Her tweed micro skirt sealed in her obedience. Vibrant stitched lines drew eyes to her figure. None would guess innocent white cotton panties hid bene...th. In Miss Roberts' lounge, she perched on a straight-backed chair in her micro skirt; her legs in a duchess slant, knees and ankles together, heels, in her tall black Aquazzura boots, firm on the polished wood floor. Her familiar confessional unburdened her guilt, delivering therapy with meaning.“Your skirt is marvelous, Clare. I'm enjoying. But everyone seemed preoccupied; perhaps this wouldn’t be so easy after all. I wasn’t quite sure what I’d expected – or even wanted. I suppose I wanted to be sure that someone really had been ogling my breasts. Then again, it was a bit hard to tell in such a crowd whether someone behind me was enjoying the view anyway. The tube travelled several stops, people getting on and off, squeezing past me. When it got to Liverpool Street, I decided to get off and go back in the other direction. Loads of. More

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