School was finished for the year and the cheerleaders in the graduating class were having a pyjama party. It would probably be more correct to call them ex-cheerleaders as school was over for them and the work-force beckoned. That was partly the reason for the party, mutual commiseration and celebration.
They were all fit and attractive young women, all around the same age, late eighteen and early nineteen. They were having a few drinks, reminiscing, bemoaning school days while looking forward to starting work. And earning money.
"Anyone for Pizza?" went up the cry.
There was a bit of toing and froing and eventually a pizza order was determined. Michelle rang it through to the local pizzeria.
"Delivery in half an hour," she informed the others.
The girls settled down to talking again. No-one was willing to say who had the original idea but the plan unfolded something like this.
"I saw a video on the 'net the other day where a woman would order pizza and accept delivery in the nude. There were some hilarious double takes by the guys delivering."
"Anyone here feel like answering the door in the nude?" someone asked.
There was a general consensus that nobody did.
"You'd have to be kidding. What if it's someone who knows us? We'd never live it down."
"I know who does the deliveries," said Michelle. "It's old man Henderson. He supplements his pension that way."
"I know him. He's nice. He'd see the joke and not tell anyone."
"Maybe," said a voice, "but you're not going to catch me answering the door naked. With my luck a dozen people I know would choose that moment to walk past."
"What if we don't answer the door?" said someone, laughing. "How about we all strip and hang around in the lounge room and when Mr Henderson arrives we just yell at him to come on in. He'd get a real eyeful and no one would believe it."
There was silence except for a bit of giggling.
"Let's do it," said another voice. "It'll be a hoot. But we'd better get started. He's due here shortly."
With much giggling the girls shed their pyjamas, taking up various poses around the room. Some were careful about what they actually showed. Others were more brazen, but they were all nude.
There came a knock on the door and a call of pizza.
"Showtime," said Michelle.
- - -
I was hanging around the local pizzeria, chatting to Mike. He was acting manager and also the current cook, churning out pizzas as per command. He'd just finished one larger order ready for delivery when old man Henderson came in.
"Hey, Andy, one order to go," said Mike.
"Hey, Mike, and that's a damn shame," said Mr Henderson. "My car's sitting out there with a flat tyre and that order ain't going anywhere until someone changes it. I got someone coming out to change it but until then you're stuck."
"Shit. Can't you change it yourself?"
"Not at my age, kid," said Andy. "Feel free to do it if you want to."
"I can't. I'm the chef. Peter?" he said, appealing to me.
"I could, but it will still take time. How about I just deliver the order for you? It'll be easier."
"Done," said Mike. "Here's the order and the address, the bill's in the pocket of the warmer. Don't forget to collect straightaway. If you give credit you never get paid and it's pretty hard to repossess a pizza."
I grinned, took the order and departed.
Arriving at the address I knocked on the door and yelled, "Pizza".
A woman's voice called back.
"Can you bring it in, please? We're in the room on the right."
I shrugged, opened the wire door, the main door was already open and walked into the room on the right.
I didn't say a damn thing for a moment after I walked in. I suspect that my face didn't show any reaction either. This was because I was too stunned to even blink for a few moments. Not that I'd have wanted to blink. If I had I might have missed seeing part of the display and that would have been a damned shame.
Six, count them, six naked lovelies draped around the room, all of them showing off everything they had to its best advantage. Straightaway I knew that they weren't going to tip me, but I figured that in this particular case I wouldn't mind.
After those first couple of seconds my mind started working again. I recognised Michelle first. She's an absolute honey. I was interested to note that she had a clean shave. The second young lady to fully register on me was Jenny. Her I knew very well, although it was a long time since I'd seen her naked. She's my younger sister, so I sort of just noted her and kept looking around.
Recognising Michelle and Jenny, however, promptly brought the whole deal into focus. Jenny had mentioned that she was going to a pyjama party with the other soon to be ex-cheerleaders. With that much of a clue I was able to easily identify the other girls when I managed to lift my eyes to face level.
Mind you, the girls weren't just sitting around letting me check them out. There'd been stunned silence when I walked in, and then pandemonium. Girls were squealing and trying to hide and frantically reaching for pyjamas, some putting them on and others just holding them in front as a shield.
I found my voice.
"Hi, Michelle," I said calmly. "I've got your pizza order. That'll be fifty one dollars, plus tip."
Michelle was one of the girls trying to hide behind her pyjamas. She just looked at me and screamed for me to get out. I shrugged and spoke to Jenny.
"Come on, Jenny, have your friends cough up. They did place the order, after all."
Jenny just looked at me. She could see the evil smile that I was trying to hide and was not impressed.
"If you'd care to wait by the front door, Peter, I'll get the money," she said.
I nodded and returned to the front door. She came out shortly with the money. Fifty one dollars, exactly.
"What, no tip?" I asked.
This time it was Jenny who had an evil smile.
"Of course you get a tip. Basically the tip is that you will wind up dead if you ever mention this to anyone."
She then pushed me out of the door. I wondered how things were going inside.
- - -
I was home alone then Michelle fronted up the next afternoon. She was dressed to kill, and I suspect that I was her intended victim. She was wearing a boob tube and tight yoga pant. And I mean tight. Bought one size too small and then shrunk in the wash tight. I'm prepared to swear that she could wear a coat of paint that would give better coverage of her body.
I showed her into the front room and waited, and she didn't beat about the bush.
"What are you going to do about last night?" she demanded.
"Didn't my sister tell you I'd keep my mouth shut," I asked pleasantly.
Michelle shrugged.
"I feel that I'm responsible as it was my house we were at. So I've come to find out what you intend to do."
"Jenny's assurance not good enough?" I asked.
"No," she said. "I don't trust you. You're going to want something. You're just biding your time."
Her voice broke off and then started again, a lot more hesitantly.
"What are you doing?"
What I was doing was peeling her yoga pants down. Somehow, considering how tight the things were and how there'd been no visible panty line, I wasn't really surprised to find that there were no panties under them.
Michelle just stood there staring as I lowered them, apparently not know how to react.
