Angel Lost in the Dar

I had opened a third bottle of wine and we were working on our second glass when I heard the doorbell ring. “Ta ta!” I announced, “I thinkith our pizza hath arrived.” I stood and reached for my wallet.

“Do you want me to answer the door?” Angel was smiling and there was a glazed look in her eyes.

“You’re not dressed,” I reminded her. “You can’t open the door.”

“You think you’re the only one that likes looking at pussy? I bet you that the pizza man would like seeing me open the door.”

“I…I don’t think that…You can’t just…” Ding dong! DING Dong! I took another look at her nakedness and shook my head. I turned and hurried to the door.

We had both been drinking on empty stomachs and we were both feeling the effects of the wine. Since I had decided to slow down a little after the first bottle, Angel was now more inebriated than me. Given the level of her intoxication and her exhibitionistic nature was it any wonder that she wanted to answer the door?

“I’m sorry I’m late,” the pizza man said as I greeted him. He was dressed in a pair of bright red pants, a shirt that was pinker than the inside of Angel’s pussy, a dark purple cap on the top of his head that said “Papa’s Pizza” in bold green letters, and a sickly yellow bowtie with the name “BOB” emblazed on it in blue. He looked more like a clown than a pizza man.

“You’re forgiven, Bob,” I said with as straight a face as I could muster considering my condition. “Or would you prefer I call you Bobby?”

“You can call whatever you want as long as it’s not Bozo,” he said in a voice that led me to conclude that I wasn’t the only one who compared to a clown. He must have been aware of how ridiculous he looked.

The moment I opened the wallet I remembered that all I had in it was two one hundred dollar bills. “I hope you have change for this Whateveryouwant” I said as I opened the wallet and took out one of the $100 bills.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. It was just a joke. Can you break this?” I tried handing him the money.

“Not for that,” he answered when he saw what it was. “Don’t you have any other cash around? How about a check? We’re not supposed to take them but if you’ve got some ID I’ll make an exception.”

“I’ve got it,” I heard Angel shout from the kitchen. “I’ll bring it out as soon as I put something on.”

Before I’d even had a chance to respond she entered the room. She wasn’t naked like I had feared, but she wasn’t fully dressed either. She was wearing the formless sweater she had worn for the interview, and given the swiftness of her entrance it was obvious that she had already put it on prior to her announcement. It just barely long enough to cover her, and since I didn’t see any evidence of the shorts she hanging out from beneath the sweater I assumed she was naked from the waist down.

“It comes to $18.40,” he said as she approached. Standing beside me she handed him a twenty and I suddenly saw his eyes widen and begin to dart around the room. My assumption had just been proven right.

“It doesn’t have any anchovies on it, does it?” she asked as she waited for him to take the money. “I specifically asked for no anchovies.”

She was standing close enough to him now that I doubted he could still see what he must have seen when she raised her hand to give him the money, but he seemed embarrassed and couldn’t seem to bring himself to face her directly. “I…uhhh…I don’t know. All I do is deliver them.” He took the twenty and handed her the pizza.

“Skip the change,” Angel told him. “In fact, I’ll give you another five dollars as long as there ain’t no fuckin’ anchovies on it.” She’d had a lot to drink – and she was definitely drunk – but I could tell that she was making herself appear drunker than she really was. People can expect a certain amount of unacceptable behavior from someone who’d inebriated and I realized that Angel was using that knowledge to her advantage.

She knelt and placed the pizza box on the floor. With one knee on the carpet and the other used for balance she was completely ‘open’ below and I saw Bob’s eyes pop out of his head. “Oh, Goody!” she squealed as she open the lid. “No fuckin’ anchovies!”

She was doing her best to imitate Betty Boop’s sing-song voice - and she was doing a pretty good job of it, too - but Bob seemed to be oblivious to what she was saying or how she was saying it. Once she had knelt in front of him his eyes had zeroed in on the fuzzy patch of fur between her legs (not to mention the pink patch that was dead center in the middle of the fur) and he was lost. No further audio input was being received.

She tore of a hunk of melted cheese covered with pepperoni and pineapple then tossed her head back and dropped it into her mouth. As she began to savor the flavor she looked up and noticed where Bob’s eyes were pointed. “Oops!” she said with a giggly voice as she quickly closed the pizza box and modestly covered her exposed cunt with the palm of her hand. “I guess I forgot to put on my panties. I didn’t mean for you to see my pu…uhh… see that much. I certainly hope you don’t think I did it on purpose.”

“I…Well, I…I couldn’t help it, but…but I guess I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have stared.”

I had to suppress a chuckle. She dropped her other knee down to the floor and tugged the sweatshirt down as far as she could, but since the sweatshirt didn’t cover all that much Bob stayed where he was and continued to stare.

Like she had done at the bookstore she was entering the world of polite deniability, and he seemed to buy it. She was obviously putting on a show for him and it was obvious he was enjoying it, but as long as she pretended her exposure was accidental and he pretended to believe her then there was neither a foul nor a penalty. He knew, of course, that she was lying through her teeth, and she knew by the shape his red pants had taken that he had a boner but everything was OK as long as nothing was verbalized. To put it other words, he knew that she knew that he knew that she was showing herself on purpose and she knew that he knew that she knew he had an erection, but as long as neither one of them acted upon their knowledge of the others knowledge and as long as they both continued to pretend that the other WASN’T pretending then everything was OK. I would have been hard pressed to keep it all straight had I been sober, but since I wasn’t I didn’t even try.

“No, you have nothing to sorry about. You did what any other man I know would do in the same situation,” she said in an attempt to not only mollify him but to encourage him to be like the ‘other men she knew’. She turned to me and, with the hand that wasn’t keeping the sweatshirt pulled down over her cunt, hit me on the leg. “It’s all your fault, asshole! You should have told me I didn’t have my panties on. Thanks to you he’s seen my pussy.”

It took my alcohol-blotted brain a few seconds to decode what she had said, but once it had I was surprised at how quickly I ran through my options. In the space of three seconds – give or take – I remembered her comment that I was too ‘straight laced’ and decided that I might as well dispel that notion once and for all. Due to my attempt at being a gentleman she thought of me as a retiring little milquetoast and if I was going to make a mistake now I would make the mistake on the side that proved I was NOT what she thought. She was pretending to be drunker than she was so I decided to do the same. What the hell, drunks can get away with a lot of shit that sober people can’t, and since she was doing it I might as well join her.

“Why should I have told you THAT? I like looking at your pussy and if I told you that it was showing you’d cover it up right away. Besides, I wanted to see what you’d do when you realized he could see it too.” I knew the logic was somewhat faulty but since we were both pretending I didn’t think it would make much difference.

Angel tried looking embarrassed, but when she started giggling she gave up the pretense. “Did you ever stop to think that he might not be a pussy hound like you? For all you know he might EVEN be a gentleman.” She stood up again and in the process gave Bob and me another unobstructed view of her private area. “There,” she said after she had pulled the bottom of the sweater down as far again. “Now I’m at least semi modest. I apologize for being so fuckin’ careless.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said with a slightly embarrassed tone in his voice.. “It’s not everyday that I get to see a woman’s…uhh. ..a woman that’s as beautiful and as sexy as you.”

Angel turned her eyes to me and said, “I told you he was a gentleman. There’s not that many of them left, you know.” She quickly extended her hand to him and as he shook it she stuck her tongue out at me. Wisely I didn’t mention that the hand she had presented to him was the same hand she had been using to pull the sweater down and that she was once again showing him her pussy.

As she finished shaking his hand she suddenly realized her error. “Ooops,” she giggled as she pulled the sweater down once again. After making sure she was sufficiently covered to qualify for her definition of deniability she made our introductions. “I’m Angel and this is my friend Tom. I hate to admit it to you but we’re both a little drunk. Can you excuse me for just a minute? It seems that I need to slip into something a little less comfortable if I’m going to maintain my modesty. I’ll be right back.” She turned and wobbled back into the kitchen, her cute little butt peeking out at us from beneath the sweater with every step she took.

**********

It took her less than a minute to do what she had to do and return. She had traded her sweatshirt for the same cutoffs and the white shirt she had worn to the bookstore and she was carrying an unopened bottle of wine and three glasses. Her shirttails were hanging outside the cutoffs and out of modesty she had buttoned the middle button of the shirt. Were it not for the severe slices up the side of her shorts, the numerous rips and tears in the material that let her bare skin show though, the razor thin strip of denim between her legs that was so loose that it didn’t even touch her body, and the six UN-buttoned buttons she would have looked almost modest.

“Do you have any more deliveries to make?” Angel asked as she handed Bob one of the glasses.

“No, but I’m on call. I live only a few blocks from the pizza parlor and whenever there’s a delivery the owner calls me on my cell phone and I pick it up and deliver it. Unless he calls me I’m usually at home watching TV or reading.”

“Good. Take off your shoes stay awhile”

I unscrewed the cap on the wine bottle and filled all the glasses. Once the obligatory ‘toast’ was toasted we each took a drink after which Angel sat down on the floor Indian style and waited for us to join her. I sat next to Angel and Bob took his seat across from us, his eyes staring directly at the juncture between her crossed legs. From the position I was in I could easily see Angel’s soft, curly pubic hair peeking its way through the gap between her skin and the denim, and I was pretty sure that from his vantage point Bob could see even more. With her legs crossed as they were the thin strap of loose material was the only thing covering her cunt and since her cunt was wider than the strap I had to assume that he could see everything. Were it not for the wine she had brought back she could have simply left the sweater on and saved herself the trip to the kitchen. For all intents and purposes he could see as much now as he had before. Probably more.

Angel opened the pizza box, and after helping herself to a slice she passed it to Bob and invited him to help himself. She couldn’t help but notice where his eyes were focused and I couldn’t help but notice the smile on her face.

“Thanks,” he said as he forced his eyes to look away for a moment. He seemed somewhat more relaxed and confident in his manner now than before. Instead of immediately returning his gaze to her crotch he now looked into her eyes and was smiling back at her. No one spoke. In silence we ate our pizza and drank our wine.

There are some silences that are unnerving, confusing and unbearable, almost as if the silence was a sign of boredom, of having nothing to say, or, if having something to say, not knowing how to phrase it. Or, worse yet, knowing what you want to say but being afraid to say it for fear of rejection, ridicule, jealousy or anger.

The silence here was not in the same category. The silence here, among other things, seemed welcome, almost as if there was an aura of excitement, a premonition of things to come, an anticipation of what would happen next, and how it would happen. Instead of having nothing to say, we were each, in our own way, preparing not only what we would say, but how we would say it, and how the other two would react to what we said, and how we would react to their reactions. I was pretty sure that we all wanted the same thing, or a least a fairly close facsimile, and it was only a matter of who would speak first. Once spoken the dominos would start to fall and they would continue to fall until someone pulled out a domino and stopped their flow. I seriously doubted that Angel, ever the exhibitionist, or Bob, who was now staring at the gap in Angel’s shorts again, would do anything to stop the dominoes, and since I had already promised myself not to give in to paranoia again I was ready for whatever happened. All that was needed now was for someone to take charge and say the words that would knock over the first domino.

Perhaps it was fitting and proper that it was Angel that broke the silence. Since she was the catalyst in this little game of ours she proudly took the role as instigator and gave us the encouragement and the permission to follow her lead. It was like she was the Queen and Bob and I were merely her pawns. “Like I said earlier,” she began, “Tom and I are friends.” She paused long enough to take another sip of wine and another bite of pizza and then continued. “He’s a photographer and I sometimes model for him. He was taking photos of me when you came to the door.”

There was a pregnant pause while she waited for Bob to respond. She was staring directly into his eyes and he was forced to stare back. Everything was quiet and there seemed to be an electric charge in the air. She finally broke eye contact with him and when she did I saw his eyes immediately drop to her open legs again. When she looked back she caught him looking again.

“You’re really a good looking man, Bob. I’m glad that you didn’t have the right change ‘cause if you had I wouldn’t have got to meet you. Tom wouldn’t let me open the door when you came ‘cause he was taking pictures of me at the time.” She took another sip of wine and then she giggled. “I kinda wish now he would have let me. It would have been fun to see the look on your face if I had opened the door bare-ass naked.”

“I can go outside and ring again,” he suggested.

“It’s a little too late for that. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?”

“I can pretend to be surprised.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be spontaneous. I like things to be spontaneous.”

Bob gave a disappointed-sounding laugh and then held out his wine glass. “In that case, let’s have a toast to what I missed.”

“And to spontaneity,” Angel added with a wicked smile as they clinked their glasses together.

There were a few more moments of silence while Angel studied Bob’s face and Bob studied Angel’s crotch. “I’d let you see the pictures Tom took of me,” she said, breaking the silence, “but we weren’t taking Polaroid’s. They’re all inside the camera where you can’t see them yet.” She suddenly uncrossed her legs and laid back on the floor with her legs out in front of her. She was laughing and her whole body shook. “That’s funny. The pictures of my box are inside a box so you can’t see my box.” I didn’t have the nerve to tell her that the way she was now spread out on the floor made her little joke an oxymoron.

“If you don’t mind I’m goin’ to lay here for a while” she said. “I’m startin’ to get woozy and I certainly don’t want to pass out and miss anything.” She stretched herself out on the floor and brought her knees up. She began tossing her head from side to side on the carpet, giggling all the while and carelessly (or purposely) opening and closing her knees. She was either an extremely good actress or more intoxicated than I had suspected. It was one of the two but I couldn’t decide which was which and in what degree.

Bob was too busy staring at the open gash between her legs to pay any attention to my presence, so I did exactly what every other man in my position would do; I lit a cigarette, took another drink of wine, and waited to see what would happen next.

**********

I had just put out my cigarette when Angel ‘woke up’ and rejoined the land of the living. She slowly raised her head and then supported her upper body by resting herself on her elbows. When she spread her knees apart she saw that Bob’s eyes were still staring at her cunt. She giggled and then turned and looked at me, saying “I’m not very ladylike, am I? I’m drunker than hell and I’m letting a fuckin’ CLOWN look at pussy. I’m so ashamed of myself that I could die.”

She started laughing again, then closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side. Her knees kept opening and closing, opening and closing, opening and closing, giving him an unobstructed view one moment and taking it away the next. Her right nipple had now escaped from beneath her shirt and the left was ready to follow, but he was so intent on seeing the peek-a-booing of her cunt that it was questionable as to whether he was even aware of their presence.

When she opened her eyes and caught him still looking at her cunt she said, “Don’t you ever give it a rest?”

As if suddenly snapped out of a hypnotic trance he looked at her and said “Huh?”

“I said, ‘don’t you ever give it a rest?’ It seems like you’ve been looking at my pussy ever since I walked into the room. Haven’t you grown tired of it yet?” She suddenly noticed the exposed nipple and with casual indifference reached down and pushed it back into place.

“I got the impression that you didn’t care if I looked.” he countered with a shallow smile.

Angel laughed and replied, “Actually, I don’t, but it seems kinda creepy when that’s all you’re interested in. It’s only a pussy, you know.”

“I certainly don’t want you to think I’m ‘creepy’ but I figure I might as well fill as much as I can into my memory banks while I can still see it. It’s not as if this is something that happens every day.”

“Has it ever happened before?”

“Once,” he answered, “but she weighed about three hundred pounds and must have been in her mid-fifties. It’s not something I want to remember.”

Angel set her glass on the floor and then rolled over and picked up the wine bottle. His eyes fastened on her delectable derriere as she poured herself more wine. The strap between her legs hid her ass just as effectively as it hid her cunt.

Once she sat up and was facing him again she said, “I weigh one hundred and twenty five pounds and I’m twenty nine years old. Are you going to remember me?” Her feet were planted at least two feet apart and she was looking at him from above her parted knees. She was bent forward and supporting herself by having both elbows on her knees, holding her recently filled wine glass in one hand. She was smiling and looking directly into at him through bloodshot eyes when he answered, “Oh, yes, YOU I will definitely remember!”

“Mmmm, Thank you,” she purred. “Since you were so nice to say that, I give you my permission to stare at my pussy again.”

Whether it was planned or whether it was an accident I couldn’t tell, but the minute his eyes left her face and looked down at her furry patch again, her elbow – or perhaps both elbows – slipped and the nearly full glass of wine was gone for good..