|
I woke up with a bit of a headache that Sunday -- but also with a smile as I recalled the previous night. I could smell bacon and coffee and hear the voices of public radio mixed with the occasional laugh that I recognized as Dee's. Stopping only to pee and brush my teeth, I scampered happily down to the kitchen.
"Morning, Sunshine," Dee said. "Looks like you can handle your liquor better than this one." She was talking about Shelly, who sat at the kitchen table holding her head.
"Stop talking so loud," Shelly groaned.
"Molly, you help yourself now. They's plenty."
Shelly squinted at me and said, "Looking at you helps. Did I tell you last night how good you look naked?"
"Shel," Dee warned. "She don't want to hear that talk."
"Yes she does. Don't you, Molly?"
"You did compliment me last night," I said demurely, not quite answering her question. "Several times. But I don't mind."
I was famished and gladly made myself a plate and sat down at the table. Meantime, two or three more Roommates had come downstairs in various stages of hangover. By now, of course, it was normal for me to be naked in the kitchen first thing in the morning, but the Roommates still gave me nice looks to show they appreciated me.
So I was enjoying another naked breakfast, but I was formulating bigger plans for the day. It was Sunday, my day off from school and work, and I had no obligations that would take me out of the house, so I made it my goal to remain continuously naked the entire day.
Although I didn't have to go anywhere, I did have a paper I needed to write, so when I was done eating breakfast, I went back upstairs, took a shower, and came back downstairs with my laptop. Not only was I going to stay naked all day, I decided, but I was going to spend as much time as possible downstairs where everyone could see me.
For the next hour, I worked at the kitchen table as the rest of the roommates trickled downstairs. Later, I migrated into the living room where I settled on one of the comfy couches to keep working on my paper. For the next few hours, I kept at it as people came and went.
By early afternoon, my eyes were tired and I decided to take a break. The house was quiet, and I stretched out on the couch and fell asleep.
I must have slept for a solid hour, and as I started to wake up, I did what I often do when I'm still half asleep. My right hand was gliding up and down my body from the top of my pubic hair up to the undersides of my breasts.
My eyes were still closed, and I had forgotten I was on a couch in the living room and not in my private little bedroom. So I was caressing myself up and down, touching a nipple, then back down again, and this time my fingers made it all the way down between my legs and did not come back up again.
But as my middle finger worked its way inside of me to become warm and wet, a little voice inside my head was asking me how come I could hear the radio so much louder than usual, and what was that clinking noise that sounded like ice cubes in a glass?
I opened my eyes and was only now fully awake, my forgotten finger still halfway inside me. For a second, I was relieved that the room was quiet and I was still alone, but then I heard that little ice cube tinkle again. When I looked towards the sound, I was startled to see the figure of a man in silhouette against the backlighting from the window. I could tell he was wearing a fedora and a suit with padded shoulders, but I was confused because I knew there couldn't be a random man loose in Bea and Dee's house. Amid this confusion, I recalled the whereabouts of my finger and yanked my hand away from my crotch.
"Pardon me," a woman's voice said as the figure stepped forward away from the window, taking off her hat. "Don't let me interrupt." She was Barbie-doll beautiful, yet dressed in a vintage man's suit and Clark Kent glasses, her blonde hair buzzed into a dramatic flat-top. By now, I had nervously scrambled to my feet, secretly wiping my finger dry on my butt cheek, as Dee came bustling in from the kitchen.
"Oh good, you're awake," she said to me, and then to the woman, she said, "Jaye, are you behaving yourself?"
"I was way over there the whole time," Jaye said, gesturing at the window with her highball glass. "I could use another scotch."
"Get it yourself," Dee said. "Molly, this is Jaye. Jaye, this is Molly. Now you two come help me in the kitchen."
Dee gave us each little tasks, and when Jaye was busy at hers, it gave me a chance to steal glances. Behind those glasses, she had big eyes, and she had a pert little nose and poofy lips. If Mattel ever made a "Butch Barbie," this is what she would probably look like.
I heard the front screen door slam shut, and several of the Roommates trooped in, along with two other women that I'd met a couple times and liked. This was the first time they'd seen me nude, but they had all heard about my little coming-out party the previous night, so my nudity was not a surprise. They fussed over me a bit, giving me lots of compliments.
Before I knew it, dinner was ready and I felt exultant as we all sat down at the table. Jaye took the seat to my left, and we chatted through dinner.
After that night, I felt free to go naked whenever I wanted, which was most of the time, though I still hesitated sometimes. I would come home from work and make my way back to the kitchen, and there would always be visitors of some kind, but now I knew all the regulars, and they knew me. If I felt comfortable with the crowd, I would go up the kitchen staircase up to my room to undress. On the way back down, I would stop at the bathroom to freshen up and maybe take a quick shower, and then I would go down the narrow staircase to the first floor, where I would peek out the louvered door to make sure before making my entrance.
Most nights, Jaye was there, and we would chat and flirt. One evening, while we were standing there talking, Shelly walked past and gave me a loud slap on the butt as she went by.
A look of delight pushed Jaye's customary smirk aside, and she whispered, "Could I do that sometime?"
I laughed. "Maybe after we've known each other a little longer."
And so the question of whether we had known each other long enough for Jaye to slap my butt became the new joke.
"C'mon," Jaye said one evening, "we've known each other almost two weeks now. You said I could spank you after we knew each other better."
"I didn't say you could spank me." I corrected, sipping my wine and leaning my bare butt against the cool edge of the kitchen counter. "We were referring to a single slap. That's all."
"Okay, well, that's a start. When can I do that?"
"I'm not into spankings," I said. "Nor pain, nor submissiveness, and definitely not bondage. I just like to go naked."
"Oh, it's not painful the way I do it," she said, "but it does tend to get everyone's attention . . . if a person is into THAT sort of thing."
"Okay, okay," I said, giving in. I turned away from her and stuck my butt out. "One swat, but it better not hurt. On a one-to-ten scale, give me a two."
Jaye gave me a pat.
"I barely felt that."
"Because it was a two. Would you like to try a three?'
"Okay," I said, remaining in position. She spanked me again, slightly harder, but it still didn't hurt. Over my shoulder, I could see others glancing our way. They were used to seeing me naked, but getting spanked was something new.
"Try a four," I suggested, wanting to be sure everyone got a chance to see it. She gave me another swat, and that one stung a tiny bit. I turned around, making a show of rubbing my butt and pretending I didn't notice everyone was now watching. "That was only a four?"
Jaye took a sip of her scotch. "Yes, Molly, on the official one-to-ten spanking scale used in the Olympics, that was a four."
Although this part of my life was off-the-charts wonderful, financially, I was in a precarious situation. I was almost maxed out on my credit card and driving a crappy car that kept breaking down -- which caused my debt problem. When my car needed two expensive repairs in one month, I was suddenly tapped out and unable to pay my rent.
Bea and Dee told me not to bother about it, but I didn't want to take advantage of them -- and besides, it was way beyond just rent. I also didn't have the money to pay the car repair bill, and when I tried to put it on my credit card, the amount was rejected. I had to leave the car at the shop until I could pay for it.
I knew, of course, I could ask my parents for help -- again. They had always been there for me, and I knew they always would, but I was all grown up now, and I really, really didn't want to go that route.
Then Jaye heard about it and whipped out her wallet, flashing way more in cash than I owed. "How much do you need?" she asked. She practically had my student loan balance in that wad.
"No, Jaye," I said. "I can't accept this kind of gift from you."
"It's not a gift then," she said. "Let's call it compensation, which you would earn by doing something that has value to me."
"Uh-oh," I said, suspiciously," and what exactly would THAT be?"
"Not what you're assuming, though I may pursue that separately. No, for the purposes of this arrangement, you would simply have to commit to going nude 100% of the time whenever you're here in the house."
I laughed, holding out my hands to display my body. "Jaye, I'm already going naked most of the time. You're just trying to make it seem like it's not charity."
Jaye smiled. "True, you go nude most of the time, but not all the time. I've been here on nights when you stayed clothed for an hour or two after you came home and only undressed later. So I'd say you're only at about 75% right now. If you accept my proposal, you'd be contractually obligated to be nude 100% of the time. I assure you, there is a big difference."
The phrase "contractually obligated to be nude" set off a response in me that was absolutely electrifying. I had already been thrilled by my new freedom to go nude whenever I wanted, but I still felt awkward sometimes, like I was pushing myself on people. But to be "obligated" to be naked was . . . surprisingly sexy.
She led the way to the front door, which opened into a short hallway ending in an arched doorway in front of the grand front stairway. "This," she said, pointing to that doorway, "would be your limit. For the next month, while I am paying your rent and your car repair bill, you must always be nude before stepping beyond this point. So, is it a deal?"
"Yes!" I blurted without having to think about it twice. "I accept."
"Excellent! Now, just to make sure you don't forget when you come home ..." Jaye grabbed a Post-It note and a marker from the desk in the parlor. I didn't see what she wrote, and she stepped past me to stick it on the woodwork at eye level where anyone would see it coming in the door. 'Molly Required To Be Nude Beyond This Point.'
The next morning, I came downstairs naked as usual for breakfast. After my turn in the shower, I usually went up to my room, got dressed, and came down the front stairway and out the door. So the only difference now was that I was carrying my dress over my arm instead, and I put it on in the entranceway.
In the summertime, I usually just wore a sun dress with nothing underneath. I am sufficiently small-boobed to go braless without it being too obvious except when my nipples are misbehaving, and I've never had much use for panties. As I pulled my dress over my head that morning, I felt a little guilty about letting Jaye give me all that money in exchange for this very minimal adjustment in what I was already doing on my own.
That evening, when I came back home, however, I was reminded how useful those clothed moments could be. As I pulled off my dress in the entranceway, I was listening to the usual sound of music and voices drifting in from the kitchen, but it seemed louder than usual, and I remembered it was Friday. At the House, that was the biggest party night of the week, more so even than Saturday, because the Roommates all had friends who worked downtown, and who tended to kick off the weekend by dropping by for a few drinks or dinner after work.
I hung up my dress and took a few steps into the House, pausing in the doorway to the parlor where the cats turned their ears back and waited for me to go away. I considered taking a detour up the main stairway and then down the back so I could at least peek through the slats of the louvered door and see who was in the kitchen. Before I could decide, Jaye came around the corner.
"Ah, you're home," she said with her playboy smirk. "Come join the party." She took me by the arm, and I submitted, letting her lead me through the empty living room and directly into the kitchen.
The Roommates cheered me and called out my name in greeting, but the room was crowded, and every eye was on me. I was nervous, but I reminded myself that this was what I wanted, and then I let myself relax and appreciate it.
I spotted at least two entirely new faces -- including a male -- along with some women that I knew, but who had not previously seen me nude. I knew everyone had heard about and seen the Post-It note. They all knew I was now "required" to be naked! Whenever we talked to someone new, I sometimes told the story of me owing Jaye money and this being her requirement, but other times, I just innocently said I was going nude simply because Jaye told me to. Of course, I did not actually want to be submissive to Jaye or to anyone; I just liked the play-acting of it. Jaye clearly liked it too, basking in this perception of her power, though I was prepared to remind her, if necessary, that she wasn't actually in charge.
The next day was another of my busy Saturdays, and I came home after everyone else had eaten. Jaye had been looking out for me and again tried to compel me to walk with her directly into the kitchen. But this time I didn't want to because I felt all grungy and wanted to take a shower first. She took my arm and tried to make me obey her, but I planted my feet and stood immovable, staring her down until she let go of me. I headed up the grand front staircase, and she stood at the bottom of the steps watching me go, but not following. I decided maybe I wanted her to follow, so I paused near the top and turned around. I put one hand on my hip, striking a pose -- an R-rated version of Gone with the Wind, perhaps -- but the only thing I could think of to say was, "Are you coming?"
She dashed up the stairway and followed me like a puppy dog as I led the way down the hallway to the bathroom. "Keep me company while I get ready," I commanded, as I got the shower going and pinned up my hair. Her glasses got all steamy, and she had to take them off to watch me in the shower (through a gap in the curtain that I left for her). I stepped out of the shower and only toweled off from the thighs down so that I was not tracking too much water on the floor, but still left most of my body wet and drippy.
I stood in the full-length mirror and was going to let down my hair, but decided to leave it up because I liked how it looked, and sometimes I like to have my shoulders and the back of my neck exposed. As I stood there considering this, I was also trying to decide whether I wanted Jaye to come up behind me and put her hands on me. I gave her a good chance, but she just stood there in the mirror several steps behind, wiping her glasses on the colorful silk handkerchief that normally adorned her jacket pocket.
I led the way down the back stairway, and did not bother to peek through the louvered door, and just walked through fresh from my shower with beads of water still making their way down my skin. When Jaye caught up to me, I put my arm in hers and let her be in control again, guiding me around the room to talk with whoever she preferred.
| 
