It’s alright,” said Veronica, reassuringly. “I’m not offended if you find my underwear attractive. It’s perfectly natural, you know.” Her smile was radiant and her voice very steady, which made me feel much more at ease. I mulled over her use of the word ‘underskirt’. Illegal or not one thing is certain. Any man photographing nothing but young women and girls in public places has serious issues and is, in my opinion, a danger to women and girls. This predatory behaviour is deeply sexist and brings the genre of street photography and street photographers into disrepute.

But when I looked up at her with fear in my eyes, – real fear of losing her, she smiled sexily and murmured softly, “It’s alright, Ivan, dear. Cunt is a lovely word when we say it together, and I’m pleased that you like my cunt, even though you can’t see it all yet.” I hope you won’t mind my asking,” I began, “but I’m interested in why you refer to your slip as an underskirt.” This slip stops at the waist,” said Veronica, provocatively raising the hem of her light, summer skirt. “It has beautiful lacy detail and a rather exciting slit on one side.” Then, leaning forward she drew my hand towards her and said, “Would you like to feel how smooth and silky it is?”

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I turned and looked at the length of plumbing in question. “It would certainly put mine to shame!” I said, rather daringly.

Oh!” was all I could manage in response. Fortunately, I collected my thoughts fairly rapidly and smilingly exclaimed, “What a wonderful profession. I would love to be your faithful employee”. Then I decided to venture further, and asked, “If it isn’t an impertinent question, are you wearing a full or half-length slip?” I was naturally hesitant but Veronica sensed my nervousness and said, “It’s quite alright, nobody can see, and, in any case I feel comfortable with you, and instinctively trust you,” and she smiled reassuringly. I was bending to capture a photo on the streets of Glasgow a few years ago and a photographer took an arms length snap of my bum while I was crouched, at close range. Before I realised what had happened he was making off down the street and I have never felt so angry or violated. This behaviour is NEVER acceptable. What a beautiful spring day,” she said. “The sap seems to be rising all over the place.” I swear she winked when she said it. I got up, carefully, and walked across and closed the door. “Oh thank you,” she said. What a charming gentleman.” Oooooh!” I gasped, “That feels unbelievable, like nothing I’ve ever felt before, but I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”

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The train drew into the station and we alighted onto the platform. I turned to face her but she placed a finger on my lips and smiled, “You’re not going anywhere, Ivan. You are coming with me.” With that she put her arm through mine and we walked out of the station. She continued stroking my underpants all over from fondling their strong, wide waist-elastic, down onto their cute Y-front area and the seams detail that seemed to hold much of her attention.

Oh, I’m going all the way, to the end of the line, to spend a few days with an old friend,” I answered. I saw a photo-stream today where a man had captured nothing but long lens photographs of young women and girls on the street, mothers with children too, and as many attempts at 'flesh' shots as possible. Wind blowing skirts into the air with naked bottoms on the street and the shot tagged as 'Upskirt' too! Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “You seemed to measure up quite well when I got into the compartment!”

Then, the other old favourite, “Would you mind if I slipped off my shoes?” as she revealed a beautiful, dainty pair of feet, adorned in sheer, silky nylon that cried out to be kissed and caressed. No harm in dreaming, I suppose. No, no harm in dreaming and no harm in the throbbing bulge that was developing in my soft cotton underpants. Unfortunately the development taking place in my underpants had distracted my senses, for the next thing I knew was that the train had drifted to a halt and the door of my compartment swung open.