I was working in McDonald's around when I'd just turned eighteen, and there was this co-worker, about twice my age, and he was always staring at me: Gabe Leary. He was a reasonably good-looking guy, tall, thin, blonde-haired and blue-eyed; and apart from his ogling of me, he seemed nice enough. His eyes were always pouring over my tits and ass, which were tightly hugged by my uniform.
One afternoon, when I'd arrived for work and was in the washroom changing into my uniform, I heard the door to the room next door open, the room where we girls put our regular clothes and purses. I assumed it was another girl coming in. I hadn't locked the washroom door, silly me. I was standing in only my purple lace bra and thong, my back to the door.
When I heard it open, I assumed it was a girl and didn't react for several seconds. Then I turned around.
It was him.
His eyes, popping out of his head, were going up and down and all over my body.
He had a broom and dustpan in his hands, his excuse for coming in to clean up.
I put one arm over my bra, though my cleavage was still showing (his eyes were aimed at it), and I put my other hand over my crotch.
My face went red. I grinned and giggled. I was shivering.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said with his mouth as wide open as his eyes, which continued to check me out without apology. "I thought no one was in here. I came to clean up in here." He looked at my face for a second, then his eyes went right back to my cleavage.
"Haven't you seen enough, Leary?" I said, trying to close the door, and so uncovering my underwear so his greedy eyes could study the pretty flower patterns on my bra and thong.
"I can never see enough of you," Leary grunted, pushing the door open. I couldn't come close to matching his strength with my petite body. "Your body...is more beautiful than I imagined it could be."
"I have a boyfriend. I'll tell the boss."
"OK, I'll stop. Sorry, Iris."
"Iris? My name's Betty!"
His eyes were still checking me out. "Sorry, Betty." He finally left.
I locked the door. Then I took a deep breath and sat on the toilet for several minutes, shaking. My heart was racing. I was still blushing.
Creep, I thought; how embarrassing! He got a thorough eyeful.
The funny thing, though, is that I didn't completely mind him, of all people, seeing me. My boyfriend, Phil, never worshipped my body like that. He just used me, and not even for sex, really, but for money, if I had it to give him.
Gabe Leary, on the other hand, always tried to be considerate to me (except for his ogling, of course), to get me to like him. Later that very day, he'd volunteer to get boxes of burger patties or bags of fries out of the freezer for me, or anything to make my work easier. He had a sweet side Phil lacked...he just had to learn to keep his eyes to himself.
A week later, I went to the toilet to pee during my ten-minute break. Again, I forgot to lock the door (What was wrong with me?). As my pee tinkled against the toilet bowl, I sat there absent-minded, my legs wide open and my pink panties around my ankles, as exposed as my skin was, over my grey uniform pants. I reached back to scratch between my shoulder blades, pushing my uniform top up and showing off all my bare skin from just below my bra, all the way down to just above my ankles. I was about 80% naked, my little patch of pubic hair, as brown as my shoulder-length hair, showing, a line of yellow still pouring from between my legs. I wonder if my clit was showing. Probably.
Just as I'd begun scratching, Gabe barged in and saw all of me.
I gasped as I looked up at him, still pawing that itch.
His agape eyes were aiming at my crotch, the pee still coming out.
Not even bothering to cover myself, I used my free hand to try to close the door, though his greater strength was making that impossible. I saw his eyes roaming all over my body, trying (and succeeding) to see as many of my secrets as he could. His eyes looked down at my panties: his agape mouth curled up into a grin.
"First, purple underwear, now pink," he said, leaning against the door while holding a mop in his hands. "You have great taste in colours, Iris-I mean, Betty. Speaking of colours, your pee is golden. Divine." He was audibly sniffing my pee, savouring the stink.
Again, I blushed and giggled, still failing to get the door closed. My uniform shirt was still rolled up to just below my bra, so he could still see all that skin. In my struggle to close the door, I never thought to close my legs.
"Gabe, this is private," I said in a shaky, struggling voice. "Go away!"
"Betty, I worship your body," he said, still sniffing and looking at my arched back, admiring my round hips, then looking at my pubic hair and pee, which finished with a few squirts. "Squirt, squirt. How cute. Even peeing, you're beautiful."
"Leary!" a voice shouted from the outer doorway, which was wide open. It was our manager, Mr. Gibb. "You're fired!"
Gabe turned away with a pout. "Sorry, Betty. I couldn't help myself." As he moved away from the bathroom door, I noticed Gibb smirking and checking me out before I closed it.
**************
Three months later, I quit McDonald's and started working as a dancer in The Casablanca, a strip joint. I didn't want to do it, since I'm so shy about my body; but Phil insisted that I had a good enough body that I could make tons of money in lap dances, and with a little luck, he could quit his hated job. I always give in too easily.
Two weeks into the job, and I was finally getting over my embarrassment at being seen naked by strange men. To make myself look better, Phil had me get a bikini wax, a tan in a tanning salon, and even an anal bleaching.
One night, when I was roaming about the stage for my third song, I was naked from head to toe: the only thing I had on was bright, heavy makeup, including red lipstick. I was facing the mirror on the wall, with my ass to the audience of whistling men, when I saw a man in the reflection coming up to sit at the tip rail, right in the centre. I didn't see his face yet, and I turned around to walk toward him.
It was Gabe Leary.
His eyes and mouth were wide open, exploring my breasts, belly, landing strip pubic hair, legs, and bare feet. I saw those eyes of his hungrily go up and down my body several times.
All I could do was giggle and blush. Trembling, I wanted so badly to put my hands in front of my breasts and crotch, but I couldn't: my job was to show off everything. Allow that ogling pervert to know what all my secret places looked like? It was all so unbearable, but I had to let him see.
He mouthed the words, "Fucking beautiful!"
I rolled my eyes in disgust with myself, but I got on the floor on my back and spread my legs for him. I couldn't believe I was actually choosing to show him my pussy! I squinted my eyes shut, for I couldn't bear to see his reaction to the sight of my clit, labia, and vagina.
After a few seconds, I dared to open my eyes. His chin was resting on the stage, his wide-open eyes studying every millimetre of my cunt. His jaw had dropped open, his lips curled up into a grin, his tongue hanging out. I felt so mortified, I thought I'd go mad.
I couldn't look at his face anymore, so I rolled over and started crawling away from him, with my legs spread out and my ass pushed out in his direction. The mirror reflection wouldn't spare me from having to see his reaction at what I was revealing, though. I'm not sure, but his lips seemed to be mouthing these words: "What a beautiful asshole she has!"
