Chapter One: The Sign
One small mistake can have far-reaching consequences. If Angela had known the sign in the entrance of Rosa's Beauty Salon was serious, she would have never left her mask at home.
"Not one more step!" snapped the masked hairdresser, scowling with her eyebrows and gesticulating. "Read the sign!"
Angela turned her head in the direction of the hairdresser's frantic fingers. She'd seen the sign before, walking past the salon, and chuckled internally at it. It read,
"You are welcome to enter without a mask, but first you must remove all of your clothes."
Angela had woken up early that morning, put on her exercise gear, and taken a light jog to the strip mall to get her hair trimmed. As the local COVID-19 mask mandate having been lifted a few months ago, she had left her mask at home. She was dressed in a short tank top and leggings, without a scarf or bandana that could serve as a replacement. She carried only her phone, keys and a few notes to pay for the trim.
Angela read the sign again, looked back at the hairdresser and tossed her head back in exaggerated laughter. "Haha, that's so funny! You really had me for a moment there."
The hairdresser's mask creased as her scowl deepened. "It's not a joke. See for yourself." She gestured towards a chair in the corner of the salon, where her colleague, who appeared to be wearing two masks, was cutting a blonde woman's hair. Although the chair was angled away from Angela, she could see a bare shoulder above it, and the backs of two dangling bare legs.
Angela's eyes widened in shock, and she quickly looked away to spare the woman's dignity. She turned to leave the salon, but the hairdresser she'd been talking too was now standing between her and the exit door, which had been shut. Adrenaline spiked in her veins.
"You've already exposed us by coming in here," the hairdresser said. "You might as well get it over with. Lucky for you, it's too early for anyone to be around, and there are no other appointments this morning."
Angela bit her lip. The hairdresser's glare hardened. "Have to teach you anti-maskers a lesson. We'll give you back your clothes afterwards."
"Do you have a back room or...?" Angela couldn't believe she was considering this. But she knew she wouldn't be able to get another booking before Rachel's wedding, and she couldn't turn up there with overgrown hair.
"No," said the hairdresser. "Don't be shy, we're all girls here."
Angela glanced at the other customer's chair in the corner. From this angle, she could see the lady's naked side. At least she wouldn't be alone.
Grimacing, Angela bent down to untie her running shoes. The hairdresser in front of her smiled approvingly. Once the laces were loose, Angela pulled them off, and then took her phone and house key out of her socks, before removing them as well, stuffing them into her shoes. The floor was cool against her bare feet. But now she had to really start undressing.
Angela pulled off her tank top first, exposing her stomach and sports bra. For a moment, she imagined she was in a hot yoga studio, and would not be removing anything else. But the hairdresser raised an expectant eyebrow.
The leggings were next. As the stretchy fabric slid down her smooth legs, she knew she was really stripping. Once they were on the ground, she stepped out of them, and the hairdresser took that moment to gather them up with her top and shoes. For a brief moment, she stood in her bra and panties, feeling cold and exposed, hoping against hope that the hairdresser would relent.
Sharon was the name on the hairdresser's tag, she noticed. Sharon tapped her foot expectantly, and gestured towards the blonde customer. Angela side-eyed her, noting her bare chest, slightly smaller than Angela's own.
"All of it," said Sharon.
Angela could deny what was happening to her before, and pretend she was just going barefoot, or going for a swim, but not anymore. She took a deep breath, reached back, and undid the clasp on her bra. Then, before she could dwell on what she'd done, she hooked both thumbs into the sides of her panties and yanked them down.
Her bra fell to the floor, where it lay in front of her discarded panties for an instant before Sharon scooped them both up. Angela cringed, pushing her thighs together and covering her C-cup breasts with both arms.
"Looks like you need a trim downstairs as well," Sharon muttered. Angela's face reddened at the sight of black public curls poking out from between her milky thighs. "Extra charge for that."
"J-just the head will be fine," Angela said. Her voice quavered, but it sounded stronger than she felt inside. Right now, she needed all the cover she could get.
"Alright ma'am, right this way." Sharon said, leading Angela to the chair beside the other naked customer.
"Hi," she said to the blonde lady, who seemed strangely calm.
"Hey there," the blonde lady replied, smiling broadly and looking Angela directly in the eyes. "You have awesome boobs."
Angela blushed and looked away. What kind of person compliments a stranger's breasts? A moment passed, and Angela felt self-conscious about leaving the statement hanging. "Thanks," she said, and then, desperate to return the sentiment, "...you too?"
"These old things?" the lady replied incredulously, looking down. "I wish they could jiggle like yours."
Angela flushed even redder, and despite herself, moved her torso so that her breasts indeed jiggled. The blonde lady made an approving noise, and Angela immediately wrapped her arms around her chest.
By this time, Sharon the hairdresser had reappeared, wearing an extra mask, with a cart of hairdressing supplies in tow. She asked Angela a few quick questions about how she wanted her hair, and set to work. Angela had originally been planning to bob her hair, but changed her mind at the last minute. Her hair currently fell an inch or so below her boobs, and she didn't want it too much shorter. They were drawing too much attention as it was.
Usually, hairdressers placed a sheet over their customers to protect their clothes, but the salon had apparently decided this was unnecessary for naked bodies. As Sharon cut her hair, Angela stared at the mirror in front of her. The woman next to her was an elegant, classical beauty, blonde and blue-eyed, with an aquiline nose and a haughty, proud cast to her features. She was rail thin, with pert breasts and visible ribs. She gave the impression of a model or a Roman empress.
Angela herself had deep brown eyes and masses of wavy black hair. Her face was round and sweet, with dimples that appeared when she smiled, although she wasn't doing that now. Her body was soft, with the previously remarked on "awesome boobs", topped with small, pink nipples. Her hips were wide, her butt was ample and firm, and her dark, curly pubic hair was only lightly trimmed. She had a naturally light complexion, and had been inside a lot lately, so her skin was milky white all over, without noticeable tan lines. She was twenty-five.
A small part of Angela's her brain, in a voice she didn't quite want to acknowledge, told her that she looked extremely hot right now. Her training and diet had been paying off.
The blonde woman's hairdresser presented a mirror for her to inspect her new, short hairstyle with. The blonde woman approved, and got up to leave. "Good luck," she said to Angela, squeezing her upper arm. This woman was a bit too familiar. And what did she mean by that?
Angela watched the woman in the mirror, as she walked with her hairdresser to the payment counter, acting completely casual, as if she wasn't naked in public. The blonde woman tapped on her phone to pay and waited patiently for the transaction to go through. Then the hairdresser handed her a bundle of clothes. She gathered them in the crook of her elbow, thanked her hairdresser, spun around on her heels, and walked out of the salon, still naked, clothes under her arm.
"Crazy woman," said Sharon, once the customer was out of sight. "Couldn't wait to strip down. You reacted far more normally."
Angela sighed. "How many customers have you had under this... policy?"
"More since the mandate ended," Sharon said curtly. "This virus is still here, but people want to go around exposing themselves."
Her haircut was finished, and Sharon held up a mirror for Angela to inspect her work. Cruel and unusual health policies aside, this was a great salon, and Sharon had done an amazing job on Angela's hair, taking it from rat's nest to gorgeous, flowing tresses in less than an hour. She nodded her head in approval of the work, hair bouncing beautifully.
Angela got up from the chair, and Sharon took a duster to her body, back and front, swiftly removing any stray hairs. The duster's bristles tickeled her bare skin. The contact felt a bit intrusive, but Sharon did it so quickly that Angela had no opportunity to protest.
"Are you sure you don't want that downstairs trim?"
Angela shook her head, jerking her hands in front of her bush.
"Now you get your clothes back," Sharon said, leading her to the cash register.
Angela glanced out of the salon door, noting that the strip mall was still empty. It was thankfully still very early on a Saturday morning, and most of the neighborhood had clearly decided to sleep in. She arranged her hair so that it fell over her breasts, held her cellphone behind her butt, and inched awkwardly to the cash register, knees bent low.
Sharon told her the amount, and she retrieved it from inside her cellphone case, where she was also now forced to put her housekey. Sharon counted the notes, rang her up, and then, finally, reached under the counter to retrieve her clothes.
Angela cast anxious glances out of the salon door as Sharon continued to rummage under the counter. She was taking longer than seemed necessary, and panic was setting in for Angela. If she could get her clothes now, she would put them on, and then this whole incident would be behind her. Apart from the two hairdressers and strange blonde lady, nobody would have seen her, and she could get on with her day and never think about this again. Except that she would definitely remember to bring a mask next time she came for a hair appointment here.
"Ah! Here we are!" Sharon said after an eternity. She poked her head up and dumped a pair of running shoes on the countertop.
Angela stared at her shoes. Her socks were scrunched up inside them, just as she had left them. But the rest of her clothes were conspicuously absent. "What about the rest?" she asked.
Sharon's eyes widened momentarily, and then she shouted to her colleague. "Where are the lady's clothes?"
Sharon's colleague then said something that made Angela's heart sink. "I gave the only set of clothes behind there to the last woman."
Angela stared daggers at Sharon's colleague, and then at Sharon. Both of them shrugged. "That lady," Sharon said, "she was naked when she came in, wasn't she?"
Sharon's colleague slapped her forehead. "Oh yes, that's right! I totally forgot about that. Whoops!"
Sharon and her colleague exchanged amused laughter, as if the mistake they made was nothing serious. Which it wasn't, for them.
"What am I supposed to do now?" asked Angela, sinking into a fetal position.
"Maybe you can catch her if you hurry," said Sharon. "Not nice of that lady to take things that didn't belong to her."
"Catch her?" Angela exclaimed, sinking deeper into her fetal position. "I'm naked!"
"These are running shoes, yes?" Sharon asked, tossing the shoes in front of Angela. "Better get running!"
Angela looked from Sharon to her colleague, her eyes big and tearful. Neither of them showed any sympathy on their masked countenances. "Time is ticking!" Sharon said, tapping her watch.
"Can't I at least have a sheet, or something to cover myself?"
"No, we need our sheets for customers who follow the rules."
Angela huffed, slumped onto the floor, and started putting on her socks. She briefly considered using them to cover her intimate parts, but there was no practical way to make that work. Besides, she would need somewhere to put her phone.
Feeling like she was in some kind of surreal dream, Angela pulled on her socks and shoes, and placed her phone into her right sock. She stood up, dusted the hair off her bare bottom, and took a suicidal step forward, towards the door of the salon.
Panic gripped her. She was about to be naked in public, for real. She froze up, unable to continue.
"Come on lady, we need to close the salon for our break," said Sharon, who was now pushing her towards to the door by her shoulder blade. Angela whimpered, but didn't resist the push, and soon all three women were standing outside, in the long, exposed corridor of the strip mall.
Sharon flipped a "Back in 5 minutes" sign around and pulled the salon door shut. Then she and her colleague waved goodbye to Angela and disappeared around a corner.
Angela stood plastered to the door of the salon, her ass pushed up against the glass, one arm over her boobs and the other covering her pussy. She glanced left and right, across the thankfully still deserted strip mall corridor. There was no sign of the blonde woman, and the parking lot was empty. Sharon's facetious suggestion, of streaking through the mall to find the clothes thief, seemed more absurd by the second. And what if the blonde lady refused to give her clothes back? Then where would she be? No, Angela needed a better plan. She needed help from a friend.
To be continued...
For Want of a Mask
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Chapter Two: The Ride
A sign pointing to the bathrooms hung on the ceiling to Angela's right. She took a deep breath, and sprinted towards it, then turned down the side corridor that led towards the gent's and lady's. She burst into an empty lady's room and hid in a stall.
Angela sat down on the toilet seat, trying not to think about the germs it must be breeding, and caught her breath. For the first time since she had taken off her underwear in the middle of the salon, she felt safe from the eyes of the world. She still couldn't believe she'd actually done that. But she'd had no choice, and now she had to deal with her situation as it was.
After taking a moment to collect herself, Angela looked at the toilet paper dispenser. Empty. Frowning, she got up and switched to the next stall. No luck. And the next. Also empty. The universe, or perhaps more accurately the mall cleaning staff, had denied her even a flimsy makeshift toilet paper bikini.
The hand-dryers by the sinks were, of course, hot-air blowers rather than paper towel dispensers. Angela screamed internally, and then made peace. Still naked, nothing lost, nothing gained. Okay, next stage of the plan. Call Rachel, her best friend.
Angela pulled her phone out of her sock, opened her contacts app, and then had second thoughts. Rachel's wedding was a week from now, and she was incredibly busy with preparations. If she even answered her phone, Angela had no right or desire to lay the stress of this stupid predicament on her. Rachel had enough to deal with already.
Angela scrolled through her contact list. She would call Tammy, another friend, though one she knew less well. Tammy at least lived near the mall, and could come quickly. She would ask her to bring some clothes, meet her in this bathroom, and then drive her home. Tammy would do that for her, how could she not? She would come quickly, pass the clothes over the top of the stall, and then Angela would get dressed and put this whole mess behind her.
Angela tapped on Tammy's name and then tapped call. The phone began to dial.
"Hi Angela!" Tammy said, picking up on the second ring. "What's up?"
Angela was delighted to hear Tammy's sweet, bubbly voice. "Hey Tammy, I need to ask you a favor."
"Sure, anything," Tammy replied. "Well, not anything anything! Like I won't help you bury a dead body, or commit tax fraud, or carry out an assassination conspiracy, or anything like that! But whatever I can do for you that isn't that!"
"Okay, sure," Angela said, forcing a small laugh into her voice. Tammy was a bit strange, and Angela wished it had been a good time to call Rachel instead.
"Listen, this is going to sound weird, but I need you to bring a change of clothes for me to the bathroom at the strip mall by your house. The one with Rosa's Beauty Salon."
"Say no more, that's no problem! I'll be there in a jiffy!" Tammy hung up the phone before Angela could respond. But no matter, she was going to bring clothes. And maybe it was better that Angela didn't have to give her a whole long explanation about what had led her into this situation. She'd have Tammy pass the clothes over the stall door, get dressed, and exit the bathroom cool and confident. She could even tell Tammy that she was wearing something underneath, which had a big spill on it. At worst, Tammy would think she was a bit vain, not a crazy streaker.
Angela pumped the air, triumphant. Now all she had to do was wait.
After a couple of minutes, her phone buzzed. It was Tammy. She must be here already, with the clothes. Probably wanted to know which bathroom Angela was in... did this mall have more than one?
"Hello," Angela said, picking up.
"Hey Ang, listen, I'm so so so sorry, but something's come up and I've had to change plans. I still have an outfit for you, that's no problem, we're about the same size I think so I just took out one of mine, but something came up and I can't come to the mall right now. But don't worry, I'm calling a ride for you to come over, told him to stop right by Rosa's, he should be there um, right now, I think, the license number is..."
Angela's heart sank as she listened to Tammy speak at her usual warp speed, unable to get a word in. After rattling off the license number, she said a quick goodbye and hung up. One word from Tammy's shpiel stuck in Angela's mind: the pronoun "he".
So far, Angela had only been exposed to women, which was embarrassing, but being seen naked by a man was a whole different story. Beyond being way more embarrassing, it could be downright dangerous. But rideshare drivers were professionals. She would likely be more mortified than in danger. And anyway, didn't she know that even if a woman walked down the street naked, she still wasn't asking for it? Well, she was about to do just that.
A horn honked outside the bathroom. More than likely, that was her ride. Could she do it? Go out naked and hop into a car with a strange man? What other options did she have? She didn't have any other friends who lived this close by, and she couldn't spend the rest of her life in this filthy bathroom stall. And Tammy was expecting her.
Angela felt a strange courage building inside her, a steel resolve and in some way, perhaps, excitement. She undid the lock and pushed open the door, catching the sight of her naked torso in the mirror. Despite herself, she smiled and winked. Whatever else happened, she was about to make some rideshare driver's day.
A pink streak shot out of the lady's room and towards the Toyota parked just in front of it. Angela glanced to confirm the number plate, yanked the back door handle and tumbled into the back seat of the car, covering herself as best she could. "Hi," she said sheepishly. Her courage had evaporated.
The driver was a gangly, bespectacled blond guy around Angela's age, maybe a bit younger. His eyes looked about ready to pop out of their sockets. "A-Angela?" he asked.
"Yeah," Angela said, putting on a weak smile. "In the flesh."
"And how!" said the driver. "Is this a dare?"
Angela briefly considered how to respond. "Yeah, sure," she said. "It's a dare. I, uh, lost a bet."
"Well your loss is my win!" the driver exclaimed, putting the car in gear. "You're really hot!"
"Thanks, I guess," said Angela, hoping he wouldn't compliment her breasts as well.
"And really brave too!" he followed up. "Takes real balls to do a dare like that. Uh, not that I'm saying you have balls! I can see you don't. Well, you're kinda covering up, but I wouldn't want to... I mean, unless... ah okay... cool. Real metaphorical balls on you lady."
Angela felt mortified that she had briefly removed her hand from her crotch to stop the awkward man's blabbering. He'd probably been angling for that.
The car moved out of the mall parking lot and onto the public road, and Angela sank further down into her seat. "Um, you don't happen to have a coat, or something, do you?" she asked.
"Well that wouldn't be in the spirit of your dare now would it?" the gangly driver shot back.
"No, I guess it wouldn't."
They drove mostly in silence, the driver taking every opportunity to glance back at Angela, and Angela trying to sink further and further into the passenger seat, wishing she could melt into it and become part of the car's upholstry.
After a remarkably slow drive down a couple of blocks, the driver announced that they'd reached Tammy's house and pulled up in line with the front door. Angela thanked him before slinking out of the door and dashing for the entrance. "No, thank you!" shouted the driver, no doubt enjoying the view of Angela's sprinting ass.
Angela clung to Tammy's front door and furiously pounded the doorbell. The rideshare car idled behind her, taking his sweet time to roll off. "Hold your horses," came the voice of an older lady, "I'm coming, I'm coming."
Angela glanced around anxiously at the neighboring houses, and held her arms tightly around herself. She felt like a million eyes were bearing down on her naked body.
Finally, the door to the house opened. But Tammy wasn't behind the door. Instead it was her mother. Angela took a deep breath in, but Tammy's mother didn't appear to react in any unusual way to the naked girl standing on her porch.
Then Angela noticed the stick in Tammy's mother's hand, and looked at her eyes. She remembered that Tammy's mother was blind. What a relief! She could have hugged the lady, but that would be counterproductive.
"Who is it?" Tammy's mother asked.
"It's Angela, Tammy's friend," Angela said, forcing her voice to sound normal, as though this was an ordinary Saturday morning and she was paying an ordinary social visit.
"Oh yes," Tammy's mother said. "She's expecting you. Something about trying on clothes. Come in, come in. Tammy's room is on the second floor."
Tammy's mother ushered Angela in, tapping her on the back of the shoulder. "Oh, backless is in this season, is it?" she asked. "I don't think Tammy has any backless dresses. Maybe she'd better try on your outfit!"
Angela chuckled nervously as Tammy's mother shut the door. She heard the sound of the rideshare driver pulling off. "What a gentleman," said Tammy's mother, "waiting to see you get in safe, and for no extra fee."
"Oh, he got a hell of a tip," Angela replied. "I'll head up to Tammy's room now."
Then Angela had an idea. "Actually, uh, where's the bathroom?" she asked.
"Right down the---"
A high, shrill voice cut Tammy's mother off in mid-sentence. "ANGIE!" Tammy had appeared halfway down the hallway staircase, her eyes wide as saucers.
To be continued...
A sign pointing to the bathrooms hung on the ceiling to Angela's right. She took a deep breath, and sprinted towards it, then turned down the side corridor that led towards the gent's and lady's. She burst into an empty lady's room and hid in a stall.
Angela sat down on the toilet seat, trying not to think about the germs it must be breeding, and caught her breath. For the first time since she had taken off her underwear in the middle of the salon, she felt safe from the eyes of the world. She still couldn't believe she'd actually done that. But she'd had no choice, and now she had to deal with her situation as it was.
After taking a moment to collect herself, Angela looked at the toilet paper dispenser. Empty. Frowning, she got up and switched to the next stall. No luck. And the next. Also empty. The universe, or perhaps more accurately the mall cleaning staff, had denied her even a flimsy makeshift toilet paper bikini.
The hand-dryers by the sinks were, of course, hot-air blowers rather than paper towel dispensers. Angela screamed internally, and then made peace. Still naked, nothing lost, nothing gained. Okay, next stage of the plan. Call Rachel, her best friend.
Angela pulled her phone out of her sock, opened her contacts app, and then had second thoughts. Rachel's wedding was a week from now, and she was incredibly busy with preparations. If she even answered her phone, Angela had no right or desire to lay the stress of this stupid predicament on her. Rachel had enough to deal with already.
Angela scrolled through her contact list. She would call Tammy, another friend, though one she knew less well. Tammy at least lived near the mall, and could come quickly. She would ask her to bring some clothes, meet her in this bathroom, and then drive her home. Tammy would do that for her, how could she not? She would come quickly, pass the clothes over the top of the stall, and then Angela would get dressed and put this whole mess behind her.
Angela tapped on Tammy's name and then tapped call. The phone began to dial.
"Hi Angela!" Tammy said, picking up on the second ring. "What's up?"
Angela was delighted to hear Tammy's sweet, bubbly voice. "Hey Tammy, I need to ask you a favor."
"Sure, anything," Tammy replied. "Well, not anything anything! Like I won't help you bury a dead body, or commit tax fraud, or carry out an assassination conspiracy, or anything like that! But whatever I can do for you that isn't that!"
"Okay, sure," Angela said, forcing a small laugh into her voice. Tammy was a bit strange, and Angela wished it had been a good time to call Rachel instead.
"Listen, this is going to sound weird, but I need you to bring a change of clothes for me to the bathroom at the strip mall by your house. The one with Rosa's Beauty Salon."
"Say no more, that's no problem! I'll be there in a jiffy!" Tammy hung up the phone before Angela could respond. But no matter, she was going to bring clothes. And maybe it was better that Angela didn't have to give her a whole long explanation about what had led her into this situation. She'd have Tammy pass the clothes over the stall door, get dressed, and exit the bathroom cool and confident. She could even tell Tammy that she was wearing something underneath, which had a big spill on it. At worst, Tammy would think she was a bit vain, not a crazy streaker.
Angela pumped the air, triumphant. Now all she had to do was wait.
After a couple of minutes, her phone buzzed. It was Tammy. She must be here already, with the clothes. Probably wanted to know which bathroom Angela was in... did this mall have more than one?
"Hello," Angela said, picking up.
"Hey Ang, listen, I'm so so so sorry, but something's come up and I've had to change plans. I still have an outfit for you, that's no problem, we're about the same size I think so I just took out one of mine, but something came up and I can't come to the mall right now. But don't worry, I'm calling a ride for you to come over, told him to stop right by Rosa's, he should be there um, right now, I think, the license number is..."
Angela's heart sank as she listened to Tammy speak at her usual warp speed, unable to get a word in. After rattling off the license number, she said a quick goodbye and hung up. One word from Tammy's shpiel stuck in Angela's mind: the pronoun "he".
So far, Angela had only been exposed to women, which was embarrassing, but being seen naked by a man was a whole different story. Beyond being way more embarrassing, it could be downright dangerous. But rideshare drivers were professionals. She would likely be more mortified than in danger. And anyway, didn't she know that even if a woman walked down the street naked, she still wasn't asking for it? Well, she was about to do just that.
A horn honked outside the bathroom. More than likely, that was her ride. Could she do it? Go out naked and hop into a car with a strange man? What other options did she have? She didn't have any other friends who lived this close by, and she couldn't spend the rest of her life in this filthy bathroom stall. And Tammy was expecting her.
Angela felt a strange courage building inside her, a steel resolve and in some way, perhaps, excitement. She undid the lock and pushed open the door, catching the sight of her naked torso in the mirror. Despite herself, she smiled and winked. Whatever else happened, she was about to make some rideshare driver's day.
A pink streak shot out of the lady's room and towards the Toyota parked just in front of it. Angela glanced to confirm the number plate, yanked the back door handle and tumbled into the back seat of the car, covering herself as best she could. "Hi," she said sheepishly. Her courage had evaporated.
The driver was a gangly, bespectacled blond guy around Angela's age, maybe a bit younger. His eyes looked about ready to pop out of their sockets. "A-Angela?" he asked.
"Yeah," Angela said, putting on a weak smile. "In the flesh."
"And how!" said the driver. "Is this a dare?"
Angela briefly considered how to respond. "Yeah, sure," she said. "It's a dare. I, uh, lost a bet."
"Well your loss is my win!" the driver exclaimed, putting the car in gear. "You're really hot!"
"Thanks, I guess," said Angela, hoping he wouldn't compliment her breasts as well.
"And really brave too!" he followed up. "Takes real balls to do a dare like that. Uh, not that I'm saying you have balls! I can see you don't. Well, you're kinda covering up, but I wouldn't want to... I mean, unless... ah okay... cool. Real metaphorical balls on you lady."
Angela felt mortified that she had briefly removed her hand from her crotch to stop the awkward man's blabbering. He'd probably been angling for that.
The car moved out of the mall parking lot and onto the public road, and Angela sank further down into her seat. "Um, you don't happen to have a coat, or something, do you?" she asked.
"Well that wouldn't be in the spirit of your dare now would it?" the gangly driver shot back.
"No, I guess it wouldn't."
They drove mostly in silence, the driver taking every opportunity to glance back at Angela, and Angela trying to sink further and further into the passenger seat, wishing she could melt into it and become part of the car's upholstry.
After a remarkably slow drive down a couple of blocks, the driver announced that they'd reached Tammy's house and pulled up in line with the front door. Angela thanked him before slinking out of the door and dashing for the entrance. "No, thank you!" shouted the driver, no doubt enjoying the view of Angela's sprinting ass.
Angela clung to Tammy's front door and furiously pounded the doorbell. The rideshare car idled behind her, taking his sweet time to roll off. "Hold your horses," came the voice of an older lady, "I'm coming, I'm coming."
Angela glanced around anxiously at the neighboring houses, and held her arms tightly around herself. She felt like a million eyes were bearing down on her naked body.
Finally, the door to the house opened. But Tammy wasn't behind the door. Instead it was her mother. Angela took a deep breath in, but Tammy's mother didn't appear to react in any unusual way to the naked girl standing on her porch.
Then Angela noticed the stick in Tammy's mother's hand, and looked at her eyes. She remembered that Tammy's mother was blind. What a relief! She could have hugged the lady, but that would be counterproductive.
"Who is it?" Tammy's mother asked.
"It's Angela, Tammy's friend," Angela said, forcing her voice to sound normal, as though this was an ordinary Saturday morning and she was paying an ordinary social visit.
"Oh yes," Tammy's mother said. "She's expecting you. Something about trying on clothes. Come in, come in. Tammy's room is on the second floor."
Tammy's mother ushered Angela in, tapping her on the back of the shoulder. "Oh, backless is in this season, is it?" she asked. "I don't think Tammy has any backless dresses. Maybe she'd better try on your outfit!"
Angela chuckled nervously as Tammy's mother shut the door. She heard the sound of the rideshare driver pulling off. "What a gentleman," said Tammy's mother, "waiting to see you get in safe, and for no extra fee."
"Oh, he got a hell of a tip," Angela replied. "I'll head up to Tammy's room now."
Then Angela had an idea. "Actually, uh, where's the bathroom?" she asked.
"Right down the---"
A high, shrill voice cut Tammy's mother off in mid-sentence. "ANGIE!" Tammy had appeared halfway down the hallway staircase, her eyes wide as saucers.
To be continued...
-
salen
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Wed Apr 29, 2020 8:50 pm
- Has thanked: 234 times
- Been thanked: 18 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Loved this line, can almost imagine you heard someone say this and made the story up for it.FinchAgent wrote: ↑Sat Apr 30, 2022 6:12 pm "This virus is still here, but people want to go around exposing themselves."
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Hehe, close. The true inspiration was seeing that exact sign in the window of a lady's hair salon (no takers yet, unfortunately).salen wrote: ↑Sun May 01, 2022 6:09 pmLoved this line, can almost imagine you heard someone say this and made the story up for it.FinchAgent wrote: ↑Sat Apr 30, 2022 6:12 pm "This virus is still here, but people want to go around exposing themselves."
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Chapter Three: The Friend
Angela shot Tammy a pleading look. Tammy looked her up and down, raised an eyebrow, and then looked at her mother. Then she seemed to realize something, and her mouth formed an O shape.
"Come along, Angela," she said, "let's get you into something else."
Angela breathed a deep sigh of relief and followed Tammy up the staircase and into her room, whereupon Tammy shut the door and whirled around with a look of shock and concern on her face. "Angela, what happened to your clothes? Did that driver attack you?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Angela replied. "But, uh, this is why I wanted you to come to the mall with the outfit."
Understanding dawned on Tammy. "Oh! You were naked at the mall! You should have said something!"
"I tried to, but---"
"Oh, if only I had known, I wouldn't have called a driver for you! Or at least I would have made sure it was a woman. I'm so sorry, you must be so embarrassed!" Tammy looked into Angela's eyes and laid a hand on her upper arm. "I would just die if I had to ride naked in a stranger's car!"
"It's a long story," Angela said. "What were you busy with that you couldn't come to the mall yourself?"
"Oh, nothing important, really nothing as urgent as bringing clothes for my beautiful naked friend Angela should have been." Tammy looked at her with sad, empathetic eyes, but made no move to do anything else.
Angela felt very conscious of the fact that she was standing naked in front of her clothed friend, and had not been offered so much as a blanket or a towel. "Well, I'm here now. Where's the outfit you said you had for me?"
Tammy's eyes lit up. "Oh yes!" She dove into her wardrobe and pulled out a yellow dress. "I'm sure this will look great on you!"
Angela accepted the dress with enormous gratitude, couldn't stop saying thank you over and over again to Tammy, her dear friend, her knight in shining armor. She pulled the yellow dress over her head, and finally she was clothed. The nightmare was over.
Ordinarily, Angela would have felt almost naked wearing just a dress and running shoes, with no underwear on, but after her stint of public nudity, she now felt as though she was wrapped up in layers of sweaters and jackets.
"Thank you, Tammy, you're a lifesaver."
Tammy said nothing, but cocked her head at Angela. "It doesn't suit you. Hold on, I'll pick out a different one."
"It's fine, Tammy, this is only temporary, until I can---"
"Try this one on instead!" Tammy thurst a blue dress in Angela's face. "It's more your color."
"It's okay, really, I don't---"
"Arms up!" Tammy shouted, grabbing at the yellow dress.
Angela, stunned, did as she was commanded, and the yellow dress flew off her body, leaving her naked once more. She hadn't been wearing it for even a full minute.
"This blue dress is much nicer," said Tammy.
Angela took the blue dress and pulled it over her head. This one was a tighter fit than the yellow one, which, if she had to be honest, was a bit of tent. Angela savored the feeling of the fabric on her skin. She turned around and looked in Tammy's mirror. Not bad.
But Tammy was more critical. "That's not it either," she said, frowning at Angela's appearance in the mirror. "Try this one."
Angela protested. She disagreed, this dress was perfect, sexy, brilliant.
"You and I both know that's a lie, Angela," said Tammy. "I cannot in good faith clothe you in something that's just not your style."
Reluctantly, Angela slid the blue dress over her head, and tried on the purple one Tammy had handed her. This one was looser, a fit somewhere between the two she'd tried on previously. It was quite tight around the waist, a good match for Angela's bottom hourglass figure, which she mentioned to Tammy.
"Hmm, I guess," said Tammy, taking a bit of the sleeve between two of her fingers. "But it's too frilly. I've got a better one."
Angela sighed and got naked once more. Tammy snatched the purple dress from her and returned to her wardrobe. "Don't worry, Angela, we'll find it. Isn't this fun?!"
Angela smiled weakly at Tammy, who was beaming from ear to ear. She felt like an overgrown Barbie doll.
Over the course of half an hour, Tammy had Angela try on every single dress in her wardrobe. Eventually, she settled on a slinkly black number, an evening dress that was far too formal for Angela to wear about town, and clashed horribly with her running shoes, but Tammy loved it. And if Tammy loved it, that meant she wouldn't demand that Angela strip again, so Angela decided that she loved it too.
The girls went down to Tammy's kitchen to celebrate the successful outfit. Tammy opened her fridge and pulled out a big carton of pulpy fusion fruit juice, and poured it into wine glasses for both of them, as she didn't have any wine, champagne, or anything else other than water in the house.
"To fashion!" Tammy exclaimed, raising her glass exuberantly.
"To clothing!" Angela replied, raising hers more gently.
The glasses clinked together. And then Tammy's tipped over and spilled all over the front of Angela's new dress.
"Oh no!" Tammy screamed. "I'm so sorry Angie! Let me clean it up for you!"
Angela got a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as Tammy bunched up a handful of paper towels and rubbed them vigorously across her chest. "It's not coming out, we'll need to throw it in the wash."
"Woah woah woah," said Angela. "It's fine, it's fine, let me try with the towel." Angela took the towel from Tammy and dabbed it on her front.
"It's no use, Angie, that juice is thick stuff." Tammy was already grabbing at the dress's straps. "Let me go put it in the wash."
"I don't think that will be---"
"It's my dress, Angie." A dark glare flashed across Tammy's face for an instant, and Angela raised her arms in submission. There was no use fighting, or causing a scene. Tammy's mom might overhear, and then the only person she'd met today who hadn't seen her naked would know the truth.
Tammy pulled the dress off Angela's body by the straps. A familiar cool draft whipped against Angela's skin once more. Tammy smiled and skipped down to the house's basement laundry, leaving her friend naked in the kitchen.
Angela slumped down at the kitchen table. What was wrong with everyone today? It felt like the universe had it in for her.
The sound of the washing machine starting up reached Angela's ears, and Tammy soon reappeared, smiling. "I put it on a quick cycle, so it should be done soon," she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table opposite Angela.
"Tammy, could we get another one of the dresses for me instead?" Angela asked.
Tammy made a face. "But you look so good in that black one, Angie. It really was made for you. The others, just..."
Angela scowled and motioned towards her naked body. "I just want something to wear, Tammy!"
"And I just want you to look your best," Tammy replied, stretching out an arm to put a hand on top of Angela's.
"Could I at least borrow some underwear?"
Tammy made an even worse face. "I don't like sharing undies, Angie. Even with besties. And besides, I don't have a bra that big." She was an A cup at most.
Angela sighed heavily.
Tammy reached out a hand to touch Angela's shoulder. "It's okay, I put it on a quick cycle, remember! What's there to worry about? It's a warm day, the blinds are drawn, my mom's blind, and I've already seen every inch of you!"
These words did little to console Angela. She felt weird and exposed, Tammy's kitchen chair cold against her bare bottom. "Every inch of you." Angela adjusted her folded arms to cover more of her breasts.
"You know, Angie, a lot of girls would kill to have body like yours. We can't just put it in any old dress... it would be like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa!"
Angela smiled weakly. Every compliment she got about her body was another reminder of her nudity, made her feel like a prime cut of meat. But a prime cut nonetheless. There was a part of her that kind of liked the compliments. Liked the attention.
"You know," Tammy said, a devilish look briefly flickering in her eyes, "if it would make you feel better, I can take off my clothes too. In solidarity."
Angela raised an eyebrow. Was Tammy hitting on her? Was she a lesbian? Is that why she seemed so eager to keep her naked? Or was this just some kind of weird game to her? Where was this going?
Tammy undid the top button of her blouse. Just then, Angela had a brainwave: if Tammy took off her clothes, she could grab them and quickly put them on. They might not fit wonderfully, but Angela was far beyond caring about that. So she nodded eagerly, and Tammy undid a second button. She could see Tammy's lacy bra. That definitely wouldn't fit well, but right now Angela wished she had an uncomfortable bra on instead of total mammary freedom.
But before Tammy could undo any more buttons, her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Tammy dear, remember you promised to drive me to the hospital to pick up my prescription."
"Oh yes!" Tammy exclaimed, quickly doing up both buttons. "We have to go now, don't we?"
"Yes," said Tammy's mother. "Your friend can come too."
"Of course she will!" Tammy said excitedly. "Come on Angela, let's go start up the car."
"Okay, sure," Angela replied, rising from the table, reminding herself that Tammy's mother was blind. "I just have to go fetch my purse upstairs, in Tammy's room."
Tammy took Angela's arm in a vice grip. "Don't worry about that. We'll only be out for a minute. You can come as you are."
"Yes, yes, come as you are, Angela," said Tammy's mother. "We must hurry, I need to refill my prescriptions before lunch."
Tammy, her mother, and a very naked Angela headed for the garage.
To be continued...
Angela shot Tammy a pleading look. Tammy looked her up and down, raised an eyebrow, and then looked at her mother. Then she seemed to realize something, and her mouth formed an O shape.
"Come along, Angela," she said, "let's get you into something else."
Angela breathed a deep sigh of relief and followed Tammy up the staircase and into her room, whereupon Tammy shut the door and whirled around with a look of shock and concern on her face. "Angela, what happened to your clothes? Did that driver attack you?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Angela replied. "But, uh, this is why I wanted you to come to the mall with the outfit."
Understanding dawned on Tammy. "Oh! You were naked at the mall! You should have said something!"
"I tried to, but---"
"Oh, if only I had known, I wouldn't have called a driver for you! Or at least I would have made sure it was a woman. I'm so sorry, you must be so embarrassed!" Tammy looked into Angela's eyes and laid a hand on her upper arm. "I would just die if I had to ride naked in a stranger's car!"
"It's a long story," Angela said. "What were you busy with that you couldn't come to the mall yourself?"
"Oh, nothing important, really nothing as urgent as bringing clothes for my beautiful naked friend Angela should have been." Tammy looked at her with sad, empathetic eyes, but made no move to do anything else.
Angela felt very conscious of the fact that she was standing naked in front of her clothed friend, and had not been offered so much as a blanket or a towel. "Well, I'm here now. Where's the outfit you said you had for me?"
Tammy's eyes lit up. "Oh yes!" She dove into her wardrobe and pulled out a yellow dress. "I'm sure this will look great on you!"
Angela accepted the dress with enormous gratitude, couldn't stop saying thank you over and over again to Tammy, her dear friend, her knight in shining armor. She pulled the yellow dress over her head, and finally she was clothed. The nightmare was over.
Ordinarily, Angela would have felt almost naked wearing just a dress and running shoes, with no underwear on, but after her stint of public nudity, she now felt as though she was wrapped up in layers of sweaters and jackets.
"Thank you, Tammy, you're a lifesaver."
Tammy said nothing, but cocked her head at Angela. "It doesn't suit you. Hold on, I'll pick out a different one."
"It's fine, Tammy, this is only temporary, until I can---"
"Try this one on instead!" Tammy thurst a blue dress in Angela's face. "It's more your color."
"It's okay, really, I don't---"
"Arms up!" Tammy shouted, grabbing at the yellow dress.
Angela, stunned, did as she was commanded, and the yellow dress flew off her body, leaving her naked once more. She hadn't been wearing it for even a full minute.
"This blue dress is much nicer," said Tammy.
Angela took the blue dress and pulled it over her head. This one was a tighter fit than the yellow one, which, if she had to be honest, was a bit of tent. Angela savored the feeling of the fabric on her skin. She turned around and looked in Tammy's mirror. Not bad.
But Tammy was more critical. "That's not it either," she said, frowning at Angela's appearance in the mirror. "Try this one."
Angela protested. She disagreed, this dress was perfect, sexy, brilliant.
"You and I both know that's a lie, Angela," said Tammy. "I cannot in good faith clothe you in something that's just not your style."
Reluctantly, Angela slid the blue dress over her head, and tried on the purple one Tammy had handed her. This one was looser, a fit somewhere between the two she'd tried on previously. It was quite tight around the waist, a good match for Angela's bottom hourglass figure, which she mentioned to Tammy.
"Hmm, I guess," said Tammy, taking a bit of the sleeve between two of her fingers. "But it's too frilly. I've got a better one."
Angela sighed and got naked once more. Tammy snatched the purple dress from her and returned to her wardrobe. "Don't worry, Angela, we'll find it. Isn't this fun?!"
Angela smiled weakly at Tammy, who was beaming from ear to ear. She felt like an overgrown Barbie doll.
Over the course of half an hour, Tammy had Angela try on every single dress in her wardrobe. Eventually, she settled on a slinkly black number, an evening dress that was far too formal for Angela to wear about town, and clashed horribly with her running shoes, but Tammy loved it. And if Tammy loved it, that meant she wouldn't demand that Angela strip again, so Angela decided that she loved it too.
The girls went down to Tammy's kitchen to celebrate the successful outfit. Tammy opened her fridge and pulled out a big carton of pulpy fusion fruit juice, and poured it into wine glasses for both of them, as she didn't have any wine, champagne, or anything else other than water in the house.
"To fashion!" Tammy exclaimed, raising her glass exuberantly.
"To clothing!" Angela replied, raising hers more gently.
The glasses clinked together. And then Tammy's tipped over and spilled all over the front of Angela's new dress.
"Oh no!" Tammy screamed. "I'm so sorry Angie! Let me clean it up for you!"
Angela got a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as Tammy bunched up a handful of paper towels and rubbed them vigorously across her chest. "It's not coming out, we'll need to throw it in the wash."
"Woah woah woah," said Angela. "It's fine, it's fine, let me try with the towel." Angela took the towel from Tammy and dabbed it on her front.
"It's no use, Angie, that juice is thick stuff." Tammy was already grabbing at the dress's straps. "Let me go put it in the wash."
"I don't think that will be---"
"It's my dress, Angie." A dark glare flashed across Tammy's face for an instant, and Angela raised her arms in submission. There was no use fighting, or causing a scene. Tammy's mom might overhear, and then the only person she'd met today who hadn't seen her naked would know the truth.
Tammy pulled the dress off Angela's body by the straps. A familiar cool draft whipped against Angela's skin once more. Tammy smiled and skipped down to the house's basement laundry, leaving her friend naked in the kitchen.
Angela slumped down at the kitchen table. What was wrong with everyone today? It felt like the universe had it in for her.
The sound of the washing machine starting up reached Angela's ears, and Tammy soon reappeared, smiling. "I put it on a quick cycle, so it should be done soon," she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table opposite Angela.
"Tammy, could we get another one of the dresses for me instead?" Angela asked.
Tammy made a face. "But you look so good in that black one, Angie. It really was made for you. The others, just..."
Angela scowled and motioned towards her naked body. "I just want something to wear, Tammy!"
"And I just want you to look your best," Tammy replied, stretching out an arm to put a hand on top of Angela's.
"Could I at least borrow some underwear?"
Tammy made an even worse face. "I don't like sharing undies, Angie. Even with besties. And besides, I don't have a bra that big." She was an A cup at most.
Angela sighed heavily.
Tammy reached out a hand to touch Angela's shoulder. "It's okay, I put it on a quick cycle, remember! What's there to worry about? It's a warm day, the blinds are drawn, my mom's blind, and I've already seen every inch of you!"
These words did little to console Angela. She felt weird and exposed, Tammy's kitchen chair cold against her bare bottom. "Every inch of you." Angela adjusted her folded arms to cover more of her breasts.
"You know, Angie, a lot of girls would kill to have body like yours. We can't just put it in any old dress... it would be like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa!"
Angela smiled weakly. Every compliment she got about her body was another reminder of her nudity, made her feel like a prime cut of meat. But a prime cut nonetheless. There was a part of her that kind of liked the compliments. Liked the attention.
"You know," Tammy said, a devilish look briefly flickering in her eyes, "if it would make you feel better, I can take off my clothes too. In solidarity."
Angela raised an eyebrow. Was Tammy hitting on her? Was she a lesbian? Is that why she seemed so eager to keep her naked? Or was this just some kind of weird game to her? Where was this going?
Tammy undid the top button of her blouse. Just then, Angela had a brainwave: if Tammy took off her clothes, she could grab them and quickly put them on. They might not fit wonderfully, but Angela was far beyond caring about that. So she nodded eagerly, and Tammy undid a second button. She could see Tammy's lacy bra. That definitely wouldn't fit well, but right now Angela wished she had an uncomfortable bra on instead of total mammary freedom.
But before Tammy could undo any more buttons, her mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Tammy dear, remember you promised to drive me to the hospital to pick up my prescription."
"Oh yes!" Tammy exclaimed, quickly doing up both buttons. "We have to go now, don't we?"
"Yes," said Tammy's mother. "Your friend can come too."
"Of course she will!" Tammy said excitedly. "Come on Angela, let's go start up the car."
"Okay, sure," Angela replied, rising from the table, reminding herself that Tammy's mother was blind. "I just have to go fetch my purse upstairs, in Tammy's room."
Tammy took Angela's arm in a vice grip. "Don't worry about that. We'll only be out for a minute. You can come as you are."
"Yes, yes, come as you are, Angela," said Tammy's mother. "We must hurry, I need to refill my prescriptions before lunch."
Tammy, her mother, and a very naked Angela headed for the garage.
To be continued...
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Chapter Four: The Van
For the second time that day, Angela found herself attempting to melt into the upholstery of the backseat of a car. She lay flat across the seat, gripping a seatbelt with her left hand. Tammy drove, more jerkily than Angela would have preferred, and her mother sat in the passenger seat, making casual, oblivious conversation.
"Why are all these trucks honking at us today?" Tammy's mother asked her, making Angela try to sink even further into the car-seat.
They soon arrived at the hospital. Tammy pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car with her mother. Angela raised her head slightly to peer out of the window. There were quite a few cars in the lot, so she was sure the hospital would be busy. During the trip, she had been thinking about how she would politely but firmly insist that Tammy leave her in the car. Would Tammy cause a problem? She didn't know, couldn't tell what this crazy chick was thinking.
Deserted malls and quiet suburbs were one thing, but a hospital was making things very public. Even if she had wanted to, Angela couldn't just waltz in there naked. Surely Tammy understood that. Surely she knew that she was in danger of having Angela arrested for public indecency. And then who was she going to play dress-up with? Or dress-down, rather.
"You can stay in the car if you want," Tammy told Angela, preempting her protestations, and showing that she had indeed thought of the practicalities of the current situation. "We should be back soon."
Angela smiled and was about the assent, but then she noticed a big, distinctively painted van in the parking lot, sitting between Tammy's car and the hospital entrance. A sign read "Travelling Thrift Store", and she remembered reading about it in the local paper a few weeks back. It was a mobile second-hand clothing store, operated by a local charity.
Possibilities flew through Angela's brain. She had to make a decision now. Back at the house, Tammy had probably been deliberate in spilling her drink. And the whole outfit thing had gone on for really long too. Who knew what Tammy had planned when they got back. Would she keep her promise about also getting naked? Then what would happen?
But the alternative... the alternative involved running naked through a public parking lot.
Angela made up her mind. She had to take her fate into her own hands, even if it terrified her. "Actually, I think I'll come out," she said, clicking open the car door in front of her. She cringed as the breeze brushed her bare flesh, but screwed up her resolve. "I want to see if that van has any good vintage clothes."
"You girls and clothes," said Tammy's mother. "Clothes, clothes, clothes! One would think you had tried on enough clothes by now, Angela."
"A girl can never have too many clothes," replied Angela, shooting a dark look at Tammy as she shut the door behind her. "Anyway, I'll see you back at the car."
Tammy was silent. She took one last long look at Angela, and then turned and led her mother toward the hospital.
Alone now, Angela felt sick, staggered back to Tammy's car and leaned on it for support. She was in the middle of a large parking lot, cars all around. For the moment, no-one seemed to have noticed her, but that could change in an instant.
She crouched low and focused on the van a few feet away. Then she took off in a crouching sprint, ducking between cars for maximum coverage. Her running shoes smacked against the tarmac.
The van's sliding door entrance was mere feet from where she crouched ass-to-heels in front of a large SUV. It was open, and Angela could see it was full almost to bursting with racks of jackets, shirts, dresses, skirts and slacks. Heaven in fabrics.
Angela scanned the parking lot ahead of her. The coast was clear. In almost a single leap, she bounded from her hiding place in front of the SUV to the van's entrance. Catching a glimpse of a pimply teenage girl at the front, engrossed in a magazine, she turned on the ball of her foot and disappeared into the stacks of clothing. She'd made it.
Angela buried herself in a rack of thick winter coats, losing herself in the euphoria of fur and leather against skin that was cold and had been exposed too long. She almost moaned in ecstasy, but stopped herself to prevent the teenager from coming to investigate.
Now she could relax and pick an outfit. But she wasn't going to agonize over each choice like she normally would on a shopping trip. This wasn't going to be a repeat of Tammy's bedroom. She would pick a couple of things: that skirt, that blouse, and pay for them, not even pausing to look in the mirror.
Angela took a long, frumpy skirt detailed with flower patterns and stepped into it. She had briefly considered the pair of jeans next to it, but to put on jeans she'd have to take off her shoes, and she didn't want to spend any time taking things off. Imagine: getting more naked!
The skirt now secured around her waist, she grabbed the pink blouse she'd spotted and pulled it over her head.
From a fashion perspective, the outfit was awful. Tammy would certainly not approve and neither, on a normal day, would Angela. But right now these two garments were the best clothes Angela had ever owned.
Angela breathed a deep sigh of relief, releasing the tension that had been building up inside her all morning, through every setback and moment of fake triumph. She was fully clothed, and there was no Sharon or Tammy around to change that.
Feeling calm, collected, and quite warm, Angela spent a few minutes browsing the racks. She considered a hat, a cardigan, a pair of shorts. But now was no time to get greedy. Her current outfit would be enough to get her home, barring any sudden up-drafts or cold snaps.
Angela walked up to the payment counter, startling the teenager from her magazine. "Oh, hello, ma'am. I didn't see you come in."
"That's okay," replied Angela, smiling secretly to herself. "I'll take these two items, please." She pointed to the clothes she was wearing and held up the tag of her blouse.
"You must really like them," said the teenager, punching the numbers on the tag into a calculator.
Angela nodded vigorously and held up the tag on her skirt.
The teenager nodded, punched in the numbers, and told Angela the price. A very affordable price.
Angela leaned down, produced her phone from her sock, and waved it in front of the teenager's calculator.
"Oh, we don't take that, I'm afraid. Cash only."
"A-are you sure?"
"Positive. I don't even have a card machine."
Angela made a show of patting her clothes. Obviously she had no cash on her --- she'd spent it all getting her hair done.
"Do you sell on credit?"
The teenager frowned. "We don't. This is a charity shop."
The teen's words hung in the air. Angela looked left and right nervously. Then she bolted.
She hadn't taken two steps before the teen was in front of her, barring the exit. The girl took up a surprising amount of space when she wasn't slumped behind a counter. She was at least a head taller than Angela, and wider too. The vacant look on her face had been replaced with a flashing, aggressive stare.
"If you're going to shoplift, at least try to be discrete about it. And maybe don't pick a charity shop next time."
Angela briefly considered trying to duck past the girl, but mental images of herself in a tight headlock changed her mind. "Look," she said, "I really need these clothes, okay."
The girl folded her beefy arms across her chest. "So pay for them. There's an ATM in the hospital lobby. Go, I'll keep them for you."
"You don't understand," said Angela, "I'm not wearing anything underneath."
The girl's eyes widened momentarily, but then settled back into an angry glare. "First time I've heard that one. Clever, but I'm not buying it."
Angela pouted.
"Look, lady, I get that you like the clothes. I won't sell them to anyone else. But you've got to pay for them before you can take them home. That's how it works."
Angela's pout turned into a scowl. "Okay, fine, I'll prove it."
And then, before she quite knew what she was doing, in one swift, angry movement, she pulled the blouse over her head and pushed the skirt down to the floor. "See?" she cried.
The girl's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Oh-kay then. You weren't lying."
The sudden exposure was a shock to Angela's system, after coming so close. "I really need these clothes," Angela said, tears welling up in here eyes. "I can't go out there naked!"
For a moment, the teenage girl's expression softened, but then her scowl reappeared. "This is just something else," she said. "Lady, you should be ashamed of yourself.
With an angry grunt, the girl swiped the blouse from Angela's hands. She stepped forward, placing a booted foot on top of the skirt, forcing Angela to stumble backwards.
"I-it's not my fault," Angela sobbed.
The girl made a disgusted sound. "Oh come on, your nipples are rock hard. You're enjoying this. Not only are you a rich bitch, with your latest iPhone and your expensive running shoes, who still somehow feels the need to steal from charity shops, steal directly from the mouths of the poor, but you're also a pervert!"
With that, the girl back-handed Angela right across the face. "Get out of my shop, sicko! Go find someone else to play out your exhibitionist fantasies with. You're lucky I don't call the cops on you!"
Angela whimpered and slunk out of the van, naked and disgraced. The SUV she had hidden behind before had left the lot, so she had to sprint to find cover crouching between two smaller cars.
The wind whipped at her bare back, and Angela let the tears fall. She had been so, so close this time, but it had all fallen apart, and now she was worse off than before. Every time she tried to fix things, she just ended up exposing herself to more people, in ever more perilous situations.
Finally, her tears dried, and her mind turned to other matters. Tammy's car was still where she'd left it --- she'd only been in the clothing van for ten minutes at most. It seemed like that was her only option: return to Tammy, and hope that she'd actually give her a dress. Eventually.
Angela's mind turned to what the teen had said. Was it true? Her nipples were pretty hard, but of course they were, she was cold! This had been a traumatic experience, not an arousing one. She wasn't the kind of girl to walk around naked to get her rocks off, not like that blonde lady who had stolen her clothes and set this whole mess off.
And yet. Beneath all the embarrassment, the panic, the shame, the rushing adrenaline, she had felt moments of excitement. Maybe she wasn't the kind of girl to walk into a hair salon in the nude, but she clearly was the kind of girl to strip off in one. Sure, she'd put up a bit of a fight, but in the end she'd gone with their crazy rules. And she'd taken the ride Tammy called for her, gotten in a car with a strange and gross man. Maybe she was just proactive.
Angela's eyes were dry now. She put these strange and disturbing thoughts out of her mind. Tammy's car was a few parking spaces away, but it was surrounded by vacant spaces. She would stay in her somewhat concealed position until Tammy and her mother returned.
Just then, she heard a voice behind her.
"Heyyy there, is that... Angela?!"
Angela's head spun around and she came face to face with Mark. Mark, with the gentle green eyes and strong lantern jaw. Mark, who was now getting an eyeful of her very ample and totally bare ass.
"Hey," she replied weakly.
To be continued...
For the second time that day, Angela found herself attempting to melt into the upholstery of the backseat of a car. She lay flat across the seat, gripping a seatbelt with her left hand. Tammy drove, more jerkily than Angela would have preferred, and her mother sat in the passenger seat, making casual, oblivious conversation.
"Why are all these trucks honking at us today?" Tammy's mother asked her, making Angela try to sink even further into the car-seat.
They soon arrived at the hospital. Tammy pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car with her mother. Angela raised her head slightly to peer out of the window. There were quite a few cars in the lot, so she was sure the hospital would be busy. During the trip, she had been thinking about how she would politely but firmly insist that Tammy leave her in the car. Would Tammy cause a problem? She didn't know, couldn't tell what this crazy chick was thinking.
Deserted malls and quiet suburbs were one thing, but a hospital was making things very public. Even if she had wanted to, Angela couldn't just waltz in there naked. Surely Tammy understood that. Surely she knew that she was in danger of having Angela arrested for public indecency. And then who was she going to play dress-up with? Or dress-down, rather.
"You can stay in the car if you want," Tammy told Angela, preempting her protestations, and showing that she had indeed thought of the practicalities of the current situation. "We should be back soon."
Angela smiled and was about the assent, but then she noticed a big, distinctively painted van in the parking lot, sitting between Tammy's car and the hospital entrance. A sign read "Travelling Thrift Store", and she remembered reading about it in the local paper a few weeks back. It was a mobile second-hand clothing store, operated by a local charity.
Possibilities flew through Angela's brain. She had to make a decision now. Back at the house, Tammy had probably been deliberate in spilling her drink. And the whole outfit thing had gone on for really long too. Who knew what Tammy had planned when they got back. Would she keep her promise about also getting naked? Then what would happen?
But the alternative... the alternative involved running naked through a public parking lot.
Angela made up her mind. She had to take her fate into her own hands, even if it terrified her. "Actually, I think I'll come out," she said, clicking open the car door in front of her. She cringed as the breeze brushed her bare flesh, but screwed up her resolve. "I want to see if that van has any good vintage clothes."
"You girls and clothes," said Tammy's mother. "Clothes, clothes, clothes! One would think you had tried on enough clothes by now, Angela."
"A girl can never have too many clothes," replied Angela, shooting a dark look at Tammy as she shut the door behind her. "Anyway, I'll see you back at the car."
Tammy was silent. She took one last long look at Angela, and then turned and led her mother toward the hospital.
Alone now, Angela felt sick, staggered back to Tammy's car and leaned on it for support. She was in the middle of a large parking lot, cars all around. For the moment, no-one seemed to have noticed her, but that could change in an instant.
She crouched low and focused on the van a few feet away. Then she took off in a crouching sprint, ducking between cars for maximum coverage. Her running shoes smacked against the tarmac.
The van's sliding door entrance was mere feet from where she crouched ass-to-heels in front of a large SUV. It was open, and Angela could see it was full almost to bursting with racks of jackets, shirts, dresses, skirts and slacks. Heaven in fabrics.
Angela scanned the parking lot ahead of her. The coast was clear. In almost a single leap, she bounded from her hiding place in front of the SUV to the van's entrance. Catching a glimpse of a pimply teenage girl at the front, engrossed in a magazine, she turned on the ball of her foot and disappeared into the stacks of clothing. She'd made it.
Angela buried herself in a rack of thick winter coats, losing herself in the euphoria of fur and leather against skin that was cold and had been exposed too long. She almost moaned in ecstasy, but stopped herself to prevent the teenager from coming to investigate.
Now she could relax and pick an outfit. But she wasn't going to agonize over each choice like she normally would on a shopping trip. This wasn't going to be a repeat of Tammy's bedroom. She would pick a couple of things: that skirt, that blouse, and pay for them, not even pausing to look in the mirror.
Angela took a long, frumpy skirt detailed with flower patterns and stepped into it. She had briefly considered the pair of jeans next to it, but to put on jeans she'd have to take off her shoes, and she didn't want to spend any time taking things off. Imagine: getting more naked!
The skirt now secured around her waist, she grabbed the pink blouse she'd spotted and pulled it over her head.
From a fashion perspective, the outfit was awful. Tammy would certainly not approve and neither, on a normal day, would Angela. But right now these two garments were the best clothes Angela had ever owned.
Angela breathed a deep sigh of relief, releasing the tension that had been building up inside her all morning, through every setback and moment of fake triumph. She was fully clothed, and there was no Sharon or Tammy around to change that.
Feeling calm, collected, and quite warm, Angela spent a few minutes browsing the racks. She considered a hat, a cardigan, a pair of shorts. But now was no time to get greedy. Her current outfit would be enough to get her home, barring any sudden up-drafts or cold snaps.
Angela walked up to the payment counter, startling the teenager from her magazine. "Oh, hello, ma'am. I didn't see you come in."
"That's okay," replied Angela, smiling secretly to herself. "I'll take these two items, please." She pointed to the clothes she was wearing and held up the tag of her blouse.
"You must really like them," said the teenager, punching the numbers on the tag into a calculator.
Angela nodded vigorously and held up the tag on her skirt.
The teenager nodded, punched in the numbers, and told Angela the price. A very affordable price.
Angela leaned down, produced her phone from her sock, and waved it in front of the teenager's calculator.
"Oh, we don't take that, I'm afraid. Cash only."
"A-are you sure?"
"Positive. I don't even have a card machine."
Angela made a show of patting her clothes. Obviously she had no cash on her --- she'd spent it all getting her hair done.
"Do you sell on credit?"
The teenager frowned. "We don't. This is a charity shop."
The teen's words hung in the air. Angela looked left and right nervously. Then she bolted.
She hadn't taken two steps before the teen was in front of her, barring the exit. The girl took up a surprising amount of space when she wasn't slumped behind a counter. She was at least a head taller than Angela, and wider too. The vacant look on her face had been replaced with a flashing, aggressive stare.
"If you're going to shoplift, at least try to be discrete about it. And maybe don't pick a charity shop next time."
Angela briefly considered trying to duck past the girl, but mental images of herself in a tight headlock changed her mind. "Look," she said, "I really need these clothes, okay."
The girl folded her beefy arms across her chest. "So pay for them. There's an ATM in the hospital lobby. Go, I'll keep them for you."
"You don't understand," said Angela, "I'm not wearing anything underneath."
The girl's eyes widened momentarily, but then settled back into an angry glare. "First time I've heard that one. Clever, but I'm not buying it."
Angela pouted.
"Look, lady, I get that you like the clothes. I won't sell them to anyone else. But you've got to pay for them before you can take them home. That's how it works."
Angela's pout turned into a scowl. "Okay, fine, I'll prove it."
And then, before she quite knew what she was doing, in one swift, angry movement, she pulled the blouse over her head and pushed the skirt down to the floor. "See?" she cried.
The girl's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Oh-kay then. You weren't lying."
The sudden exposure was a shock to Angela's system, after coming so close. "I really need these clothes," Angela said, tears welling up in here eyes. "I can't go out there naked!"
For a moment, the teenage girl's expression softened, but then her scowl reappeared. "This is just something else," she said. "Lady, you should be ashamed of yourself.
With an angry grunt, the girl swiped the blouse from Angela's hands. She stepped forward, placing a booted foot on top of the skirt, forcing Angela to stumble backwards.
"I-it's not my fault," Angela sobbed.
The girl made a disgusted sound. "Oh come on, your nipples are rock hard. You're enjoying this. Not only are you a rich bitch, with your latest iPhone and your expensive running shoes, who still somehow feels the need to steal from charity shops, steal directly from the mouths of the poor, but you're also a pervert!"
With that, the girl back-handed Angela right across the face. "Get out of my shop, sicko! Go find someone else to play out your exhibitionist fantasies with. You're lucky I don't call the cops on you!"
Angela whimpered and slunk out of the van, naked and disgraced. The SUV she had hidden behind before had left the lot, so she had to sprint to find cover crouching between two smaller cars.
The wind whipped at her bare back, and Angela let the tears fall. She had been so, so close this time, but it had all fallen apart, and now she was worse off than before. Every time she tried to fix things, she just ended up exposing herself to more people, in ever more perilous situations.
Finally, her tears dried, and her mind turned to other matters. Tammy's car was still where she'd left it --- she'd only been in the clothing van for ten minutes at most. It seemed like that was her only option: return to Tammy, and hope that she'd actually give her a dress. Eventually.
Angela's mind turned to what the teen had said. Was it true? Her nipples were pretty hard, but of course they were, she was cold! This had been a traumatic experience, not an arousing one. She wasn't the kind of girl to walk around naked to get her rocks off, not like that blonde lady who had stolen her clothes and set this whole mess off.
And yet. Beneath all the embarrassment, the panic, the shame, the rushing adrenaline, she had felt moments of excitement. Maybe she wasn't the kind of girl to walk into a hair salon in the nude, but she clearly was the kind of girl to strip off in one. Sure, she'd put up a bit of a fight, but in the end she'd gone with their crazy rules. And she'd taken the ride Tammy called for her, gotten in a car with a strange and gross man. Maybe she was just proactive.
Angela's eyes were dry now. She put these strange and disturbing thoughts out of her mind. Tammy's car was a few parking spaces away, but it was surrounded by vacant spaces. She would stay in her somewhat concealed position until Tammy and her mother returned.
Just then, she heard a voice behind her.
"Heyyy there, is that... Angela?!"
Angela's head spun around and she came face to face with Mark. Mark, with the gentle green eyes and strong lantern jaw. Mark, who was now getting an eyeful of her very ample and totally bare ass.
"Hey," she replied weakly.
To be continued...
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Chapter Five: The Boy
Mark, usually so cool and collected, seemed almost more flustered and embarrassed than Angela herself. "A-Angela, w-what, h-how? Are you? What? Is this?"
Angela scooted her body around so that she was facing him, but still crouching down to preserve whatever scraps of her modesty remained. "It's a long story. But I'm so glad you're here. I need your help, Mark. Do you have any clothes for me?"
Mark held her gaze for a moment. "Y-yes I do. In the car. Which is right over there."
"Awesome!" said Angela, smiling genuinely now. "I owe you one."
"Let's go," Mark said, extending an arm.
Angela slowly rose to a standing position, and let Mark put a protective arm around her back. Hand clasping her upper arm, he led her swiftly towards his Ford hatchback and opened one of the back doors to let her in.
"There should be some things on the floor there," he said, closing the door behind her.
Angela bent over to look at the car floor, and found a slightly threadbare red shirt, in what looked like a child's size, but a large child's size.
"My nephew's," Mark said.
Angela pulled the shirt over her head. It didn't quite cover her belly button. The shirt had a picture of a cartoon duck on it, who, Angela noted wryly, was dressed in much the same fashion as herself.
Mark exchanged glances with her. "Okay, I'll drive you to my place and we get can get something better."
"Thank you."
Mark got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking lot. Angela sat in the backseat of the car, upright and with her seatbelt on, legs crossed. If anyone caught the glimpse of her, they would probably assume she was wearing particularly skimpy bikini bottoms. Which she wished was true. At this point she'd be relieved to have a thong.
"So, uh, Angela," said Mark, "how'd you end up naked in a hospital parking lot? Never thought I'd see you of all people in that sort of predicament."
Angela sighed, and began to tell him the story. He didn't know Tammy, so it didn't really matter what he ended up thinking of her.
"Can't believe they're still enforcing masks at that salon," said Mark, once she was finished. "I haven't even seen anyone else wearing one in months. Really crazy that they made you go through that. You should leave a bad review."
Angela could imagine it now. "The trim was great value for money, and Sharon is a very skilled hairdresser, but the nudist haircutting experience they offer to maskless customers carries on long past its welcome. Two stars."
"And that Tammy sounds like a real bitch," Mark continued. "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"
After a short drive, Mark and Angela arrived at Mark's house, in a different suburb from Tammy's. It was quite a large, attractive house, with a well maintained front lawn. A wooden fence separated the front and back yards.
Mark parked in the driveway. "We'll go through the back. My mom is a bit funny about having guests inside the house, what with COVID and everything."
So he lives with his mom, thought Angela. Mark was a few years older than her.
Mark got out of the car first, and opened the door for Angela, standing as cover as she climbed out, futilely pulling at the bottom of her shirt. The two quickly made their way to the fence, and Mark unlatched the gate and guided Angela in, one hand hovering very close to her butt.
The back yard was large, and fully surrounded by wooden fencing, Angela was pleased to note. Its central feature was a rectangular swimming pool, in which a tubby, pug-nosed boy of about eight or nine was currently splashing around. The boy froze when he saw Angela, and fixed her gaze.
Angela pulled at her shirt with one hand and held the other one over her crotch.
"Uncle Mark," the boy who must have been his nephew, Billy, piped up, "why is that lady wearing my shirt?"
"Sorry," Mark whispered to Angela, "I thought he'd gone home already. Should have made sure the coast was clear."
"She's stretching it Uncle Mark!" Billy screeched, paddling to the side of the pool and hefting his rotund little body out. "She lost her panties so she's ruining my favorite shirt!"
"Billy," said Mark, walking towards him, "this is my friend Angela. She needs to borrow your shirt for a little while, just until I can get her something better to wear." Mark cast a pleading look backwards.
Angela gulped, and walked forward, bending down in a now-familiar crouch to keep her crotch as far from the boy's eyes as possible. She released her grip on the bottom of the shirt --- there was no way it would reach as far as she needed it to anyway.
"Hi Billy," she said softly, now standing on the bricks by the pool, her eyes level with his. "Thank you for lending me your favorite shirt. I'll take good care of it, I promise."
Billy scowled, eyes focused on his prized shirt. "You're stretching it with your boobies!"
Angela flushed red and sank into a lower crouch. It was one thing to be seen like this by women, another to be seen by men, but worst of all, she decided, was to be seen by little boys.
"Tell her to give it back Uncle Mark!" Billy cried. "It's my shirt, mine!"
"Billy..." Mark began.
His nephew was having none of it, and immediately flopped onto the ground and started crying, screaming, and stamping his arms and legs. "Give it back! Give it back!"
Mark glanced helplessly at Angela. He was seeming less like the shining hero he'd appeared to be in the parking lot with every passing second.
Billy suddenly stopped screaming. A sly looking flicked across his face. "If Auntie Angela doesn't give my shirt back, I'll hold my breath until I pass out."
"No, Billy, please don't..."
But it was too late. Billy sucked in a deep breath and shut his mouth.
"I really don't need to deal with this," said Mark. "Billy, stop it this instant!"
Billy's will was strong. He kept his mouth resolutely closed as his face turned redder and redder.
"Ah, who am I kidding?" Mark sighed. "Angela, I hate to say this, but, could you..."
Angela's eyes widened in shock, and she hugged the shirt to herself. "No!"
"Please Angela, just give him the shirt. Look, his face is turning blue."
And indeed it was. But still Billy held his breath.
"I really can't have my sister's kid pass out on my watch," pleaded Mark. "Not again."
"But Mark, I'll be---"
"Don't worry, I said I'd get you something better, didn't I? Just please do this. For me."
Billy's whole face had turned blue. He looked dangerously close to fainting.
"Uugh, fine," Angela replied, in disbelief of what she was about to do. "I'll give you the shirt, Billy." She stood up slightly and put an arm over her shoulder.
Billy opened his mouth and breathed out and in, his face quickly returning to its normal color. Angela grabbed the shirt from the back and pulled it up and over her head, then handed it to the boy, who snatched it greedily.
Naked once more, defeated again, she placed an arm across her breasts.
"Auntie Angela's naked! Naked! Naked!" Billy jeered, making her feel even worse.
And then she felt a small hand shove the back of her leg, and she lost her balance and toppled into the swimming pool. "Aaah!"
"Haha!" Billy jeered, scampering across the lawn to his towel.
Sudden submergence was a shock to Angela, but she quickly regained her faculties and resurfaced, gulping for air. Her shoes and socks were heavy with water, so she reached down to undo them. Luckily her phone was waterproof.
Angela tossed both shoes, socks and her phone past the bricks and onto the grass. Then she parted the hair from her face to see that Billy had disappeared inside the house. She also saw a stern older woman looking out of the open patio doors at her. They briefly locked eyes, and the woman made a disgusted face at her, mouthed the word "whore", and shouted for Mark.
"Yes Mother, I'll be right there!"
"And come alone!" the woman snapped.
Mark cast a sheepish look at Angela, shrugged, and went to join his mother in the house, where both soon vanished from sight. Angela bobbed in the pool, and tried to tune out the muffled screeching that soon started inside the house.
It was almost noon on a warm day. The water felt good against Angela's bare skin, and she suddenly understood the appeal of skinny dipping. Under different circumstances, she might really enjoy this. She cast a glance at her soaked shoes and socks strewn across the lawn, and wiggled her toes. Now Angela was truly naked.
Eventually, Mark reappeared in the back yard. His posture was slumped, and he smiled weakly at Angela. "My mom doesn't want you in the house," he said. "She saw you take that shirt off in front of Billy and is now convinced that you're, uh, corrupting the youth, or something. I know, I know, it wasn't like that. I tried to explain, but mother is very, uh, stubborn."
Angela tried to imagine what his mother was thinking. From one angle, well, she did disrobe in front of child.
"But don't worry, I'll make a plan to get you some clothes. Sorry about all this."
Angela had been feeling a little mad at Mark, and that didn't really go away, but now she also felt pity for him. Well, really, it was more like disgust. What a weak and pathetic man, who couldn't even stand up to his mother.
Angela bobbed around in the water a bit more, keeping her body submerged. To the casual observer, she looked like a normal, swimming girl. But on slightly closer observation, it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a swimsuit.
After she got tired of swimming, Angela pulled herself out of the pool and crouch walked to a spot on the lawn, where she lay down on her front, with her legs pressed tightly together. The grass tickled her belly, boobs and legs. This was the position of maximum coverage. She splayed her arms out to the side, figuring Mark had already seen plenty of her ass.
Mark sat down on the grass beside her.
"Could you get me a towel?"
Mark grimaced. "My mom's exact words were, 'let that hippy dry off in the sun.'"
Angela's disgust rose. Couldn't believe this man, who she'd once found attractive, was so deferential to his mother that he couldn't even do a single small thing to help a young, attractive lady in distress.
"It's, uh, pretty hot out," Mark said.
He was right. Angela could feel that she was already mostly dried off, except for her hair. Her shoes and socks still looked soggy though.
"Listen, Angela, I---" Mark was cut off by a ringing phone. His own. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the caller. "Oh! Better take this, it's the boss."
Mark put the phone to his ear and said hello. A torrent of tinny voiced speech erupted from the other side.
"Uh-huh," said Mark. "Yes, got it. I do. Got one right here." Mark produced a marker from another pocket. "Take it down now? I don't have anything to--- okay, got it."
Angela caught the apology in Mark's eyes, but before she understood what it was for, the lid had come off his marker and its nib was tickling her back. "Lay still," Mark whispered to her. "This is extremely important."
Despite herself, Angela lay still. She was obeying a lot of orders today, and most of them had been actively harmful to her. But she felt compelled by the force in Mark's voice. A big, strong, fully clothed man, using her naked body... if not in that way...
The writing continued down Angela's back, moving swiftly from left to right, going lower and lower. Mark nodded and made affirmative noises to the person on the other end of the line, but showed no sign of slowing down. Angela felt a pen stroke down the left dimple on her lower back, and then the right one. The pen continued.
Mark was now writing on her ass. Across one cheek and then the other, one, two, three lines. Angela thought her butt was too big sometimes, but big butts were the fashion, so she didn't let it bother her. She could feel the finger of Mark's writing hand against her plump flesh. Under different circumstances, if Mark were less entangled in his mother's apron strings, she might have welcomed it. But right now she just felt uncomfortable.
"Turn over," Mark hissed. He'd reached the end of her butt, and still wasn't done.
Angela was mortified. "No way!"
Then Mark grabbed her side and pulled her over, onto her back. His pen was on her collarbone before she could protest.
A primal fear rose up in Angela's throat, and she breathed deeply through her nose to calm it. This was fine. She was fine. Well, not really, but all Mark wanted to do was write down a really, really long message.
A line was written across the top of Angela's torso, and then he started on her boobs. Some marks on the left, then on the right. His pinky brushing the skin, grazing her nipples. Mark tried hard to keep a straight face, but she knew he was loving this.
The message continued below Angela's boobs, across her rib-cage and down her tummy, where she was extra ticklish. She let out a giggle, jiggling slightly and causing Mark to scrawl a letter.
The writing continued, but Mark's pen was slowing down now. Finally, as his hand brushed the top of her pubes, the writing mercifully stopped. Mark nodded, made another affirmative sound, and said goodbye to the person on the phone. He rolled back, collapsing on his back on the grass. Angela caught sight of a bulge in his jeans. Under different circumstances, perhaps...
"Sorry about that Angela," he said, righting himself, in the tone of one apologising for a minor inconvenience rather than a very intimate invasion. "I didn't have anywhere else to write, and my boss is very impatient."
Angela sat up, her hands fallen at her sides, allowing Mark to scrutinise his work. He looked for a long time. "You're very beautiful," he said.
"So what's the purpose of this message?" asked Angela.
"It's a code. Yeah, the whole thing is. We're very security conscious at work. I have to type it in to a computer at the office. It's quite urgent, actually."
Angela raised an eyebrow. "Do you have to do that now?"
"Yes. Stand up so I can take some pics."
Angela gasped. "I am not going to let you take naked pictures of me!"
"But it's for work! I'll delete them right after, I promise."
"No." Angela folded her arms. "Get me some clothes, and I'll come to your office with you. Then you can type your code out from the source."
Mark cocked his head. "Yeah, I guess that can work too. Hold on, let me go inside and get you something."
Why Mark couldn't have brought something for her to wear out of the house the first time was a mystery to her. But then he wouldn't have gotten to put his hands all over her naked body. Not for the first time that day, Angela felt she was at the center of a vast conspiracy, with the single purpose of keeping her nude. Everything she did seemed to make things worse. If she'd just gone home with Tammy, maybe she could have gotten that black dress back.
At the very least, she wouldn't now be both naked and barefoot. Accepting Mark's help had actually been net clothing loss so far. But perhaps not for long. Mark reappeared in the back yard carrying a blue dress shirt.
"Is that it?" Angela asked. She'd been hoping for a pair of pants as well.
"My mom doesn't want me to give you anything, so this is really the best I can do."
Angela sighed, but spread her arms out for Mark to slip the shirt over her. Soon, her arms and hands were covered by long sleeves. Unlike the last shirt she'd worn, this one was actually long enough to cover her, the bottom of the shirt extending some distance past the bottom of her ass. She looked like --- well, she looked like Mark's sexual conquest, but at least she was covered.
"Come, let's go," Mark said, as Angela did up the last button. "No time to waste."
Angela cast a glance at her still-damp shoes and socks. "We can come back for those," said Mark.
The two left the backyard, exiting through the same wooden gate they'd entered through. Angela felt the sensation of being out in the open with just a long shirt on and no shoes. It wasn't too different from a dress, really. And after today, she'd probably be comfortable in any clothes that covered her privates.
Itsy bitsy teeny weeny polka dotted string bikini? Better than nothing.
To be continued...
Mark, usually so cool and collected, seemed almost more flustered and embarrassed than Angela herself. "A-Angela, w-what, h-how? Are you? What? Is this?"
Angela scooted her body around so that she was facing him, but still crouching down to preserve whatever scraps of her modesty remained. "It's a long story. But I'm so glad you're here. I need your help, Mark. Do you have any clothes for me?"
Mark held her gaze for a moment. "Y-yes I do. In the car. Which is right over there."
"Awesome!" said Angela, smiling genuinely now. "I owe you one."
"Let's go," Mark said, extending an arm.
Angela slowly rose to a standing position, and let Mark put a protective arm around her back. Hand clasping her upper arm, he led her swiftly towards his Ford hatchback and opened one of the back doors to let her in.
"There should be some things on the floor there," he said, closing the door behind her.
Angela bent over to look at the car floor, and found a slightly threadbare red shirt, in what looked like a child's size, but a large child's size.
"My nephew's," Mark said.
Angela pulled the shirt over her head. It didn't quite cover her belly button. The shirt had a picture of a cartoon duck on it, who, Angela noted wryly, was dressed in much the same fashion as herself.
Mark exchanged glances with her. "Okay, I'll drive you to my place and we get can get something better."
"Thank you."
Mark got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking lot. Angela sat in the backseat of the car, upright and with her seatbelt on, legs crossed. If anyone caught the glimpse of her, they would probably assume she was wearing particularly skimpy bikini bottoms. Which she wished was true. At this point she'd be relieved to have a thong.
"So, uh, Angela," said Mark, "how'd you end up naked in a hospital parking lot? Never thought I'd see you of all people in that sort of predicament."
Angela sighed, and began to tell him the story. He didn't know Tammy, so it didn't really matter what he ended up thinking of her.
"Can't believe they're still enforcing masks at that salon," said Mark, once she was finished. "I haven't even seen anyone else wearing one in months. Really crazy that they made you go through that. You should leave a bad review."
Angela could imagine it now. "The trim was great value for money, and Sharon is a very skilled hairdresser, but the nudist haircutting experience they offer to maskless customers carries on long past its welcome. Two stars."
"And that Tammy sounds like a real bitch," Mark continued. "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"
After a short drive, Mark and Angela arrived at Mark's house, in a different suburb from Tammy's. It was quite a large, attractive house, with a well maintained front lawn. A wooden fence separated the front and back yards.
Mark parked in the driveway. "We'll go through the back. My mom is a bit funny about having guests inside the house, what with COVID and everything."
So he lives with his mom, thought Angela. Mark was a few years older than her.
Mark got out of the car first, and opened the door for Angela, standing as cover as she climbed out, futilely pulling at the bottom of her shirt. The two quickly made their way to the fence, and Mark unlatched the gate and guided Angela in, one hand hovering very close to her butt.
The back yard was large, and fully surrounded by wooden fencing, Angela was pleased to note. Its central feature was a rectangular swimming pool, in which a tubby, pug-nosed boy of about eight or nine was currently splashing around. The boy froze when he saw Angela, and fixed her gaze.
Angela pulled at her shirt with one hand and held the other one over her crotch.
"Uncle Mark," the boy who must have been his nephew, Billy, piped up, "why is that lady wearing my shirt?"
"Sorry," Mark whispered to Angela, "I thought he'd gone home already. Should have made sure the coast was clear."
"She's stretching it Uncle Mark!" Billy screeched, paddling to the side of the pool and hefting his rotund little body out. "She lost her panties so she's ruining my favorite shirt!"
"Billy," said Mark, walking towards him, "this is my friend Angela. She needs to borrow your shirt for a little while, just until I can get her something better to wear." Mark cast a pleading look backwards.
Angela gulped, and walked forward, bending down in a now-familiar crouch to keep her crotch as far from the boy's eyes as possible. She released her grip on the bottom of the shirt --- there was no way it would reach as far as she needed it to anyway.
"Hi Billy," she said softly, now standing on the bricks by the pool, her eyes level with his. "Thank you for lending me your favorite shirt. I'll take good care of it, I promise."
Billy scowled, eyes focused on his prized shirt. "You're stretching it with your boobies!"
Angela flushed red and sank into a lower crouch. It was one thing to be seen like this by women, another to be seen by men, but worst of all, she decided, was to be seen by little boys.
"Tell her to give it back Uncle Mark!" Billy cried. "It's my shirt, mine!"
"Billy..." Mark began.
His nephew was having none of it, and immediately flopped onto the ground and started crying, screaming, and stamping his arms and legs. "Give it back! Give it back!"
Mark glanced helplessly at Angela. He was seeming less like the shining hero he'd appeared to be in the parking lot with every passing second.
Billy suddenly stopped screaming. A sly looking flicked across his face. "If Auntie Angela doesn't give my shirt back, I'll hold my breath until I pass out."
"No, Billy, please don't..."
But it was too late. Billy sucked in a deep breath and shut his mouth.
"I really don't need to deal with this," said Mark. "Billy, stop it this instant!"
Billy's will was strong. He kept his mouth resolutely closed as his face turned redder and redder.
"Ah, who am I kidding?" Mark sighed. "Angela, I hate to say this, but, could you..."
Angela's eyes widened in shock, and she hugged the shirt to herself. "No!"
"Please Angela, just give him the shirt. Look, his face is turning blue."
And indeed it was. But still Billy held his breath.
"I really can't have my sister's kid pass out on my watch," pleaded Mark. "Not again."
"But Mark, I'll be---"
"Don't worry, I said I'd get you something better, didn't I? Just please do this. For me."
Billy's whole face had turned blue. He looked dangerously close to fainting.
"Uugh, fine," Angela replied, in disbelief of what she was about to do. "I'll give you the shirt, Billy." She stood up slightly and put an arm over her shoulder.
Billy opened his mouth and breathed out and in, his face quickly returning to its normal color. Angela grabbed the shirt from the back and pulled it up and over her head, then handed it to the boy, who snatched it greedily.
Naked once more, defeated again, she placed an arm across her breasts.
"Auntie Angela's naked! Naked! Naked!" Billy jeered, making her feel even worse.
And then she felt a small hand shove the back of her leg, and she lost her balance and toppled into the swimming pool. "Aaah!"
"Haha!" Billy jeered, scampering across the lawn to his towel.
Sudden submergence was a shock to Angela, but she quickly regained her faculties and resurfaced, gulping for air. Her shoes and socks were heavy with water, so she reached down to undo them. Luckily her phone was waterproof.
Angela tossed both shoes, socks and her phone past the bricks and onto the grass. Then she parted the hair from her face to see that Billy had disappeared inside the house. She also saw a stern older woman looking out of the open patio doors at her. They briefly locked eyes, and the woman made a disgusted face at her, mouthed the word "whore", and shouted for Mark.
"Yes Mother, I'll be right there!"
"And come alone!" the woman snapped.
Mark cast a sheepish look at Angela, shrugged, and went to join his mother in the house, where both soon vanished from sight. Angela bobbed in the pool, and tried to tune out the muffled screeching that soon started inside the house.
It was almost noon on a warm day. The water felt good against Angela's bare skin, and she suddenly understood the appeal of skinny dipping. Under different circumstances, she might really enjoy this. She cast a glance at her soaked shoes and socks strewn across the lawn, and wiggled her toes. Now Angela was truly naked.
Eventually, Mark reappeared in the back yard. His posture was slumped, and he smiled weakly at Angela. "My mom doesn't want you in the house," he said. "She saw you take that shirt off in front of Billy and is now convinced that you're, uh, corrupting the youth, or something. I know, I know, it wasn't like that. I tried to explain, but mother is very, uh, stubborn."
Angela tried to imagine what his mother was thinking. From one angle, well, she did disrobe in front of child.
"But don't worry, I'll make a plan to get you some clothes. Sorry about all this."
Angela had been feeling a little mad at Mark, and that didn't really go away, but now she also felt pity for him. Well, really, it was more like disgust. What a weak and pathetic man, who couldn't even stand up to his mother.
Angela bobbed around in the water a bit more, keeping her body submerged. To the casual observer, she looked like a normal, swimming girl. But on slightly closer observation, it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a swimsuit.
After she got tired of swimming, Angela pulled herself out of the pool and crouch walked to a spot on the lawn, where she lay down on her front, with her legs pressed tightly together. The grass tickled her belly, boobs and legs. This was the position of maximum coverage. She splayed her arms out to the side, figuring Mark had already seen plenty of her ass.
Mark sat down on the grass beside her.
"Could you get me a towel?"
Mark grimaced. "My mom's exact words were, 'let that hippy dry off in the sun.'"
Angela's disgust rose. Couldn't believe this man, who she'd once found attractive, was so deferential to his mother that he couldn't even do a single small thing to help a young, attractive lady in distress.
"It's, uh, pretty hot out," Mark said.
He was right. Angela could feel that she was already mostly dried off, except for her hair. Her shoes and socks still looked soggy though.
"Listen, Angela, I---" Mark was cut off by a ringing phone. His own. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the caller. "Oh! Better take this, it's the boss."
Mark put the phone to his ear and said hello. A torrent of tinny voiced speech erupted from the other side.
"Uh-huh," said Mark. "Yes, got it. I do. Got one right here." Mark produced a marker from another pocket. "Take it down now? I don't have anything to--- okay, got it."
Angela caught the apology in Mark's eyes, but before she understood what it was for, the lid had come off his marker and its nib was tickling her back. "Lay still," Mark whispered to her. "This is extremely important."
Despite herself, Angela lay still. She was obeying a lot of orders today, and most of them had been actively harmful to her. But she felt compelled by the force in Mark's voice. A big, strong, fully clothed man, using her naked body... if not in that way...
The writing continued down Angela's back, moving swiftly from left to right, going lower and lower. Mark nodded and made affirmative noises to the person on the other end of the line, but showed no sign of slowing down. Angela felt a pen stroke down the left dimple on her lower back, and then the right one. The pen continued.
Mark was now writing on her ass. Across one cheek and then the other, one, two, three lines. Angela thought her butt was too big sometimes, but big butts were the fashion, so she didn't let it bother her. She could feel the finger of Mark's writing hand against her plump flesh. Under different circumstances, if Mark were less entangled in his mother's apron strings, she might have welcomed it. But right now she just felt uncomfortable.
"Turn over," Mark hissed. He'd reached the end of her butt, and still wasn't done.
Angela was mortified. "No way!"
Then Mark grabbed her side and pulled her over, onto her back. His pen was on her collarbone before she could protest.
A primal fear rose up in Angela's throat, and she breathed deeply through her nose to calm it. This was fine. She was fine. Well, not really, but all Mark wanted to do was write down a really, really long message.
A line was written across the top of Angela's torso, and then he started on her boobs. Some marks on the left, then on the right. His pinky brushing the skin, grazing her nipples. Mark tried hard to keep a straight face, but she knew he was loving this.
The message continued below Angela's boobs, across her rib-cage and down her tummy, where she was extra ticklish. She let out a giggle, jiggling slightly and causing Mark to scrawl a letter.
The writing continued, but Mark's pen was slowing down now. Finally, as his hand brushed the top of her pubes, the writing mercifully stopped. Mark nodded, made another affirmative sound, and said goodbye to the person on the phone. He rolled back, collapsing on his back on the grass. Angela caught sight of a bulge in his jeans. Under different circumstances, perhaps...
"Sorry about that Angela," he said, righting himself, in the tone of one apologising for a minor inconvenience rather than a very intimate invasion. "I didn't have anywhere else to write, and my boss is very impatient."
Angela sat up, her hands fallen at her sides, allowing Mark to scrutinise his work. He looked for a long time. "You're very beautiful," he said.
"So what's the purpose of this message?" asked Angela.
"It's a code. Yeah, the whole thing is. We're very security conscious at work. I have to type it in to a computer at the office. It's quite urgent, actually."
Angela raised an eyebrow. "Do you have to do that now?"
"Yes. Stand up so I can take some pics."
Angela gasped. "I am not going to let you take naked pictures of me!"
"But it's for work! I'll delete them right after, I promise."
"No." Angela folded her arms. "Get me some clothes, and I'll come to your office with you. Then you can type your code out from the source."
Mark cocked his head. "Yeah, I guess that can work too. Hold on, let me go inside and get you something."
Why Mark couldn't have brought something for her to wear out of the house the first time was a mystery to her. But then he wouldn't have gotten to put his hands all over her naked body. Not for the first time that day, Angela felt she was at the center of a vast conspiracy, with the single purpose of keeping her nude. Everything she did seemed to make things worse. If she'd just gone home with Tammy, maybe she could have gotten that black dress back.
At the very least, she wouldn't now be both naked and barefoot. Accepting Mark's help had actually been net clothing loss so far. But perhaps not for long. Mark reappeared in the back yard carrying a blue dress shirt.
"Is that it?" Angela asked. She'd been hoping for a pair of pants as well.
"My mom doesn't want me to give you anything, so this is really the best I can do."
Angela sighed, but spread her arms out for Mark to slip the shirt over her. Soon, her arms and hands were covered by long sleeves. Unlike the last shirt she'd worn, this one was actually long enough to cover her, the bottom of the shirt extending some distance past the bottom of her ass. She looked like --- well, she looked like Mark's sexual conquest, but at least she was covered.
"Come, let's go," Mark said, as Angela did up the last button. "No time to waste."
Angela cast a glance at her still-damp shoes and socks. "We can come back for those," said Mark.
The two left the backyard, exiting through the same wooden gate they'd entered through. Angela felt the sensation of being out in the open with just a long shirt on and no shoes. It wasn't too different from a dress, really. And after today, she'd probably be comfortable in any clothes that covered her privates.
Itsy bitsy teeny weeny polka dotted string bikini? Better than nothing.
To be continued...
-
FinchAgent
- Posts: 70
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2022 5:46 pm
- Has thanked: 69 times
- Been thanked: 184 times
- Contact:
Re: For Want of a Mask
Or at least she'll bring a mask next time.
Thank you! Next chapter coming up.
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 15 guests