What a Girl Will Do for Love, Part 3

By Molly McMann

It was about 7:45 on a sunny August morning in West Kingsley near Avery College as a dozen people sat drinking coffee and having breakfast at the open-air diner across the street from Betsy and Kate’s little blue house with the white picket fence.

“There she is,” one of the men said quietly to those nearest him, and they all glanced up discretely to watch as Betsy rolled her bicycle out of the garage. She was wearing sneakers and her bicycle helmet, but nothing else.

Betsy knew she was being watched — she was always being watched — but she did her best to put it out of her mind as she mounted her bike and began pedaling towards campus.

It had been more than a week since Betsy stopped wearing clothing and this would be her third day delivering campus mail with Dean, Shandra and Melody. It was uncomfortable enough to have to do this naked, but each day they split into two-person teams that competed for the best time – and Melody took the competition very seriously. Betsy did her best to go at top speed throughout the day, but in the late summer heat this meant she was always dripping with sweat as she careened madly down the hallways.  Because classes hadn’t started yet, the buildings were generally empty except for the profs, with whom she sometimes nearly collided.  Usually they were in their offices, and as she tossed a package onto a professor’s desk she sometimes also left a few accidental drops of sweat on his paperwork. She apologized when she noticed this happening, but did not realize that as she twirled to exit she would spray the  professor again as her wet ponytail swung behind her on the turn.

At some buildings, she could drop the mail into mailboxes instead of going into the offices and could then zoom at top speed down the hallway without needing to stop at individual classrooms. The Art Dept. building was like that and Betsy had only two items to drop off and then all she needed to do was barrel down the long empty hallway to the exit.<name=”rollerblading2″>

As she came skated around one of the turns in the Art Building hallway, Betsy discovered that she was not entirely alone. There, in the middle of one of the arched doorways — directly in her path — a girl stood on one foot upon a wooden stool with her other foot stretched over to a window ledge as she reached for something above the top of the archway. And she was naked.

Betsy had never seen any other naked person since she came to Huron, and she was so surprised that it delayed her attempt to stop. She  tried dragging her toe brake and skidding sideways, but her momentum was too much.. She could not see the girl’s face, which was above the doorway frame — and the girl could not possibly have seen Betsy coming.  The girl’s crotch was at Betsy’s eye level, and in the nanoseconds before  the  collision, Betsy noticed that, like herself, the girl was completely hairless between her legs, the poofy slit of her vagina slightly open because her legs were spread with one bare foot on the rickety stool and the other stretched three feet away, her toes gripping the marble window ledge. Betsy barely had time to register this image before her face plowed into the hairless vagina as the girl was knocked off of her precarious footing. 

Temporarily blinded but hoping to keep the girl from injury, Betsy wrapped her arms around the long white legs and squeezed tight. At the same time, she threw her heels together to go into a spin in order to dissipate the remaining momentum. As she did this, Betsy became aware that her nose had somehow slipped between the lips of the girl’s vagina. It did not stay there for long, however, because the girl’s body began to slowly slip through Betsy’s grasp. Betsy’s own body was coated with sweat so it was hard for her to keep a grip on the naked body, which slowly slid downwards.
Betsy’s nose slid out of the girl’s pussy and traced a path up her belly, under and then over one breast, at which point the girl’s nipple caught briefly on Betsy’s lower lip. Then, for a disconcerting moment they were face to face, the girl’s blue eyes wide with shock. Betsy wanted to apologize, but the face disappeared again, continuing to slide down Betsy’s sweaty body, across her own breasts and stomach.

When they at last came to a full stop, the naked girl’s legs were sprawled on the floor, her arms still wrapped tightly around Betsy’s legs, and her face buried deep between Betsy’s legs. Two full seconds passed as they held that position, and then the girl withdrew her now-shiny face from Betsy’s pussy, looked up to reassure herself the movement had actually stopped, and then she let go, falling backwards onto the floor.

“I’m so SO sorry!” Betsy was repeating over and over as she reached out to help the girl to her feet. Large patches of the girl’s skin were smeared with Betsy’s sweat, and Betsy had an intense urge to meticulously wipe it off with her hands. The girl had dark hair, large blue eyes, full lips and pale white skin with freckles on her cheeks, chest and shoulders. Her expression by now had changed from shock and fear to surprise and delight as she exclaimed, “it’s you!”

Betsy was used to hearing those two words, mostly from guys.

“I’ve been hoping to meet you,” the girl went on. “You’re, like, my role model! You’re doing exactly what I wish I could do — being a full-time, registered nudist.”

“Oh … you’re not one too?” Betsy asked, realizing she was disappointed.

The girl shook her head. “No, I just go nude where I legally can, like at my dorm and here in the studios. I work as a model for the art classes and hang out here a lot. My name is Michelle by the way.”

She put out her hand and Betsy shook it, both of them instantly giggling at the formality of the gesture after the accidental intimacy of their meeting, the scent of which was still in their nostrils. “So what exactly were you doing up there?” Betsy asked, looking up at the doorway.

“Just putting new batteries in the smoke alarm. It was beeping.”

Betsy was vaguely aware she was in an open space of scattered work tables and large, unfinished pieces of art, and from somewhere across the studio came the sound of music and the faint scent of pot. She did not want to look away from Michelle, who was excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she yelled, “Seth, come quick. It’s Betsy Andrews, the nudist!”

A guy came across the room with a big smile and a can of paint he was still stirring. “Cool to meet you, Betsy,” he said. “My girlfriend is totally infatuated with you, if she hasn’t told you that yet.”

“Seth!” Michelle admonished.

“You know you are.”

Michelle was blushing now, and because her skin was so white the redness spread unhindered down her neck and across her chest. “I can tell you were in a big hurry, Betsy,” she said, putting out her hand again. “I don’t want to keep you, but I’m so glad I met you and hope to see you again.

Reminded that she’d lost valuable time in the stupid race, Betsy grabbed Michelle’s hand in both of hers. “I’m so glad I met you, too! I haven’t met any other nudists since I’ve been here.”

“I’m not a real nudist like you, but I hope to be.”

“Dont!  . . . I mean, I don’t think you should . . . rush it,” Betsy said, suddenly conflicted. “Being a full-time nudist is an incredibly big commitment that no one should feel pressured into making. As far as I’m concerned, you can be a ‘real’ nudist however you’re comfortable doing it.”

Michelle’s eyes filled with grateful tears and she could only nod as Betsy waved goodbye and skated away down the hallway, now hopelessly late. As she sailed away, Betsy heard Michelle say to Seth,  “and don’t  call me your girlfriend. We’re just having sex.”

Melody was Betsy’s racing partner that day and she was livid about the delay, which ultimately caused them to lose the day’s competition against Dean and Shandra. Betsy didn’t care and ignored Melody’s abuse, grinning as she casually finished the route with the worst time of the group.

“You suck at this,” Melody growled as she threw her skates into the bin.

But Betsy was in too good of a mood to care. “Oh Mel!” she exclaimed with false affection. “You’re so much fun. Let’s be on the same team every day!”

That night, Betsy gingerly mentioned to Kate that she’d encountered another naked girl. Kate had always been eager to hear about Betsy’s erotic adventures – when she was the only one naked and the observers were male. How she would feel about having another naked woman in the equation was a big unknown, so Betsy was cautious and left out a few key details.

“Did meeting her turn you on?” Kate asked.

Betsy had already decided how to answer. “Not really. I mean, the situation itself was exciting, but I wasn’t attracted to her specifically.”

“Why not? Isn’t she pretty?”

“Oh, she’s pretty in a certain way,” Betsy said carefully, “but not my type. Actually,YOU would probably like her now that I think of it. She’s a bit like me, I guess, but I’m not attracted to girls like me. I’m attracted to girls like YOU.”

“How am I different?” Kate asked, caressing Betsy’s thigh. Alarms went off in Betsy’s head. This was a minefield. She knew how her answer had to begin “You’re more physically attractive for one thing.” There, she’d gotten that in right away. Then: “And you turn me on more because you’re so confident and strong, not just physically but strong in every way. You’re both pretty and powerful. That’s the kind of person I’m attracted to.”

Betsy’s eloquence was not entirely spontaneous, but the result of much practice, trial and error. Kate liked everything to be a certain way, including what her lover said about her. She could turn prickly on a dime when Betsy did not say things quite right. Betsy believed everything she said — except the part about whether she was attracted to Michelle. In truth, Betsy remembered every nanosecond of the encounter, as if her mind had recorded it frame by frame as in a movie.

Betsy was actually unnerved by her intense feelings of attraction. It must have been because the girl was naked, she told herself, and yet Betsy’s most vivid memory of the encounter was the girl’s face — her big blue eyes and the eclectic assortment of freckles splashed across her little upturned nose.  Of course, Betsy was devoted to Kate, regardless of what involuntary attractions she may sometimes have – and besides, Michelle was clearly straight. That night in bed, as Kate made love to her, Betsy again let her mind replay that moment. She remembered having her arms wrapped tightly around Michelle’s thighs, her nose somehow slipping right into Michelle’s warm, wet pussy. It was almost as if they’d performed a circus stunt, and here Betsy imagined that she and Michelle were acrobats and this was the act they had practiced day after day, again and again until they’d gotten it perfect. Now they were performing before a huge crowd, which stood as one applauding as in the finale Betsy is spinning on her skates holding Michelle aloft, her nose expertly planted in Michelle’s vagina, exactly as they practiced it. The crowd roared, and outside of her fantasy Betsy let out a scream as Kate’s tongue continued to dance upon Betsy’s clitoris.

The next day, Friday, was to be her last day delivering mail and Betsy was glad when she was partnered with Dean. She liked how he treated her – not exactly ignoring her nudity, but not focusing on it either. He flirted with her the same way he probably would have had she been clothed, and he was pretty good about not ogling.

As she sorted out her share of the day’s mail, Betsy saw that she did not have anything for the Art Dept. building. That was for the best, she told herself. She wasn’t really worried that she and Michelle would become physically or romantically involved. She would never let that happen, and she doubted Michelle had any such interest anyway. The real worry, Betsy told herself, was that Michelle might be inspired by Betsy to register as a full-time nudist. Betsy had fantasized about that last night too, picturing them hanging out together naked on campus. But in the light of morning she remembered that she had no intention of remaining a registered nudist for long. She was only doing this for a little while until she worked out a solution – that’s all. It would be wrong to encourage Michelle, even accidentally, to make such a commitment if Betsy was just going to quit doing it herself as soon as she found an opportunity. So staying away from Michelle was the smart thing to do.

As a reward for her resolve, Betsy allowed herself to fantasize that Michelle was skating with them as she and Dean crisscrossed campus and the surrounding neighborhoods. It was another hot and humid day, so Michelle would be sweating as much as Betsy, and in her fantasy they were such good friends that they frequently hugged, their bodies sliding wetly against each other.

At lunchtime, Betsy and Dean found a wooden bench in the shade. Dean straddled the bench facing sideways. Betsy considered sitting  in a more ladylike fashion, but since Dean thought she was a real nudist, Betsy decided to straddle the bench also and they sat facing each other with their food spread out in between them.

Dean wore only those thin, tight white denim cutoffs of his, and no shirt. He had broad, muscular shoulders and just the right sprinkling of sandy curls on his broad chest. It was obvious he had an erection, and Betsy was also aroused from her morning of fantasies. She decided to give him a treat on their last day working together, so she pretended to become fascinated by the shape of a cloud, looking up and focusing her eyes intently on it as she described it to him. It was not actually a remarkable cloud, but Betsy wanted to let sweet, handsome Dean have a nice, long look between her legs as she leaned back with her elbows on the bench and talked dreamily about the sky.

In the afternoon their routes took them together down the same street as Betsy delivered to the buildings on the right and Dean to those on the left. They made their own little competition out of it, but unlike with Melody the race itself wasn’t important, so playing it was fun. As they finished the street, Dean pointed across campus to another cluster of buildings where Mel and Shandra were working. “You know,” he said, “they have about as much left to do as we do. Feel like kicking Melody’s ass on your last day?”

Betsy liked that idea a lot and quickened her pace as her path diverged from Dean’s and they went down separate streets. She was making good time when she came in sight of the Art Dept. building and felt the impulse to just skate through and say a quick hi. She knew she shouldn’t. There was no need to go into the building at all, and the delay might cost them the chance to put Melody in her place. Yet she could not stop herself from opening the door and skating through the building.

“Stupid idea,” she muttered out loud as she skated down the empty hallway towards the art studios. Promising herself she would simply skate by and wave, Betsy rounded the curve and slowed as she passed through the doorway into the studio. No one was there, and all the lights were out. “Stupid,” Betsy repeated and hurried through the doorway to the exit.

As she emerged into the humid afternoon she caught a glimpse of magenta as Melody zoomed between two nearby buildings. Betsy pushed herself to go faster, but Melody soon noticed and raised her own game in response.

They both had two more buildings to get through and did so at breakneck speed. By the time they both had made their last deliveries Melody was still ahead, but not by much. Now they just had to make it a few hundred yards back to the office, the unofficial finish line for each day’s competition.

Melody was fast, but Betsy’s skills had improved considerably that week and now she was both confident in her abilities and determined to beat Melody. As Betsy rocketed down a smooth sidewalk picking up speed she became aware of a vehicle pacing her on the road. She took a quick glance, expecting it to be some leering guys in a car but it was a Channel 5 van with the side door open, a big video camera pointed at her.

Crap, Betsy thought. She could tell it was the same TV crew that had been at the auction. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She tried to ignore the van, but its presence made Betsy more determined than ever. If, once again, she had to be seen on TV naked, it was NOT going to be in the process of losing to Melody. Betsy shot into the lead, surprising Melody, who noticed the TV van for the first time. The news crew stayed with them as Betsy widened her lead, her athletic, naked body glistening with sweat as her long legs pumped a perfect skater’s stride.

When she was about 50 yards from the goal, the TV news truck suddenly sped up and left her behind. Betsy did not have time to decide whether to be insulted by this before she saw the van park along the road up ahead. The cameraman tumbled out like a Marine taking a hill and was quickly set up and pointing his camera at her to capture the dramatic finish as if it were an Olympic event.

As she approached, the finish line Betsy could see her reflection in the building’s darkly-tinted windows, and Melody was now far behind her. Betsy could have coasted to an easy stop, but she barreled on, wanting her margin of victory to be as devastating as possible. Eat that, Mel.

Dean and Shandra were waiting for them, both cheering her on from the cool shade of the trees that surrounded the building’s main entrance. Betsy went into a skid as she crossed the finish line and aimed for Dean’s perfect, bare chest. He grinned with the easy confidence she had come to adore in him, setting his feet as he held out his arms to catch her.

At this moment Betsy remembered that Kate might soon be watching this on the evening news, but there was really no time to factor this into what was about to transpire. Her skates had already left the pavement and the cameraman expertly followed the arc of Betsy’s glistening, suntanned body as she leaped into Dean’s awaiting arms.

Although Betsy had slowed down just before she crossed the finish line, she still had more speed than she anticipated when she leaped into Dean’s arms. He was strong and had no trouble catching the 110-pound Betsy, but it quickly became apparent to both of them that her sweaty naked body would be hard to hold onto. Betsy felt him squeezing her tighter against his own bare chest, but she still kept slipping a little at a time as he swung her in a circle to absorb the momentum. She clamped her wrists behind his neck and they managed to hold onto each other until Betsy came to a stop.

Conscious of the burly cameraman only four feet away, Betsy politely disentangled her limbs from Dean’s and stood on her own.  Her emotions were in a jumble. The erotic events of the day and her exhilaration over defeating Melody were giving her a superficial feeling of confidence, while underneath she felt a rising panic. She was about to be seen naked on television again, having to keep pretending that this was her choice – but in so doing trapping herself still further into a life of constant nudity. Each day she had told herself it would soon be over, that she would find an escape, but where was that escape?  She could end the charade right now by revealing the truth on camera and renouncing her vow of nudity. But she would lose Kate for sure that way – as well as reveal her duplicity to new friends like Dean, who even now was giving her a big grin and a thumbs up as she was about to face the camera. Looking in his eyes and at his expression, Betsy felt a resurgence of the sensual pleasures that had enveloped her all day, and out in the plaza she saw Melody finally approaching the finish line. No, Betsy would not confess her secret; not today.

The TV reporter stepped in front of the camera and in a loud, practiced voice declared, “I’m here with Betsy Andrews, the Avery nudist. Betsy, you’ve just won some kind of race. What was this event we just witnessed?”

Betsy was leaning over with her hands on her knees catching her breath and dripping sweat from her chin and nose like an NBA star being interviewed after a big win. “That was just . . . a friendly little race we have every day while we … deliver mail,” Betsy panted. “Oh look, there’s Melody. Good try, Mel! You’re getting better, girl. Don’t give up on your dreams.”

The cameraman reluctantly left her for a few seconds to catch Melody huffing in, her magenta hair plastered to her skull, and her face nearly the same color. Shandra, having technically been on Melody’s side, tried to offer a consoling word and a pat on the butt, but Melody brushed past her with a snarl that the cameraman caught in a closeup just before panning swiftly back to Betsy.

“Betsy,” the interviewer was shouting, “our viewers last saw you one week ago at the Peabody & Strunk Art Auction. Have you been naked the entire time since then?”

“Of course,” Betsy said. “Every moment.”

“Tell us all what you’ve been up to — naked.”

Betsy tried to talk about fixing up her house, getting ready for the start of school and working for the delivery service, but the interviewer kept bringing the conversation back to Betsy’s nudity, until Betsy finally gave the answer she knew the reporter wanted. “Yes, I’ve been enjoying going naked all the time. I choose to live in the nude, and in Huron I am able to do that.” She looked into the camera, now speaking directly to Kate. “And I’m so grateful to the most important person in my life because she sacrificed an opportunity to–” Betsy stopped in mid-sentence, remembering just in time that Kate probably wouldn’t want her to reveal that the Peabody & Strunk job had not been her first choice.

“Sacrificed what kind of opportunity?” the reporter prodded, shoving the microphone back in Betsy’s face.

“Well, to . . . be … with a more normal person than I am,” Betsy said, her eyes getting wet. “So I’m just grateful that she … accepts my … um, my overwhelming desire to be … naked all the time.”

“Oh that’s so sweet,” the interviewer gushed. “And do you find, Betsy, that your nudity is an advantage in a job like this that apparently involves so much … perspiring?” Before Betsy could decide how to reply the reporter exclaimed to the cameraman, “can the folks at home see how sweaty Betsy is?”

The cameraman zoomed in to record the progress of a trickle of perspiration sparkling in the sun as it rolled along the underside of Betsy’s right breast and continued down her belly to her crotch. Betsy found herself chattering on about how the body cools itself by the process of sweat drying on one’s bare skin. But every time she said the words “naked” or “sweaty” or “my bare skin” her sexual excitement grew. She had already made herself aroused much of the day dreaming of Michelle and flirting with Dean. Her victory over Melody had been a pleasure rush of a different sort, but it got her adrenaline surging in a way that somehow merged with her sensual feelings, especially when she ended the race in Dean’s strong arms, her sweaty body slippery against his dry skin. And now, here she was on TV again talking about her love of nudity in front of thousands of people.

Suddenly remembering that fact – that she was not just talking to Kate through the camera, but to Kate and the entire Kingsley metro area – Betsy tried to conclude the interview, but the reporter said she had just one more question. “Betsy, we received quite a lot of mail after our last interview with you, and many of our viewers are curious about how you keep your pubic area so smooth and hairless. Do you shave or wax?”

This was something Betsy had been asked many times already, typically by men she had just met, and usually she ignored the question to make it clear that she considered it overly personal. But it was harder to do that with the microphone at her lips and the cameraman down on one knee to get a steady close-up of her crotch.

“Actually,” Betsy said, as perkily as she could, “I had laser hair removal treatment there and on my legs and underarms as well, so I never have to shave anymore.” This news prompted even more fascination on the part of the interviewer and more probing looks by the camera to show the audience that Betsy indeed had no hint of stubble. She held up her arms to display her underarms, but the camera was tempted away from her pussy only briefly before it drifted back down her body.

As this was going on, Betsy could see the camera’s monitor reflected in the cameraman’s mirrored glasses and she realized that her pussy would soon be filling TV screens in homes and bars across the city. She felt the heat of embarrassment burning on her cheeks, and the panic center of her brain tried to sound its alarm, but her embarrassment was overwhelmed by a new wave of sexual arousal that made her gasp in surprise as if an invisible person had just touched her clitoris.

Remembering a similar conversation the first time she’d gone nude in front of Kate’s friends at the old apartment, Betsy said, “Well, it was easy for me because I really didn’t have much pubic hair to begin with.” She ran her finger across her skin just above her pussy. “Just a little here, but it was fairly sparse, and nothing at all down in this area.” Here she spread her stance more and thrust her pelvis forward as with her finger she traced the path on either side of her vagina. “Of course, some women are happy with their natural pubic hair, and I think that’s absolutely fine, really — for them — but for me personally I like to be completely smooth down here, and as a nudist I like that people can see my … my vagina because I think it’s so beautiful. I don’t mean that mine is prettier than someone else’s — not necessarily — but just that vaginas in general are beautiful.”

Feeling that perhaps she had exhausted this topic, Betsy stopped talking and nonchalantly raised her hand out of the picture, allowing her fingers to lightly caress herself, her pinky slipping through the slit just enough to glide lightly across her clitoris.

When at last the now-satiated TV crew climbed back into their van and drove away, Betsy glided inside to change out of her campus-issued gear and turn it in for the last time. Melody was long gone, but Shandra had waited for a goodbye hug. Betsy hugged Dean too, allowing her breasts to touch his bare chest again. After Shandra was gone Dean suggested perhaps they should get a drink together to celebrate the end of the job and glory in their win over Melody.

“I’m not sure if I have time,” Betsy said, glancing up at the office clock. “Kate and I go out to dinner on Fridays.” She took off her helmet, pads and skates, dropping them into the bin. Although these items had not covered any intimate part of her, having them gone somehow made her feel newly naked. She pushed her bicycle outside and Dean followed, stopping to sit on a bench to re-strap his sandals. Mounting her bike barefoot (her sneakers stowed in the basket), Betsy inched closer to where Dean sat, knowing he was now eye level with her bicycle seat. She made a show of digging through her purse to find her cellphone to check the time. She wanted to let him look at her again as she pretended to be absorbed in her phone.

Betsy actually did think that her vagina was more attractive that others she’d seen. She was glad she did not have those untidy flaps of labia dangling out like some girls. Kate’s was a little like that, plus she had too much hair, which Betsy had begun tending for her because Kate would barely get her legs shaved more than once a week if Betsy had not started doing these things for her.

But Betsy’s pussy was an ideal model for the advantages of complete pubic hair removal because it was such a perfect, poofy slit. Of course, when she was this aroused, Betsy knew it tended to open up a little, and she wondered if Dean was seeing a glimpse of shiny pink. She dropped her phone back into her purse and looked at him, catching his eyes lost between her legs, his sandals forgotten. He was normally so self-disciplined she wondered if he would be embarrassed at being caught.

But he just raised his eyes slowly and without apology up Betsy’s body until he finally reached her eyes. “So,” he said. “How about that drink?”

“Okay, but just one drink,” Betsy said. Kate wouldn’t be home for more than an hour, and Betsy didn’t need to cook because they always went out to dinner on Friday nights — a tradition that began back when Betsy still wore clothing to restaurants. Since they moved to Huron – and Betsy began her life as a full-time nudist – she preferred eating at home with no one staring at her. Except Kate, of course.

Most days Betsy felt acutely uncomfortable going nude in public and had to force herself to do it, but today had been an exception. Certain things tended to make her relax about being naked, and sometimes even enjoy it. Alcohol and marijuana certainly loosened her anxiety, but she hadn’t had either. She knew it was the feelings of arousal that sometimes came upon her and pushed her embarrassment aside for a while. Today had been a very arousing day, even before the interview with the TV crew — which left Betsy feeling extremely sexy. In her state, the thought of having handsome Dean flirting with her for another half hour was appealing. Not that she was actually attracted to him, she told herself.  This was just a little flirtation, and even though she was mostly a lesbian she could appreciate his physical attributes – the broad shoulders and full chest, so often exposed.  If she was bisexual it was only a tiny amount.

Betsy let Dean ride in front and as she followed him she positioned herself on her bicycle seat so that her clitoris was getting a good vibration, and then she made a point of hitting all of the bumps and rough pavement she could find along the way. She thought about Michelle, whom she had only met once the day before. Michelle actually wanted to be a full-time nudist like Betsy — or like what she thought Betsy was. If she were not already so aroused, Betsy would have felt conflicted over Michelle’s admiration of her, but after the long, sexy day and now with her clitoris feeling every bump in the sidewalk, Betsy was feeling pretty good about being naked. Sometimes when she reached this point she felt euphoric, because it always seemed so clear to her. She could simply accept being a nudist. That would solve all of her problems, and at this moment she was certain she wanted it. She wanted to go naked all the time. All the time (bump) all the time (bump) all the time.

When they reached the bar she was exquisitely close to having an orgasm while riding a bicycle and she laughed out loud wondering if she could have done so without wrecking. As she coasted up to the bike rack Dean had found next to a fountain, Betsy wished she could simply masturbate to orgasm openly right then and there and get it over with, but even in her semi-crazed state she knew that would be both inappropriate and even illegal. Huron’s legal protections of nudity did not extend to public displays of sexual behavior.

After they parked their bikes she motioned for Dean to wait as she stepped into the ankle-deep water and put her body in the path of the spraying water. Her intention was to cool down her arousal under the guise of washing off the perspiration of the long day, but it wasn’t working. The water was so warm from the sun it was like taking a shower in the open — as Dean and half a dozen passersby paused everything they were doing to watch.

She stepped out of the fountain and stood in front of him, knowing if she stayed there another second he would kiss her. She wanted him to, but no, she told herself — that would be very bad. Before he could react, she turned and made wet footprints on the sidewalk, stepping up to the doorway and pushing in the door to the bar.

Inside, the air conditioning blasted her as if she had entered a walk-in freezer. Her wet skin erupted in goose bumps and her nipples hardened into points. But that was good, she decided, because this would finally cool the fire between her legs and allow her to start thinking rationally again. She would only have one drink. She would not kiss him. She would not let him kiss her. She would not masturbate (not yet anyway).

They sat facing each other in what would have been a booth had the original table been retained. In its place was a little, wooden coffee table. Betsy normally ordered white wine, but had gotten into the habit of taking sips of Kate’s vodka tonics, so she’d ordered one as she sat in a slowly growing puddle made from her own dripping body. She shivered involuntarily.

“You cold?” Dean asked.

“Yes, very. But I like that sometimes.”

Dean shook his head, smiling. “You are really something else. I’m going to miss being around you every day.”

“Because of my sparkling personality?”

“Partly.”

“Only partly?” Betsy asked as with both hands she ran her fingers through her still-sopping hair, raining more cold droplets down on her shoulders and breasts.

“Well, let’s see, there’s also those blue eyes of yours, and that great smile – but something else too.” He studied her body from top to bottom. “I know what it is: You have cute toes.”

Betsy laughed. “You are so smooth. I’ll bet you have a dozen girlfriends.”

“Actually, none at the moment. I’m very selective.”

“Waiting for the perfect girl?”

“Well, I would say there’s no such thing as a perfect girl, but you’ve disproven that theory.”

“Oh you!” She reached over with one bare foot and gave his knee a reprimanding nudge. She told herself it was a platonic gesture, like a friendly punch on the shoulder, but she just wanted to touch him. Then, she didn’t put her foot back down on the floor, but instead rested her calf on the little table as she leaned back, nonchalantly hooking her elbows over the back rail of the bench.

They chatted about other things, including their class schedules for the coming semester, and then the waitress was back because their glasses were empty. Betsy looked at the clock and decided she still had a little time so she ordered another. Her skin had mostly dried, except her butt which was still in a puddle while a few rivulets still trickled across her body, fed by slow drips from her hair. The goosebumps were gone, but her skin felt tight, cold and hard as if she had turned into a porcelain statue, her nipples frozen forever at attention. She glanced down past her breasts to the vertical line of her vagina, now snugly closed against the cold. She knew that behind that little doorway it was so very warm inside her body, and she imagined a tiny wisp of steam might emerge if she were to widen her legs just a little.

“What are you smiling at?” Dean asked, snapping her out of the fantasy.

She took a sip of her fresh drink, feeling the tingle of vodka on her lips. “A woman never answers that question.” Then, on an impulse she could not control Betsy poked one of her breasts and declared with mock concern, “I think they may have frozen solid.”

Dean nearly had to spit out a mouthful of his drink, but was too cool to do so. “Is there anything I can do to help you with that? I wouldn’t mind – really. It’s no trouble at all.”

“So kind of you to offer,” Betsy said primly, “but I have Kate to help me with things like that.”

Dean nodded sadly. “Yes, I know, I know — you’re a lesbian and you’re in a committed relationship. That makes me very sad, you know.”

“Does that mean I’m not perfect after all?”

He took another long look at her and shrugged. “Somehow you’re still perfect. I don’t know how you do that. Maybe it’s these toes.” He gently squeezed her littlest toe between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a little wiggle. “Or maybe it’s because you’re so amazingly naked all the time.”

“Finally,” she said in pretend huffiness.

“What?”

“No, I’m just kidding. It’s just that we’ve known each other all this time—“

“Five days.”

“—and you never ask me about … you know, my nudity. That’s all everybody else wants to talk about. Like those TV people.”

“So I figured you were tired of being asked about it. But I’m happy to have been wrong.”

“I was really only kidding.”

“Are you sure? Because it sounded like you wanted to talk about your nudity. Should we talk about your nudity?”

Betsy felt the heat wave of a blush spreading across her face and chest and she knew that despite her suntan it was showing. She knew he was just kidding her back and that she could just change the subject, but instead she whispered, “you start.”

Dean smiled and continued to manipulate her toes as he looked at her body. “Well, first off I think it’s a beautiful thing you’re doing, and I count it among my blessings that I get to witness it. And not only is it unbelievably cool that you can so casually go naked a hundred percent of the time, but you also happen to have a perfect body. Okay, your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To talk about your nudity. It’s your turn.”

She giggled and covered her mouth. “I think I already covered that subject in front of the whole city of Kingsley.”

“You did a good job of that,” Dean agreed, “but I notice you’re sitting in a puddle. People who wear clothes usually don’t sit in puddles.”

Betsy lifted her butt a few inches off the bench as if she were going to stand, but then plopped herself back down, making a little splash and sending her breasts wobbling. “Well, that’s ONE good thing about it.”

“Only one thing?”

Betsy was feeling a little drunk and wanted to tell Dean everything. “On days like today it’s fun to be naked, but most days it’s not.”

Dean looked puzzled. “Oh? Then … why do you do it?”

“It’s complicated,” Betsy sighed, looking up at the clock, “and now I’m totally out of time. Plus I have to pee.”

Dean paid for the drinks while Betsy went off to find the restrooms. When she stood up out of the puddle, water ran from her shiny, wet butt down the backs of her legs, and the breeze from the air conditioning felt icy cold on her bottom. When she found the ladies room there was a wait and she had to stand in front of a big air conditioner fan. Her teeth were chattering by the time it was finally her turn, and the bathroom was just as cold. When she finally stepped out of the bar into the sunny, afternoon the heat felt wonderful. There was good old Dean waiting for her, shirtless in the sun. She hugged him again to say goodbye, pressing her cold porcelain breasts against his sun-warmed skin.

She broke away from the embrace and immediately took a step backwards to lessen the chances of being swept up in a kiss. They said a platonic goodbye and Betsy mounted her bike and pedaled off barefoot. Having done the right thing with Dean, Betsy rewarded herself by again positioning her clitoris in just the right spot and hitting all the bumps on the ride home. 

When she reached the little blue house, Betsy just wanted to get inside and masturbate, but now it was too close to the time Kate would be home. Not that Betsy didn’t have enough time — she knew she could climax in 20 seconds of purposeful effort — but she decided to wait and share the experience with Kate.

They would be going to eat, but first Betsy would tell Kate all about her interview with the TV news team and they would watch the Channel 5 news together and Betsy would have her glorious orgasm. She took a fast shower, dried her hair and was putting on her makeup when she heard Kate’s car pull into the driveway. She was waiting by the door wearing her dressy sandals and her pearls when Kate came in.

They kissed while Kate caressed her bottom. “You ready to go, babe?”

“Let’s wait ‘til after the news,” Betsy said coyly. “There may be something you want to see.”

Kate chuckled. “So Channel 5 caught up with you this afternoon?”

“Hey! How did you know? That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I knew because they called Peabody and Strunk asking about you. They knew the connection from the auction and apparently weren’t sharp enough journalists to find a naked girl on their own. You can tell me all about it in the car; we have to get going.”

“But why can’t we just go out to eat later?” Betsy pleaded. “After the news and . . . whatever we might be doing during the news.” Here she grabbed Kate’s right hand and put it between her legs.

Kate immediately put her middle finger through Betsy’s wet slit, sliding it up to massage her clitoris as she said between kisses, “I already told you … that we were going … to Alice’s for dinner… She knows you might … be on the evening news … and we’ll watch it there…. So let’s go.” With that, the kisses stopped and Kate’s finger was gone. When Betsy opened her eyes Kate was stepping out the door and motioning for her to follow.

Betsy had no choice but to follow Kate out the kitchen door, so she grabbed a paper towel on the way so she could at least dry herself between the legs in the car. She was absolutely certain Kate had NOT told her about this, but no good would come of saying so. It would just cause an argument.

And now, here she was going off yet again to some business dinner at which she would be an object on display – Kate’s novelty nudist girlfriend – and she would have to pretend yet again that it was her choice to be naked all the time. She remembered how good she’d felt an hour ago, almost convincing herself that this was something she might actually do long-term, but how could she really do that? She had to tell Kate eventually.

“So,” Kate said, caressing Betsy’s thigh as she drove, “tell me what’s going to be on the news.”

“I . . .  I don’t know,” Betsy said. But now she was worried. Was there going to be something in that news clip that would annoy Kate? Betsy had anticipated watching it alone with Kate, but now they might see it with Alice and whoever else was coming to dinner. Oh god, she’d be sitting there with people she didn’t know wearing their business suits and on TV they’d use the part where she talked about why she had no hair between her legs. Kate wouldn’t be bothered by that part, Betsy was sure, but watching it with other people would be uncomfortable for Betsy. Uh-oh — Dean. That was the only part Kate might object to. “They filmed us having a race,” Betsy said, wanting to get it out while they were alone together in the car. “And that Dean guy I told you about was on my team and we won. I beat MELody really bad.”

“Good for you, babe.”

“But I wasn’t sure how close she was behind me, so I went as fast as I could until I crossed the finish line and then I couldn’t stop and Dean had to catch me.” There, the worst was out.

Kate only laughed and said, “I’m sure that was a treat for him.” Betsy exhaled in relief. “What else did they film you doing?” Kate asked, bringing her hand up between Betsy’s legs.

Betsy giggled convincingly the way Kate liked and grabbed Kate’s hand. “Don’t do that,” she admonished teasingly. “I’m about to have dinner with your boss and I don’t want to be all horny.”

“Then tell me all about what happened.”

Betsy held Kate’s hand and described what had transpired after Dean was out of the picture. She was glad to have all the details known before they had to see it in front of other people. “But I don’t know if any of that will actually be on the news.”

“We’ll find out soon. Here we are,” Kate said, pulling into a curved driveway in front of a gigantic house. Betsy could see dozens of people through the windows and standing outside in clusters.

“It’s a party?” she asked, but Kate gave her an “I told you about this” look and Betsy reflexively babbled, “I mean I know it’s a party, but I was picturing a smaller group. They have a really big house, don’t they?”

“Since you seem to have forgotten everything I told you about this,” Kate said, a little sharply, “I’ll remind you that the reason for this celebration is that Peabody & Strunk won a major national award.”

“Oh, right,” Betsy pretended to half-remember. “What was it for again?”

“Accounting and Finance. I’m sure you think that’s boring, but it’s a very prestigious award so please don’t embarrass me inside by acting like I never told you about it.”

Betsy felt like she’d been slapped in the face, but she refused to let tears come into her eyes. The car had come to a stop in front of the house and someone opened her door from the outside. It was a valet, wearing a red silk vest. Other than his wide eyes he managed to suppress his reaction at finding a naked girl among the guests. He held out a white-gloved hand and Betsy took it, stepping out of the car onto the brick driveway. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was wearing only her pearl necklace and earrings and her white dress sandals with the four-inch heels.

Kate emerged on her side and the valet drove off, leaving a gap the size of a car between them. Another young man in a red vest opened the heavy oak door to the mansion and Kate escorted Betsy inside, neither of them speaking. Inside, they were suddenly amid what looked like hundreds of people milling around a vast, high-ceilinged room with marble floors as more boys in red vests carried trays of bubbling champagne flutes. An entire wall of the room was made of mirrors and Betsy caught sight of her reflection — a naked girl in a crowd of suits and long dresses.

Had she still been sexually aroused or at least a little drunk, Betsy might have been able to suppress the feeling of panic that now began creeping through her. This was insane. How could she possibly be naked in this situation? Betsy felt certain that at any moment people would point at her in shock and disgust and police officers would throw a blanket over her and carry her off to jail.

But this did not happen and instead Betsy saw faces turn her way and smile. One of the red-vested waiters hurried up to them, and as Betsy accepted a long-stemmed glass she heard someone call her name. It was Kate’s boss, Dr. Alice Strunk, at the head of a contingent of Kate’s co-workers. Some of them she remembered meeting before and she tried to remember their names.

“I hear we need to watch the seven o’clock news,” Dr. Strunk declared.

“No!” Betsy exclaimed. “I mean, there’s no need to interrupt the party for that.”  She gulped down half of the glass of champagne. “This night should be about … the award. It’s very prestigious. You should be very proud of … this achievement.”

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Dr. Strunk said as Kate smiled and gave Betsy a wink, “but I’m sure we can properly appreciate both the award and your beauty on the same evening.”

“But … you don’t want to leave your party just to go watch the news,” Betsy said nervously. “And they might not even use that clip. Those news teams probably shoot lots of extra footage every day that they don’t use.”

“I doubt they’d forgo the opportunity to use footage of you, dear,” Dr. Strunk said. Then to a young man with an expensive suit and two days’ growth of beard she said, “Andre, don’t forget you’re in charge of technology.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Andre said with a mock salute, his hand holding a TV remote. He pointed it at what looked like a large framed painting and the painting disappeared, replaced by a giant television screen. It was on a commercial with the sound muted, but then screen filled with a blazing logo for “HNBC-TV Channel 5: The No. 1 Source of News for Greater Kingsley.” Andre left it muted, but held the remote ready like a weapon. The newscaster was running through the list of stories to be covered and suddenly there was Betsy from the rib cage up, all sweaty. Andre was quick with the mute button and Betsy’s voice echoed in the cavernous room: “Oh yes, I’m enjoying going naked everywhere.” And then it was on to the next promo and Andre muted the sound again as scattered applause broke out in the room.

“Oh god,” Betsy whispered involuntarily. She had tried to prepare herself mentally for thousands of people to see her naked on television again, but she hadn’t expected to be in the same room with them when it happened. Already all eyes in the room were on her, but as she looked around at them, glasses were raised and people waved and called her name. Her champagne was somehow gone and a waiter appeared magically to take the empty glass and provide another as Kate took her arm and began walking her through the crowd.

They mingled a few minutes with everyone, chatting for a moment in clusters of six or seven people before moving on, and in every group they adored her and Kate said such sweet things about her in introduction so she started to relax. Periodically the sound of the TV would again come on as Andre hit the mute button in time for everyone to hear some variation of Betsy talking about being so very glad she was so naked and so sweaty. By the third promo they were teasing the audience about “what we learned about Betsy’s oh-so smooth look — down there!”

Betsy was on her third glass of champagne and decided she needed some food in her stomach. She found the buffet line and took a plate, selecting a little bit of this and a little of that. She sat at one of the round tables with white linen tablecloths, real silver and an elegant cloth napkin folded into a fan. It was empty when she sat down, but soon people claimed the seats around her, except those directly on either side of her.

Kate was across the room, engaged in an animated debate of some kind which Betsy was sure she was winning. Betsy nibbled at some rice and bread, not really hungry but wanting something to soak up the alcohol in her stomach. On the white tablecloth, scattered among the dishes and crystal glasses, were a dozen or so fake pencils promoting the very prestigious accounting award. They were about twice the size as normal pencils and cartoonishly exaggerated, each with a bulbous pink eraser at the end. She absently picked one of them up to read its slogan, which she assumed would be funny if she were an accountant.

The sound came back on the TV and Betsy knew this was not just another promo, but the beginning of the segment. Her table-mates smiled good-naturedly at her and then directed their attention to the giant TV on which a very sweaty Betsy Andrews, the famous Avery College nudist, was rollerblading at top speed across the campus plaza, a plump magenta-haired girl in the distance behind her. Betsy had to smile at this part and hoped Melody was watching. Next, on-screen Betsy flew into the waiting arms of handsome, muscular, shirtless Dean, who twirled her around.

Naturally, they edited out the part where Betsy tried to avoid talking about her nudity, skipping ahead to the third or fourth time the reporter asked if she was enjoying her life of nudity. Up on the big TV, Betsy began extolling at length about the joy she felt going nude every minute of every day. Meanwhile, the Betsy who sat at the table was beginning to fidget, becoming more aroused as she watched others watching her on the big screen. Every time TV-Betsy said the word “naked,” real-time Betsy became more excited. She still had in her hand the oversized novelty pencil with its soft, pink eraser. As she continued to hold her fork properly in her right hand, pushing bits of food around on her plate, Betsy’s left hand slipped below the tablecloth with the giant plastic pencil. She held the pointy end and pressed the eraser end firmly against her clitoris. After glancing down at her lap to confirm that the long tablecloth obscured what she was doing, Betsy began wiggling the eraser against herself as up on the screen she was explaining to viewers how very convenient it was to be naked since she was sweating so much while rollerblading around campus. And then the TV interviewer asked that question about Betsy’s oh-so-smooth pubic area, and as the camera zoomed in on Betsy’s pussy until it filled the giant TV screen.

At this moment, real-time Betsy began to experience a kind of orgasm that she had only rarely had before. Because she knew she could not allow herself to make a sound, nor even to close her eyes, Betsy was unable to submit herself to her normal kind of orgasm, in which she generally moaned and screamed without having to worry about witnesses. But because of this restraint, her orgasm did not release itself in a sudden rush, but flowed through her slowly and lasted a very long time. She kept the big plastic pencil moving while her eyes remained fixed on herself on the giant TV, where she was giving viewers a guided tour of all of the places around her pussy where she did not have hair.

When the newscasters reluctantly ended the segment and went to the weather, Andre turned off the TV, and everyone in the room began to applaud. First one and then another stood up as they continued to applaud until all were on their feet. As the ovation finally died down, Dr. Strunk pulled Kate by the elbow to the front of the room and speaking through hand-held microphone she said, “Betsy, dear, please come down and join us.”

As if caught by her teacher, Betsy let the pencil fall to the floor beneath the table and surreptitiously wiped herself with the embroidered linen napkin. She stood and tentatively began making her way through the crowded tables. She saw herself in the mirror, naked in front of the well-dressed crowd, arm in arm with a beaming Kate as Dr. Strunk gave a speech about how very lucky Peabody & Strunk had been to recruit Kate and how wonderful it was that Kate came with the bonus of the adorable, incomparable Betsy, brave pioneer of nudist rights.

The buzz from the alcohol had worn off and the shield provided by sensual arousal was absolutely and totally absent. Betsy felt only fresh and unmuted embarrassment as if she had suddenly become aware of her situation for the first time. She was utterly exposed, not just in this room, but also to TV viewers across the Kingsley metropolitan area, and she was more trapped than ever. Even if she could somehow tell Kate the truth, now she had all of these other people believing she was something she was not. Tears ran down both of Betsy’s cheeks but everyone else in the room, including Kate, mistook them for tears of happiness.

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The writings of Molly McMann