First, just to clarify, this is my fourth Cariny story. The first three were:
Cariny's Toga Malfunction
Cariny's New Category (mislabeled by Cutie herself as Cariny Ch. 01
Cariny Meets Cutie (also known as the fifth Little Miss Cutie story)
And this story is actually 4th in the series, "Cariny's Best Client."
Some years ago, an excellent writer of adult fiction, writing under the pseudonym "Little Joe," created several characters inspired by myself and several lovely ladies we both knew. One character was based on me, Bobbie Kaye, and was nicknamed Cutie, or Little Miss Cutie. Little Joe posted a number of these wonderful stories, in which Bobbie Kaye and her friend Gretchen worked at a hotel in Great Britain, supervised by "Little" Joe. The stories were quite lighthearted, and the characters invariably ended up naked and very embarrassed. He later added Kristy, inspired by my own sister, and Emily, based on a dear friend from Australia.
This is the fourth story in my new Cariny series. Cariny is inspired by a friend of mine, a very real and very lovely woman.
As I've said in some of my other stories, when I write, you'll find it is 95% story, and 5% sex. I don't necessarily enjoy stories that focus too much on detailed description of sexual encounters. This particular story has no sex, just some very embarrassing unwanted nudity. As in real life, sex is only a small part of who we are, and that is reflected in the stories I write. I hope you enjoy this embarrassing little tale!
Cariny's Best Client
By Bobbie Kaye (Cutie)
How could this be happening? It was eight o'clock Saturday morning, and Cariny was sitting in the middle row of Brad's van, surrounded by four friends, and she was stark naked, save her two inch pumps. They had just pulled into the parking lot behind the Starbucks, two blocks from her shop, and she was supposed to get out of the van. Then she was supposed to walk the two blocks to her shop, where she could let herself in and get some clothes.
Why had she agreed to play strip poker last night? Because everybody else wanted to, she knew, and even now, at the age of thirty-two, she felt the need to fit in, to belong. It was an irrational compulsion, and she'd tried to overcome it. She was educated, well thought of, and a successful businesswoman. But she'd agreed to play, and now, here she was.
***
"Come on, Cariny," Brenda had cajoled. "It's just strip poker. It's not like nobody's ever seen you naked before!"
"And who knows?" added Ronnie. "You might win, and we might get Brad or Andre naked!"
Cariny, Brenda and Ronnie had been friends since her Cariny's freshman year in college. They'd been her sorority sisters, both a year ahead of her in school. They'd remained friends through all these years, but sometimes Cariny wondered why. Brenda, in particular, seemed to bring misfortune into her life more often than any one person should.
Under pressure to fit in, Cariny eventually acquiesced. Like Brenda said, even if she lost, it wouldn't be the first time she'd been naked in front of strangers. Brad and Andre were both really good looking, and maybe they'd ask for her phone number. She hated thinking that getting naked was the only way to attract guys, but sometimes she felt that desperate.
Cariny had no reason to feel desperate, as guys were very attracted to her. Unfortunately, a lot of guys found her beauty intimidating. Her luminous blue eyes and honey-blond hair highlighted her exceptionally pretty face, but her self-confidence was at a low ebb just then. If playing strip poker could get her a date, then darn it, she'd play strip poker.
They went over the house rules, and being Brenda's house, she made the rules. Cariny didn't know what it meant when her friend said they were playing 'for keeps,' though. It never occurred to her that it meant exactly that, they were playing for ownership of clothing. Permanent ownership.
Cariny had plenty of luck that evening; the problem was, it was mostly bad. She drew some strong hands, including a flush and two full houses. But whatever she drew, it seemed somebody else had a something better. Ronnie had lost her blouse and Brad his shirt, both sitting in a pile beside Brenda. Also in that pile was Cariny's Liz Claiborne suit, both the skirt and the matching blazer. Her DKNY blouse was there also, leaving Cariny in her unfortunately skimpy choice of Leggy Lingerie bra and panties.
The next hand, Cariny had to remove her bra. She resisted the temptation to cover her bare breasts, which despite their fullness, still sat up high and firm. She certainly held the attention of Brad and Andre. Glancing down, she realized that her nipples were fully erect, and while she hated to admit it, she'd long known that being on display like this would get her juices flowing.
There was something inside Cariny's head, her heart, something that excited her about being seen naked. She knew she was a closet exhibitionist. She would never do anything intentionally to show off, to expose herself, but when it did happen, she always found herself getting wet. Tonight was no exception.
Her panties came off next, exposing her neatly shaped, honey-blond landing strip. Her face burning, the blush spreading down her neck and across her chest, she boldly stood up, allowing everyone a good long look. Embarrassed as she was, Cariny longed to bring her hand down and touch herself. She resisted that temptation, however, and was about to begin getting dressed.
"Hold on there, Cariny," said Brenda, the night's big winner. "Those are mine now."
"What do you mean, they're yours?" asked Cariny, holding her panties but not yet stepping into them.
"You agreed to the rules, right?" replied Brenda. "Well, I did say we were playing for keeps."
"But... but..." Cariny was at a loss. She'd heard the words, but their meaning hadn't registered. "What am I... what am I supposed to do?"
Brenda was examining her new suit, and ignoring Cariny. Studying the skirt, she said "I'll need to take this in a couple of inches, then I..."
"Brenda!"
"Don't worry, Cariny," Brenda said soothingly. "We'll drop you off at your shop. You can run inside and find something to wear."
Cariny had left her car at her shop the evening before, catching a ride to the party with Brenda and Ronnie. "Well..."
Brenda grinned. "Of course, we'll drop you in front of the shop. You'll have to let yourself in the front door."
"Oh, come on," objected Cariny. "People will see me."
"I have an idea," Brad said, and everyone turned toward him. "Let's keep playing. Cariny doesn't have any clothes left," he said, staring at her bare breasts, "so she can play for blocks."
"What do you mean, 'play for blocks'?" asked Ronnie.
"If she wins," explained Brad, "she gets a piece of clothing back. If she loses, we drop her one block farther away from her shop."
"Excellent idea!" said Andre, Ronnie nodding enthusiastically.
Cariny pondered the idea. Maybe she could win something back, at least enough that she wouldn't be naked. She liked her skirt suit, but it wasn't like she couldn't afford to replace it. "Um... okay... okay, I'll try it."
Two hands later, Cariny had lost two blocks, and aside from her shoes, she was still naked as the day she was born. She'd had enough. They'd been playing all night, the sun was coming up, she was exhausted, and she wanted to go home. This was the first weekend she'd taken off in six months, and she certainly hadn't planned on spending it this way.
Cariny took a shower while Brenda fixed breakfast for everybody. Wrapped inside a towel, she soon joined the others. She was allowed to keep the towel around herself while they all ate, but she was eager to get back to her shop to get dressed. She hadn't planned on everyone escorting her downtown, either, but she shouldn't have been surprised. And when they headed for the van. Brenda insisted on reclaiming her bath towel.
***
How could this be happening? It was eight o'clock Saturday morning, and Cariny was sitting in the middle row of Brad's van, surrounded by four friends, and she was stark naked, save her two inch pumps. They had just pulled into the parking lot behind the Starbucks, two blocks from her shop, and she was supposed to get out of the van. Then she was supposed to walk the two blocks to her shop, where she could let herself in and get some clothes.
Why had she agreed to play strip poker last night? Because everybody else wanted to, she knew, and even now, at the age of thirty-two, she felt the need to fit in, to belong. It was an irrational compulsion, and she'd tried to overcome it. She was educated, well thought of, and a successful businesswoman. But she'd agreed to play, and now, here she was.
They pulled into the parking lot behind the Starbucks, a full two blocks from her shop, and the very self-conscious Cariny stepped out onto the parking lot. They told her they'd follow her back to her shop, to ensure her safety.
Cariny darted out onto Main Street, ducking between cars as she went. This part of the downtown area was typically quiet at this time on a Saturday morning, and for that she was grateful. She slowly made her way along, looking for cover wherever she could find it. She heard a car coming up a side street, and tried to duck behind the mailbox. Unfortunately, the mailbox was no longer there! "Darned email," she said aloud, kneeling behind a small hedge.
The car passed, and Cariny somehow remained unseen. Only half a block lay between her and the sanctuary of her little boutique. She had her key in hand, and had mentally reviewed the alarm code. She finally made it to the door, peeked over her shoulder as her grinning friends drove by in the van, then punched in the code, turned the key, and stepped inside her shop. She took a deep breath, turned her back to the wall, and relaxed.
"Cariny?"
She opened her eyes to the unexpected sight of six people in her shop, each face wearing a stunned expression. Her boutique didn't open until ten, so why was anybody here? She began to identify faces, as her hands and arms moved to cover herself.
Yvonne, her shop manager was there, along with her newest employee, Theresa. Cariny then remembered that Theresa was in early for training. Mrs. Rothsmartin, Cariny's best customer was standing there also, along with her husband, as well as another man, middle aged, who appeared to be a driver, and a young man in his twenties. The young man was leering openly, while everyone else politely tried to avert their eyes. Except for Mrs. Rothsmartin, who was about three quarters blind, and smiling broadly.
"Cariny!" repeated Yvonne. "What are you..."
"Is that Cariny?" beamed Mrs. Rothsmartin. The Rothsmartins were rather wealthy, in their late sixties, and, Cariny thought, just a bit stuck up. But Mrs. Rothsmartin had taken a liking to Cariny early on. She'd spent untold thousands of dollars in the boutique, buying gifts for friends and family, outfitting entire wedding parties, and maintaining her own high standards of taste. "Come over here, dear, and let me take a look at you."
Yvonne watched helplessly, having no clue how to help her boss in this situation. Theresa, the new hire, had her eyes focused on Cariny, watching each movement intently. Yvonne noticed this, wondering about her new employee's judgment.
Cariny walked over to where Mrs. Rothsmartin was standing; what else could she do? The husband, Mr. Rothsmartin was trying desperately not to stare, and failing miserably. The driver pretended to keep his eyes averted as well, but stole glances whenever he could.
