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The Exchange

With a sexy gift, a friendships takes a slow turn into something more.
We did our best not to giggle as we exited the girls’ bathroom together, our book bags slung over our shoulders. Not that anyone would have noticed if we had. They’d probably have thought we’d been talking about boys. I caught Stacy’s guilty smile from the corner of my eye, relieved to see that I wasn’t the only one blushing. Unable to stop myself, I reached out and flipped the hem of her skirt up. Not much, perhaps an inch or two. Enough to make her let out a frightened gasp as she grabbed the blue and green plaid.

“Don’t!” she hissed, her elbow stabbing me in the side enough to make me grunt.

“You’re such a jerk,” I muttered, unable to keep myself from tittering nervously.

She stuck her tongue out at me in response and then burst into a fit of giggles as well. Yeah, we were so mature but what would you expect, really? It was our junior year at St. Francis Catholic High School. Stacy had been my best friend since… well, since I could remember. Lately, though, I’d been thinking of her a little differently, mostly on account of the game we’d embarked upon this year. And after today, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been thinking the same things…


It had started in November, three days after I’d turned 16. For my birthday, she’d given me an unexpected gift; several pair of extremely racy panties. They had to have been a joke, or so I thought at the time. Thankfully, we’d been in the privacy of her bedroom when I’d opened them. I’m sure I’d turned several shades of pink.

“Where did you even buy these?” I’d giggled, quickly covering folding the deep purple tissue paper she’d wrapped them in, and shoving the lid of the box back down.

“None of your business, Tina,” she shot back, her cheeks turning as red as mine felt. “I just thought…”

She ended the sentence with a shrug. I wondered if she was having second thoughts about her gift. I know I would have, had our roles been reversed. We were both silent for a moment, and then, I started giggling again. Soon, we were both laying back on the bed, tears running down our faces, elbows knees and feet touching, our faces turned towards each other. Not for the first time, I had a sudden impulse to kiss her, just to see what it would be like. Like all the other times, I thought better of it and turned my face away, heat burning not only in my cheeks, but much deeper. Desire coursed through me, and with it, guilt, fear, and, ultimately, confusion.


Of all the questions I could have asked, that was the one that slipped out of my mouth. I wondered, briefly, if she knew and she was teasing me, or perhaps she was encouraging me to share my true feelings. As if I even knew what those were!

“Because… I was too embarrassed to get them for myself. Come one, Tina, at least take a look. They’re pretty... well… sexy. Be kind of fun to, I don’t know, wear them just like, where ever. Not like anyone else would know.”

“You’d know, Stacy.”

She shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, her grin impish.

“Only if you told me.”

That’s how she’d planted the seed into my head. Whether it had been by accident or design, I wasn’t sure. So, here it was three days later, a Friday, and I’d finally gotten my courage up to wear her gift. Three days of her meeting me at my locker right before home room and asking me what I had on under my pleated uniform skirt

It wasn’t that I was a prude. It was just that I’d never seen myself as sexy and certainly, I’d never even imagined anything as… decadent and scanty as what Stacy had given me. Six pair, all sheer, all tanga styled, four different colors. And, of course, they could have just been given normal names. Passionate pink was the tamest of the names, followed by wicked white, sinful sapphire, ravishing red and lusty lavender. Oh, and of course, there was a black pair, for which they hadn’t even bothered coming up with a clever name. It was simply labeled ‘barely there black’ and wow, was it.

I lost count of how many times I changed my mind that morning, getting dressed for school. Enough that my mom finally got impatient with me and rushed me out of the house. In fact, in a way, it was her fault that I ended up wearing ravishing red panties to school, pushing the door to my bedroom open just as I was about to pull them off one final time and replace them with a pair of boring white cotton briefs. It was all I could to grab my skirt and cover them when I heard her knock sharply at my door three times, her cue that she was about to invade the sanctuary of my room.

And, of course, when Stacy cornered me at my locker, the corners of her strawberry glossed lips turning upwards, my reacted by blushing immediately before she could even ask.

“You wore them, didn’t you Tina.”

I glanced around nervously, making sure no one was trying to listen in on us. Not that they had any reason to, but still, I would have died if any of my classmates found out. Stacy, thankfully, seemed as hesitant as I to share my secret, pulling my closer, her warm breath tickling my ear delightfully, leaving me praying that she was unaware of the sudden flush of desire that that brought on.

“I want to see them.”

“No way!” I mouthed, mortified, a vision of me lifting up the hem of my skirt in the hallway, revealing the next-to-nothing pair of underwear that I had on beneath it to all of my classmates. Almost as bad was the sudden spread of dampness. I felt myself suddenly soaking through the sheer material of Stacy’s gift to me. Humiliated, I turned my back to her, pushing my face against the cool metal of my locker door, praying frantically that she wouldn’t somehow notice my state.

“Not here, silly,” she said, her lips brushing against my ear once more, worsening my condition. "Break time, second floor restroom. Don’t be late.”

She left me, apparently unaware of my reaction to her words, headed towards English lit, while I managed to make my way towards third year French, careful to keep my eyes from meeting those of my peers, my heart beating wildly against my ribs as my thoughts raced ahead to our forthcoming meeting in the girls’ restroom.

That had been the first time we’d met at the break between third and fourth period, securing ourselves in the stall farthest from the door so that I could nervously lift my skirt and show off the scandalous gift she’d bestowed on me. It was innocent, our little game, or at least we tried to keep it that way. If she noticed, and how could she not, the darker patch of material at my crotch, she never, ever teased me about it, or even commented. She’s simply tell me how sexy they were, how pretty I was, and how daring. Soon, I began to look forward to those few minutes. By mutual agreement, we turned it into a game, creating rules during giggled conversations over the phone, both of use nervous about being over heard. I think that just added to the thrill.

Rule number one. It was agreed, early on, that Friday was ‘panty day’. That way we could both build the anticipation up all week, teasing each other about it in secret with little comments such as I bet you’d look good in pink, Tina or I’m feeling a little blue this week, Stacy voiced in front of classmates while doing our best to stifle our giggles. It was fun to feel so naughty, even a little dirty, for once in my life. I mean, before this, the most I’d ever done was kiss a few boys and, to be honest, I hadn’t really been into it. In fact, I’d been fantasizing what it would be like to kiss Stacy the whole time, something I’d never shared with anyone, and I’d broken off the kiss at the first hint of tongue or wandering hands.

Rule number two. No one else was to know. Not that Stacy would ever give away my secret, but I made her pinky swear on a weekly basis not to tell anyone. Ever. Not even if it was a matter of life or death. I just needed the reassurance, seeing as I was the one taking all the risks. I should mention, by the way, that the junior and senior girls often made a game out of how high of a hem they could get away with on their skirts. Stacy was no exception to this rule. I, however, kept my skirt length modest. I had something to hide, after all!

Rule number three was an obvious one. Once a month, when I had my period, we’d cancel panty day. Honestly, it put me into an even worse mood, and Stacy had learned, very early on, not to tease me about it after I spent an entire weekend ignoring her calls until she came over and apologized in person Sunday night. After that, everything was back to normal. Up until today. While I was showing off my ‘wicked white’ underwear with a confidence born of months at our secretive sport, I surprised Stacy with an idea, once I’d been nurturing for a while, but had only just worked up the courage to share.

“Show me yours,” I told her, turning it into a question rather than a demand.

“No way!” she giggled, avoiding my eyes, her cheeks slowly turning pink.

As usual, she was seated on the toilet lid before me, her finger brushing against the hem of my skirt, about to get her weekly glimpse of today’s selection (ravishing red). For the first time in ages, I pushed her hands away, shivering imperceptibly at the contact.

“I’m making a new rule," I whispered. For the moment, we had the restroom to ourselves, but neither of us ever took that for granted. “Rule number four. If you want to see mine, I get to see yours.”

Stacy’s pout could break hearts. Her lips were as close to perfect as they came, bow shaped and plump. In the past year, she’d changed, something I, as well as every boy attending St. Francis, had noticed. She’s always been pretty, her coffee waves, bronze by the sun’s kiss, her eyes a rich chocolate. As she grew closer to woman-hood, however, she’d developed curves in all the right places. Had I not been so enamored of her, I might even have been jealous. I knew that many of the other girls were, having overheard their catty gossip more than once.

“Oh, well.” I turned, my hand on the door handle, my heart beating wildly, praying hard that she’d stop me soon, fully prepared to make good on my threat.

“They’re boring, Tina. Just plain grey boy shorts. Not anything like yours.”

I was surprised by her soft sigh and the discontent in her voice. I let my hand slip from the metal handle and turned once more, regarding her as she continued, her voice subdued her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears.

“I never thought you’d ask, so I….”

She turned her face from me, shrugging uncertainly. Swallowing, I continued to stare, letting her words sink in, trying to make sense of them. Had I missed something? Or had she been two shy to say anything? I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, this time more like a frightened bird then the painful jackhammer that I’d grown used to when she’d lift my skirt up and gaze at my skimpy see thru panties, licking her lips… I’d always thought she was nervous. After all, what if we’d ever been caught, we’d have become the talk of the school. Now, I had to wonder if there was more to it than that.

A thought hit me then. An inspired, wonderful, terrifying thought. Before I could think about it and change my mind, I lifted my skirt, and tugged my panties down, peeling them from my soft, pale thighs, and stepping out of them, careful not to let them touch the linoleum tiles.

“Here. Meet me here again after class?”

Not waiting for an answer, I slipped out of the stall, closing it firmly shut behind me, and fled, wondering how I’d make it through two more periods without having a nervous breakdown. It wasn’t until I sat down in Mrs. Sawyer’s Algebra class that the realization hit me that I wasn’t wearing anything under my skirt. Pressing my thighs firmly together, I did the best I could not to think about it too much. It didn’t help that Stacy’s seat was next to mine, especially when, with a shy smile, she drew my attention to a small triangle of grey cotton material peeking out of her book back. Her panties. I wanted to bury my face in my arms on my desk top and pull my sweater over my head. I must have let out a soft groan, loud enough for Stacy to make a shushing sound. Thankfully, it was before class started, and everyone was too busy chatting to pay much attention to me at the back of the class.

Somehow, I made it through, no thanks to my co-conspirator, who managed to flash me several notes during the next forty-five minutes.

How does it feel?

I’m wearing them.

I think I’m a little turned on.

They’re damp. Yours? Mine? Ours?

For the first time in my life, I almost creamed myself in the middle of class. I can honestly say, I didn’t learn a single thing about math. I practically ran up the stairs to the second floor, shaking as I slipped into the very last stall, not caring that I wasn’t alone. I collapsed on the seat, doing my best to steady my breathing, hands clasped on my lap, my palms damp. It must have only been a minute or two before Stacy joined me, doing her best to hold in a giggle, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth. It seemed like hours.

This time, the roles were reversed. She stood before me, arms folded nervously below her breast, drawing to my attention how they swelled with each breath. She was caressing her elbows nervously and biting down on her lower lip, her eyes shut tight, her dark lashes flush against her olive skin.

Almost reverently, I reached out to stroke the blue and green plaid of her pleated skirt. Unlike me, she had joined the quiet revolution waged by the older girls against the teaching staff, the hem of her uniform barely legal. I felt a sudden jab of envy, wondering how it would feel to know that with one quick turn, she’d reveal her secret; that hurrying up the stairs just now to the bathroom might have given some lucky guy a glimpse of more than just ‘boring grey underwear’.

“You sure?” I asked, my voice hushed, the chatter of the girls at the sink counter almost drowning me out.

“Rule number four,” she replied, her voice quivering with tension.

I nodded and, taking a deep breath, lifted, holding both her skirt, and my breath.

She was beautiful. Not that I’d ever doubted that. Funny. I’d seen her in her underwear more times than I could recall. After all, we’d been best friend forever. And yet, this was different. Intimate, despite the fact that we were in a toilet stall. For all I knew, the rest of the world, for a brief time, ceased to exist until she started to fidget.

“Okay…” she mumbled, my cue to let her hem drop, covering up the treasure long before I was ready, but not before I took note, as she must have dozens of times, the how dark the sheer material of her panties were. Hers. Mine. Ours.

She giggled suddenly, and just lije that, the spell was broken. I felt like I’d been standing on the brink of something beautiful, something dangerous, something that would change my world forever, ready to take a step... Only the sound of her laughter had pulled me back from the edge. Resentment and relief spilled from my lips in the form of giggles as she fell backwards, leaning against the door to the toilet, her eyes mirroring the emotions that had swept through me.

“We’ll be late…”

“For lunch?” I teased her, unable to get my legs to work, thankful that I was sitting down.

“They’re having pizza. The pepperoni always goes fast.”

She took me by surprise, then, pulling me up and kissing me. It wasn’t much of a kiss, just the brush of flesh on flesh like I imagined the first tentative brush stroke upon virgin canvas to feel like; full of promises, not just a shared moment between friends. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Glancing into her eyes before she had a chance to look away, my heart skipped a beat.


“Dweeb,” she countered, making as if to return the favor, her fingers brushing the material of my skirt teasingly.

“Truce!” I squealed softly, jerking away from her.

“We’re even now.” Her dark brown eyes glittered with amusement as she grabbed the rail and headed down the stairwell, pausing on the third step until I caught up with her.

Had I been braver, more confident, I’d have taken her hand in mine as we walked down the stairs, Stacy still wearing my panties, me naked beneath my skirt. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing. For now, I was content to have her next to me, to know that she was there, just like she’d always been, like she’d once promised me she always would be. Screwing up my courage I reached out, hooking her pinkie in mine. Smiling shyly, she curled hers around it, giving me a little squeeze as we reached the bottom step and mixed in with the crowd heading for the cafeteria.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright ©2010 All Rights Reserved.

©2010 Sprite. The stories linked to this online profile may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author.

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