I greeted the new day feeling a sense of invigouration as the dream replayed through my mind. I thought about what lay ahead for the new day. I was feeling adventurous. I decided to try an experiment. For some reason those construction worker guys bothered me. What bothered me was that they weren't bothered to look at me, to wolf whistle or stare – I mean, when you're a girl, that's what construction workers are supposed to do, isn't it? The experiment was to try to grab their attention. And the only way to do that was to alter my appearance – I mean, it's not as though I was going to walk up and talk to them! A short skirt, a much shorter skirt than I normally would wear to work, that would surely get a response. And why not – after all, it was summer.
I selected my outfit. White blouse, beige jacket and skirt, short. Nice light brown heels, not too high. Respectable enough. No doubt about it, the mid-thigh length skirt showed off my legs dramatically. I looked business-like enough, totally acceptable, but with a definite air of sexiness. Yes, let's see what they think of this. Satisfied, I grabbed my bag and headed off to work.
Soon enough I was passing by the construction site. I had my sunglasses on, which allowed me to see their reactions without putting them off. There they were in their overalls and hard hats. They were working on some kind of steel bar thing, trying to make it fit into some other piece of steel. A saw one guy glance up, but then he looked down again and the iron puzzle. Then he stopped his work and looked up at me again. I caught this out of the corner of my eye – yes, now the guy was checking me out, really checking me out! Once I had passed by them, a let myself smile. That was fun!
It felt good, somehow a bit naughty, but soon I found myself starting analyse what I'd just done. This wasn't normal behaviour for me at all – what, was I turning into some kind of exhibitionist? I had never thought of myself like that before, and in fact I wasn't like that. Yes, I have always liked compliments; I mean, who doesn't? But I have never liked guys I don't know leering at me, looking at me like they want to fuck me; I had always found that offensive – even if a part of me actually did like it, which I had to acknowledge, even if that fact in itself annoyed me – that I did like it, even though it disgusted me.
As usual in my self analysis sessions, I was going round in circles. Maybe I just think too much. All I knew was this internet posting thing had helped me feel good at a time when pretty much nothing else did. But that had served its purpose; now to get on with life.
That was easier said than done. Rick was never far from my mind, and there was always something, even some stupid thing, like a song on radio, a place or landmark I'd pass and then remember the time we'd spent there. There was always something, always something just around the corner, that would remind me.
The days began to drag on. Damn it Rick, why did it have to be this way? Wasn't it good? I thought it was. It wasn't just a sexual thing. There was a real bond, a real communication; we liked the same things: music, TV shows, movies. The more I thought about it, now, the more I thought how irreplaceable in my life he is! And all he can say is I'm not sexual enough!
But I struggled on. I mean, that's just how it is in these situations: you just get by as best you can, and then eventually things change, things do get better. But you have to walk through a kind of fire of sorts to get there. It's that old cliché: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, dying certainly wasn't an option: but there had to be a way to ease the pain, the sheer desolation. I was feeling just so lost.
Maybe I could post some more pictures on the internet site? Maybe that would help – it was the only thing that had made a difference so far, if only as a distraction. Yes, I could, maybe even a little raunchier this time. Really show myself, show myself to all those anonymous guys, and see what they think of me. See how many of them think I'm sexy. Yes.
But no, I couldn't. I couldn't do it again. It was just a one-off – well, twice, but... What if someone recognized me? I hadn't given that too much thought beforehand, but what if someone did? Yes, my face was obscured, but what if someone figured it out? After all, I had no idea who, or how many, men were looking at my pictures on that site. Maybe hundreds, maybe thousands. Maybe even millions. Millions? It had to be possible. It was the World Wide Web, after all. Potentially, anyone anywhere in the world could log onto that site just as easily and as quickly as I could in my own apartment. Maybe millions of men had already seen me. What if someone did recognize me?
What if my employer recognized me? It might well be adequate grounds to terminate my contract. At the least, it would be excruciatingly embarrassing. But then Mr Jameson wouldn't be the kind of guy that would look at that kind of website. But what made me so sure of that? How would I know? How would I know what Jameson did after hours, in private? Just as he would have no idea that his senior legal secretary posted naked pictures of herself on a website after hours. How would he know or suspect that? Unless, of course, he recognized me. As usual, my logical deductions were achieving nothing other than taking me round and round in circles.
But what if others recognized me? Friends, or family – my parents! God, I didn't even want to think about that. What if Mandy recognized me – and if anyone might, it would be her. Actually, that wouldn't bother me too much, I could certainly deal with that. What if Rick recognized me? How would I deal with that? Actually, I wasn't sure about that one. It would be mortifying in one sense, but in another, I actually liked the idea.
What if someone recognized me? Actually, so what? If I thought about it another way, why couldn't I do what ever I wanted to do, so long as it didn't hurt anyone else? Why should anyone else have any say in this? Shouldn't I be able to choose if and when to show my body? Well, yes – the only thing was, it wasn't my choice as to who would be looking look at me. That could be anyone, anyone in the whole wide world, or the World Wide Web, to be precise. Those three little letters we all know so well: www.
And anyone that did recognise me, and then acted upon it, they would be admitting they looked that these kind of websites. How many people would be prepared to do that? I thought about that. Maybe people had already recognized me. Maybe they had, but they were staying silent about it, out of respect, out of not wanting the embarrassment of admitting they looked at such things. Or out of not wanting to make a scene. Or maybe, if they were a male friend or work colleague, they were happy to keep it secret, because they liked it that I had exposed myself – they enjoyed looking at me, secretly enjoying that fact. I thought about it like that, and it almost felt exciting. Like a secret underground sexy society, or something like that.
And yet, in reality, how in the world would anyone recognise me? You couldn't see my face. The only clue would have been seeing my bedroom in the pics. And only Rick had seen that.
No Rachel, I said to myself, think about it. No one will recognise you. WILL recognise me? That means in the future – meaning in the future doing it again. Could I do this again?
I thought about all the comments. How they wanted to fuck me. It felt really good to read them. But others had said I was boring. That hurt, I had to admit. 'Boring' was what I wasn't trying to be, that was part of the point to all this, at least that's what I thought. In truth I didn't really know what to think. I think it's true – I do think too much for my own good sometimes. Sometimes I feel as though it would be just very nice to give my brain a rest, but then that's just me.
'Get a photographer', some had said. I thought about what that meant. A photographer, taking pics of me, looking at me naked. That's a formidable concept. Were I to 'get a photographer', it would mean stripping off my clothes in front of him. Him? Couldn't it be a woman? It could – I could get Mandy to do it. I know she would – she'd think it hilarious, but in a good way. She'd do it, for sure.
But did I want that? I didn't think so. But a guy? Hmm. But who? Who could I get to do this? I thought about those photography places, where they do weddings and portraits and stuff. Professional photographers. I had seen some of these places advertising, offering their services for 'intimate' or 'romantic' portraits of your loved one. Well there was no loved one here. And anyway, the whole idea sounded a bit sordid.
What a minute.
Davros. The young guy in the accounts department at work – he IS a photographer! He takes photos, he's in some kind of photo club. A few weeks ago he was showing his wildlife photos around the office. Apparently he had won some kind of award. Yes, Davros could do it!
