A Creative Challenge

"Amy, I need to straighten a couple of things out with you."

The morning's events at the supermarket worried me. Amy had been in a very playful mood, and she was being very provocative, pushing me to see how daring I was prepared to be – or how daring I was prepared to let her be. I felt sure that her over-the-top display was her way of over-compensating for being dumped by her boyfriend, and I didn't want her to start something with me that she would regret later. And, however tempting it was for me to take advantage of her openness and sexual teasing, she was young, I liked her, and I didn't want to lose her as a model, or to lose her as a friend. It was very flattering that she seemed to be flirting with me quite seriously, but to be really honest, I was also scared of getting too close to her and then losing her completely. I wasn't ready for unrequited love.

Nevertheless, here I was, sitting in my kitchen, without a stitch on, watching this beautiful girl, who was also stark naked, calmly putting my groceries away for me. And I had to admit to myself that I was becoming very fond of her and I very much wanted to fuck her.

"That sounds ominous," she said. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, but I don't want this to get out of control."

"You don't want what to get out of control?"

"You...me...this arrangement...where this is heading – because after this morning I don't know what you think comes next. I love it that you are so relaxed and open with me. I am happy for my house to be Naked City, because I love looking at you without your clothes on, and I have to admit it is nicely erotic to be in the same place as you when you're naked, and to be naked with you."

"But....?"

"But I am twice your age – and please don't say anything about that, it's true. And you have a boyfriend who you love and who loves you and who isn't very tolerant of you getting too personal with other men. And I'm not quite ready to get arrested with you just because you can't keep your clothes on in public."

"Had."

"I'm sorry?"

"I HAD a boyfriend. I think that's all over, Sam. I've called him lots of times in the last week, but he doesn't even want to speak to me. I want him back, but I hurt him badly, and I don't think he'll ever forgive me."

There wasn't much I could say in response to that. It sounded like she was probably right, and I didn't want to lose her respect by mouthing platitudes. She stood silently leaning against the kitchen bench for a minute or two, staring at her feet. When she spoke, she was much more subdued than she had been earlier in the day.

"Did I really embarrass you this morning? I used to tease Craig by flashing him in public like that, and it embarrassed him something awful, but the more he told me stop it, the more provocative I was. I couldn't help it. Now he thinks I'm a whore. I was just playing, Sam, just cheering myself up, but I won't do things like that anymore if you don't like it."

The right thing would have been to tell her that I would appreciate it very much if she behaved in a more responsible and restrained manner in future, because I was a respectable middle-aged widower with children her age and a reputation in the community. That's what I should have said.

"But I did like it. I liked it very much. It was...thrilling."

"Really?" Amy's eyes lit up. That was obviously something that her easily embarrassed boyfriend had never told her. I wasn't sure at the time if it was wise of me to have told her either, but it was the truth.

"Yes, really. When you so calmly lifted your top right up and then held it up, I couldn't breathe. I thought my heart had stopped. And you looked so...calm and... knowing and...."

I wasn't expressing myself very well, but Amy seemed to understand exactly what I was trying to say, and jumped in.

"That's it, when I do something like that, I KNOW. I know everything that's happening at that moment. I knew what you were thinking, I knew exactly what was going through Bob the Builder's mind, and it's like the world has slowed down and I'm in complete control of it. It makes me feel so powerful. And you know what else?"

"What?"

"It makes my pussy wet like I'm about to cum. Like somebody is rubbing my clit. It's just the best feeling." She screwed up her face and looked at me. "Is that normal – I mean you don't think there's something wrong with me, do you?"

I wanted to laugh at the naivety of what she was asking me, but I knew she would be insulted if I did because to her it was a serious question.

"In what way? You mean physically?"

"No, mentally. Do you think I'm some sort of pervert for getting so turned on by letting people see my body?"

"Of course, not, you goose. Almost everybody has some sort of fetish, something they do or they fantasise about doing that turns them on more than other things. In my book it's a perversion only if it actually hurts people who don't want to be hurt, but pretty much anything else you can imagine is normal, whatever it is. Exhibitionism is very normal, and you're an exhibitionist. It's why you do art modelling"

"So, what's your fetish?" she asked.

"Same as yours, I guess."

"What," she laughed, "you like to flash your tits at strangers in supermarkets?"

"Amy, if I had tits like yours, I'd want the whole world to see them all the time." Now we were both laughing, and her face looked sunnier than it had since before she broke up with Craig.

"Well, then it can't be the same for you as it is for me" she said. "I get off on letting people see me naked especially when they don't expect to. If you did that, you would be locked up for indecency. The closest I've come to seriously offending anybody is when some acne-faced fat-assed security guard wearing a 'What Would Jesus Do?' bracelet called me a 'heinous minion of Satan'."

"You're right, I don't have the urge to open my raincoat and wave my cock in people's faces, the idea of doing that doesn't turn me on at all. But I loved it when my Jeannie wore a sheer see-through top and no panties to a restaurant on a hot night just to please me. I loved it when a couple of hikers had to step over us while we were making love on a walking track in a national park. I love being here, nude, with you. I love you realising that I very much want to fuck you, even though it would change everything, which is why I don't want to fuck you. I love skinny-dipping with friends at beaches that are not supposed to be nude beaches. I love it when you wear almost nothing out in the street but behave as though you're fully dressed. I love the idea of making love with someone where we can both be seen, but where no-one knows that's what we're doing. I love..."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Love the idea of fucking in public?"

"When you put it like that it sounds very basic and animalistic. I was thinking of something a bit more planned and discrete and tasteful. But...yes, I do."

"OK."

"OK, what?"

"Nothing. Just OK. Sam, I think you're more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist."

"I suppose I am. Yes. It's why I mostly draw nudes rather than anything else, I guess."

"I thought that was about art, not sex."

"That too."

"I like to flash. You like to watch. We could be the perfect couple."

"And we're also still artist and model, and tomorrow's Monday, and you're booked to sit for me at 7am. I'll wake you at 6:30."

"OK."