Janice was getting out of her car the next afternoon. She had bundles in her arms as she swung one foot from the open door.

She looked up, still sitting in the seat, one leg out and the other in. The man from next door was waving to her. She smiled at him, but since her arms were filled, she could not wave back.

The man paused, looking at her. "Need some help?"

"No, thank you," she said, feeling a flush on her face. The skirt was high on her thighs, and Janice became aware that his eyes were gazing between her legs. His eyes were bold, unwavering.

For a long moment she sat there, frozen, knowing he could see the crotch of her panties. She could have drawn her foot back into the car, or stepped out completely. Yet she felt as if she had been rooted to the seat. Her flush deepened as the man continued to stare under her hiked-up skirt without a trace of shame.

With a shaking of her knees, she managed to get her other leg out and stand up. The skirt had caught on the door frame and pulled up. The man smiled with appreciation as her long, luscious thighs were exposed.

Furious, Janice jerked from the car, and heard a loud ripping sound. Her skirt had split. She held her bundles, not knowing what to do, face burning. Then, almost haughtily, she stomped to the front door, feeling his eyes on her exposed thighs and ass. What the man saw were those tantalizing thighs and the tightness of her bikini panties, the way her ass cheeks rippled as she walked. Without a backward glance, she entered her home and rushed to the kitchen.