Urban rose

Without warning, he held out his hand. “Give me your panties.”

Shocked, she hesitated. “What, here? Right now? But I —” She glanced at the rear-view mirror, and caught the cabbie watching her.

His hand never wavered, but he said nothing more.

Blushing, cautious of exposure, she reached under her skirt and slowly worked her panties down her legs. When they came into view, she checked the mirror again and blushed harder. Finally, she slipped her panties past her heels and, after a second’s pause, placed them in his open hand.

He regarded the morsel of pink cotton and white lace for a moment; he opened the side window and tossed her panties out of the cab.

Before she could react with surprise, he spoke. “Orders are to be obeyed. Don’t hesitate, don’t evaluate, don’t wonder. Just act, instantly.”

Meekly: “Yes, Sir.”

“You’ll have to handle the Directors’ presentation today without your panties. I hope the lesson was worth the price.”

The cab sped on, the driver watching the back seat from time to time.

An hour later, a grey-haired gentleman on his morning walk spied the pretty pink panties lying on the curb. “Ah, those were the days,” he thought, and smiled.

— Frenulum

(Inspired by an actual such observation, as interpreted by my belovèd.)