All characters are eighteen or older.
***
If you've read any of the other "The Birthday Suit Club" series you know how this all started. If not, then here is a brief recap. I was severely burned, including my face, as a child which lead to me becoming very reclusive as a teenager. My sister, Gail, decided that I needed to have more social contacts so she made a bargain with me to have some of her girlfriends from college come over and tell me their exposure stories in exchange for me letting them into my home.
This may not sound like much to you, but if you can imagine what I've endured of people's reactions since the fire, you may be able to appreciate what it takes for a teenage boy to risk rejection from girls.
On my part I agreed with two conditions; one that the lights be kept low to minimize the risk of the girls' reactions, and two that I be allowed to write these stories down. Gail agreed provided I ensured that the girls' identities be concealed.
I record these stories and I try to write them in the girl's own words. When Mrs. Layton (not her real name) arrived we introduced ourselves and she handed me a picture. It was a younger version or herself and a teenage boy standing beside a backyard swimming pool. The background was bushy hillside. Mrs. Layton told me that she was ready to tell about something that had happened to her seventeen years before, but that because of some of the people involved she would have to leave out some of the details.
I told her that whatever she decided to tell me or not was completely up to her. She asked me how old I thought she was in the picture. I told her that she looked to be in her mid-twenties. She told me that she was 33 years old when the picture was taken. Then she asked my how old I though the boy was and I told her he looked about 17. She told me that he was 22, a college graduate and that at the time of the picture he was working for a national law enforcement agency. When I asked which one she declined to tell me the name. She continued, saying that the picture was taken shortly after the story that she was about to tell me.
It seems that at the time this incident occurred she was living in an eastern state with hilly terrain. She had gotten divorced from her first husband around a year before and still hadn't gotten back into the dating scene. One Saturday she was cleaning the house when someone knocked on the front door. She went over and peeping through the peephole saw three men in suits on her front porch. When she opened the door the oldest one flashed a badge and told her that they worked for a national law enforcement agency and that they urgently needed to talk to her. Being the typical law-abiding type she invited them inside.
The agent who had shown her his badge told her that time was critical so he would come right to the point. They had a surveillance team hidden up the ravine behind her house. The team was watching another house that was located on the far side of the ravine. His organization believe that drugs were being shipped through the area by the people in this house. Unfortunately something had alerted the people in that house and they had started searching hillside near his surveillance team's location.
What the agency needed was to distract the searchers before they found the team. Mrs. Layton interrupted her story to tell me that the agents all turned red with embarrassment at this point. What they wanted was for her to provide the distraction the surveillance team needed to make their getaway. When she asked how she was supposed to do that, the senior man, who was obviously mortified to be in this position, said they hoped she would go out by the pool in a bathing suit and thus distract the searchers.
When she hesitated, they pointed out that time was of the essence. She quickly agreed and went to change. Once in the bedroom she decided that in this case less was more and so she put on the bikini she had purchased for a family's trip to Florida when she was seventeen. She hadn't worn it since and had only keep it as a souvenir of the vacation.
When she had it on she saw in the mirror that the suit, which had never had an abundance of material, was even less concealing now that she had developed a slightly more womanly figure. She was about to change to something else when one of the agents cried out for her to hurry. Throwing discretion to the winds she hurried out of the bedroom, across the living room, pass the agents and out the sliding glass doors to the poolside.
