Patsy Raises Bankers Interest

My name is Patsy Barrett. I am the 43-year-old wife of Connor Barrett. My best friend is Trixie Fuller, my next-door neighbor. I have long blonde hair and blue eyes and a very large bosom that too often attracts attention. I am modest in my dress, but somehow I keep ending up naked in public. It embarrasses me, but my friends and family find it funny. Like the other day...

Trixie came over to my house, her usual playful smile replaced with a serious expression. She was dressed in a sharp suit, looking like she meant business.

"I'm going to the bank for a loan," Trixie said. "And I was wondering if you would come along."

"Of course, bestie," I said without hesitation.

I rummaged through my closet, searching for something appropriate to wear to a bank. I needed confidence, so I wore my nicest bra and panties. They were a gift from my husband. Really just wisps of lace, but they were expensive and they made me feel fancy. Now I just had to cover them.

My eyes fell upon the only formal dress I owned -- a fit and flare number that used to hug my curves perfectly. But as I slipped it on, while the skirt was loose and flowy I realized with dismay that it had become tight around my chest. I wondered if my bosom had possibly gotten even bigger.

I stretched the dress closed over my ample bosom but struggled to button it. Each button threatened to pop open under their pressure.

I called out to Trixie in frustration. "Hey bestie, does this dress look okay? It feels like it's about ready to burst."

"Spin around so I can see how it fits everywhere," she said.

Taking her suggestion literally, I spun around. I spun too quickly causing the skirt of the dress to swirl up, revealing my lacy panties underneath.

Trixie's eyes widened briefly before she regained her composure. She surveyed me from head to toe and then gave me an approving nod.

"You look perfect," she said with a mischievous grin.

We arrived at the bank, and as we walked through the doors Trixie had lost her playful demeanor again. I noticed how serious everyone there seemed.

We were directed to sit at a desk in the middle of the bank. The account manager sat across from us, looking all business-like and professional. Trixie's face looked professional as well. I put on my most polite smile and tried not to giggle.

The manager started explaining various banking terms that went right over my head. Words like "collateral" and "interest rates." I glanced at Trixie, hoping she could make sense of this jargon-filled conversation. She was always so smart when it came to numbers and finance stuff. Trixie nodded attentively, soaking in every word.

I, on the other hand, felt like I was drowning in a sea of financial jargon. My attention drifted away from the conversation. I read the nameplate, "Mr. Morgan", looked at paper and folders on his desk,, and I found myself staring at a painting on the wall instead. It was an abstract piece with vibrant colors that seemed to mock my lack of understanding.

But then, amidst the confusion, I caught a word that sounded familiar: appraisal. Ah ha! Finally, something I could grasp onto. Eager to contribute and show that I wasn't completely useless in this situation, I stood up abruptly.

"Wait just a minute!" I exclaimed, interrupting the account manager, Mr. Morgan, mid-sentence. "Are you talking about appraisals? Like evaluating someone's worth?"

Mr. Morgan looked taken aback by my sudden interruption and nodded cautiously. Trixie shot me a disapproving glance but didn't say anything.

"Well then," I said confidently, feeling like I had something valuable to contribute. "I'm ready to be appraised!"

All eyes turned towards me - Trixie's filled with shock, Mr. Morgan's filled with disbelief. But there was no turning back now; I had already committed to this ridiculous display of enthusiasm.

With an air of confidence that bordered on absurdity, I twirled around just as I had done for Trixie earlier. I forgot my impromptu performance would have consequences just like it had before.

As my skirt swirled up into the air, it revealed more than just my knowledge gap in finance - it showcased my lacy panties for everyone to see. A collective gasp echoed through the room as embarrassment washed over me.

When I get embarrassed, I giggle. I can't help it. Laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. Tears streamed down my face as giggles turned into full-blown laughter.

Mr. Morgan stared at me with wide-eyed astonishment, his professional facade momentarily shattered by my unexpected display. Trixie looked at me with disappointment in her eyes. Guilt washed over me as their reactions sank in; here Trixie was trying to secure a loan while I made a fool out of myself.

Determined to prove that I could be serious when needed and salvage whatever dignity I had left, I quickly sat back down, wiped away the tears of laughter and composed myself.

Mr. Morgan cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing the conversation, ignoring my embarrassing mishap.

As the conversation resumed, I straightened my skirt to cover my knees, hoping to regain some semblance of propriety despite the memory of my bare legs and lacy panties still fresh in everyone's minds.

As Mr. Morgan droned on, I leaned forward slightly to brush off a speck of dirt from my shoe. And then it happened - the top two buttons popped off and landed with a soft thud on the floor.

I blushed furiously but remained silent, desperately hoping no one had noticed. My heart raced as I bent over to pick up the two fallen buttons from the floor. And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, another button decided it had enough and popped off too.

Trying not to panic, I reached for that rogue button, only for three more to follow suit. In mere seconds, my once neatly buttoned-up dress was now open to the waist. Panic washed over me as I realized that not only was my sheer lace bra on full display, but so were my breasts underneath.

A blush crept up from my chest to my cheeks, but I remained quiet, hoping desperately that maybe if I didn't draw attention to it, no one would notice. However, it quickly became apparent that everyone had indeed noticed. Whispers filled the air with amusement and disbelief.

Mr. Morgan's eyebrows raised in surprise, his professional facade cracking momentarily before he regained his composure. He glanced down at his notes while discreetly stealing glances at my exposed cleavage. It was clear that he had indeed noticed my predicament.

Trixie shot me an exasperated glance mixed with sympathy. She knew better than anyone how these absurd situations just seemed to happen to me.

I wanted nothing more than to put my hands over my exposed breasts and shield them from prying eyes. But I worried that drawing attention to them might make matters worse. In an attempt at dignity (or whatever dignity I had left), I opted for nonchalance instead.

I took a deep breath and straightened up, hands firmly at my sides. I tried to look like this was normal, which unfortunately for me it often is.

Mr. Morgan cleared his throat once again before continuing with our conversation, doing his best to ignore the elephant in the room - or rather, the pair of lacy elephants hanging out for all to see beneath my partially unbuttoned dress.

Mr. Morgan continued with his spiel about interest rates and loan terms, his voice becoming a distant hum in my ears.

I tried to be quiet but I was embarrassed. When I get embarrassed, I giggle. And at this moment, as my exposed breasts were on full display for everyone in the bank, embarrassment was an understatement.

With my best efforts, I held it together. And then he said those words that shattered any semblance of composure I had left, "limit your exposure."

I burst out before I could stop myself, "Well, that's what I'm trying to do here!"

Giggles bubbled up from within me uncontrollably. All eyes turned towards me - some filled with amusement, others with disbelief. Trixie's disappointment radiated off her like waves of disapproval.

Mr. Morgan stared at me with wide-eyed astonishment while attempting to regain control over the situation. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced down at his notes as if seeking refuge from the chaos unfolding before him.

Trixie leaned towards me and whispered under her breath, "Maybe you should go to the bathroom and fix your dress."

Her suggestion made sense; perhaps some privacy would allow me to salvage what little dignity remained. I nodded in agreement and excused myself from the desk.

As I walked towards the bathroom, still giggling, everyone's gaze followed me - their curiosity piqued by my misfortune. Once inside the bathroom, I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath.

I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, and the giggles that had momentarily subsided threatened to erupt once again.

As I tried to compose myself, I overheard a woman's voice coming from one of the stalls. She was talking on her phone, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and disdain.

"The blonde with her tits out must know Mr. Morgan will do anything for a chance with a bimbo," she said. "If she didn't have panties under that skirt, he would have given her any loan she wanted."

My heart skipped a beat as I realized she was talking about me. I was the blonde bimbo she was mocking.

I felt humiliated, but then another thought crossed my mind - this could be my chance to help Trixie. Trixie had been there for me countless times throughout our friendship, always supporting me when I needed it most. Now it was my turn to repay the favor.

With newfound determination, I made up my mind: if Mr. Morgan was willing to give preferential treatment based on looks alone, then I would use that to our advantage.

I resolved right then and there that I would find a way to get her the loan from Mr. Morgan.

A mischievous smile tugged at my lips as an audacious plan formed in my mind - a plan that involved leaving my tits out and taking off my panties. It was outrageous, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I glanced around nervously to make sure no one else was in the bathroom. My hands trembled as I reached under my skirt and slipped off my panties.

I tried to put my panties in my purse but my purse was too small. I had no pockets either, so there was only one option left. With a deep breath, I balled up my lacy panties and dropped them into the garbage bin. I felt like a heroine - letting go of something so personal and private, all for the sake of helping Trixie secure this loan.

As I stood there pantyless, I could feel the cold air on my pussy, sending shivers up my spine. Nervousness coursed through me as doubts began to creep into my mind. Was it worth risking further humiliation? Could I go through with it? The audacity of it all made me hesitate for a moment.

But then, thoughts of Trixie's face filled with disappointment pushed those doubts aside. Determination took hold, fueled by loyalty towards Trixie, who had always been there for me when I needed her most. For her sake, for our friendship's sake, I decided that I could do this!

But would it even work? I was a middle-aged housewife, could I act like a bimbo?

I looked at myself in the mirror. Sure my massive tits were sticking out of the front of my dress with my nipples clearly visible through the sheer material of my bra. But Mr. Morgan had seen that. And while I wasn't wearing any panties, it didn't look like I wasn't wearing any panties.

My dress hem fell below my knee. While normally I wanted that, I realized that I needed something more daring, something that would turn Mr. Morgan's head.

I took my scissors from my purse, I took a deep breath, and I cut my skirt off just below my pussy. The fabric fluttered to the ground like discarded paper. I picked it up and tossed it in the garbage on top of my panties.

I looked in the mirror and couldn't help but blush at what I saw. My ass cheeks now hung below my skirt in the back, teasingly peeking out of what remained of the once-modest garment with every step. It was scandalous.

Never before had I worn a skirt this short; it was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. The thought of sitting down sent shivers down my spine -- knowing well that if I did, my pussy would be exposed for all to see.

Pushing open the door, I walked out with the little confidence remaining in me. Mr. Morgan looked up from his paperwork with surprise etched across his face at the sight of my still unbuttoned dress and exposed breasts. He couldn't tear his gaze away from me as he tried to continue speaking about loan terms and interest rates.

Now I knew Mr. Morgan's weakness. He couldn't resist beautiful women no matter how hard he tried to maintain his professional facade. I would use that to my advantage.

I stood facing Mr. Morgan, my heart pounding in my chest. Summoning every ounce of courage I had left, I raised my arms over my head and stretched. As I had learned by accident to my dismay in the past, raising my arms caused my bra-clad breasts to pop entirely out of my dress. Here I was standing in front of a strange man with my tits practically on display for all to see.

Determined to get Mr. Morgan's attention, I straightened my posture and took a deep breath. Nervously but deliberately, I sat on the edge of a desk. I hoped that just a glimpse of what lay beneath my skirt would be enough to win his favor.. He didn't seem to notice.

I scooted back slightly, allowing my skirt to slide up my legs. It was a calculated move, hoping that he would catch a glimpse beneath. I watched Mr. Morgan's eyes flicker between his ledger and me. His gaze lingered on my exposed thighs.

As I scooted back slightly more, my skirt slid up further, revealing more than it concealed. At that moment, all eyes seemed drawn towards me - specifically towards what lay between my thighs. Mr. Morgan's eyes lingered shamelessly between my legs, fixated on the tantalizing sight he now had before him. In that moment, it became clear that he desired more than just financial transactions.

My mind raced with thoughts of whether he would succumb to temptation and give Trixie the loan or remain steadfast in his professional demeanor.

My pulse quickened as I debated whether to take it further. Should I spread my legs? Would it be enough to seal the deal? I hesitated, unable to find a valid excuse within the confines of propriety.

But then I hesitated. What excuse did I have? What reason could justify such an audacious act? No excuse seemed plausible enough for such an action.

My nerves faltered at the last moment and I hopped off the desk in defeat. A sense of relief mingled with disappointment flooded through me as I regained some semblance of modesty.

Then I saw Trixie sitting with her back to me and thought of the loyalty we shared as friends.

This was my chance to secure that loan for Trixie -- even if it meant exposing myself further than ever before.

I looked around the bank for a good excuse to expose my pussy. I noticed a pile of papers neatly stacked on a nearby desk. With a shaky breath, I summoned all the acting skills within me and I knocked the stack of papers onto the floor.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, feigning surprise as if it were an accident. "Let me just pick these up."

I purposefully positioned myself so that my round bottom was facing Mr. Morgan. With a mix of hesitation and reluctant determination, I bent over slowly, deliberately, to pick up a piece of paper.

I bent over at the waist with my bottom facing Mr. Morgan, I knew exactly what would happen as it happened to me before by accident. My short skirt rose up over my bottom, exposing everything underneath. And by everything, I mean he could see not only my ass but also catch a glimpse of my wet pussy glistening between my spread legs. The thought of him watching me so intently sent a thrill through me, making my pussy instantly wet.

I could feel my pussy lips swelling with arousal. I spread my legs wider, giving Mr. Morgan an even better view of my most intimate parts. I picked up each piece of paper slowly, deliberately lingering to give Mr. Morgan an extended view of what he desired.

I could hear whispers floating through the air as people in the bank talked about me - their voices filled with both lust and judgment. The realization that everyone in the bank could see me like this made it even more exhilarating and humiliating.

My gaze remained fixed on the floor beneath me, unable to face those who were openly discussing and dissecting every inch of my exposed body. But deep down inside me burned a fire fueled by loyalty towards Trixie - willing to do whatever it took to secure that loan for her.

I was startled to hear Trixie's voice behind me.

"What are you doing, Patsy?" she hissed under her breath. "What are you thinking? Are you trying to humiliate me?"

I stood up, my face burning with embarrassment.

"Bestie," I stammered, struggling to find the right words. "I. I have a plan."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "A plan? Are you out of your mind? Do you realize what you're doing?"

"Bestie, please listen," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. "Fine," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Explain yourself."

Taking a deep breath, I leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "Mr. Morgan is attracted to women who show some skin or play into his fantasies. He gives them what they want, like a loan."

Trixie's eyes widened with both surprise and skepticism, but then she nodded reluctantly.

"Alright," she said in a hushed voice filled with resignation. "Do whatever you need to do, bestie. But, it had better work. You know how much this means to me."

With those words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken ultimatum, I knew that failure wasn't an option here - not when our friendship hung in the balance.

"I promise you," I said softly but firmly. "I'll do whatever it takes to get this loan for you."

Trixie nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty and gratitude. She turned to Mr. Morgan.

"Excuse me, Mr. Morgan," Trixie said. "I just need a moment."

With that, she walked briskly towards the bathroom, leaving me standing there alone. I was proud of the faith she had placed in me.

I walked over to Mr. Morgan's desk, my heart pounding in my chest louder than my heels clicking against the marble floor. His gaze traveled up my legs and lingered on my tits, barely concealed by my bra.

"Well, well," he said with a smirk. "Looks like someone is willing to go the extra mile for their friend."

I blushed but forced a smile. "Just trying to help out however I can," I replied, my voice filled with false cheerfulness.

He leaned back in his chair and let his gaze linger on my body. "You know, Patsy," he said in a low voice, "you've got one hell of a body."

My cheeks flushed even deeper. "Thank you," I replied, trying to sound polite and grateful.

Mr. Morgan leaned back in his chair and let his gaze wander over me from head to toe. "Those are some magnificent tits you've got there," he remarked. "And that ass. Goddamn."

I felt humiliation wash over me, but I swallowed hard and managed to squeak out another forced thank you.

"And that sweet little pussy of yours looked delicious too," he added in a low voice.

My cheeks flushed even deeper as I fought back the urge to cover myself up and run away. Instead, I took a deep breath and summoned all the determination within me.

"Well," I replied coyly, trying not to let my voice crack under pressure. "If you'd like a better look."

The words hung heavy in the air between us as Mr. Morgan's eyes widened with anticipation.