense of humour then this wasn’t going anywhere. She had a feeling her and PeepingTom might be the oddities in a sea of tit, pussy, arse and cock requests.
She submitted her dares and the screen took her to her account page. She’d picked a site-generated username when she’d joined, but if she was going to do this, she wanted to do it properly. An idea flashed into her mind, and she updated her name to LadyGodiva, choosing the female counterpart to the PeepingTom myth, not that she had any plans to ride the streets of Coventry naked just yet.
Rachel returned to her home page and clicked on ‘accept’ for PeepingTom’s dares. A clock started counting down next to his username. She now had 24 hours to complete his challenges. Shit, she hadn’t realised it was timed!
The door slammed shut, making her jump, and she closed the iPad guilty. Robbie loomed in view and she stood up to greet him. “Hi love, you okay?”
“Yeah. Going back to bed. Hey, me and Scott are gonna get a flat together, we decided last night, so I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” He leaned down to kiss the top of her head and turned to walk through the kitchen, grabbing a pack of crisps from the cupboard on the way.
“Oh good, I can halve my food bill then,” Rachel choked on the words, barely able to get them out at the thought of her only child not being here anymore. “And since when has Scottie been ‘Scott’?”
“Nah, I’ll still come round and take what I want. And yeah, it’s ‘Rob’ and ‘Scott’ from now on. Less babyish when we’re picking girls up.” Her son’s 6ft frame lumbered out of view and the sound of his feet thundering up the stairs filled her head.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her torso and rubbing her arms, back to feeling more lost than ever.
***
The next morning, Rachel dressed for her dare. She had originally thought a long black skirt, but the thought of no underwear at all had been playing on her mind all night, her body alert and wanting it. She chose an olive green maxi dress, fingers fumbling to pull on the fishnet stockings and to do up each clasp from the garter belt. It took a few times to get the material level all the way around, but she strapped on the new high heels and stood, hands on hips, appraising her new look in the mirror.
Her legs looked good. Her soft belly looked…actually pretty damn good with the front of the garter belt holding it in place and covering up the excess mum-tum and stretch marks. Hips defined by the belt too. She looked alright! She had a strapless bra at the ready, her full breasts needing one really. Could she go out without one? She debated it, but it felt too much for this first time. Maybe next time. She put the bra on then brushed her fingers across her exposed pussy, the skin soft and hair-free after her pamper session last night, before pulling her dress on.
Smoothing her now auburn-coloured hair without so-much-as-a-hint of grey thanks to a bunch of chemicals, applying a dash of mascara and eye liner to make her green eyes stand out, a swipe of pink lip gloss, she checked herself over and nodded once. She was done.
She’d checked the bus times from her house into the park in the centre of town and she was on track for the one in five minutes. The nerves were jangling now. Can I really do this? Go out in broad daylight, with no knickers on, without even a drink for Dutch courage? What if the bus knocks me over and I get took to hospital? Shit. Why am I doing this?
She knew why. She knew she felt more alive than she had in such a long time. Yes it was because of the dare, but she was the one doing it. She need never show anyone the photos if she changed her mind, but she would always know she’d done it. The exhilaration was thrilling, pulsing through her clit and making her ache to come. She checked the time, four minutes. Could she knock a quick one out? She put her right leg up onto the bed and watched herself in the mirror, hitching the dress up and exposing her pussy, pressing directly on her clit, slowly at first and then building the pace. She imagined knowing she was walking around naked under her dress and someone found her — no, if she’d agreed that PeepingTom — would find her, and push her against a tree, stick his hand up her dress, and touch her bare skin. He’d-
She checked her phone, shit, she was out of time and needed to go.
Pulling her jacket on, Rachel grabbed her handbag and locked the door behind her, walking the short distance to the bus stop. An elderly gentleman was there and she greeted him with a bright, “Hello.”