Show and Tell - and Then Show Some More
by Mr. Flip
Author's note: This story was inspired by Lazerou's recent "My Very Own" story on this site. I intend for this story to have more of an ENF theme to it, but there is significant bondage and discipline involved in this part of the story.
Let me start with some background info that will set the stage for my continuing story.
My name is Patricia Schofield. I am a 27-year-old woman, and I'm deeply in love with another 27-year-old woman, Cassandra Campbell. We are very much alike physically, but polar opposites otherwise. We have a dominant/submissive relationship; she is the dominant, I am the submissive. Sex is a HUGE part of our relationship, and it goes well beyond the wonderful physical episodes in bed. For the last several months, she has required me to get completely undressed every time that I enter her townhouse and then remain naked there until I leave. And then, last Saturday, she displayed me naked and bound all day at a Show and Tell event followed by a naked trip to our favorite restaurant for Sunday brunch. Today (which is the next Saturday), I was naked while serving lunch and dancing at an offsite company event. I should point out that she remains clothed at home and on these trips out in public; I am the only naked one. I don't really mind being naked at her home, but I sure don't like being naked out in public. However, I reluctantly go along with it because I love her so much and because our sexual lovemaking is so wonderful.
We both work for a large software company; I am a secretary; she is a top-notch programmer. She has submitted a request to the company for me to come to work completely naked. That request is still pending, but in the interim, she dresses me in provocative clothing without any underwear - no panties, no brassiere.
She has nicknamed me "Pet", because it sort of fits my place in the relationship, and it is similar to "Pat" which is what other people call me. I am required to call her "Ma'am" or "Madam"; other people address her as "Cassie", but I never do.
My lover and I are now in her car in the parking lot after I have spent the last few hours serving lunch to some important customers of our software company. I have been naked the entire time, and I even briefly danced with a naked man before being tied up for an hour in a closet while my lover gave a technical presentation to the people. But I am really hungry, because I wasn't fed any of the nearby food.
And my story continues.
I can see that my lover is fuming as she gets into the car and slams the door. "Fuck that woman. Just when I thought old Hardass and I were starting to get along, and she ignores my specific request." I pull the seat belt across my bare body and quietly sit there while my lover continues more calmly, "We'll stop and get you something on the way. What would you like?"
Without thinking, I reply, "A quarter pounder with cheese. I saw a McDonalds over by the freeway." But as soon as the sentence gets out of my mouth, I regret saying it. I know that she wants me to eat healthy, and I steel myself for a rebuke.
But I'm surprised when she says, "Okay. Anything to drink?"
"Umm, a strawberry milk shake?" Again, I grit my teeth hoping that I haven't pushed my luck too far.
"Okay. My treat." And she starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot onto the street. We don't say anything as we drive the two blocks to McD's. But I'm concerned when she parks in front rather than using the drive-up lane like she usually does at fast food places. I think I know what is coming.
"Okay, Pet. We're here. And here's $20. Get your QP with cheese and a shake. Get me a shake, too, and we'll share an order of fries."
Oh God, the place looks busy inside. I sure don't want to walk in there totally naked. But I don't have a choice. I meekly say, "Yes, Ma'am," and I slowly open the car door.
But she grabs my left hand, and I think that she has changed her mind and that we'll go to the drive-up window after all. I smile back at her expecting her to tell me to close the car door. Instead, she says, "Be careful in the parking lot. There may be loose stones, and we don't want your heel hurting again, do we, Pet?" My smile fades, and I slowly shake my head. She lets go of my hand and then tenderly squeezes my left breast while saying, "Remember, Pet sweetie, that I love you deeply."
My eyes water at this and in a faint whisper I say, "I love you, too, Ma'am." I like her frequent expressions of love for me, but now I have yet another extremely embarrassing task to perform.
Her hand is still on my bare breast as I glance up, and I see a guy sitting inside the restaurant looking at us through the window. He's munching on a french fry, but his eyes are wide open. My lover gives my nipple a final tweak and then she gently pushes on my left shoulder urging me to get going.
I slowly climb out of the car while giving my lover an imploring look. I close the car door, and now my eyes shift down to the pavement to look out for the stones she warned me about. Fortunately, there aren't any, but like the other parking lot, this pavement is hot on my bare feet. I quickly step up the curb to the shady sidewalk bordering the building. My naked body is now fully visible to many people, and I realize that I'm now within only a few feet of the guy sitting by the window inside the restaurant; there is only a pane of glass between us. He has stopped eating his fries, and he is staring directly at my pussy.
The next few seconds are a blur as I hurry to the door where an older man holds it open for me while he is also staring. Inside, there is almost instant silence as everyone turns to look at me. My eyes shift around wildly in vain looking for some help from my humiliating situation. All I see are many eyes focused on me. I squeeze the $20 bill in my hand even harder, but that doesn't help either. I dash up to the counter, but I see that the station has a closed sign on it. I try to shuffle over to the adjacent station, but there is a line of people waiting there. And I see that each of the three open stations has a line of 3 or 4 people. Oh God, I'm going to have to stand naked in line waiting to place my order. I meekly fall into the nearest line. My hands and arms really want to cover my boobs and pussy, but I know that's not allowed, and I submissively hold them at my side.
Oh why, oh why, did I tell my lover I wanted a quarter pounder with cheese? This is all my own fucking fault! If I had just said that I could wait til we got home to eat, then I would be safely in her car and we would be almost home by now rather than being in this humiliating situation.
The person in front of me in line is a teenage girl who says, "What's going on?"
"Umm, I'm waiting to buy lunch," I mumble.
"You know that's not what I mean. Why are you naked in here? Where are your clothes?"
I'm just about to answer when a restaurant employee comes up to me, gently grabs my elbow, and guides me over in front of the closed station. It is another teenage girl, and she says kindly, "I'll help you here, Miss." And she ducks around behind the counter and turns on the cash register. She says, "Okay, what would you like?"
I say, "Ohh, thank you so much. Umm, let's see. I want a quarter pounder with cheese, two strawberry shakes, and an order of fries."
She punches a few buttons and asks, "What size of milk shakes?"
I stammer, "Uh, uh, I g-g-guess m-m-medium."
She gives me an annoyed look and says, "Large or small. We don't have medium."
I gather my wits a little bit and answer, "Large for both of them."
"What size for the fries?"
More confidently, I answer, "Large."
We are just about the only people talking in the entire place. Everyone else has stopped eating and is staring at me. There must be 50 people of all ages in here even though it is 3:30 in the afternoon which is well after lunch time and well before dinner time. There is probably an explanation, but I just don't care; I merely want to get my food and get back to the safety of my lover's car.
She says, "Okay. That'll be $11.75." I thrust the crumpled $20 bill at her. She smoothes it out, puts it in the cash drawer, and hands me the change. I've now got four bills and one coin to hang onto rather than just one bill, and I will shortly have a tray full of food as well. And obviously I don't have any pockets to hold the money. I just fold the bills around the coin and hold them tightly in my right hand. She turns around and goes over to the milk shake machine where she fills two large cups. She brings those two shakes over in front of me and puts them in a cardboard tray. I see that her eyes are on my bare boobs; my pussy is hidden from view as I stand close to the counter. Then she quickly scoops a large helping of french fries into a container which she adds to the tray. She says, "Sorry, it will be a minute or so for the hamburger."
We stand there awkwardly looking at each other. There are still many other people also looking at me, but some people have returned to eating and talking. I break the silence between us by saying quietly, "Uhh, thanks again for helping me so quickly."
"No problem, Miss. We realize that your nakedness is causing a distraction, and by serving you promptly we are minimizing the, uh, uh, disturbance."
So, she and I agree on at least one thing - we both want my naked body out of this place as soon as possible. I notice that she didn't ask me if I wanted this to go or to eat in; she just automatically put the food in a to-go tray.
After several more awkward seconds, there is a ding behind the counter, and she turns and retrieves my quarter pounder from the rack. She drops the hamburger into the cardboard tray and shoves it forcefully across the counter to me. I drop the money into the corner of the tray and pick it up.
She says quietly, "Thanks for coming. Please come again, but next time, please observe our 'no-shirt, no-shoes' sign on the door. Good bye."
I blush, "Sorry. Good bye."
As I turn, I hear the girl still standing in the next line say, "Hey, what's the deal? We've been waiting for a long time, and she came in after us, but you serve her first! If I take off my clothes, will you serve me next?!?" And she starts to unbutton her blouse.
The girl employee replies, "Sorry, it was just the best way to handle the situation. But this station is now open; please come over here. And please keep your clothes on." The other girl re-buttons her blouse and hurries over to the just-opened station.
I turn to avoid colliding with the girl and start towards the door, but I remember that my lover likes ketchup with french fries, and so I turn to the condiment counter. I quickly squirt some ketchup into the tray for the fries. Normally, I would also put some extra mustard on my quarter pounder, but that would add several more seconds to this embarrassing episode, and so I just grab a handful of napkins and hurry out the door with the tray loaded with food.
My lover sees me come out carrying the tray, and she hops out of the car and opens the passenger side door for me. She takes the tray and holds it while I adjust the towel and settle into the seat. She hands me the tray and goes to the driver side to get in. I'm hoping that she will move to the back of the parking lot, and so I just hang onto the tray. But she says, "Put it on the console, Pet, where we can both get at it. Put the shakes in the cup holders."
So, my naked visit to McDonalds is not over yet. The guy in the window is still there, and he is looking directly at me. But I do what my lover told me to do, and grab a napkin and lay it across my lap. My lover sees this and says, "No, no, Pet. The napkin is for your fingers not your lap. If you dribble on your lap, you can easily wipe it up with a napkin. After all, you don't have any clothes to worry about getting stained."
I pick up the napkin, return it to the tray, and say, "Sorry, Ma'am." And now I carefully unwrap the quarter pounder part way so that I can eat it as cleanly as possible. Finally, I take my first bite of food since breakfast this morning, and it is wonderful junk food. Oh my, but it tastes yummy.
We eat in silence. I gobble down the QP, and sure enough, I dribble some of the mustard and ketchup into my lap in several places. The spots on my thighs are easy to clean with the napkin, but a dollop has fallen right into my pubic hair and dribbled down to my pussy lips. My lover giggles as I struggle to clean myself down there while still seated in the car. I even chuckle a bit myself at my plight. I finally raise my butt and use a clean napkin to wipe my crease. I look up and see that the guy in the window is still looking down at me. He can't see my pussy now, but I'm sure he knew what I was doing with my gyrations. I go back to drinking my shake and eating a few french fries.
I glance over at my lover, and I see that her tight skirt is hiked up really high now. Lots of gorgeous leg is showing! I'm glad she hasn't covered them with a napkin in her lap; she's not eating a juicy hamburger, and so I guess she doesn't think a lap napkin is necessary.
We're almost done when my lover says, "Spread your legs and sit up like you were when cleaning your cunt." I'm puzzled, but I do what I'm told. And she leans over and sticks a french fry into my pussy and then into her mouth. "Oh yum, yum. Fries with sweet 'gina juice." I start to settle back down, but she scolds, "Keep your ass up, Pet. I'm not done down there yet." She dips another one into my pussy, but this time she brings it up to my mouth, and I taste my own juice on the french fry; she's right, it does taste good. But I continue to sit there awkwardly as she dips 3 more fries into my pussy and eats them herself. The guy in the window is still looking at me; he has a puzzled look on his face, because he can't see what is actually going on. After she eats the last fry, she pats my bare thigh as a signal that I can sit back down.
Finally all the fries are gone, and the shake cups are empty. My lover retrieves the money from the tray and piles all of the trash into the tray and says, "Pet, dump these in the trash can over there", and she gestures back towards the front door. I sigh, take the trash, get out of the car, walk in front of the window, and throw the trash in the bin. I now see the "no-shirt, no-shoes, no-service" sign next to the main entrance. As I walk back to the car, the guy taps on the window and waves at me. I've given him a free nudie show that he will probably never forget.
I rearrange the towel which had shifted as I squirmed around in the seat, and I climb back into the car. My lover pulls on her seat belt and I do the same as she starts the car. I hope that this embarrassing episode is now over, and we can return to the privacy of her townhouse. I settle back into my seat as she pulls out onto the boulevard. I'm puzzled as she continues on the street rather than taking the on-ramp to the freeway, but I just assume that she knows another way back home.
Many Orange Aprons, but None for Me
But at the next block, we stop at a traffic signal and she says, "While we're out this way, there's one more thing I'd like to do." I don't like the sound of that, but I mumble, "Okay." And I tightly grip the edges of the car seat with my hands.
"You know how I want you to eat healthy?"
"Yes, Ma'am." I assume this is going to be related to just having finished a yummy, junk food, hamburger. Am I going to be punished for that?
"Well, tomorrow, I want you to start planting a garden at home on the patio."
"Yes, Ma'am, I remember you saying that." But I'm puzzled, because that is tomorrow at home, and this is today in the car miles from home. I wish we were home right now. "Home" - that word has such a comforting feeling to it. And at that instant after having the word "home" run through my mind the last few seconds, I look up and see "Home" in bright orange letters. "Home Depot" the sign reads. And my apprehension level soars.
Just then, my lover reaches over and squeezes my left nipple. "Pay attention, Pet. Answer my question."
I stare dumbly at her, "Sorry, Ma'am. Uhh, uhh, umm, . . ."
"What did I just say?"
I meekly reply, "You told me to pay attention. Sorry, I . . ."
"No, Pet, just before that."
My mind is racing. "Umm, umm, you said you want me to plant a garden on the patio."
"Dammit, Pet. That's not right either. And quit, umming. You know I don't like that. Now, answer my question. What did I say?"
I've made her angry, and my eyes start to water. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I don't know. I guess my mind was wandering." I had been so focused on seeing the word "Home" in big letters on the "Home Depot" sign that I missed what she said.
The light turns green and as she starts driving again, she says more calmly, "I asked you what kind of vegetables you want to plant in the garden."
The big "Home Depot" sign is now less than a block from us and getting closer every second. But I have to answer her. I almost say "umm" again, but I catch myself, "Uh . . . Sorry, Ma'am, I g-g-guess I w-w-want . . ." I'm stalling while trying to think of something to say. I can sense she's about to say something, and I just blurt, "Tomatoes," because that's the first thing that pops into my mind.
She turns into the big parking lot in front of the store and says, "Good, Pet. We'll plan on tomatoes. But you know that tomato is actually a fruit rather than a vegetable; it's just that we use it as a vegetable. What else?"
I didn't know that tomatoes were not vegetables, but I have to think of something else quickly. "Uhh, squash?" Again, it's the first thing I can think of, but I don't really like either tomatoes or squash. In fact, there aren't any vegetables that I do like. Are french fries vegetables? Why can't we plant a tree that grows quarter pounders with cheese?
She pulls into a parking spot and turns off the engine. She says, "Well, Pet, I'm not real happy with you right now. I wish we had your paddle here in the car, because you deserve some light discipline. I'd like to bend you over the bumper right here in the parking lot and give you several smacks."
She pinches my left tit again as I reply, "Sorry, Ma'am. I'll do better."
"You bet you will, or you'll get a full-fledged DD assigned to you." DD stands for "discipline demerit".
She pauses and I can see she's really angry with me. But her tone softens as she says, "Here's what I want to do. This is a brand new store, and I want to go in and look around to see what they've got, and maybe to get some ideas for craft projects. While I am doing that, I want you to go into the garden center at the far end of the store and get the 'lay of the land' down there. Find the tomato and zucchini plants. Don't buy any; just find out where they're located. Also, look around to see what else you might need tomorrow. Like potting soil, fertilizer, tools - that sort of thing. When we get home, we'll talk about it and look to see what I already have in the garage. Then, we'll come back here tomorrow and buy what we need. Okay?"
So, just as I feared, I'm going to walk naked into Home Depot. Of course, I don't want to do that, but that's what she wants me to do. I merely say, "Yes, Ma'am. I understand."
"All right. I'm going to go in the other end of the store where the lumberyard is located. And I'll start poking around there, and I'll probably look for the hardware section after that. When you get finished in the nursery, come find me."
I gulp, because that will mean a naked stroll going through the length of the large store. "Yes, Madam."
"Okay, let's get going," and we both get out of the car. This asphalt pavement is even hotter on my bare feet than the concrete in the earlier parking lot, and there is not a single tree in sight. I want to sprint into shaded nursery area, but I know my lover wouldn't like that, and it would just draw even more attention to me. So, I just start walking.
But then I hear my lover yell, "Pet, come here and help me." Those are magic words to me even though I'm totally naked in a public parking lot. I scoot around to her side of the car, and say, "Oh, Ma'am. What can I do to help you?" Helping her in any way possible is the most important thing in my life in spite of my humiliating lack of clothes.
"This damn skirt is acting up again. Literally, acting up. It just wants to creep up my legs. Look at it; it's almost up to my ass now."
She's right. It almost looks like an obscene miniskirt now instead of the professional pencil skirt that it's supposed to be. I bend down and pull the skirt down so that it's back to its normal position just above her knees. Like I did earlier, I smooth it out as best as I can in front and on her butt. And as a final touch, I adjust her belt and tuck in her satin blouse. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and says, "Thanks, Pet. You're a big help. See you shortly."
She turns and starts walking towards the lumberyard, and I turn and head towards the garden center. It's then that I realize that she has a much shorter walk than I do; she probably parked in this spot on purpose. I sigh and start walking. And I hear the chirp-chirp noise from her car as the doors lock. I'm naked, alone, and defenseless out in the open. And my pussy starts to tingle again. Why do I get turned on so easily when I am so embarrassed? The tingling just multiplies the embarrassment that I already feel. What if people spot my pussy juice running down my leg?!?
The parking lot is about half full, and in a way, those cars provide a little bit of cover, because it's not as though I'm walking naked through an entirely empty lot where I would be visible even from a long distance away. But those cars either might have people in them or people coming to them. So, it won't be long until I'm spotted by somebody.
I would really like to scoot from car to car in the parking lot to hide my naked body, but my lover would not like that. So, I take a deep breath and head in pretty much a straight line in a diagonal direction from my lover's parking spot to the garden center entrance. There are several cars that I have to go around, but mostly I'm walking straight towards the entrance with my hands at my sides. For some reason, I'm intensely aware of my breasts bobbing as I walk, and I feel my nipples harden up. My boobs have been bouncing around all day, but I hadn't really thought about it too much. Why now? I just don't know.
As I cross one of the lanes, I encounter a family of four people rolling a cart from the store out to their vehicle. They all just gawk silently at me, but the two young teenage boys seem to want to follow me, but their mother pulls them back by the arm. In the next lane, there is a crowd of people returning shopping carts to the nearby cart return enclosure. I just stare at the ground and walk on by, ignoring their gasps.
Finally, I reach the nursery entrance and there is an older man wearing an orange apron greeting people as they enter. He smiles briefly as he looks me over, but otherwise he doesn't bat an eye. He just says, "Good afternoon, Miss." And he hands me an advertising flyer. I take it briefly, but I quickly realize that my lover would not want me to carry it around with me, because I might use it to cover myself. I just hand it back to him and hurry on into the nursery.
Even though this area is outdoors, much of it has a mesh canvas covering that provides filtered sunlight for the plants. But it also provides enough shade to cool off the pavement under my bare feet, and I'm thankful for that little bit of relief. But I am still very naked and very exposed. There are a dozen or more people around and they are all staring at me; there is a buzz of excitement, but I can't make out any specific things that are being said about me.
But my lover has assigned me a task, and I must get it done. I stop for a moment to collect my thoughts; I have to ignore my nudity and focus on the task. Let's see now - tomatoes and zucchini. What will I need to grow those? The plants themselves, obviously. Potting soil. Shovel, and maybe a rake. Fertilizer. Maybe some stakes or metal cages for the tomatoes. Gloves - uh, no, I'm not allowed to wear gloves; so scratch that. Ditto for a cap or a bandana.
As I'm thinking, I hear someone say, "Can I help you?" I turn and see a friendly looking young woman about my own age (27) wearing an orange apron and an employee badge.
"Umm, no, I know w-wh-what I w-want . . ." I stammer. But I know that I could sure use some help, and this lady seems like she would sincerely like to help. So, I say, "Actually, yes, th-th-thank you, Ma'am." Why did I just call her "Ma'am" anyway?
She's giving me a strange look, but she is looking directly in my eyes and not at my bare body. I continue stammering, "I want to . . ., s-s-sorry, I mean, we are pl-pl-pl-planting a sm-small-ll g-g-arden. Squ-squash and t-t-t-tom-a-a-toes." She must think I have a speech impediment.
Her look changes to a friendly smile as she says, "Okay. I can help you with that. Let's go over and look at the different varieties."
She lightly puts her hand on my back and guides me over two aisles and down a ways. My nips tighten up again as I feel her gentle touch on my lower back. And now there is another quiet chorus of gasps as a new group of people see me. But I am at least a tiny bit re-assured at this employee's desire to help.
She stops me in the middle of an aisle that has an older couple in it. The older woman says, "What the hell?", but the man breaks into a big smile when he see me. The nice employee says, "It's okay. I'm helping her." The woman stares daggers at me for a few moments and then turns away grabbing her husband's hand; he's like a little kid resisting being pulled away from the sight of a pretty naked woman, but she gives his hand a yank, and he reluctantly follows her around the corner.
The lady and I are now alone in the aisle, and she says, "Okay, what kind of tomatoes? Heirloom, cherry, golden, beefsteak? You've got lots of choices. And how big of a plant? A tiny starter or a more established one in a larger pot? Maybe you want more than one kind?"
Oh my God, so many questions. I don't know anything about gardening. I'm just a novice - and a naked novice at that.
I stammer again, "J-just n-n-normal t-tom-a-a-toes. Not t-tiny, n-n-not big."
She continues to smile, "Okay, we've got these ones that we just call 'classic' that are medium size. So I suggest you get those. And might I also suggest a cherry tomato plant? They are really easy to grow, and oh my, they taste wonderful, too?"
I merely mumble, "Yeah, that's fine."
"Okay, what size? Do you want to start them from scratch? Or do you want more established plants which provide almost instant gratification?"
"I g-gu-guess es-es-es-t-t-tabl-blished," my stammering returns.
"Okay, good. Let's go get you a cart, and we'll put a 3-gallon classic and a 3-gallon cherry on it."
She pushes a bit harder on my back, but I resist saying, "Umm, uhh, I'm just l-looking. I, um, n-n-need to talk with my lov. . ., uh, I mean, my fr-friend."
"Oh, is he here? I've seen a nice looking man kind of following us?" She points down the aisle to a tall guy wearing cargo pants and a green T-shirt. "Is that him?"
She is just about to beckon to the guy, and I implore, "Oh, no. It's n-n-ot him. My fr-fr-friend is a lady." She raises her eyebrows in surprise. But I know I can't tell her that my lover is currently in the store. So, I stammer out a lie, "Sh-she's n-not here. I'm j-just d-d-doing research to s-see wh-what's av-available."
The look on her face changes back to a neutral smile, but she looks disappointed, because she realizes that she's not going to make a sale to me. She's just about to say something, but I interrupt continuing to stammer, "Umm. We're c-coming b-b-back here tomorrow, p-p-probably early af-afternoon. W-will you be w-w-working then? We'll b-buy all the stuff then."
Her look brightens and she replies, "Yes, I work on Sunday afternoon. You can ask for me." She reaches out her hand and says, "Hi, I'm Lena. What's your name?"
I tentatively shake her hand and answer, "Hello, Lena, I'm Pat."
"Nice to meet you, Pat. Do you know what time you'll be coming in tomorrow? I can arrange my schedule appropriately."
"Umm, uh, sorry I'm n-n-not sure."
"That's okay. I'll keep an eye out for you. Will you be dressed the same?" There's an awkward pause and she adds, "Oh, I'm sorry. I mean . . . Umm, well, you know what I mean." And she blushes.
I'm blushing, too, and I simply answer, "Yes."
"Pat, I'm really sorry about that. But let me ask a personal question. Why are you nak . . ., I mean, why aren't you wearing any clothes?"
I answer quietly in almost a whisper, "I'm a nudist, Lena. I don't wear clothes any more." That's not the entire truth, but it's the right answer for this situation.
She still has a perplexed, apologetic look on her face, but she says, "Okay, I understand." She pauses a moment to gather her thoughts and goes on, "All right, we've decided on the tomatoes. Now, let's do the squash which is over this way." She puts her hand on my bare back a little higher this time and guides me over to the next aisle.
We spend the next 10 minutes figuring out what it needed. Zucchini plants, a trowel, a rake, how many bags of potting soil, etc.
She asks about knee pads and gloves, but I say, "No, I don't need those; I don't want to wear anything, because I'm a nudist." She nods and helpfully recommends a kneeling pad that rests on the ground. She brings it out and lays it on the concrete floor in the aisle. I hesitantly kneel down on it, and she gently pushes on my neck urging me to bend over. I blush as I know that the people nearby will have a perfect rear view of my pussy or a side view of my dangling breasts. I don't maintain this degrading position very long; I stand up and say, "That's fine, Lena. Thanks for suggesting it."
"Okay, Pat. Let's go over to the counter and I'll write out a list of everything we've just talked about. Then, you can take that home and figure out which things you've already got and what you'll need to purchase tomorrow."
I'm not so sure that's a good idea, because my lover doesn't want me carrying anything on this little naked excursion. "Umm, umm, okay, Lena, that's fine. But as you can see, I don't have any pockets to hold a piece of paper. Umm, umm, can you email it to me?"
"Sure, I can do that." And she goes behind the counter to the computer terminal. She spends a couple of minutes typing, and then she and I go over the list verbally for another minute or so. I give her my email address, and she says that she's sent it to me.
I reach my hand across the counter towards her, and we shake. I say, "Thanks so much for your help, Lena." And I'm just about to pull away when she asks quietly, "I've never met a nudist before, Pat. It looks like it could be fun. Is it? How long have you been doing it?"
I don't want to tell her how "un-fun" it is, but I reply, "Actually, I've only just started in the last few days. I'll see how it goes."
She gives me a big friendly smile and says, "Okay, Pat. It was really nice meeting you. And I'll see you and your friend tomorrow." We shake again, and I turn away from the counter.
But I don't head for the exit, because I'm supposed to find my lover at the other end of the store. Lena sees me turning towards the door leading into the main part of the store, and she says, "Pat, wait. The exit from the nursery is behind you. You don't have to go out through the big exit door. It's much quicker and more private to leave through our gate."
I turn back and say, "Thanks, Lena. But I've got some other shopping to do." That's another lie, and she probably knows it, because she realizes that I don't have any money or credit cards with me. I smile at her and wave as I go into the building.
Once inside, I'm in a whole different environment. Row after row of orange shelves filled with all kinds of things. The shelves don't bother me, but the people browsing the aisles amongst those shelves bring "a whole 'nother" level of embarrassment. I have to look down every single one of these aisles for my lover. She told me that she'd start in the lumberyard, but she definitely implied that she wouldn't stay there waiting for me; she wants to get "crafty" ideas, and those can come from anywhere in this store.
I'm going down the center central aisle that runs the length of the long store, all the way from the nursery to the lumberyard. But I have to stop at each intersection to look both ways for my lover. And each of those stops provides a full view of my naked body to everyone in that aisle as well as the people in the central aisle ahead and behind me.
I'm now past the halfway point. Where the hell is she? I continue on and on until I finally reach the lumberyard where there are 3 aisles. I stop at each one and look carefully in each direction. No sign of her. But I sure do see lots and lots of people who are looking back at me. And I turn around and notice that there is a small crowd of about a dozen men and one woman who have followed me down the central aisle. I'm almost crying now. Where are you, Ma'am? And I realize that I must have said that last sentence out loud, because the one woman answers, "I'm right here, girlie." And she and the men break out in a howl of laughter.
Reluctantly, I turn and head to the front of the lumberyard where I turn again and start back in the other direction towards the nursery, but this time in the front aisle near all of the cash registers. Maybe she's waiting for me up front somewhere? I repeat my stop at each intersection and look down the aisle. My little crowd of "admirers" has grown to include 3 teenage boys who are make crude comments about me.
About two-thirds of the way, I come to the tool area which is walled off from the rest of the store, and there is my sweetie looking at power tools. I've found her! I rush up to her and exclaim, "Hello, Ma'am. I'm here."
She looks up and nonchalantly says, "Yeah, I can see that, Pet. I'm almost done here, but I want to look at this Dremel a bit more."
I have no idea what a Dremel is even though she is holding it up for me to see. It looks like an electric toothbrush to me. I just nod and stand there with my hands at my sides while she studies the demo model. Thankfully the crowd of followers is now breaking up.
Finally, she picks up a box from underneath and says, "This is a cool device; I want one. It will come in handy. Let's go, Pet." And I obediently follow her to the cash register.
The lady clerk at the register is also wearing an orange apron, and she sees me and says, "Oh, so this is what all the commotion is about. You are one gorgeous female. Every woman here wishes she had a body like that."
I just blush and quietly say, "Thank you." And I silently wish that I had an orange apron just like hers.
My lover smiles as she slides her credit card through the machine. She merely says, "I agree." She takes the receipt from the clerk, grabs my hand, and leads me towards the exit door. We pass the guy monitoring the door; he says, "Good bye. Thank you for coming, and please, please, please, come again." My lover giggles and waves at the man, who is also wearing an orange apron, as we walk out of the store.
Out in the parking lot, we walk hand-in-hand. My lover looks over at me and smiles broadly. She then starts swinging our clasped hands as we walk. Just two lovers out for a stroll - one stylishly dressed, the other totally naked.
I let out a big sigh of relief as I settle my naked body into the car seat with my ass centered over the towel and the seat belt nestled between my full boobs. A man walks in front of the car and spots my bare breasts through the windshield; he pauses briefly to look, but then continues on with a smile on his face. Just another bit of embarrassment for me, but it's nothing compared to what I endured over the last half hour.
I close my eyes and lean my head back as my lover starts driving. A couple of minutes pass, and I can feel the car accelerate; we must be on the freeway. And then I feel her hand on my left breast, a gentle squeeze followed by tweak of my nipple. I open my eyes and smile over at her. Then, her hand slides down my front to my groin. I instinctively close my legs even tighter than they already were.
She scolds, "Pet, behave yourself. I just want to check you out down there," and I immediately open my legs as I realize my mistake. Her hand covers my pussy and her index finger works its way into me.
She's leaning quite a bit to her right to get down there, and the car suddenly swerves to the right onto the shoulder. Fortunately, there isn't a car parked or something else over there. She yanks her right hand back up to the steering wheel. If there had been a cop around, he could have pulled her over for distracted driving. My naked body is a bigger lure to her than any smartphone.
She exclaims, "Oh, Pet. I'm sorry about that. I need to pay attention to my driving rather than your pretty equipment. I'm sorry if it scared you." It did scare me a little bit, and it's unlike her to drive erratically like that. I just mumble, "It's okay, Ma'am."
But after a moment of silence, she smells her fingers and says, "Oh, Pet, the 'gina juice machine is in high gear!" She reaches her hand across to my mouth, and I know that I need to clean it for her. I lick the palm side of her fingers followed by the nail side. She then presents her fingers one-by-one so that I can suck each one separately. I like doing this for her, but this is the first time in a moving vehicle. After I finish, she pulls her hand back to the steering wheel and continues down the highway.
A mile later she exits the freeway, and we drive a few blocks. When we stop for a traffic light, she reaches over and adjusts my seat belt. She says, "Pet, that belt was covering your left nipple, and I want your nips visible. Please make sure in the future that the shoulder strap goes between your breasts not over either one of them."
I look down at my bare boobs and reply, "Yes, Ma'am."
"I've seen things in one of those gadget catalogs that clip the two parts of the belt together so that the shoulder belt is prevented from shifting over to cover a breast. I'll order a few of those clips for you - one for this car, and another for your car."
I give her a slight smile and say quietly, "Thank you, Ma'am."
The light changes to green, and she resumes driving. And we drive the rest of the way home in silence. As we approach her place on the narrow street, she slows down when she sees two young boys kicking a soccer ball in the street near her driveway. The boys see her and move to the side; she smiles and gives them a friendly wave as she pulls into the driveway. One of the boys waves back, and they resume playing.
She stops several feet in front of the garage door and presses the button on the door opener device clipped to her visor. The door doesn't open. She presses it again; the door doesn't lift. She unclips the unit and holds it in her hand pressing several more times with emphasis, pushing harder and carefully aiming the device at the door. No luck.
She looks carefully at the device and says, "The red light isn't coming on. I hope the damn thing's not broken. Hopefully, it just needs a new battery. Run inside, Pet, and open it from the button in the garage."
"Okay," I reply, and I slowly open the car door. I'd like to go around the front of the car and behind the bush to get to the front walkway, but I know she wouldn't like that. So, I reluctantly go around the back of the car to the short stepping stone path over to the walkway. I glance over at the boys who have stopped kicking the ball and are staring at my naked body. I scoot up the steps to the front door, and as I reach for the front door handle, I realize that I don't have my keys with me. I didn't bring my purse with me this afternoon, because my lover told me I wouldn't need it.
So, I turn and walk back down the walkway towards the car giving the boys a clear frontal view of me. Their eyes are bulging. I sheepishly walk over to the car where my lover is grinning at me through her open window. She says, "I think you need this, sweetie." She hands me her key ring with the front door key extended.
"Thank you, Ma'am." And I return back to the front door. The boys have not taken their eyes off of me. I run through the entryway into the kitchen and out to the garage where I press the button mounted on the wall. The big garage door opens.
I see that my lover has gotten out of her car and is talking to the two boys. She beckons to me, "Pet, come here, please."
Oh God, more naked exposure. I walk through the garage and over next to her on the driveway at the rear of her car. She reaches out her right hand to me; I grasp it with my left hand, and she gives my hand a comforting squeeze. With us still holding hands, she says, "Pet, I want to introduce you to Josh Robinson who lives next door. Josh, this is my friend, Pet."
I still have her key ring in my right hand, and so I put the keys on the car bumper before reaching out that hand to the boy who appears to be 10 or 11 years old. We shake hands and I say, "Hi, Josh, nice to meet you." His eyes are staring at my pubic triangles; he doesn't say anything.
My lover goes on, "And this is his friend whose name is Dillon, right?" She looks at the boy, who just nods as he stares at me. I shake his hand and say, "Hi, Dillon." He is about the same age, and he seems to be focused on my boobs. Like Josh, he just smiles without saying anything.
I stand there with my left hand lowered to my side as she continues to chat with the two boys about soccer, their plans for the summer, where Dillon lives, etc. This goes on for another minute or two giving them a long look at my body.
Finally, my lover says, "Okay, guys. Go back to your game. Tell them good-bye, Pet."
"Bye, boys. Have fun."
Both boys say, "Bye, Cassie. Bye, Pat." And they run back down the driveway to the street.
I pick up the keys, and I'm about to hand the keys to my lover, but she says, "I really need to pee. You pull the car into the garage." And she dashes past me through the garage and into the house.
I open the driver side door and realize that my towel is still lying on the passenger seat. I quickly reach across, grab it, and put it on the driver seat.
I climb in making sure my ass is on the towel and close the door. I've never driven her car before, but it's simple because it's automatic transmission. I turn on the ignition and pull the car the few feet into the garage being very careful not to hit anything. I get out of the car and I see the two boys watching me as I go around the back of the car to get to the door opener button near the door into the kitchen. I press the button and sigh as the big door slowly comes down. I finally have some privacy after many hours of public exposure. I'm still naked, but my lover's townhouse is kind of like a sanctuary to me.
Inside, I let out a big breath - much more than just a sigh of relief. I can feel my heart beating wildly like it has been all day, and I hope it will slow down to normal now. But I'm not sure what to do now. So, I just wander into the living room and stand next to my lover's easy chair.
After I wait for a minute or so, I hear the toilet flush, and I expect her to appear at any moment. But she doesn't. I'm tempted to go into her bedroom to make sure she's okay, but she would think that to be presumptuous of me. So, I just continue to wait. Five minutes pass, and she finally comes into the living room. She has changed out of the dress-up outfit and into the baggy shorts and T-shirt that she had on this morning. I can tell that she doesn't have a bra on under the shirt, and I wonder if she has panties on or not. She comes over to me, and we hug. She says, "Thank you, Pet, you just did a very good thing."
I'm a bit puzzled, because as far as I'm concerned, the only good thing I've done all day is to keep my lover happy. I don't consider any of the naked exhibitions that I've put on today to be "good things", but she seems to be very happy with me now. She sees my confusion and continues, "You've just helped those boys with their sex education. They will be going through puberty soon, and you have shown them what an adult female body looks like. A very pretty female body, I might add. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Ma'am," I whisper.
I step aside as she sits down in her easy chair. She says, "I'm going to rest. Probably read on my Kindle or a magazine. I may even take a nap here, because it's been kind of a long day. But there are several things I want you to do for me while I'm resting."
I'm actually thrilled to hear that, because I would be uncomfortable just standing around doing nothing. I really want to do something useful for her. I smile down at her and say, "Yes, Ma'am. What do you want me to do?"
What Does the Mail Carrier Say to a Naked Lady?
"Very first thing. I want you to quickly go get the mail. Today is Saturday, and that's when my weekly craft magazine usually arrives. I might want to read it while I'm resting. In fact, go do that right now. When you get back, I'll tell you the other things I want done."
Oh crap, more naked exposure, because the mailbox is at the end of the long walkway out by the curb, and those kids are probably still playing out there. I meekly say, "Yes, Ma'am. I'll be right back."
I turn and run to the front door. I'm outside in an instant and I dash down the long walkway. The boys are indeed still out there. In fact, another kid about the same age has joined them; this new kid is a girl. I just ignore their stares and quickly open the mailbox and reach in. But it is empty. Oh shit, my lover is going to be unhappy, because her magazine didn't arrive. It's not my fault, but tears well up in my eyes anyway.
As I'm hurrying back into the house, I see Mrs. Simmons next door looking at me from her window. I ignore her, too, and get inside, back to the living room.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but there wasn't any mail today. The box was empty."
She glances at the clock on the table; it's 5:05 PM. She says, "That's strange. I don't remember the last time that I didn't get any mail at all. There is always some sort of junk mail or charity solicitation. But probably there's a substitute mail carrier or our usual one is just running late. I'm sure it will come soon. Keep an eye out and get it as soon as it comes."
I don't know how I'm going to do that without going out there and standing nearby waiting for the guy, because I can't see the mailbox from any window. I'm just about to complain, but I decide I'd better not. I merely say, "Yes, Ma'am."
My lover says, "Oh well, I guess I'll just have to wait. Anyway, the next thing I want you to do is to put a new battery in the garage door opener unit. Make sure you test it from inside the car with the car on the driveway all the way out at the street, because that's where I usually am when I push the button. Where did you put my keys anyway?"
"They're on the kitchen counter, Ma'am."
"Good girl. And don't forget to use your towel in my car."
Gulp. I just realized that I left the towel in the car a few minutes ago. "Okay, Ma'am. But I need to tell you that my towel is already in the car, because I forgot to bring it into the house with me." Is she going to punish me for that?
"Oh dear, Pet. You need to do better than that. What if I had needed to use the car next and I sat down on your damp towel in my nice clothes? I would have been ticked to get your pussy juice on my skirt or slacks. It's not a big deal, but be sure to bring it in this time. Okay?"
"Yes, Ma'am." I turn to go do the task, but she says, "Wait, Pet. I'm not finished describing what I want you to do. I don't want to have you coming back like a naked puppy dog after each of these little chores."
I turn back around and face her. "Sorry, Ma'am," I say apologetically.
"I want you to fix dinner for us. Figure out something from what's in the frig. You know what I like. Surprise me. Let's aim for 7:30. We ate that late snack at McDonalds. Let's see I guess that was 3:30 or so. Um, yeah, 7:30 is fine. Understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am." I'm not sure if this is the last thing or not. So, I just stay standing in front of her.
She gestures towards the fireplace and says, "See all that underwear? I want you to deal with it. Do the underwear after the garage door opener but before doing dinner. Anyway, remember I said I want the panties and bras that you gave me to be kept separate? Well, I want you to set up drawer in my dresser for them; this will be my 'sPETial' drawer. Put a temporary sign on it with a post-it note. You know how I spelled it: lower-case s, upper-case P-E-T, lower-case i-a-l. Understand?"
I look over at the remaining stacks of panties and bras, and it is a vivid reminder of the traumatic experience last night where I watched many of my favorite brassieres burn to ashes. My gaze shifts slightly over to the fireplace and the accumulation of ashes. I just sigh and answer her, "Yes, Ma'am, I understand."
I continue to stand there looking at my lover, because I'm not sure if she is finished with the list of tasks or not. After a pause, she says, "Okay, Pet. That's all for now, but I may think of something else if you get those done quickly. So, go check the mail again, and then get started with the other things."
I meekly answer, "Yes, Ma'am," and I turn towards the front door and start running. I'm through the entryway and out the front door in just a few seconds. I pause and look over at Mrs. Simmons's window; she's not looking out now. I take a deep breath and dash down the long walkway to the mailbox. One of the kids picks up the soccer ball and points me out to the other two. All three of them gawk at me again. I flip open the mailbox and see that it is still empty. I glance up and down the street to see if the mailman is nearby. No sign of him. I look over at the kids and smile before running back into the house.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but it still hasn't come yet," I say to my lover.
I continue on towards the kitchen, but she calls out, "Oh, Pet. Please bring me the most recent Time magazine. I think it's on the counter."
I don't see the magazine on my first glance at the counter, but after shuffling aside some of the other paperwork, I spot it. I take it over to her and hand it down to her where she is seated in her easy chair. She says, "Thanks, sweetie."
Now, I start on my first assignment. I go out to the garage and get the remote control opener device from the car. I push the button a few times, and nothing happens; it sure seems like it needs a new battery. I've never replaced a battery in this device before, and so it takes me a couple of minutes to figure out how to open up the plastic case. It's kind of tricky; press firmly on both sides and slide the molded top off. The battery is one of those squarish ones rather than a cylinder shape. I wander back to the kitchen and look in the drawer where I know she keeps spare batteries. I'm relieved to find one there.
Back in the garage, I remove the old battery and toss it into the recycle box. The new one goes in easily, but as I'm sliding the top back onto the device, I accidentally press the button and the garage door opens. Well, at least I know the damn thing now works, but my naked body is now visible to the kids again.
I'm startled that the door unintentionally opened, but I shrug because I was going to open it in a moment anyway. I go back into the kitchen and retrieve the car keys.
As I return to the garage, the kids' eyes are on me, albeit from a distance. They watch me slowly back the car out of the garage and all the way down to the curb near where they are playing. I press the button on the opener device and the garage door closes. It re-opens when I press it again. So, my lover's device now works again.
I'm just about to shift the car into drive when it occurs to me that I need to check the mailbox again while I am only a few feet from it. I don't want to expose my nude body to the kids again, but I know my lover would want me to check the mail. So, I reluctantly turn off the ignition, get out of the car, and walk over to the mailbox. It is still empty. I turn back towards the car and I notice that there are now four kids, three boys and the girl, grinning at me.
I climb back in the car and start it up again. Just as I'm shifting into drive, I hear the faint sound of a vehicle. I glance around and see that the mail truck has just come around the curve and is three houses away. I'm now in a quandary. Should I wait for the truck to get here? Or should I go back into the house to finish up this little task and then come back out here again to get the mail? My lover would tell me that I should make the most efficient use of my time by finishing up this task while the mailman is making his way to her mailbox. That also has the advantage that it hides my naked body from the kids' view a little bit longer. So, that's what I do. I drive back into the garage, carefully close the garage door before getting out of car, hang my little towel on a hook in the half-bath, etc.
It takes me a couple of minutes to finish all of that up, and that should be enough time for the mailman to have serviced the two or three boxes before ours. So, I silently smile at my lover as I walk by her on the way to the front door. I take another deep breath and head out on yet another naked excursion to the mailbox.
I don't see the mailman in front of my lover's box, and I take that as a good sign, indicating that he's delivered her mail and gone on to the next mailbox. So, I dash down the sidewalk, flip open the mailbox, and reach inside. It is still empty!
I look around. In one direction, I see that the kids seemed to have stopped playing soccer; they are just standing there looking at me. I turn and look in the other direction, and there is the mail truck parked in front of Mrs. Simmons's driveway. But I don't see the mail carrier either in the truck or at Simmons's mailbox. Now I have another quandary. Do I go back in the house and wait to make yet another trip out here? Do I wait here for the mailman to come to my lover's box? Do I wander over next door and look for the mailman?
All of these sound like reasonable options, but remember that I am completely naked. And my nudity complicates each of those options. I finally decide to just stand next to my lover's mailbox and wait for the mailman. He can't be that far away, because his truck is parked right there. Surely it won't be too long before he comes here. I just stand next to the mailbox with my arms folded under my bare boobs.
A couple of minutes pass, and I'm getting fidgety. Where the hell is he? The kids are just staring at me; I've turned away from them, but they can certainly still see my bare ass. What if one of those kids comes over and wants to talk with me and get a closer look? What if some adult comes by and accuses me of corrupting the morals of the young children? What if my lover is getting angry about my extended absence?
Finally, I see the mail carrier come out of the neighboring house along with Mrs. Simmons. They seem to be having a friendly chat, and I notice that the mailman is actually a female. And she doesn't seem to be in any hurry at all even though it is about 5:30 in the afternoon. Eventually, the lady hugs Mrs. Simmons and walks back out to her truck. But as she is getting into the truck, she notices me standing there naked next to my lover's mailbox. She smiles at me and nonchalantly climbs into her little truck.
I watch as she drives the 50 feet to where I am standing next to the mailbox. She climbs out of her truck and says, "Hello. Nice afternoon isn't it? I was just talking with your neighbor, Mildred. She's my mother's best friend; they play bridge together every Wednesday. Anyway, Mildred said that there is woman running around here naked. Maybe, she said 'nude' rather than 'naked'. What's the difference anyway?" She continues talking as she reaches back into the bins in the truck to get the mail, "Oh, I remember now, she said 'au naturel'. That's kind of pretentious, don't you think? But I'll bet you just call yourself a naked lady, don't you? Remember that really old movie, 'What Do You Say to a Naked Lady'? My folks told me that it was really scandalous for the time. Anyway, you must be the lady that Mildred was talking about, aren't you?" I just nod and she continues to ramble on and on, "Oh good heavens, look at the time. You must have been expecting me a few hours ago. I hope you haven't stood out here naked all of that time. And look at those kids playing soccer?" She turns and waves at the kids who thankfully have stayed another 50 feet away, "Hi, kids. What's the score? You've even got a girl playing with you. I bet she's your best player, right?" And she continues with this non-stop chatter. No wonder she took so long at Mrs. Simmons's house; the old lady probably couldn't get a word in edge-wise. Come on, Ms. Mail Lady, just give me my mail! But I just stand there mutely.
She continues to look through the stack of mail in her hands; I guess she's doing last minute sorting. But she continues talking seemingly without pausing to breathe. I've kind of tuned her out, but I know she said something about seeing other naked people while delivering mail, even a couple making love on a porch once. And she comments about my "lower hair" and its unique design.
Finally, she says, "Okay, Campbell, right? Cassandra Campbell, that's you right?" I'm just about to correct her, but she doesn't give me a chance to break in. "Here's your mail. Mostly junk I'm afraid. Sorry about that." She hands me the mail and then reaches out her hand and we shake, "It was so nice to finally meet you, Cassandra. I'm Claudia, by the way. Claudia Cordell. Oh, that's neat, we have the same initials, C and C. Do people ever call you CeeCee for short? Anyway, hope the rest of your day goes okay. I promise to try to get here sooner on Monday. But you probably are working on Monday and don't care what time I'm here. Anyhow, I will be here sooner next Saturday. And please, please don't wait out here naked for me. Maybe I can bring the mail to your door instead?" She's still shaking my right hand and I'm holding the mail in my left hand. I give a light tug on my right hand, but she continues to shake it.
I mumble, "Yes, it would be nice to have you bring the mail to the door. I've got to go now." I tug harder and pull away from her, "Bye, Claudia."
I turn and walk quickly up the walkway towards the front door. She's still talking; something about putting a basket on the front porch for the mail.
I let out a big sigh of relief as I close the front door behind me. I make sure to lock it, because that's what my lover wants, but also to keep that talkative woman away. I flip through the mail quickly, and I am very relieved to see that the craft magazine is there. I walk into the living room and hand the mail to my lover, "Ma'am, here is the mail. Your magazine arrived."
"Oh, goodie. Thanks, Pet. But what took you so long? I thought I heard voices. Did someone give you shit about being naked?"
"No, Ma'am. It was just the mail carrier. She is a very chatty person."
My lover pulls the magazine out of the stack of mail and hands me the rest along with the Time magazine she was reading. "Here, Pet, put this stuff on the counter for now. I will go through it later. Now, you've got some other chores to do."
To be continued . . .
End of part 10
Copyright© 2014 by Mr. Flip. All rights reserved.