Swishy Skirt Quotes

The daughter-in-law of Pythagoras said that a woman who goes to bed with a man ought to lay aside her modesty with her skirt, and put it on again with her petticoat ~ Michel De Montaigne

Gertie hit the brakes and tried to stop, but she tripped over a lip in the sidewalk and went sprawling right into the burro, then hit the pavement, her tutu skirt flipped up over her back, exposing her camouflage underwear. Tiny swung his head around to see what all the racket was and launched off the car door, setting off down the sidewalk toward the burro-Gertie wreck at high speed. ~ Jana Deleon

As well as being a creative genius, Vidal Sassoon was a formative figure of the Sixties. Along with the Pill and the mini-skirt, his influence was truly liberating. ~ Mary Quant

I added pieces the same way I'd constructed my body, from the inside out: boy-cut panties first (lacy), bra (sheer), stockings (thigh high), knee-length leather skirt (black), lime green midriff-baring shirt (polyester). David leaned against the wall and watched this striptease-in-reverse with fabulously expressive eyebrows slowly climbing toward heaven, I finished it off with a pair of strappy lime green three-inch heels, something from the Manolo Blahnik spring collection that I'd seen two months ago in Vogue.
He looked me over, blinked behind the glasses, and asked, "You're done?"
I took offense, "Yeah. You with the fashion police?"
"I don't think I'd pass the entrance exam." The eyebrows didn't come down. "I never knew you were so ... "
"Fashionable?"
"Not really the word I was thinking."
I struck a pose and looked at him from under my supernaturally lustrous eyelashes. "Come on, you know it's sexy."
"And that's sort of my point. ~ Rachel Caine

I turned my focus to clothes, immediately endeavoring to find just the right dress for the occasion. This was huge--my debut as the girlfriend of Marlboro Man--and I shopped with that in mind. Should I go for a sleek, sexy suit? That might seem too confident and brazen. A floral silk skirt? Too obvious for a wedding. A little black dress? Too conservative and safe. The options pummeled my brain as I browsed the choices on the racks. I tried on dress after dress, suit after suit, outfit after outfit, my frustration growing more acute with each zip of the zipper. I wanted to be a man. Men don't agonize over what to wear to a wedding. They don't spend seven hours trying on clothes. They don't think of wardrobe choices as life-or-death decisions.
That's when I found it: a drop-dead gorgeous fitted suit the exact color of a stick of butter. It was snug, with just a slight hint of sexy, but the lovely, pure color made up for it. The fabric was a lightweight wool, but since the wedding would be at night, I knew it would be just fine. I loved the suit--not only would I feel pretty for Marlboro Man, but I'd also appear moderately, but not overly, confident to all his cousins, and appropriate and proper to his elderly grandmothers. ~ Ree Drummond

Until the sixteenth century, men
priests, academics, judges, merchants, princes, and many others
wore skirts, or robes. For men, the skirt was a 'sign of leisure and a symbol of dignity,' writes Quentin Bell. This is still true for men in high positions. After all, can you imagine the Pope, or Professor Dumbledore, wearing trousers? Have you ever seen a depiction of God wearing pants? ~ Tim Gunn

A few moments ago, he'd had her up against a wall, skirt shoved up to her belly button, hands in her panties, his fingers driving her straight to oblivion, and now ... now he was this intense, cool, calm, and collected man.
With a gun.
"Breanne. Are you ok?"
She stared at him. He had his shirt loose and draped over the bulge of his gun. He looked rough-and-tumble. Baddass.
Damn it, she had a serious weakness for badass. ~ Jill Shalvis

Tis obvious that you're easily…" She paused, searching for a more sarcastic and descriptive word than "encouraged."
"Aroused?" he queried.
Erienne gasped. "Certainly not!"
"Have you changed your mind? You said at a twitch of a skirt…"
"I know what I said!"
"The subject seems to be on your mind quite a bit, my lady."
"I wonder why," she retorted with unmistakable satire. It was impossible to ignore the manly feel of him against her.
"Because you lust after my body?" he asked, feigning innocence.
Erienne caught her breath in outrage. "I am a married woman, sir!"
He heaved a laborious sigh. "Here we go again!"
"Oh, you buffoon! Why don't you leave me alone?"
"Did I ask you to follow me?" he protested.
She groaned aloud in frustration. "I'm sorry I did!"
"Were you bruised?" He snuggled her closer against his body. "You feel all right to me."
"Christopher, if I weren't so afraid of this horse, I'd slap you," she threatened.
"Why? I only inquired of your health."
"Because you make free with your hands! Now, stop that!" She threw away the hand that had settled on her thigh. "Don't you ever get tired of playing the rake?"
"The sport warms and excites me, madam," he said, chuckling in her ear.

-Erienne & Christopher ~ Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Right now,tucked into the booth,Gray Donohue whispered into the ear of the redhead on his right,while his hand slipped under the table and under the skirt of the female to his left.As he whispered,the redhead lifted her heavy lids,turned her gaze to whereever Gray´s hand had landed,and grinned.Marina whirled back to the bar and drained her beerto the very last bit of foam.He was the best assignment she´d ever had.Or he would be,if she could just get him to notice her. ~ Laura Wright

But the actual mail was delivered to the little brick post office on the main drag and distributed to the keyed, ornate boxes inside. My family had one of the lower numbers because we'd inherited our box as it was passed down through the Shepherd line.
"So your family is Levan royalty, then?" Moses had teased.
"Yes. We Shepherds rule this town," I replied.
"Who has PO Box number 1?" he inquired immediately.
"God," I said, not missing a beat.
"And box number 2?" He was laughing as he asked.
"Pam Jackman."
"From down the street?"
"Yes. She's like one of the Kennedys."
"She drives the bus, right?" he asked.
"Yes. Bus driver is a highly lauded position in our community." I didn't even crack a smile.
"So boxes 3 and 4?"
"They are empty now. They are waiting for the heirs to come of age before they inherit their mailboxes. My son will someday inherit PO Box #5. It will be a proud day for all Shepherds."
"Your son? What if you have a daughter?" His eyes got that flinty look that made my stomach feel swishy. Talking about having children made me think about making babies. With Moses.
"She's going to be the first female bull-rider who wins the national title. She won't be living in Levan most of the time. Her brothers will have to look after the family name and the Shepherd line . . . and our post office box," I said, trying not to think about how much I would enjoy making little bull-riders with Moses. ~ Amy Harmon

Oh, so does that mean I'm in trouble? Should I lift my skirt and get on all fours?" I asked, teasingly. ~ Lilly Wilde

Breeze which had crossed a thousand miles of wheat-lands bellied her taffeta skirt in a line so graceful, so full of animation and moving beauty, that the heart of a chance watcher on the lower road tightened to wistfulness over her quality of suspended freedom. She lifted her arms, she leaned back against the wind, her skirt dipped and flared, a lock blew wild. A girl on a hilltop; credulous, plastic, young; drinking the air as she longed to drink life. The eternal aching comedy of expectant youth. ~ Sinclair Lewis

Titter," Radcliffe muttered as he pushed the window open on the first empty room he found on the main floor. "What the devil is a titter? And how the hell am I supposed to try not to look so large?" Shaking his head with disgust, he held the window open with one hand as he sat on the ledge, then swung one leg after the other over the sill and into the room. Standing, he let the window slide closed, then took a moment to brush the wrinkles out of his skirt and yank at the bottom of his bodice to straighten it before hurrying across the room.
Pausing at the door, he pressed an ear to it to listen briefly, then eased it open and peered out. It was early afternoon and yet it seemed the women were all still abed. Slipping into the hallway, he pulled the door gently closed and hurried as quickly as a man could in a dress that kept catching at his boot spurs, toward the stairs. ~ Lynsay Sands

Dad told Uncle Seth not to screw things up," she informed me as we washed our hands. "He said even if Uncle Seth is famous, him getting a woman like you defies belief."
I laughed and smoothed down the skirt of my dress. "I don't know about that. I don't think your dad gives your uncle enough credit."
Brandy gave me a sage look, worthy of someone much older. "Uncle Seth spent last Valentine's Day at a library. ~ Richelle Mead

I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious - she's doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt ~ E.L. James

Before the downpour, Al had thought Lou looked alluring in her pale pink T-shirt and simple flowered skirt. Her soft brown waves bounced around her shoulders with the humidity. She was simply beautiful. But with the addition of water, she evolved into a siren. Her thin cotton clothes clung to every curve. She slicked her hair away from her face, as if emerging from an enchanted lake. ~ Amy E. Reichert

Brendon's big hands slid under her skirt and took hold of the plain white cotton panties she had to dig through her entire suitcase to find. ~ Shelly Laurenston

I prefer clothes that are simple, well-cut, but with one major extravagance. Something with the sleeves, with the skirt, but nothing too fussy, too flashy. ~ Carolina Herrera

Now for a handful of guilders I happen to have a private and uncut performance of the rape of the Sabine Women - or rather woman, or rather Alfred -Get your skirt on Alfred! ~ Tom Stoppard

Is this true?" Suzette asked, sounding like a suspicious nanny. It was a tone Daniel had heard often as a child, though from his mother, not a nanny. They hadn't been able to afford a nanny. Oddly enough, he suddenly found himself imagining Suzette as that nonexistent nanny, though really the gown he pictured her in as that nanny was nothing a respectable nanny would wear and covered less than it revealed as she approached him in his mind with a naughty smile and a spanking paddle in hand.
"Spank me," he breathed on a sigh, and then muttered, "Better yet,let me spank you." A vision immediately rose in his mind of her turning and slowly pulling up her scandalously short, ankle-revealing skirt to present him with a view of her very fine bottom.
That vision died an abrupt death when Richard's voice intruded, soaked with melodrama as he said, "Guilt can lead a man to act like an ass and do the most foolish of things."
Daniel almost snorted at that. He was standing there in a dark room all but dancing with a dead man while having the most ridiculous sexual fantasies about Suzette. All this wile waiting to be able to slip out of the house undiscovered. Oh yes, guilt-and many other emotions-made a man do foolish things. ~ Lynsay Sands

Silence rose and crossed to the connecting door and knocked.

The door was opened almost at once.

Michael leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, a wicked smile playing about his sensuous lips. He was so very big this close - every time it surprised her and made her breathless. "Well, now, and when did ye decide to start knockin' at me door?"

Silence fought to keep her face from flaming as she remembered the last time she'd peeked through Michael's door.

She swallowed. "We're bored."

"Is that so?" Michael glanced down.

Silence followed his gaze and saw that Mary had crawled over to investigate. The baby grabbed a handful of her skirt and stood up. She kept one hand on Silence's skirt and popped two fingers from the other into her mouth as she stared solemnly at Michael.

"She looks a rare treat," Michael said softly, watching the toddler.

Silence smiled down at Mary. "She does indeed."

She glanced up and her heart squeezed at the gentle look on Michael's face.

As if she understood she was the subject of conversation, Mary lifted her arms - to Michael. "Up!"

Michael arched an eyebrow. "Mouthy little thing, ain't she?"

But he bent and lifted the toddler. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Fashion is born by small facts, trends, or even politics, never by trying to make little pleats and furbelows, by trinkets, by clothes easy to copy, or by the shortening or lengthening of a skirt. ~ Elsa Schiaparelli

Who ordered the legs?"
My eyes widened at the way Kyle Hamilton's eyes roamed up and down my entire body. The smile on his face did something to the pit of my stomach. I knew the skirt looked good, but I still couldn't believe a guy like him was looking at me like that. Our eyes locked and his smile turned cocky when my disbelief registered with him.
"Hi beautiful. ~ Kelly Oram

Come back to me," he said against her lips.
"I can't."
"Come back to me," he said against her neck.
"I won't."
"Come back to me," he said, lifting her skirt to her hips.
"I don't ... "
"You can't say you don't want to come back to me because we both know you do."
"Not enough to do it."
"Not yet. But you will. ~ Tiffany Reisz

Buying a matching blouse and skirt from the same store is a crime. A clever mix of chic and cheap hits the jackpot. Know how to mix styles and labels. ~ Ines De La Fressange

If our moral attitudes are entirely the result of nonrational factors, such as gut feelings and the absorption of cultural norms, they should either be stable or randomly drift over time, like skirt lengths or the widths of ties. They shouldn't show systematic change over human history. But they do. ~ Paul Bloom

Now there were a few skirt-wearing, firm-breasted Algerian women who shuttled between our world and the world of the roumis, down in the French neighborhoods. We brats used to call them whores and stone them with our eyes. They were fascinating targets, because they could promise the pleasures of ~ Kamel Daoud

Oh," said Haze, "poor me should know, I went through that when I was a kid: boys twisting one's hair, hurting one's breasts, flipping one's skirt. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

I Can't Make You Love Me.' Bonnie Raitt."
"Oh,Fiorella."
I glared at him a little as I climbed down. "Was that delightful list for your benefit or mine?"
Frankie grabbed my hand and, when I didn't pull away fast enough, tugged me onto his lap,where he wrapped his arms so tightly around me that I couldn't escape. Sometimes his strength still surprises me.He tickled my cheek with his nose. "Don't hate me just because I'm hateful."
"I never do."
Here's the thing. Frankie's taken a lot of hits in his life. He never stays down for long.
"Excuse me!" The mannequin's evil twin was glaring down at us fro her sky-high bootie-heeled heights. Her NM badge told us her name was Victoria. "You cannot do that here!" she snapped.
"Do what?" Frankie returned, matching lockjaw snooty for lockjaw snooty.
She opened and closed her mouth, then hissed, "Canoodle!"
I felt Frankie's hiccup of amusement. "Were we canoodling, snookums?" he asked me. "I rather thought we were about to copulate like bunnies."
I couldn't help it; I laughed out loud. Victoria's mouth thinned into a pale line. The whole thing might have ended with our being escorted out the store's hallowed doors by security. Sadie, as she so often did, momentarily saved us from ourselves.
She stomped out of the dressing room and planted herself in front of us. Ignoring the angry salesgirl completely, she muttered, "I look like a carved pumpkin!"
Frankie took in the skirt, layered ~ Melissa Jensen

Who would have thought, Mr. Jiabao,
that of this whole family, the lady with the short skirt would be the one with
a conscience? ~ Aravind Adiga

Sam?"
I couldn't keep my hands off her, and they were everwhere from her legs to her belly to her breasts, and as much as that shirt turned me on, it needed to go. It was cute while it lasted. "Yes, Sunshine?"
"If I let you in," she said, climbing onto her bed as I followed. "Promise not to break anything."
She was caged beneath me, her hand firm on my cock while I inched the skirt up her sides, but she was suddenly so much more delicate than I'd ever noticed.
"It's a deal," I whispered. "Just don't break me either, okay? ~ Kate Canterbary

Some of them are mech," said Zita, nimbly picking her high heels through the steaming pools of red goo and severed, wriggling limbs. She was splattered with blood and grinning as she came to them, but she frowned to see the utter bafflement on Rose's face. "Hey, snap out of it. Haven't you seen mech before?" She kicked a man's severed head, and Rose gasped when his face slid off, revealing a skull of gleaming silver metal.

Rose shook her head. "Mech are illegal. The government s-said they feared a robot war!" she insisted, turning to follow as Zita limped past her.

Zita laughed dryly, folding up her rifle and tucking it under her skirt. "Is it so hard to imagine your government lied? Governments tend to do that. ~ Ash Gray

Mrs. Goldenthal's twin boys, Alex and Erno, were our age, and I discovered that they had been selected at Auschwitz for Mengele's experiments like us. Mrs. Goldenthan had stayed with them, and I found out later that she had hidden a younger child, Margarita, underneath her long skirt. She had come into the camp with the child hidden in her dress and during her entire stay there, even in the Nazi barracks where she had kept Margarita under the mattress during inspections, she and the other women had helped conceal the child. ~ Eva Mozes Kor

While the fashion industry may, at least at the top end, be thriving, the notion of fashion itself is becoming more and more meaningless. Any discipline in fashion has long since evaporated; the idea of a single fashionable skirt length, or heel height, is incomprehensible. The definition of the fashionable has become so skimpy that it refers not to the mode of dress of everyday people
the clothes that have sufficiently caught the popular imagination to be worn in a widespread manner
but only to the styles that momentarily excite members of the fashion caravan. ~ Rebecca Mead

You can change the look of an outfit so easily by changing the kind of jewellery you wear. If you have a basic outfit on - a black sweater and skirt or a simple black dress - you can go from the office to a cocktail party at night just by changing your jewellery. It helps if you change your shoes as well. ~ Iris Apfel

I opened my eyes to stare at a bright blue tulle monstrosity with a skirt that would hit me at mid thigh. I'd look like the really slutty bride of Cookie Monster. ~ Rachel Hawkins

He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a painter he would paint her in that attitude. Her blue felt hat would show off the bronze of her hair against the darkness and the dark panels of her skirt would show off the light ones. Distant Music he would call the picture if he were a painter. ~ James Joyce

During dinner he slid his hand onto my thigh, somehow managing to get under my skirt. His touch sent fiery tingles to my core. When I tried to cross my legs nonchalantly, he just moved with me. ~ Sadie Grubor

She wore a short skirt and a tight sweater and her figure described a set of parabolas that could cause cardiac arrest in a yak. ~ Woody Allen