A Long Stand

Emily wasn't sure how long she had to stand there with her shorts down and her panties on display, holding up the Ming vase. It might have been half an hour. It might have been two hours. It might have been a million years.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to reach down and tug her shorts back up. Except that, if she did that, the Ming vase would shatter on the ground. And she'd be responsible.

So she had to leave them down.

But they were down around her ankles. Which meant people could see her panties. And people could see she'd been pantsed. They could see somebody had walked up behind her, and pulled her shorts down, and now they were down, and she couldn't do anything about it. They could see that she was helpless. Helpless in her panties.

It was a long, long stand.

And it just kept going.

She stood there with her shorts down, while the brunette in yoga pants took pictures and posted them to Instagram. She stood there with her shorts down while the spotty teen in the anime T-shirt gawked at her through coke-bottle glasses. She stood there with her shorts down while popcorn-munching cheerleaders strolled by, while football jocks wrestled each other in the grass, while Japanese tourists with cameras scuttled round taking snapshots of everything. Including her, of course.

She just stood there. With her shorts around her ankles, her long lovely legs bare to the world, her mound of Venus pressing against red cotton, the curve of her peachy buttocks peeping out from below the hem of her panties. A pranked girl. A humbled girl. A girl with her pants down.

She stood there, blushing, every bit of her embarrassment visible on her face. And every moment felt like an eternity.

For some reason, people kept looking at the sign, looking at her, then bursting into laughter. She couldn't imagine why.