Christine had already made up her mind to give the last resort a try that afternoon. But her plan took a bit of a left turn when she arrived home to the smell of pizza. "Josh?!" she called out as the pleasant odor hit her just inside the door. "Did you order pizza without waiting for me?"
"No," came his voice from the kitchen. "I'm baking it."
"Sweetie!" Nearly a year into their relationship and sometimes he still seemed too good to be true. Christine realized just how right she was about that when she got to the kitchen doorway. There he was, sipping a glass of red wine and holding one out for her. He was dressed, hilarious yet sexy, in his Speedo and wingtips and nothing else.
Christine burst into laughter. After accepting the wine and getting control of herself long enough to sip it, she set the glass down and threw her arms around Josh. "You remembered! God, when did we read that book, anyway? Six months at least."
"I guess," Josh said. "But it just seemed too good an idea I not to do it. Don't you think?"
"Speaking of which..." Christine said with a sly grin.
"No, Christine! Come on."
"I just want you to try it this one time," Christine pleaded. "You won't stand out at all at the festival; you know how bohemian it gets there." Their otherwise-conservative city was famous for its anything-goes Spring Festival, coincidentally due to be held on April Fool's Day that year.
"Geez, Christine, I do this for you..." he gestured up and down to his bizarre outfit, which was inspired by a novel they'd both read months before in which the male narrator commented on how his mistress loved making dinner for him in her underwear and high heels.
"Yes, and it's lovely, Josh! I know, I know, I said I'd like to see him try to do that for her and see how much he liked it, and you said..."
"'Maybe you will see me do it,'" Josh finished. "And I do like it. Kind of a kick, really, knowing you enjoy the view while I'm also doing something special just for you. Maybe that guy's lady did like it. It certainly is great to see how it turns you on, too," he added, grinning through the mild argument.
"Well, Josh, if you
really
want to turn me on..."
"Two more weeks until the festival," Josh grumbled. "Are you going to ask me every day until then, no matter how many times I say no?" He'd already fielded the request numerous times, always in the negative.
Christine took a deep breath. Time to haul out the big guns, all right. "I'll make you a deal, sweetie," she said, putting one leg up on the step-stool by the sink and pulling her pant leg up as far as she could, revealing a few days' worth of stubble. "If you'll do it, I won't shave until the festival."
At long last, she saw his lips curl into a grin and she knew she was winning. "You won't?" he asked.
"Then people will be staring at me at least as much as at you!" she pointed out. "If anyone stares at all, which they probably won't, since it's such an anything-goes crowd. But if they do, you'll be in good company." As he still wasn't quite over the edge, she reminded him, "And don't think I don't remember what hairy legs do to you!"
Josh gazed at Christine's leg, recalling how deliciously taboo it had looked back in January and imagining it in public in the spring. His tiny trunks were already bulging at the thought, Christine noted with pleasure. It would be worth one afternoon of mild humiliation, he concluded. "One condition," he said. "I'll do it if you also don't shave for a week afterward."
"It's a deal!" Christine exclaimed, setting her leg back on the floor and leaning over to give him a victorious squeeze. Privately delighted to not have to worry about shaving for three weeks anyway, she even gave some thought to offering to give it up entirely, like she had for a year or so back in college -- but there was no need to offer him that just yet. Instead, after another sip of wine, she went to the bedroom, where she retrieved two peasant skirts from her closet. "You're going to look so adorable!" she said on her return. "It'll be a little shorter than it should be on you, but so what?" She held them up side by side. "Red or blue?"
Josh didn't even look away from the oven. "Whichever you want, dear," he said, inspecting the pizza. "It's for you, not for me. I'm going to be doing my best to forget I'm wearing it."
"Josh, that's a terrible attitude!" Christine said. "Whatever happened to sticking it to the patriarchy and embracing your individual freedom to wear whatever you like? Besides, you might even find you like it. There's nothing like the feeling of a skirt brushing against your legs when you walk. If men gave it a try, I think they'd all give up on the women-only nonsense." Stepping up close so he couldn't ignore her, she repeated, "Red or blue?"
"Whichever one you don't wear that day," Josh finally said.
"I won't be wearing either of these," Christine said.
She realized a second too late that that answer would give Josh the wrong idea, but it was too late. "Hang on!" Josh said, throwing the potholder down angrily on the stove. "When I said I'd do it, I figured I didn't need to say you'd be wearing a skirt too! What kind of deal is you not shaving if no one can see your legs anyway?"
"Josh! I wouldn't do that to you!" Christine set both skirts down on the kitchen table. "What kind of manipulative jerk do you think I am?" Before he could answer, her attitude softened a bit. Of course the poor dear was nervous. She grinned at him. "I'll wear a short skirt, that's all I meant. Like I said, they'll be looking at me as much as you. Or more."
Josh's anger melted into laughter, and he put his arms around her. "Okay, I'm sorry. It's just..."
"I know, you're nervous. There's no need to be. It's only clothes, Josh. And don't we both always say how much we hate rigid gender roles! Here's a chance for us both to give them the finger in the sweetest way." Pulling back to look him in the eye, she added, "You do want to do it, don't you? I know I've kind of pushed you into it, it's just that I've always had a thing for men in skirts and how often do you get to see that, even here? Imagine if you only saw a woman in one a couple of times a year."
Josh nodded. "Blue," he said.
"Yeah, you would be blue!" Christine said. "So, please? For me?"
"No, I mean the blue skirt," Josh said. "I don't expect to look half as cute in it as you do, but..."
He never got to finish his sentence, because Christine stuck her tongue down his throat in celebration.
It seemed too good to be true: fifteen years at least since that class trip to Washington, DC, where she'd seen a man in a kilt for the first time and it had turned her insides to a raging inferno of desire, Christine had at long last succeeded where she had failed with all her other boyfriends. If she had to tell a little white lie to do it, well, Josh could take a joke. When they got to the festival and saw no other men in skirts, she'd just say it was an April Fool's joke. He'd get over it, especially as long as she held up her end of the bargain and didn't shave her legs. And she was more than willing to do that.
Not wanting to push her luck, Christine was careful never to mention it over the ensuing two weeks. But she hung the blue skirt prominently on Josh's side of the closet, and took every opportunity to flaunt her legs in his presence as they grew wild and furry. It was all the reminder she needed to offer Josh that they had a deal, for Christine knew that while her Josh was a little more conservative and a lot less free-spirited than she was, he was also a man of his word.
Not to mention a sucker for the taboo allure of hairy legs, as she had discovered last winter. Although Christine had been a lackadaisical shaver at best ever since college, she had never found the natural look sexy or unsexy. It just something that was, like the shape of her nose or the size of her earlobes. She enjoyed the way it always seemed to make squares recoil and she had learned to ignore the occasional nasty comment from a strange man, and certainly it served as a pleasant reminder of just how far she'd come from her miserable adolescence in her stuffy East Coast suburb. But going natural had never turned her on particularly.
It had, though, always turned off the guys she had dated before Josh. Christine never was sure why it had ever come as a surprise to any of them given her hippie-esque style and attitude, but it always had proven both unexpected and unwelcome. Since she didn't particularly object to shaving her legs anyway, she had therefore been diligent about doing so for the early months of her relationship with Josh.
