Jane's Journey (revised) Part 3

Stories and fantasies about rainwear.
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RainwearWife
Posts: 60
Joined: March 18th, 2022, 9:11 am
Location: UK

Jane's Journey (revised) Part 3

Post by RainwearWife »

Chapter 3

Wednesday passed uneventfully enough; I was even able to focus (for the most part) on my work. On Thursday, however, events took a very unexpected turn. I’d been in for about half an hour when the intercom buzzed and Mr Lane asked me to see him in his office. Grabbing a pen and a notepad, I went over to his door, knocked sharply and walked in.
“Yes, Mr Lane?” I said in a bright voice as I sat in the chair facing him across his desk.

He looked through me for a few seconds, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. “I won’t waste any time, Miss Preston,” he finally said, although he’d just done exactly that. “It’s something of a delicate matter, I suppose… I’d have brought it up yesterday, only I was busy with other, more pressing matters.”

“Is there a problem with my work, Mr Lane?” I enquired.

He looked at me with a vaguely puzzled expression. “Not as such, no… it’s more… well, the thing is, Miss Preston, I had to come in to my office on Tuesday night for some papers, you see. Well, coming through the outer office, I couldn’t help but notice you’d gone home without shutting your computer down. Not a crime you’ll find in the statute books, I suppose, but nevertheless, I do expect good IT practice at all times, as I’m sure you know. Furthermore, Miss Preston, on going to log out and shut down on your behalf, I made a very strange discovery.”

I felt my insides turned to water as I realised what he meant – not only had I left the damned computer on: in my preoccupation with plastic rainwear that day, I’d left the bloody browser window open! How could I have been so careless?

Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he produced a sheet of paper with what appeared to be a printed list on the side facing him. The words he read from it served only to further compounded my misery. “Let me see, now… Raingirls dot com… Rainwear Heaven dot net… Shiny Delights dot com… need I go on, Miss Preston?”

“Mr Lane, I really am truly sorry, I assure you,” I spluttered. Thinking quickly and desperately, I tried to compose myself and continued: “The thing is, I’ve been intending to get myself some new clothes that are appropriate for the weather as we get towards autumn, and, well, one of the things I need is a raincoat. What happened is that when I searched online for one, I was overrun with the sort of thing you have on your list. I must have been more tired than I thought, you see… I’d got through quite a lot of work and it was at the end of the day.”

That last statement was pure fiction and I prayed silently that he hadn’t thought to check the times in the browser’s history.

“I see,” he said, not entirely convincingly. “Well, Miss Preston, if it weren’t for the fact that your work here has been of the highest standard up until now, I’d find myself wondering what you get up to on that machine when I’m not looking.”

“Oh, Mr Lane… please let me assure you that this really was a one-off,” I said, in what I hoped was a ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ tone. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting valuable time on something like shopping if I hadn’t completed my workload for the day.”

“Indeed,” came the reply. “Well, let’s hope so. I must say, I was more than a little surprised by what I found… perils of modern technology, I suppose. As you know, I take computer security every bit as seriously as I do the security of this building. Try to be a little more careful in the future, won’t you?”

“You have my solemn word, Mr Lane,” I affirmed. There was no fiction in that – it wasn’t a mistake I’d be making again any time soon!

“Well, you’ll have plenty to be getting on with, I suppose. We’ll consider this matter closed now, shall we?”

“Yes, Mr Lane, thank you. And again, I’m truly sorry I was careless.”

Again, this was entirely true. A slight nod of his head meant that he’d heard me, and I got up to leave, noticing with joy as I did so that he casually dropped the list of websites into the box beside his desk marked ’Confidential Waste’ – that meant he’d be shredding it before he left that evening.

Back behind my own desk, I tried my best to put the incident behind me. He’d accepted my explanation and there was nothing for me to worry about; my burning curiosity about wearing rainwear for pleasure was still my secret! I just had to make sure I didn’t allow any slip-ups in future.
Before very long, a call came through for my employer. Not very long after that, the intercom buzzed and Mr Lane summoned me back into his office. Unable to suppress entirely a sense of trepidation, I went in and fired my best “Yes, Mr Lane?” at him.

“I need to go over to Harfield on a personal matter,” he said. “I want you to find the time of the next train and then arrange a taxi to get me to the station in time for that train. I’ve had to take the car to the garage this morning, or I’d just drive there and back.”

As he spoke, it dawned on me that his gaze was fixed very firmly upon my legs – I was wearing a skirt that stopped just above the knee, and black tights. It amused me to think that this seemingly diffident man had noticed my legs. Typical bloke, I giggled silently to myself. He’s probably wondering whether I’m wearing tights or stockings – then my thoughts flashed back to what Maggie had said on my first day, about there being rumours as to why the secretary before me had left in such a hurry.

I dismissed these notions the next instant – if Mr Lane was some sort of sex pest, surely he wouldn’t have waited so long without making some untoward comment or other. I’d been with the firm nearly a month now, and there’d been no sign of any impropriety on his part; in fact, he barely said a word unless it was in connection with company matters. If he had been the sort to make unwelcome remarks and/or advances, he’d certainly passed up a glorious opportunity that very morning.

“Well?” he said, shaking me out of my reverie. My train of thought meandering as it had done meant that I failed to notice that his attention was now back on me.

“Oh, sorry, Mr Lane… I was… er… just wondering whether there was anything I needed to go through with you before you head off for the day,” I replied in as innocuous a tone as I could manage. “If anyone calls for you, when can I tell them to expect you back? Or can I tell them to contact you on your mobile?”

“I’ll be back here no later than three,” was his curt response. “You can manage here, can’t you?”

“Of course, Mr Lane.” I smiled at him, with good reason: Harfield was three stops up the railway line and was a twenty-minute train journey – at the very least, I’d have an hour to myself on the computer, and I couldn’t imagine him getting off the up-train and getting straight back on the down. My opportunity had arrived, and I felt my mouth go slightly dry as I realised that, within the hour, I’d have ordered the object that had been uppermost in my thoughts and dreams this past week and a half.

For the second time in two minutes, Mr Lane’s voice brought me back to Earth with a bump. “If you could then, Miss Preston.”

“Right away, Mr Lane,” I replied and, turning sharply on my heels, I practically wiggled out of his office, amusing myself with the thought that he’d be looking at my nylon-encased legs with a quizzical “Is she or isn’t she?” playing on his mind. Whether he was thinking anything of the sort, or if indeed he’d even given me a glance as I left, I would never know. It was of no importance anyway.

Ten minutes later, I was informing him over the intercom that a driver from a local cab firm was outside and that he’d be in plenty of time for the ten thirteen to Harfield.

As he passed through my office on his way to the main door, he glanced quickly at me. “I’ll see you this afternoon, I suppose,” he muttered.

“I’ll be here, Mr Lane,” I returned pleasantly.

“I should certainly hope so,” he retorted, more to himself than me as he was in the corridor and making for the main door.

“Don’t slip off the platform!” I said under my breath, then immediately felt I was being unduly harsh. In the time I’d been an employee, Mr Lane had shown no sign of being an unpleasant person; in fact, he’d shown very little sign of personality of any description. Given what I’d got away with that morning, I had no reason to make sniping comments, even if he couldn’t hear them.

As soon as the taxi had departed, I went over and closed my office door, which Mr Lane had left ajar in his hurry. Again, I felt my mouth go dry as I sat at my desk – if ever I was going to order the raincoat, it would have to be now. I didn’t know when the next chance would arise and I certainly couldn’t go on the way I had been, with the persistent mental image of that shiny black object of fascination almost ruling my life.

Praying that I’d have no interruptions, I hurriedly opened the browser and head to the website where I’d found the perfect mac – pretty much a short version of the one Mrs Deevers had worn. I’d imagined I’d buy one just like hers, but once I’d spotted the one on ‘Cloudburst.net’, I’d known it was the one I wanted.

Within a few minutes I’d completed the order process, glancing up every so often, half-expecting to see a taxi pull up and Mr Lane return for some reason. Naturally, my fear was unfounded and the deed was done. Before closing the browser, I took a deep breath, said “Oh, what the hell!” to myself, and ordered one or two other items, mainly from eBay.

I had the presence of mind to use my old webmail address, as I certainly didn’t want anything damning left on the company’s system, and according to the confirmation emails I received, everything should be with me within seven days. Making certain that I cleared all traces of my activity from the browser’s history, I closed the window and put my bank card back in my purse.

Once I had finished, I felt oddly as though a burden had eased. I knew it! I told myself. All this stuff will turn up and I’ll feel really silly and wonder what on Earth I was thinking!

Deep inside, what I really knew was that I didn’t believe that for a moment.

Ordering the rainwear, et cetera, provedto be a very cathartic action: over the next few days I was rarely, if at all, troubled by thoughts of cladding myself in all manner of unorthodox clothing and I was getting on with my day-to-day life in a perfectly satisfactory manner.

On Monday evening, not only did that state of affairs change, but so did just about every aspect of my life – in ways I could never have imagined when I got off the train at Westbridge that dull summer afternoon that seemed much longer back that it really was.

On arriving at the front door of the large house of which my flat was a part, I was greeted by Mrs. Greyson, the middle-aged divorcee who owned the building.

“Parcel for you, my dear!” she chimed in her rather musical voice.

My pulse quickened instantly as I saw from the shape that it could only be the mac! “Thank you, Mrs G,” I replied lightly. “That’ll be the new skirt and top I’ve ordered for work.”

Handing me the large, rectangular, sealed plastic bag, Mrs Greyson exchanged a few pleasantries with me, then scurried off back to her own flat, which took up the ground floor of the building.

By the time I got to my own door on the second storey, I was trembling noticeably and had a little difficulty in getting the key into the lock.

Hurriedly, I entered my flat and closed the door firmly behind me. Laying the blue plastic bag on the armchair, I went over to the window for a moment, before turning to gaze at my purchase.

Breathing heavily, I took the bag from the chair and held it uncertainly for a second, before getting the scissors from a drawer in the kitchen and carefully slicing open the end marked with a dotted line. Reaching in, I found that it was, of course, the mac and that it was further sealed inside a clear plastic bag, again marked where it should be opened. As I sliced through the second layer, I saw a sheet of paper fall to the floor: no doubt the order details. That was of no interest to me right then, and within a moment, I touched the smooth glossy plastic of the mac for the first time.

Saying I felt something akin to an electric shock would not do justice to the sensation which flowed through my body. Pulling myself together, I hurriedly carried the mac through to my bedroom, grabbed a coat hanger from the small wardrobe and in a swift movement, hung the mac on the outside of that wardrobe. Deliberately, I turned my back and went into the main room of my flat.

Pausing to think for a moment, I went to the fridge, took out the bottle of cheap white wine I’d had in there and poured myself a large glassful. Going back into the larger room, I went over to the small dresser, opened a drawer and took out something I’d had with me since my arrival, but had been determined to manage without.

Opening the window of the flat slightly, I took a large sip of wine then slowly and deliberately took from its pale green packet a long white menthol cigarette, with I lit at once. I hadn’t smoked since boarding the train in my home town, something I’d been really pleased with, but this was different. I felt slightly light-headed, along with a slight tingly sensation, as I inhaled for the first time in weeks, but it had the desired calming effect and I felt much more at ease with myself by the time I extinguished it.

I then went for a shower, after which I sat in my towelling robe for what seemed like an eternity, before slowly rising and making for the bedroom. I stopped in my tracks as a knock sounded at the door of my flat, then Mrs Greyson’s voice came through.

“Jane, dear, another delivery for you!”

Opening the door to her, I saw that she was holding a much smaller package this time, and a thrill of anticipation ran through me. “Fellow on a motorbike brought this! Must be important for that. Is it your birthday, or something?”

“No,” I laughed. “This’ll be the new phone I’ve ordered, I daresay.”

After more friendly chit-chat, she went back downstairs, and I closed the flat door again.

Knowing exactly what the new package contained, I tore viciously at the paper-covered box, discarding the shreds onto the floor and took the item into the bedroom. Placing it carefully on the small bedside table, I returned to the main room, not at any point allowing myself to look at the shiny plastic mac. Gulping down the rest of the wine in the glass, I threw off my robe and strode purposely into the bedroom.

Closing the door behind me, I took the mac from the hanger, gazed at it in wonder for a moment or two, and then, for the first time in my life, clad my naked body in cold, shiny black PVC.

The effect was incredible. I shivered at first as the material enveloped me, but as I did up the three buttons, I became aware that it was already warming from my body heat. I gave an involuntary gasp as I pulled the belt tightly around my waist and buckled it, turned down the collar and then allowed my long flowing auburn hair to cascade down the back of the mac.

I felt like I was being transported to another plane of existence as I ran my eager hands over my plastic-encased torso. I was breathing in gasps as my exploring hands ran over the wonderful material covering me. I felt myself everywhere – my shoulders, my sides, my hips, my breasts – and my heavy breathing became even more powerful as I realised with joy that I was rapidly moistening.

Laying myself backwards onto my bed, I reached over to the table and grasped what waited there. A quick twist of its base brought my plastic playmate humming into life and I had to make a huge effort to suppress an urge to yell out in ecstasy as the tip found my sensitive little bud and I embarked on a mind-blowing voyage of self-discovery.
Jennifer987
Posts: 103
Joined: June 16th, 2010, 12:57 am
Location: NSW Australia

Re: Jane's Journey (revised) Part 3

Post by Jennifer987 »

This story just gets better and better, very much looking forward to chapter 4
Jennifer
KlepperGuy
Posts: 113
Joined: January 14th, 2017, 11:32 pm

Re: Jane's Journey (revised) Part 3

Post by KlepperGuy »

These rubber and rainwear stories coming along with a good 'femme' theme, are a nice bonus to the stories on the site.
The good thing is ..........they are 'stories' of length............not random 'jottings'.

Thanks to all the contributors
HeatherlovesPVC
Posts: 162
Joined: September 11th, 2018, 6:14 am
Location: Scotland

Re: Jane's Journey (revised) Part 3

Post by HeatherlovesPVC »

Really enjoying reading this story, please post chapter 4 soon
Heather
RainwearWife
Posts: 60
Joined: March 18th, 2022, 9:11 am
Location: UK

Re: Jane's Journey (revised) Part 3

Post by RainwearWife »

Thank you, Heather! Chapter 4 will be posted before too long :)
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