Exposing My Body Online Ch. 03

I greeted the new day feeling a sense of invigouration as the dream replayed through my mind. I thought about what lay ahead for the new day. I was feeling adventurous. I decided to try an experiment. For some reason those construction worker guys bothered me. What bothered me was that they weren't bothered to look at me, to wolf whistle or stare – I mean, when you're a girl, that's what construction workers are supposed to do, isn't it? The experiment was to try to grab their attention. And the only way to do that was to alter my appearance – I mean, it's not as though I was going to walk up and talk to them! A short skirt, a much shorter skirt than I normally would wear to work, that would surely get a response. And why not – after all, it was summer.

I selected my outfit. White blouse, beige jacket and skirt, short. Nice light brown heels, not too high. Respectable enough. No doubt about it, the mid-thigh length skirt showed off my legs dramatically. I looked business-like enough, totally acceptable, but with a definite air of sexiness. Yes, let's see what they think of this. Satisfied, I grabbed my bag and headed off to work.

Soon enough I was passing by the construction site. I had my sunglasses on, which allowed me to see their reactions without putting them off. There they were in their overalls and hard hats. They were working on some kind of steel bar thing, trying to make it fit into some other piece of steel. A saw one guy glance up, but then he looked down again and the iron puzzle. Then he stopped his work and looked up at me again. I caught this out of the corner of my eye – yes, now the guy was checking me out, really checking me out! Once I had passed by them, a let myself smile. That was fun!

It felt good, somehow a bit naughty, but soon I found myself starting analyse what I'd just done. This wasn't normal behaviour for me at all – what, was I turning into some kind of exhibitionist? I had never thought of myself like that before, and in fact I wasn't like that. Yes, I have always liked compliments; I mean, who doesn't? But I have never liked guys I don't know leering at me, looking at me like they want to fuck me; I had always found that offensive – even if a part of me actually did like it, which I had to acknowledge, even if that fact in itself annoyed me – that I did like it, even though it disgusted me.

As usual in my self analysis sessions, I was going round in circles. Maybe I just think too much. All I knew was this internet posting thing had helped me feel good at a time when pretty much nothing else did. But that had served its purpose; now to get on with life.

That was easier said than done. Rick was never far from my mind, and there was always something, even some stupid thing, like a song on radio, a place or landmark I'd pass and then remember the time we'd spent there. There was always something, always something just around the corner, that would remind me.

The days began to drag on. Damn it Rick, why did it have to be this way? Wasn't it good? I thought it was. It wasn't just a sexual thing. There was a real bond, a real communication; we liked the same things: music, TV shows, movies. The more I thought about it, now, the more I thought how irreplaceable in my life he is! And all he can say is I'm not sexual enough!

But I struggled on. I mean, that's just how it is in these situations: you just get by as best you can, and then eventually things change, things do get better. But you have to walk through a kind of fire of sorts to get there. It's that old cliché: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Well, dying certainly wasn't an option: but there had to be a way to ease the pain, the sheer desolation. I was feeling just so lost.

Maybe I could post some more pictures on the internet site? Maybe that would help – it was the only thing that had made a difference so far, if only as a distraction. Yes, I could, maybe even a little raunchier this time. Really show myself, show myself to all those anonymous guys, and see what they think of me. See how many of them think I'm sexy. Yes.

But no, I couldn't. I couldn't do it again. It was just a one-off – well, twice, but... What if someone recognized me? I hadn't given that too much thought beforehand, but what if someone did? Yes, my face was obscured, but what if someone figured it out? After all, I had no idea who, or how many, men were looking at my pictures on that site. Maybe hundreds, maybe thousands. Maybe even millions. Millions? It had to be possible. It was the World Wide Web, after all. Potentially, anyone anywhere in the world could log onto that site just as easily and as quickly as I could in my own apartment. Maybe millions of men had already seen me. What if someone did recognize me?

What if my employer recognized me? It might well be adequate grounds to terminate my contract. At the least, it would be excruciatingly embarrassing. But then Mr Jameson wouldn't be the kind of guy that would look at that kind of website. But what made me so sure of that? How would I know? How would I know what Jameson did after hours, in private? Just as he would have no idea that his senior legal secretary posted naked pictures of herself on a website after hours. How would he know or suspect that? Unless, of course, he recognized me. As usual, my logical deductions were achieving nothing other than taking me round and round in circles.

But what if others recognized me? Friends, or family – my parents! God, I didn't even want to think about that. What if Mandy recognized me – and if anyone might, it would be her. Actually, that wouldn't bother me too much, I could certainly deal with that. What if Rick recognized me? How would I deal with that? Actually, I wasn't sure about that one. It would be mortifying in one sense, but in another, I actually liked the idea.

What if someone recognized me? Actually, so what? If I thought about it another way, why couldn't I do what ever I wanted to do, so long as it didn't hurt anyone else? Why should anyone else have any say in this? Shouldn't I be able to choose if and when to show my body? Well, yes – the only thing was, it wasn't my choice as to who would be looking look at me. That could be anyone, anyone in the whole wide world, or the World Wide Web, to be precise. Those three little letters we all know so well: www.

And anyone that did recognise me, and then acted upon it, they would be admitting they looked that these kind of websites. How many people would be prepared to do that? I thought about that. Maybe people had already recognized me. Maybe they had, but they were staying silent about it, out of respect, out of not wanting the embarrassment of admitting they looked at such things. Or out of not wanting to make a scene. Or maybe, if they were a male friend or work colleague, they were happy to keep it secret, because they liked it that I had exposed myself – they enjoyed looking at me, secretly enjoying that fact. I thought about it like that, and it almost felt exciting. Like a secret underground sexy society, or something like that.

And yet, in reality, how in the world would anyone recognise me? You couldn't see my face. The only clue would have been seeing my bedroom in the pics. And only Rick had seen that.

No Rachel, I said to myself, think about it. No one will recognise you. WILL recognise me? That means in the future – meaning in the future doing it again. Could I do this again?

I thought about all the comments. How they wanted to fuck me. It felt really good to read them. But others had said I was boring. That hurt, I had to admit. 'Boring' was what I wasn't trying to be, that was part of the point to all this, at least that's what I thought. In truth I didn't really know what to think. I think it's true – I do think too much for my own good sometimes. Sometimes I feel as though it would be just very nice to give my brain a rest, but then that's just me.

'Get a photographer', some had said. I thought about what that meant. A photographer, taking pics of me, looking at me naked. That's a formidable concept. Were I to 'get a photographer', it would mean stripping off my clothes in front of him. Him? Couldn't it be a woman? It could – I could get Mandy to do it. I know she would – she'd think it hilarious, but in a good way. She'd do it, for sure.

But did I want that? I didn't think so. But a guy? Hmm. But who? Who could I get to do this? I thought about those photography places, where they do weddings and portraits and stuff. Professional photographers. I had seen some of these places advertising, offering their services for 'intimate' or 'romantic' portraits of your loved one. Well there was no loved one here. And anyway, the whole idea sounded a bit sordid.

What a minute.

Davros. The young guy in the accounts department at work – he IS a photographer! He takes photos, he's in some kind of photo club. A few weeks ago he was showing his wildlife photos around the office. Apparently he had won some kind of award. Yes, Davros could do it!

But, really? I mean, getting a guy at work to take naked pictures of you – and that's if I really even had the guts to do it – wouldn't that be tantamount to showing the whole office? I can just see it now – Monday morning and there he is: 'hey guys, check out these pics of Rachel – she asked me to take naked pics of her!'. No, I might as well get the pics I had already taken and pin them on the office notice board.

But what if he agreed not to show or tell anyone? I could ask him. But could I? It wasn't as though I knew him very well. He did seem like a nice guy, though. He was probably a bit younger than me, not bad looking in a kind of dorky way. He was kind of cute, though his haircut was awful. He had nice thick dark hair but it was cut in a kind of nerdy bowl cut. His parents were from some eastern European country, I heard one of the other girls at work say when he joined the company a few months ago. One of them even said he had a crush on me, but I didn't bother too much with that. I mean, it was probably just gossip, and in any case I had a boyfriend at the time.

I got out of my chair and walked over to the accounts section. There he was at his computer. There was something nice about him; boyish even, but with a fresh, warm quality. He did seem like a nice person. He looked up at me and smiled as I walked past. Yes, there is a warmth to this guy, I thought.

As for asking him to take photos of me, no, I don't think so. And anyway, what was all this about? Really, if I was honest with myself, all this was just a bit fucked up. Letting guys see me was giving me a real thrill, when nothing else was helping ease the anguish I was feeling. But if I was honest, it wasn't really that I wanted guys to look at me and want me. Well, I did, but the point was that in reality, I was just lonely. Rick had dumped me. I wanted to be loved, that's all. But you can't be loved when you're like this. Getting involved with someone else is just not an option – and how can I trust someone with my feelings, with my heart, after what Rick did to me? He said he loved me. A week later he's walking out just so he can get his dick sucked by some young slut!

What I need is fun. Go out with friends, do things, enroll in a course – like that film appreciation course I was looking at the other day. That's what I need.

I need to be active, to have things to do, a range of activities that will fill the void, some of which will allow me to meet new friends. That's what I need. Yes, I will enroll in that movie critics course, and renew my yoga class membership. Maybe even join a bushwalking group. Yes. And now I have got time on my hands to do these things – I am free, a free agent!

But if this is what I need, activities, isn't this internet thing just another 'activity'? Why can't I do the film course, do the yoga classes, meet up with my friends, and also do this? And if I was really honest with myself, what did I really want to do? Did I want to do the film course? Well, yes, sort of. And yoga? Yes, I did want to do that, it really makes you feel physically tuned up afterwards. Did I want to show my naked pics on the net and have guys comment on them, tell me what they would do to me? Yes. I did want it. And did I want someone, a guy, to photograph me, like I was some kind of glamorous model? Yes. Yes I did. And the thought of it made me almost gasp in excitement.

Did I want Davros to do this? Yes. Yes I wanted Davros to take photos of me. Naked. If I was honest with myself, this was exactly what I wanted. The thought of him peering through the lens at me as I shed my clothing for him in private, it was exactly what I wanted. It was a tremendously exciting thought.

But I would need a guarantee from him that he wouldn't show anyone, and that he wouldn't tell anyone. The former I could take care of – just tell him to download the shots straight into my computer. And in a sense, as long as there was no 'evidence' as such, even if he went round the office telling everyone that he'd taken naked pics of me, who would believe him? But I didn't think it would be like that. There was, I thought, something trustworthy about him. There is a gentleness in his face; he isn't the type of guy that would betray you in such a nasty way. I would have to trust my judgment on that.

But how would I approach this? Just go up to him and say, 'hey Davros, can you come over to my place tonight – I want you to take naked pics of me'. Yeah, right.

There would have to be some other reason, some other premise for it. I thought for a while.

Yes. I have it. I will say to him that I heard he is a photographer (which is true) and I was needing to get some portrait shots done for a resume portfolio, and I was wondering whether or not he could help me out? Yes, that would do it! And even better, if I got cold feet, I could simply stop things once he'd taken the resume portraits. Or, if I had enough courage, I could then say to him that I wanted to do some more revealing pics. Yes. Yes, this would work! I sat there at my desk thinking over all this. It felt thrilling.

I was excited, I can't deny it. I could hardly keep still. I got up and walked over to the accounts section. I wasn't going to ask him there and then; I just wanted to take another look at him, just to be sure it was the right thing. Exactly what this would achieve I wasn't sure. I went into the accounts office. He was there, pretty much alone. He was on the phone. He saw me walk past and waved. Yes, he has a nice warm smile. I smiled back and continued, as if I was on some kind of errand or something.

I went to the opposite end of the building and turned around. On my way back, if he was alone, I would approach him. But should I really do this? Oh for God's sake, just do it!

I took a deep breath and walked back through the corridor, into the accounts section. The 'team leader' of the section – God I hated all that corporate speak; why just call him the boss? – was over in the other corner, far enough away. There was pretty much no one else there, except Davros. Good.

I went up to his section.

"Hi Davros, how's it going?" I said, trying to sound nonchalant while my heart was beating so fast I thought it would almost burst.

"Yeah, not bad Rachel. How's the front office? Pretty busy, I guess."

"Yeah."

I paused for a bit. I had to do it – now. I summoned up the courage.

"Hey Davros, I was wondering if I could ask a favour."

He looked up at me, inquisitively. Yes, he is quite boyish.

I reeled off the spiel I'd rehearsed in my mind: could he take pics of me for a resume?

"Yeah, course I could do that," he said, and I felt relieved. "You're not leaving the company, are you?"

No, it's nothing like that."

"That's good – this place would be in trouble if you ever left."

"Thanks Davros."

"OK, well, when do you want to do it? Should we do it here?"

"No, my place would be better. As for when, whenever it suits you."

"Well, I couldn't do it this evening, but I've got half an hour or so free after work tomorrow. I could drop in on the way home tomorrow, if you like."

"Umm, yeah, OK, how about six?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"OK."

And there, it was done. I wrote down my address for him and went back to my desk.

I went home that night feeling quite pleased with myself. Like I had something nice to look forward to. Tomorrow I would be exposing myself, my body, to a man I hardly knew, and he would take photographs. I almost had to pinch myself thinking about what I was about to do: so unlike me, but so exciting!

Later on I took a shower before getting ready for bed. The water running down my body felt good, so soothing, relaxing. I soaped myself all over, looking down my body, over my breasts. Yes, you've got a good body. I lathered myself all over. I was beginning to get half aroused. But then I'd been half aroused for most of the day.

I was looking forward to lying in bed, pulling out the vibrator. Or maybe just a little light finger touching would do. I felt my clitoris, rubbed it with my fingers as the water from the shower cascaded down my body. Hmm, bit prickly down there... I would need to shave. Well, I needed to look good for my photographer! I laughed inside at that, but wow, tomorrow I was going to do it – reveal everything! I thought about what might be to come tomorrow night as I went through the laborious task of shaving my pussy. Damn, there's got to be a better way to do this! Maybe I should think about getting waxed next time.

All that done, I climbed into bed. I lay there on back, no sheets as it was quite a warm night, and started gently rubbing myself. Mmm, nice. No vibrator tonight. I felt the surge of blood, my lips swelling as I pictured in my mind myself standing in front of the camera, undoing my robe as Davros watched, spellbound (I hoped!), as I slipped the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

I must have drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed that night. I dreamed I was at the construction site where I pass every day on the way to work. I was sitting in the bus shelter across the road. I was naked. People were walking past, people on their regular commute to work. No one seemed to notice me. I was looking across the road to the construction site. There I could see the workers. They were not working this morning. They were all up against the wire fence that separated the construction site from the footpath. They had seen me. They were looking at me, calling at me, calling me to come over.

Then I saw that one of them was naked. He was dark skinned, lean, muscular, with thick, dark curly hair. There was a kind of snake tattoo across his abdomen and hip. There was not an ounce of fat on his body: just lean and muscular, a body like steel. His legs were huge, thick, powerfully muscular, and they seemed to connect seamlessly to his hips and abdomen, his iron-like torso. Not an ounce of fat anywhere, just muscles. He was naked except for his work boots. The others were all in their work clothes. His cock was hard. He was standing there, legs slightly apart, gyrating his hips and thrusting forward at me menacingly. He was calling me, beckoning me to come over. He looked magnificent, just so sexy.

I looked at the people walking past. They either hadn't noticed the workmen, or they were ignoring them. I couldn't be sure. He was calling me to come over. I sat there, gazing at the sight of his body, his sexy dance, as he gestured me, with forceful movements of his arms, almost ordering me to come to him. God, what a body! I felt myself swooning; I had never seen a man like this: the complete essence of masculinity, so potent, such strength. It was almost overpowering. He was looking right at me, smiling insolently, as if he knew I would come. And he was right. I couldn't resist!