I dunno if the weekend should call for something different, but to be honest I didn’t have anything planned except washing and shopping. Dull dull dull…
I thought I should celebrate my new week, but I was too busy at work and had too many meetings to go flashing anyone. When I got home I treated myself with a little experiment: I unbuttoned my blouse completely and then tied it into a knot around my midriff. It felt pretty daring to be showing a bit of stomach and a whole lot of bra, albeit to nobody at all. Then I watched a Marvel movie and completely forgot about it.
Wearing nothing but a confident smile and the same white stilettos as the previous day, I stepped out from the screen holding my box of clothes. The researcher grinned. I felt more naked than I’d ever felt before as I handed everything over.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “Everyone’s nervous, and you look amazing.” I already knew that, but it was kind of her to try to reassure me.
The assistant pushed the door open for me and I walked through. It closed gently behind me and I heard the lock click.
Taking a deep breath, sucking my stomach in and pushing my chest out I took the last couple of steps into the main room of the office. My head was spinning and then, as I looked around, I thought I must be hallucinating or dreaming: why was everyone else fully dressed?
I’ve had this dream a hundred times before and I wondered if I was about to wake up. Heads began to turn towards me and I felt their eyes on my naked body. I froze and was about to turn and run for the door, but I remembered I’d just heard it lock behind me.
If charity begins at home, then why not exhibitionism too? My flat is overlooked in all kinds of directions, although I have blinds in the dining room and I doubt the neighbours can see through the little gaps. (Although they don’t have any so I can see them moving around.) It seemed a good time to get used to this loose-buttoned feeling anyway, so I swanned around the place flashing bra at nobody at all. Unless the couple across the street have binoculars, that is, which would be a very amusing turnaround.
I was out of ideas for levelling up today, so while I was working I popped another button. You could definitely have seen a bit of bra, if you were my computer monitor, that is, because whenever I left my desk and as soon as five-thirty came around I twisted it back up again.
“I’d heard about a farm girl in a nearby town who was naked in all but the worst weather, but I never believed the stories until I saw her with my own eyes.”
Today I started with the button undone, and lasted the whole day that way. It’s a bigger deal than you’d think because I have to say hello to everyone else on the way to my desk. I’m an accountant and there are a few older guys in the office (I’m 26, by the way), but even they didn’t notice anything. But I did work with a bit of a smile on my face, like I had a secret or something. I’m such an idiot sometimes.
It’s the start of the new regime, but it’s not like I’m suddenly going to walk around naked. So guess what I did today? While I was at work I carefully unbuttoned the top of my blouse. Stop laughing at the back. Every journey begins with a single step etc etc.
I work in an office, so it was only my computer screen that saw anything really, and I don’t think it cares. I mean, it’s not that I’m completely unattractive, even if I’m nothing special, but unless someone’s hacked my webcam then I had no real audience. (And if someone has hacked my webcam they must have fallen asleep from boredom long before now.)
Oh, but I did make it all the way home that way. One tube and a bus journey, and disappointingly I don’t think a single person noticed.
I’ll start by introducing myself. My name’s Kate, and I’m very much curious about exhibitionism. When I say “curious” I mean I’m not only curious to read about it, and hunt out photos of men and women nude in public places, but curious about what it feels like to actually do it.
The problem is that I’m also a bit of a coward. Okay, I’m a lot of a coward. So I’m starting this to keep track of my thoughts as I experiment and (hopefully) I can look back on this day and wonder what it is I was worrying about.
Wish me luck.
Malcolm moved his hand a few inches up Alison’s leg, working itself between the loose folds of her skirt. Still, the fabric lay across her lap, but Alison’s heart beat harder as Malcom’s hand stopped on the top of her thigh.
Alison took another sip from her drink. Malcolm watched again as she reached for her glass and her top fell away from her chest then, as she put her arm down again, it again barely covered her. His eyes followed the line of bare skin from her neck, down her chest, and across her stomach. He imagined his lips kissing every inch of bare skin he could see. It had been months since he had last kissed her breasts, and suddenly he could think of nothing else.
“Do you remember last time we were here?” Malcolm asked Alison. She raised an eyebrow, too nervous to articulate words. “Back on our second date, you were wearing a blouse or something, and I think I tried to put my hand inside your top.”
Alison gave a small laughed at the memory. She had slapped at Malcolm’s hand at the time: it was too early in their relationship for her to give in that easily.
Malcolm reached over and put his hand on the top of her breast. “I think I was trying to distract you with a kiss,” he said, and he leaned towards her and their lips met. Alison’s eyes closed and she felt Malcolm’s hand move down her breast to cup her nipple. She gasped a little, but the kiss continued.