TARDIS Materialises At the Worst Time

Clara looked good. There were no two ways about it. She stood in her bedroom, admiring herself in a floor-length mirror (she'd seen it outside a neighbour's flat and saved from being picked up by the binmen, letting it go like that would have been a waste) while wearing nothing but a set of red lingerie and accompanying pink stockings she'd bought for the sake of a certain Mr. Pink a few weeks ago. He'd love it, and if not, well...all the more incentive to get her out of it sharpish. She turned this way and that, checking to see how it all looked from every angle. From the side, she could see her bum filling out those racy, racy knickers nicely, and there was a kind of strap that ran taut from one side to another just below it, it worked a little like a push-up bra, pushing everything up just a tad to better accentuate her natural assets. Up top the bra itself was doing similarly good work, her boobs looked to die for in it, and the red contrasted satisfyingly with her complexion. It was tight, but tight was what she wanted out of it, and the woman in the shop had assured her everything would stay right where she wanted it until such a time as she decided otherwise. Clara smiled to herself, patting her stomach lightly. She'd put a little weight on, but when she'd expressed annoyance at it, Danny had reassured her that she still looked a million pounds; he'd then gone a little red and stammered out an apology, stressing that he meant the currency, not the weight. She'd laughed and cupped his chin, nuzzling nose to nose with him as she quietly called him the dumbest PE Teacher she'd ever met. He seemed to have liked that moniker well enough. Right, she reminded herself. Expensive lingerie, not to be worn just to lounge around the house. With that, she reached around behind her back and undid her bra, sliding it from her shoulders and down her arms. She took a moment to see if everything was still alright with The Girls, twisting this way and that to catch all their angles. They were perky as ever — kind of teardrop-shaped, she thought, when viewed from the side; light and even-coloured except for the areolas — those were a few shades darker, each ending in a pert nipple of a similar shade. Right now, her nipples were partially inverted, a lifelong source of anxiety on Clara's part, though Danny had once again insisted there was nothing to be ashamed of. "Just means they're shy, is all," He'd said once, "But I can work with shy," Right before he'd bent down and started doing that thing with his tongue. God, that was good. Where could he have learned that? Clara went to roll down one of her stockings when she began to hear something. It was a sound she'd heard many times before, the sound of adventure, the sound of a whole wide universe just waiting to be explored, it was the sound of the TARDIS. She wondered where he'd land it this time. Probably the bathroom again, cracking the toilet in two just as he'd done last time. He was definitely paying for it if he did it again. She fixed her hair in the mirror and readied her excuses for not being able to come with him this time, though she didn't know why she bothered, he always sniffed out the real reason with that glare of his, and the fearsome furrowed eyebrows, inevitably growling out the word, "Pink," in that Scottish growl of his.
A bottle of perfume on the shelf next to her began to rattle, she glanced over at it curiously. A moment passed, and a subtle pressure seemed to permeate the room. "What...?" Her eyes widened as the bedroom walls started shaking. Clara looked around nervously. "Oh, no...no you wouldn't dare!" It seemed he would, for gradually the TARDIS' wheezing engines grew louder, and the brushed silver metal surfaces of the console room began to fade in around her. Clara swore under her breath, crossing her arms so as to hide her chest from a certain someone's view. The TARDIS finally finished landing, the console fully realised around her, and The Doctor came out from behind the console, strolling leisurely from one bank of controls to the next. Clara stood waiting on the spot for several awkward seconds, her hands over her tits and those racy, racy knickers suddenly feeling very much inadequate as far as coverage went. One of her stockings was also partially rolled down, she wondered what he'd make of that, or if he'd even notice. He finished up doing whatever he was doing, then, finally, the silver-haired scotsman looked up at her.