The Central Elementary School building, an old, historic brick structure in Wadestown,. had accommodated generations of citizens in their early years. It was altogether fitting and proper that it be included in the Historic Homes tour. The concrete walkway to the building led through the arched foundation of the steeple tower, whose bell rang on school mornings to signal the beginning of classes. The click -- click -- click of her high heels striking the pavement on the entrance walkway was exciting to Branice as she approached the building. With every step she could feel the stretch of her Maria's skirt against her thighs and legs. The mid-morning stir of a gentle breeze swirled beneath her skirt. Branice counted herself among those women with large breasts who felt the bobble of her bra cups with every step. Branice was especially delighted with her Jodee bra, which gave her a smooth line under her dresses.
The concrete landing through the arched entrance led to the front door and into the dimly-lighted hallway of the building. The sound of her high heels on the dark wood floor continued to echo through the hallway as Branice turned to ascend the old, dimly-lit wooden steps to the second floor. Each step on the stairway stretched her slim skirt and exposed the lacy hem of her half slip. The sheen of her gray wig by Joan looked elegant as Branice reached the top of the stairs and stood in the hallway of the top floor of the building. Her lipstick and makeup highlighted the glamour of her face.
The fascination of the steeple tower so intrigued Branice that she felt compelled to open the belfry door and investigate. Looking up toward the bell, there was a rope but no steps or ladder. The only way Branice could ascend farther was to grip the ends of widely spaced beams on the two walls. Her slim skirt, even with its deep back slit, was barely wide enough for prissy steps.
There was nothing for Branice to do but hike her skirt and continue by clinching her high heels into toeholds on the protruding ends of the structural beams. As she continued her ascent in the steeple, the garters of her open-bottom Rago girdle pressed into her thighs and secured the tops of her nylons. Through the slats of the louvers passed a gentle morning breeze and slim rays of sunlight, which glistened on her nylons, hugging her legs stripped of hair by her Epilady. With the bell only inches behind her, Branice could look down the belfry shaft to the second-floor entrance of the tower. She nearly panicked in this precarious position with her skirt hiked and furled around her hips, her legs widely spaced and high heels pressing their toeholds on the ends of the structural beams. The polished nails on her fingertips clutched the upper beams high in the steeple tower. The view from the entrance floor below revealed the smooth sheer crotch of her Vasserette panties exposed by her open-bottom Rago girdle and the dreadful spread of her legs.
Just at this moment a shuffle in the old hallway near the belfry door announced to Branice that someone had apparently noticed the open belfry door and was coming in to investigate. Branice was petrified. She was so exposed. Her open-bottom Rago girdle and the dreadful spread of her legs . . .
This portion of the Historic Homes tour had been memorable for the thrill of exploring an early landmark.