This is the second in the series about a young woman's discovery of exhibitionism. It contains a little reluctance. Special thanks to Xpoerotica for feedback and support.
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When I got home after winning second place in an amateur stripper competition to get the money to pay my rent, I sat on my bed with a glass of wine.
It wasn't until after I'd signed my lease did I realise I was tied in for six months. Pulling out the diary my dad still gives me for Christmas every year, he'd never taken to electronics, I turn to the only page I use. At the back is a year at a glance page, and I tried to figure how I'd last five months. If I can get to Christmas I might make it. The last couple of years the Christmas bonus was a little over a thousand and that would see me through, but until then there were a few bumps on the way. I could avoid using the car and take the bus and walk to work. Stop buying store coffee and take sandwiches to work, but my car insurance and tax were due before then. I suppose I could take the hit and try and fit them on my credit card. The last fly in the ointment was my cousin's wedding in a month. I was expected to go to Weston Super Mare for the weekend.
The phone call to my parents to pull out was only partially successful. After a typical fight over why I had to go and my sister did not, we settled on a compromise. My parents would pay my train fare and they'd change their room to a family room so I could stay with them. Not what a twenty five year old wants to hear. But as usual, I gave into to my mother's emotional blackmail and agreed to go. The only concession I earned was she agreed to lend me some of her better jewellery.
The train trip with my parents on Friday afternoon to Weston was long and uneventful. Only when I got there, I found I was expected to attend my cousin's hen that night. Which would be awkward, as I'd not spent any time with her since we were kids. My mother buys me off by lending me one of her nicer pairs of earrings.
The weather plays to my advantage as everyone was due to meet in our hotel bar and once they get here they didn't want to leave. Because I knew no one but my cousin and everyone wanted to talk to her, I accept the role of ordering the drinks.
It was on one of the many trips to the bar whilst I was waiting for my change, a middle aged guy in a suit came to stand next to me and order drinks. He was standing a little close and seemed to be checking me out.
"Nice earrings." He said. I knew that, but didn't want to be hit on by a businessman like some hooker at the bar. I'm about to tell him I'm not interested, only for him to add. "I bought a pair very similar for my wife's anniversary. She's over there..." He points to a table by the window and I see a rather elegant woman. She looks slightly familiar. "It's our anniversary today actually." He hands over a note to the barman and refuses the change and nods politely to me and moves off.
For some stupid reason, the bar doesn't have a tray so I'm stuck ferrying drinks two at a time to the hen party on the other side of the room. Returning to get the last two drinks, except my own. I grab a napkin to dry my hands. Someone had knocked my hands as I was putting down the last drinks and my hands were sticky with beer. A familiar voice from behind startled me.
"Hello, Kelly, fancy meeting you here..." Turning to see Hilary McKay, one of my company's most important clients. A tough businesswoman, who usually got what she wanted. She had my boss wrapped around her little finger and by all those who worked for her, thought she was a Bitch. With a capital 'B'.
"Hello, Hillary." I caught a moments tightening around the eyes at that familiarity. She was rather uptight at work that we keep our positions straight, but I'd not put up with that here. "What takes you so far from London?"
"My anniversary. My husband's idea of a romantic weekend. Why he couldn't choose Paris, I've no idea. At least there are things to do and see there."
"I thought the idea of a romantic weekend was more about the person you're with?" I said it without thinking. Her expression hardens and I try to find a quick way to defuse it. Instead, she moved on.
"What brings you to the wilds of Somerset?"
"Family wedding..." I nod over to the hen party and reach for the drinks. "You'd never see me here normally."
"Why? You seem to pop up in all sorts of strange places." The booze in my stomach turns to lead. The way she said it rang like a tolling bell of doom.
"What do you mean?" I ask, and cannot help notice the brittleness of my voice.
"Don't be coy. Last month ago at a little club I know..." From the look eyes I know I've no chance of bluffing. She was a brilliant negotiator and my half dozen vodka and cokes rob me of any clever deceptions. "Not that I normally go there, but occasionally I have clients who like that sort of thing and I've known the owner for years. I helped him start up his business." My mouth went completely dry and like an automaton, I pick of the other drinks and took them to the table.
As I walk back I see she's leaning back against the bar with a knowing look on her face. The few seconds respite hasn't given me a brilliant insight to get out of this.
"What would your boss do if he found out?" Damn, if only I'd held my tongue. Not tried to be clever and join in her verbal fencing. I thought I knew what he'd do, either sack me or, worse, become even creepier and pester me. Assuming, wrongly, why I'd done it. I stood up straight and was pleased to see, even in her high heels I had at least three inches taller than her. In my most confident voice, I reply.
"I've no idea what you're talking about..." Her smile widens fractionally and cracks appear in my confidence. "And whatever you might say, I'd deny. It would be your word against mine." Hurriedly I reviewed if anything could link to me. I'd used a friends phone to call the club, used a false name and my signature was legible and entirely different to my own. Only Trish had seen my ID and I felt I could trust her.
"True, except, not only am I one of your company's largest accounts and my word carries more weight. You also forget I know the owner. One phone call and I'm sure I can get a copy of his CCTV footage for your boss to let him decide if it's you or not?" Defeated my shoulders slump.
"I split up with my boyfriend and couldn't afford the rent in my new place and..."
"I don't want your life story Kelly." She turns to the bar take a sip of her drink. Catching my eyes in the mirror behind the bar she asks.
"How much did you earn?" Opening my mouth to reply, but she interrupts. "How much did you earn for parading naked in front of a roomful of men?"
"250" I blurt out before she could turn the knife any more. She nods thoughtfully and I down half my drink to drown out the humiliation. After perhaps half a minute with no reply, I turn to return to the hen party. Not that I was in the mood now.
"I have a proposition for you." Not wanting to, I stop and look back. She turns and rests both elbows on the bar, resting against it. "My husband bought me these gaudy, but expensive earrings and paid for this trip. My gift to him was rather paltry in comparison. I might pay 250 for a private performance to spice up our romantic weekend."
I want to tell her to fuck off. But, damn! She had me over a barrel, metaphorically. She wasn't a person to cross and had destroyed people's businesses on a whim. To her the money was nothing, but to me, it would give me breathing room on my expenses. She'd have no qualms ruining my life just for the fun of it. To make matters worse I'd been thinking about it ever since. I'd been suffering, if that's the right expression, from erotic dreams about it. But even if you threatened to pull out my fingernails, I'd never admit that to her. The idea of being the object of desire and the guy being unable to do anything. Gave me the power, it gave me a rush of, well to be honest a rush of sexual excitement. Perhaps it was withdrawal symptoms from no longer having a boyfriend. I was horny at the touch of a button and the button in question had been pressed often in the last weeks thinking about teasing men beyond control.
Looking her in the eye, she must have sensed my capitulation.
"I've changed my mind..." I'm not sure if it was the mental image of the money disappearing or the opportunity to explore this new kink of my psyche.
"What?" I ask alarmed.
"As this would primarily about my husband..." That triggers a random memory, a comment from one of the other girls at work, that Hillary was either gay or bi. "I think we should perform together. If we stripped each other I think my husband would appreciate it more." The word 'perform' bothered me, but I managed to ask.
"Would it be the same as the club with..." I glance down at her crotch and she picks up on it.
"I don't think those rules apply..." She moved in close to me and added. "We'd both be entirely naked at the end."
"And then?"
"What? Oh, I see. Don't worry you wouldn't be expected to do anything with my husband. I'd cut his balls off if he tried it. He'd not touch you," That was a relief.
"I notice you don't say you won't touch me?" I'm not entirely clueless to her word games. Her expression flickers then settles on amused.
"How would you expect me to take your clothes off without some touching?" She had a point, but I knew her.
"Is that it?"
"Well, I suppose we might press up against each other. I'm sure my husband would expect us to kiss. Maybe caress a buttock or breast." She moves in so she's only a couple of inches from me.
"Nothing more..." I struggle for a word. "Invasive?"
"Not if you don't want to."
"500!" I reply moving back to give us more space. She smiles, enjoying that not all of the fight has gone out of me.
"I'll go as high as 400, but you know you'll do it, whatever I pay. Room 420, wait in the bathroom and we'll be there in twenty minutes." She puts her room card on the bar and turns without another word returns to her husband. God, I hate her.
Glancing over at the hen party, I know they'll not miss me. I down the rest of my drink and snatch up the card and head to the toilet. Hillary and her husband are in an animated conversation and don't see me. As I close the cubicle door I'm conflicted and angry. Angry it had to be Hillary of all people to have discovered my secret. I literally could not think of a simple person worse in the world. I was also angry with myself, that the idea of getting naked again would excite me. Hiking my shirt up and yanking down damp crotch knickers. They were physical evidence of it.
If you'd have told me a few months ago I'd strip naked in front of strange men, I'd have scoffed and been appalled. Now, having experienced the rush of exposing myself to a room full of men. The thrill of being an object of desire that they just can't have. Only this time without the barrier of the stage. This time we'd be within touching distance, he could see every inch of my body and be unable to do anything about it.
