Claire opened the door and greeted us with a big smile. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she had upped the ante attire-wise. She too was clearly bra-less under a slinky short-sleeved blouse, black in her case. And she, too, had left some buttons undone, which, combined with the blouse's scoop neck, left little to the imagination. In fact, as she leaned over to double-kiss both of us on the cheek I got a glimpse of the top of an areola peeking out.
Her black skirt was pretty short and had small slits at the side, exposing the lace at the top of her thigh-high stockings. It was also pretty tight - after accepting the bottles of Burgundy I'd brought over for the meal (a Meursault 1er cru and a village Morey St Denis) she turned and went back inside and it was pretty clear that she wasn't wearing knickers.
Not wanting to be outdone, Rachel undid another button on her blouse as we entered the house. But then, with the door shut safely behind us and a glass of some pretty classy Champagne in our hands, Claire upped the ante again.
"Is it okay if I...?" she asked, her fingers poised over the buttons on her blouse. I looked at Rachel, who was smiling and nodding at Claire. "Of course," she said.
Claire smiled and began to undo the buttons. When she was done, she left the blouse on, but now it hid her breasts only partially and sporadically, providing regular tantalising glimpses of cleavage, sideboob and even the occasional nipple as we all stood in the kitchen, nibbling canapes, sipping Champagne and making conversation.
"You have such beautiful skin," Rachel said, reaching out and lightly stroking Claire's upper arm.
"Oh, thank you. I really have to work at it. As you may have noticed, I like to wear low-cut tops," Claire replied, pointedly looking in my direction and smiling, "so before I leave the house, I slather my arms and chest in a moisturiser with sunblock in it."
Pretty soon, our dinner was ready and we all sat down around Claire's little dining table. The food was exquisite - a delicious sea bass starter followed by some melt-in the-mouth duck confit - and my wine matched nicely. Claire proved to be a lively, well-informed conversationalist and we covered a lot of ground, from universal basic income and the plight of the Aral Sea to sustainable drainage systems and her recent holiday to Spain.
As we started on dessert - a perfectly made tarte tatin, partnered with a delicious dessert wine from the Loire - Claire filled us in on how she ended up in the street. "I had been in a relationship with this guy for quite a while," she began. "We mostly got on well with each other, living together in a flat in London, but when the pandemic hit and we went into the first lockdown, the cracks started to show... and then to widen. We started off bickering a bit - about stupid stuff to do with chores and what TV show we were going to watch - but it slowly started to escalate into full-blown rows. And where our sex life had been pretty good before - nothing special, but good enough - the tension between us started to send that south as well.
"I wasn't all that happy in my job either - the office had some pretty toxic people in it," she continued. "So when the relationship started to fall apart, I figured that it might be time for a bit of a life change. The company I was working for has an office not far from here, so I applied for a transfer and when the lockdowns finally ended and you could start viewing houses again, I came down, found this place pretty quickly and here we are."
After we'd finished eating, Claire and I cleared up the plates, and then we all took what was left of the wine into the front room. Rachel and I sat on the sofa and Claire sat down in an armchair (I was amused to note that she had clearly thought ahead and draped fleece blankets over the furniture).
Well, I say "sat", but that does Claire a great disservice. What she actually did was something akin to curling into the chair like a cat. She then stretched her neck, slowly tilting her head right back and lightly rubbing her throat with her left hand. Her hand slowly descended until it was cupping her right breast, rolling the nipple between finger and thumb. Her eyes were closed, her head still tilted back; she looked so feline, so contented, so ridiculously sexy. Slowly, she uncurled, brought her head back down, her eyes open, looking at Rachel, her hands now together, resting on her thigh.
"Rachel, I hope you don't mind me asking, and I've been struggling with a way of asking this delicately, but I'm really curious so I'm just going to ask. What's the deal with your exhibitionism?" Claire asked.
Rachel took a mouthful of wine, swallowed and started to speak. "Well, to be honest, I've never really explored it. I just had this one experience when I was at uni." She then recounted the story that she had told me about fucking her boyfriend in front of his mate. While she spoke, Claire occasionally brought a hand up to lightly rub one of her breasts.
"Wow, that's an awesome story," Claire said when Rachel had finished. "I guess I've gone a little further down that road than you." She paused. "I hope this won't make me seem like too much of a weirdo..."
She took a sip of wine, swallowed, took a deep breath. "It started when I was at uni, too. I was sharing a flat with a couple of friends. My room faced onto the street and I wasn't very good at keeping my curtains shut - I just liked having natural light in my room during the day and was too lazy to shut them at night. I seemed to be horny all the time in those days." She snorted out a laugh. "Well, I don't think anything's really changed there.
"Anyway, I had a day every week when I didn't have any lectures, so I would often sleep in. When I woke up, I would lie there for a while and then just kick all the covers off and masturbate on my bed. One day, after I'd finished, I noticed my binoculars sitting on my desk - I was into birdwatching back then.
"Seeing them there, this idea popped into my head - why not use them to have a look at the flats on the other side of the road. It was quite a wide road and the flats were set back, not like here, so you couldn't really see much through the windows with the naked eye. I grabbed the binocs and started to scan the windows.
"I wasn't really expecting, or even hoping, to catch anyone up to anything - not at that time of the day - but as I was looking from window to window... Oh my god - I found myself looking right at a guy looking right back at me through a pair of binocs! We just held our gaze for a few moments and then I watched him casually lower the binoculars, put them on a table and walk off into another room. Something about the way he did it made me feel like he did it a lot. It was pretty obvious that he'd been watching me masturbate on a regular basis.
"At first, I was mortified - some creepy perv had been invading my privacy - but then I could feel my pussy starting to get wet and my nipples starting to get hard. For some reason I couldn't put my finger on, so to speak, it really turned me on knowing that he had been watching me play with myself - so much so that I jumped straight back into bed and frigged myself to another orgasm. And I'm not gonna lie - it was a big one!"
As Claire talked, she continued to absently play with her tits. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Rachel had undone the rest of the buttons on her blouse and was doing the same. More importantly, she reached out and began to rub my cock, which I suspect had been hard since before we even left our place, through my trousers, occasionally giving it a squeeze or running her fingernails lightly along its length.
Claire continued. "I started going out with a guy from uni not long after that and I always made sure to leave the curtains open and the lights on when we had sex. He was obsessed with my tits and one night, when we were catching the train home, I let him open my shirt and play with them. We were sat in the corner of the carriage and there weren't many other people in there with us. Most of them were facing the other way or had their noses stuck in their newspapers, but at one point I looked up and there, in the reflection in the glass of the luggage rack, I could see this guy looking right at me. It was pretty obvious he knew exactly what we were doing, but just to make sure, I opened my shirt a little wider and pushed my tits up with my hands so he got a proper view.
"By the time we got to our stop, I was so fucking turned on. I couldn't even wait until we got back to my place. I convinced my boyfriend to fuck me in the park on the way home - not that he needed much convincing. So we're going at it when this older guy walks past with his dog. We weren't doing a very good job of hiding what we were up to and sure enough, the guy stopped right near us. There was just enough light from a streetlamp for me to see him pull his cock out and start stroking it. I came so hard right there and then.
"So, ever since then, I've been finding little ways to inject a bit of exhibitionism into my life - wearing low-cut tops without a bra underneath; going out in short skirts without knickers on; letting guys I'm seeing feel me up in public places; masturbating with the lights on and the curtains open. I even spent some time working as a camgirl. The money was good and at first it was a real rush getting myself off on camera, knowing that there were loads of horny guys getting themselves off watching me, but after a while, man, just that constant horrible misogyny, you know, it just totally ground me down and I stopped."
