The Cubicle

Standing on the platform waiting for the subway to take me home, I was in a state of utter bliss. My mind slowly volleyed from the picture of my panties hanging on the railing in the elevator, to the reflection in the conference room window of my naked, writhing, orgasmic body – hotel windows beyond my ghostly form in the glass.

I wasn't worried about the panties. Rather, I was pleased how my miscalculation had turned so favorable. I hadn't known when I hung them there that the same elevator would not return, but now it was thrilling to think of how they would be discovered, or, more specifically, of who would discover them. I doubted anyone would be coming into the office over the weekend, so the chances were that it'd be a sleepy-headed early bird Monday morning who would be rudely awakened. I wasn't sure who the early birds in the building were, since I always arrived when others were already there.

Regardless, my panties would be found, that was certain. But it was impossible for anyone to know whose they were. The only question was whether the naughty little find would be reported. I savored the idea that someone would have such a startling and intimate discovery because of me, and wonder. I debated about whether I hoped the incident would be reported to Antoine; I decided that I did, because then I'd get to enjoy everyone's reactions, all the while playing the innocent one as I helped my boss write a scolding memo to all the employees about proper conduct and decorum in a place of business.

But I had two weeks of reverie and freedom ahead of me. As I sat down in my seat in the near-empty subway car, I could still smell my sweaty, lustful scent from a half hour before. I thought of the pact that I'd made with myself as I got dressed at the office. The idea had flooded over me suddenly, and I accepted it without hesitation.

I had already planned an almost agenda-less vacation, with no particular destinations in mind besides a combination of mountain and beach scenery, and perhaps a city or two. This lack of schedule and commitments accommodated my little pact very well:

Besides my makeup bag, some changes of shoes and sandals and other small accessories like belts and jewelry, I would bring no clothes with me. Nor would I bring any underwear; I was to go without panties and bra at all times. Each day, I would buy something new and sexy to wear to change into that day – and here was the truly exciting part: I would not allow myself to change into those clothes for the first time in the privacy of a dressing room, hotel room, or even my car. It had to be in a public place, either within sight of other people or in a place where I could easily be discovered. The goal wasn't to be seen, but to risk it mightily. If I were seen, it would not be intentional, albeit a thrill.

I knew there were risks involved, like attracting the sort of attention from men who might see this as an invitation to rape me if they saw me; I would have to be extremely careful. I also didn't want to involve children in any way, so I'd have to choose my public changing rooms carefully.

But before I could change into the new outfit, I resolved that I had to be naked first. For instance, I was not allowed to slip on a skirt first before I took a dress off. The goal was to be naked in strange and public places, risky places. Each time I changed, I would leave the previous outfit there. The only thing I planned on buying and keeping was workout clothes, because I wanted to keep up with my exercise, and to give me something to wear to grab breakfast and the like. I also planned on finding a minimal bathing suit or two.

Thinking about these things, I was amazed at how I was still feeling. I wasn't quite aroused, but I felt a sort of relaxed sexual presence, a kind of hum in my body and mind. As the subway car jolted along the tracks, I could feel my braless nipples on the stiff cotton of my white Oxford blouse. I unbuttoned two more buttons, and left them that way for the rest of the ride, glancing down occasionally into my top.

A half hour later, I finished unbuttoning my blouse as I walked up the steps to my apartment. Opening my front door, I saw the big suitcase and other bags I'd packed over the last day or two waiting by the front closet. I stripped naked, and then grabbed the suitcase and dragged it to my bedroom, where I emptied it, putting everything back in its place, and slid the suitcase under the bed where I stored it. My accessories and makeup bags seemed puny waiting by the door.

Before going to bed, I emailed a few friends and my mom to remind them that I was leaving tomorrow, and that I would not be reachable by email, since I would disable it on my phone and iPad so I wouldn't see anything work-related, and that I really preferred not to be called either. I also laid out a pair of worn flip flops, a pair of old running shorts with built-in panties, an old and very modest tank top, and a bra; before going out of town in the morning, a few friends were taking me to breakfast as a send off, so I needed to look the part. Yawning, I realized how tired I was. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Seemingly seconds later, my alarm was blaring. I leapt up and fumbled for the button to turn it off. Catching my breath, I looked at the time and tried to orient myself: 6:30 am. "God, I'm going to be late for work!" I hissed. But then in my mind I saw the reflection of my nakedness in the conference room window, and my panties hanging on the elevator railing, and I remembered – I was on vacation, the first day of the most memorable one I would ever have, I was sure!

I showered, got dressed, letting my hair air dry, and picked up my two little bags as I left my apartment and hurried to my car, a 4-year-old grey Ford Focus. By 7:15, I was sitting down with my friends at a diner not far from my apartment. Of course, the conversation was dominated by probing questions about my trip.

"So c'mon, Lisa, tell us where you're going! You've got to have a plan!" Wayne said.

"I think she's going to see a guy!" Vero said. Her real name is Veronica, but we started calling her Vero several years ago, one day when we were in a silly mood and talking about the shortened versions of names.

Laughing, I said with a knowing look on my face, "No, there's no guy – but maybe there will be before I'm back!"

We all laughed, but Dirk pressed on, "But where are you going?"

I told them again what I'd already told them before, that I was just getting away, that I didn't want an agenda or any appointments. After my experience with David, I just wanted to be alone and footloose for a while – but nothing was wrong. I just wanted to relax and read books, pamper myself and watch silly movies on TV.

Of course, I didn't reveal anything about what else was on my mind.

"Really, I'm fine, guys." I said assuringly. Everyone nodded approvingly and congratulated me, and said they'd love to do the same someday.

Laurie lifted her glass of orange juice in a half-jesting toast, saying with flourish, "Here's to Lisa and her trip! May she watch lots of dumb movies, take lots of long naps, and find a man to have great sex with – but not necessarily in that order!" I blushed and we all laughed as we clinked glasses – Laurie's juice glass, a glass of milk and two coffee cups, and my near-empty glass of water.

We sat and visited for what seemed an eternity. The waitress came by more times than I could count to refill our coffee cups. I didn't really mind the company, since these were all my closest friends. We laughed a lot, and had a great time. It's just that I was anxious to get on the road, to get going with my freedom and reverie. I literally had to restrain myself a few times from abruptly saying I had to leave. It was hard to concentrate as I replayed last night's events in my mind, and anticipated what was to come.

But finally, a few minutes before 10, that funny group thing where everyone seems to know simultaneously that it's time to go, happened. I reached for my check, but Dirk snatched it from me, saying they'd all agreed to pay my bill. Out in the parking lot, we said some lingering, unhurried and happy goodbyes, everyone wishing me a wonderful time. One by one they peeled away, finally leaving only Vero. She gave me a big hug.

"Love you girl!" she said. "Have an awesome time – and be careful! See you when you get back!" As she turned to go, she said over her shoulder, "Can't wait to hear all about it!"

I stood and watched her go, and waved to her as she pulled out of the parking lot. I loved my friends. They were so supportive and caring, very loyal. I felt a twinge of guilt that I was getting deeper into this double life, as if I was somehow betraying them. But I also knew that there was no stopping me. I hopped into my car and started driving in silence, reminiscing about my friends.

After a while, out of town and heading south on the interstate, I neared the exit for the outlet mall. I'd been thinking this would be an excellent place to shop for my first outfit. There were also a few other stores I wanted to see, like Pfaltsgraff, the famous dinnerware brand. I was getting bored with mine, and thought I might be able to find something there. I'm a big fan of pretty dishes, and actually had a few sets already that would pull out when the mood struck. A new set would be fun to have.

I also wanted a new pair of running shoes. My only question was what to do first, clothes, or dishes and shoes? I decided that I needed some time to scout things out, to let my mind catch up with what I was doing. So it would be dishes first, then clothes, then shoes; there was a nice Nike store there.

Of course, what I didn't bargain for was finding the dishes I wanted, much less so quickly. There they were on a big round display in the middle of the store – I spotted the full 8-place dinner setting from halfway across the store, the pattern catching my eye so well. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them! The dinner plates were square, with a beautiful Italian style floral design of pale orange, yellow, rose, shades of blue and light green. The bowls were square, too, and the set came with three serving dishes, and coffee mugs and saucers, and even matching salt and pepper shakers and sugar bowl.

Such a find for me is exciting, and it makes me chatty. The poor sales clerk who helped me must have gone home and told all his friends and family about what a nut he'd sold dishes to that day. I realized as I told him for the third or fourth time how perfect the dishes were, and how well they'd go in my kitchen and dining room, that I was extra chatty because I knew what was coming next. It wasn't apprehension, either. It was excitement.

Not being practical or prudent to carry a full set of dinnerware with me for the rest of vacation, I gave the clerk my information to ship my purchase home, paid, and left the store.

"Okay, Lisa, here we go!" I said to myself, smiling.

I went straight to the Under Armour store to buy some workout clothes. I looked for quite a while, but nothing seemed to strike me as to what I was looking for, which I would know only when I saw it. Then it dawned on me. I was looking through all of the outer layer sports bras and shorts, all of which were tasteful and relatively conservative. What I wanted was something more - or less, rather. I began looking the base layer section, and found what I was looking for, a pair of black 2.5 inch HeatGear microfiber/spandex shorts with a turquoise waist band and no liner, and an unlined microfiber sports bra, turquoise with black trim and accents.

When I tried them on in the dressing room, I was both pleased and breathless. This would be the most daring outfit I'd ever worn, even more than my bikinis through the years. Both the shorts and bra looked almost as if they'd been painted on, barely opaque and showing every curve and valley. In my excited state, my nipples were clearly evident. I quickly changed back into my old clothes and made my purchase before I chickened out.

Carrying my little bag so light that it almost felt empty, I browsed through some stores. I was looking for something decidedly summery, casual and flirtatious, but not obvious. I wanted maintain my innocent look, at least from a distance. Finally, I found a fitted mint green dress with spaghetti straps that flattered my shape, showed a small amount of cleavage, came to mid-thigh, and had a pretty and innocent look.

At the register paying for the dress, it dawned on me what I was to do next: Find a public place to change! In my distraction at the thought, I handed the cashier my library card instead of my credit card.

"Uh, Ma'am, that ain't gonna work," said the gum-chewing teenager, her hair dyed a third black, two-thirds maroon. There may have been some blonde strands in there too, left over, I presumed, from a previous dyeing experiment. She jerked her head to thrust a maroon bang out of her eye as she raised a pierced brow at me. I fumbled for my credit card and traded with her. The rest of the transaction we spent in silence except for the crinkling of the plastic bag she put the dress into; I was deep in thought.

"Ma'am," I heard her say shortly. Snapping back to reality, I grabbed my card and bag from her and left without saying a word. I heard her gum snap behind me.

Walking back to the car, I searched all of the nooks and crannies I could find. I really hadn't thought this part through, I realized. What seemed so possible in my fantasy, seemed absolutely undoable in reality. I decided quickly that I couldn't do this near the stores, for fear of security cameras, even if I could find a relatively isolated spot. The parking lot, simmering in the heat, was full of cars and people, with too many windows that could have eyes behind them.

So I got in my car and drove on, thinking of my options, realizing three miles away that I'd totally forgotten about the running shoes. The old ones would do for now. As for my options regarding a place to change, really almost any commercial area of any size would be impractical to carry this through, because of the number of people and the possibility of electronic surveillance. I didn't want to spend any of my vacation in jail. Driving down the interstate would afford me few options as well, since rest stops were highly monitored, and so were the gas stations along the way. I'd have to get off the big road and find secondary roads where there were more open spaces, but still people and risk.

I took the next exit and looked at my map, and planned a general route southward through a mixture of small towns and rural areas, seeing that I could end up in a more populated area by early evening. Suddenly, my stomach growled – I'd been so engrossed in my shopping and planning, that I'd forgotten all about eating. There was a McDonald's ahead of me on the right, so I pulled through the drive thru and ate my salad in the car.

On my way again, I found myself in beautiful rolling countryside. I rolled down my windows and breathed in the hot air. Passing a farm, I saw tractors mowing hay. The smell was glorious! I passed through a small town, getting caught at both of its traffic lights. About two miles out of town, on the left side of the two-lane road, at a bend in the stream which paralleled the road, was a small pull-off, with one of those white historic signs and a picnic table. I turned off the road onto the gravel parking area. Nothing but woods and farm land was visible in any direction. I turned off the engine. I sat for perhaps a minute, listening to my heart beat inside my chest, and stared into space.

"Yes," I said finally, matter-of-factly. "Yes."

I pulled my new dress out of the bag and got out of the car. I stood there at first, not quite knowing how to proceed. Then, my mind calming and becoming clearer, I walked over to the picnic table, about 30 feet away on a gentle rise above the parking area. I went around the table to the far side, facing the road. I laid the dress on the table in front of me.

"God, Lisa," I said, pleased with myself. I was really going to do this! In a sudden surge of emotion and sexual arousal, my mind and body craved to be naked.

I kicked off my flip flops. Listening for oncoming traffic, and hearing none, I put my thumbs in the waistband of my running shorts and tugged them down as far as I could while still seated, feeling the breeze at the top of my exposed butt. I listened one more time. Only something in the distance.

"Yes!" I said again, and, standing, I pulled down my shorts and quickly stepped out of them. I sat down with a thud, feeling bashful and excited. I could hear the car getting closer. I debated about whether I could get my tank top and bra off and the dress on before it passed by. Being unsure, I panicked for a moment and started to pull off my top, but then, the sound getting even louder, I tugged it back down and crossed my legs, hoping to God that the coming car didn't contain a hungry family out for a picnic at their favorite roadside stop. I put my elbow on the table, chin in hand, hoping to look nonchalant.

The car breezed by. I don't think the driver, who looked like a middle aged man, even glanced my way. Even so, the high I felt at that moment was better than all the joints I'd smoked in high school put together. I felt a wild mixture of turned on, dirty, perverted, very vulnerable, naughty, demeaned, and yet thrilled and desirable and so sexy. About 60 feet away a strange man had sped right by me; I was in plain view, sitting there with not a stitch on below my waist, my bare ass and pussy resting on the wooden bench of the picnic table.

I sat there for a few moments after he passed, breathing fast and shallow, drinking in all of my feelings and emotions. I heard another car in the distance. Time to finish what I'd started!

Now in less of a hurry, and able to enjoy what I was doing, and knowing I had about 30 seconds before the car came by, I pulled off my tank top. Still seated, I looked down at myself, my beige bra all that was covering me. My pubic hair looked sexy between my parted legs, against the backdrop of the well worn, dark red picnic table bench. Now I reached back and released my bra, which I slipped off and tossed on the ground. I had about ten seconds left, I guessed. I stood, very naked, and pulled the dress on over my head as fast as I could. I fumbled with getting one hand through the thin shoulder strap properly, but just as a pickup came into view, the dress was settling into place. A man was asleep on the passenger side, toward me. The driver glanced over as he passed, an arm over the steering wheel.

Hearing the truck fade away, I giggled with delight. This was more fun than I'd ever had! I left my old clothes where they were and walked back to my car. I looked back up at the table to see my bra cast off to one side on the ground, my running shorts next to my flip flops under the table, and my tank top rumpled on top of the table. The new dress felt wonderful on my naked skin underneath. From the car, I got out one of my bags and retrieved a pair of flat, burgundy leather sandals to go with my dress.

In the car and back on the road, I turned up the radio and sang along with abandon. A few hours later, at 7:30, I found a Days Inn on the edge of town and got a room. It had a pool, I noticed, and a small weight room. Next door was a Denny's. Before going up to my room, I crossed the parking lot to get a bite to eat at the restaurant. There were a few weary travelers eating quietly, scattered about the dining room. I asked for a booth so I could be a little more comfortable.

At a table nearby, an older couple ate silently, not looking at one another. I have always wondered about couples like these. Are they bored with one another, or is their silence a sign of total contentment with one another, so much so that verbal communication is unnecessary?