My friend at USC tells me that I should devote an entry to what she calls "the underwear issue". Well, there's no issue at all here. I prefer my young companions never to wear any.
That goes back to "Story of O.", a long time ago. I'm sure you know the scene. It's right there in the opening pages, before O. is taken to Roissy. She's with her lover in the back of a limo. He tells her to take off her underwear, raise the back of her skirt, and sit directly on the seat. Later, when she's been "trained", she's told that she will never wear underwear again. I read that at fourteen or fifteen and was amazed. I'd never imagined that people--- girls ---might do that. But I knew I found it incredibly sexy, and I knew that was what I'd want from girls always.
The no-underwear rule has become a signature thing for me. It's something I've asked girls to do since ever I first had lovers, and it's very much something I've come to insist on with young companions.
It is about ease of access, though it's not just about that. Girls who've been out with me in potentially revealing outfits--- short skirts, low-cut jeans, slit skirts ---have told me that there's a thrill of risk there, and there's a feeling of awareness, of being constantly aware of themselves, of how they sit or stand or bend. Feelings, too, of both vulnerability and the exaltation of having a secret. I've known girls who didn't wear underwear simply because they found it more comfortable, but even there, they told me that there was a difference in just pulling on jeans with no underwear on an ordinary day and in doing the same to go to a party or a club or on a date. Sitting in class like that could be just about comfort or not having done laundry. Going out like that--- "going out" in the social sense ---was about having a secret, something that potential admirers or partners didn't know about, something that had the potential to be revealed, to surprise.
My friend at USC tells me she hasn't worn underwear since high school. She's forgotten how, she says. She does give me credit for encouraging her, and I'm glad I offered her support. She believes in the delights of having a secret, and she loves the idea of being in seminar discussing Russian lit and culture and knowing that her outfits are always worn next to the skin. How can I not be thrilled?
I will encourage my young companions to give up underwear, at least when they're with me. It's a signature thing for me. No one has ever been appalled or repulsed or horrified by the request, and I am pleased with that. There is a rush in sharing a young companion's secret while we're out for drinks or dinner and in seeing a mix of challenge and pride and delight in her eyes when she wears dangerously short skirts out with me.