The Pantyhose Diaries: Hot Lesbian Foot Fetish Tales by Ella Ford

Author:Ella Ford [Ford, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Second Wolf Publishing
Published: 2016-10-25T02:00:00+00:00

The Launch Party

December, 2015

The viewing room fell into a nervous silence as a young production assistant lowered the lights. All eyes were on the large cinema screen on the far wall and not a single word was uttered. I glanced around the room. I was surrounded by the executive boards of both Endless Legs Hosiery Inc. and Drake and Chesterton PR. Mostly women, but some men here and there.

I felt a sudden sinking feeling, a moment of half-panic where my stomach lurched and my heart skipped a beat. This was it, I thought to myself. It was the grand unveiling of half a year of effort, my audacious plan to save the ailing hosiery company, a plan inspired by an erotic encounter with an insatiable older woman. I knew what they were about to see, but I had no idea how they were going to react. I settled back into my seat and stared at the screen, resolving to try to enjoy this moment.

Behind us, the projector kicked into life and the screen exploded with white light, then settled on a black title card: “Endless Legs TV Campaign #1”. I sighed. From across the room, Abi Hausman turned to me and smiled, then winked and turned back to the screen.

The commercial opened with a simple scene against a white background. A side on view of two young women sitting around a small, modern bistro table. Each girl was immaculately made-up with bright, eye-catching colors. Purple and pink eye shadow, cheeks glowing with powder blush, glistening lips sparkling with wet-look lip gloss. Their hairstyles were perky and young, gathered at the backs of their heads in fashionable explosions and held in place with jaunty chopsticks. Each girl wore a simple, sleeveless, white blouse that served to draw attention to their pretty faces and large, luminous eyes.

As we watched, the two girls smiled at each other, one girl picking up her coffee cup and taking a sultry sip, never taking her eyes off the other. They appeared to be chatting, enjoying a friendly moment between best girlfriends. It looked, up to this point, like a makeup ad, a trendy, post-feminist production designed to sell lip gloss as much as anything.

A female voiceover began to speak over the lazy background music: “Sometimes, what’s happening up here…”

There was a pause in the narration and the camera began to pan down, switching the viewpoint from above the table’s surface to below it, slowly tracking down the length of the two girls’ bodies.

“... isn’t half as interesting as what’s happening down here.”

There was a collective gasp from the room as the camera arrived at the punchline of the small film. I glanced at Abi Hausman, expecting to find her looking nervously around, but instead found her gazing at the screen, lost in a kind of hypnotic trance. I followed her stare.

The camera had settled underneath the table, focusing on the legs of the two young girls. They were both, of course, wearing tan pantyhose, an ultra-sheer

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