Liza Makes Deals

Outside the bar, Marc and Steve walked me to my car to say good-bye. They had to go back to work.

"Thanks for the most memorable lunch ever, Liza," Steve said as he gave me a peck on the cheek.

"I doubt I'll ever forget it either," I tried to chuckle and act nonchalantly. My mind was still reeling from having exposed myself to him in the bar, and, I have to admit, my pussy was throbbing.

"You and your husband are my best friends. You know that, don't you? We're still friends, right?"

"Yes, of course," I replied and gave him a peck on his cheek for emphasis.

I saw his eyes go to my breasts as I leaned toward him. The lace of my chemise fell away from my nipples as I leaned, affording him the opportunity to peek once more at what he'd seen so well in the bar. I smiled in a way that let him know I caught him.

"But it's permitted, now. Isn't it?" A guilty blush accompanied his argument for absolution.

I looked at my husband, signaling that I would let him answer that. I was actually looking forward to his answer. I needed some clarification of the issue myself. To say that I was confused would be an understatement. All I'd been able to figure out so far was that somehow Steve was entitled to see me naked, because yesterday I'd been nude in the company of those two young men who brought our new furniture. Why I got naked for them was simply payback for accidentally seeing one of them come out of the shower. My debt to them was expanded during lunch just now to include Steve through a baffling train of convoluted logic that left me, well, sitting in a bar with my pussy and breasts exposed. 'Just how far was this debt going to travel?' I wondered. 'Is it paid in full, now? Will my modesty be henceforth safeguarded, or will the debt just keep growing like the expanding universe to anyone who, like Steve, feels he has a right to see me naked because others have. And now that I've shown myself to Steve, does he have the right to see me again?' I waited with bated breath for Marc's answer.

"All you have to do is ask," Marc said casually, as if he were lending a power tool or a golf club.

My breath left me in a rush. My breasts heaved as I drew the next breath heavily. I felt dizzy and leaned against the car. My head was spinning and I thought I heard bells, but it was Marc's cell phone.

"Hi, Sam," he answered the phone. "Good," he said in response to what was said on the other end. "Thanks, we owe you! See you later." He hung up.

My eyes grew wide at the thought that Marc was talking to Sam, no doubt of Sam and Jake fame, the boys who started this whole naked theme. 'Why was he talking to Sam? Were they a part of our lives, now? Oh, my god. He said we'd see him later. What next?' I asked myself.

"That was Sam," Marc said to me. "He and Jake have been running some errands for us today, doing some chores."

"Oh," I stammered.

"Sam's at the apartment, now. He'll still be there when you get home, so don't be surprised and call the cops," Marc laughed.

"What's he doing?" My voice quivered.

"He'll show you when you get there. Steve and I've got to get back to the office. I'll be home around four."

Marc kissed me gently, then opened the car door for me. In a mental fog, I slid behind the wheel as Steve watched my chemise slide to my waist. I knew he could see my pussy, and I started to arrange my hem to cover it, but I didn't. I frankly didn't know what was expected of me, or indeed, what I wanted for myself. I looked up at Marc, saw his reassuring smile, and my head cleared. I understood that smile, and knew it would make me do things I would never do on my own. I drove home with my chemise at my waist, my hand lightly stroking my pussy.

"Sam! Are you here?" I called as I walked through the slightly ajar apartment door.

"Yes, here I am," he replied as he came out of the bedroom carrying a large box.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Didn't Marc tell you?"

"No. He said you'd show me something."

"Yeah, right. Come on in the bedroom."

He set the box down by the front door, then led me to my bedroom. Right away I noticed that the door to the closet was open. I found that interesting, because before Marc left this morning he had attached a note to it warning me not to open it. He hinted that there was some danger within, and based on that I was forced to wear only the chemise which he had laid out for me. All my clothes had been in the closet. It was a huge, walk-in closet complete with drawers and everything. One side was Marc's, and the other side was for my things. Sliding glass doors covered each side; I imagine to safeguard things from dust, or whatever. When I looked in, though, I was startled to see that while Marc's things were hung and arranged neatly, filling up his side, my side was bare. Absolutely bare!

"What's going on here? Where are my things, Sam?" I blurted out.

"In my car. I'm taking them to storage," he replied.

"What? No! You can't take my things. What are you doing? Bring them back, right now!" My eyes began to tear; I was angry, confused, and bewildered.

"Hey, no, you don't understand," Sam said in an assuring tone. "This is a good thing. Didn't Marc tell you? He's getting you all new stuff."

"What? He never said anything. Why is he doing that? I want my old stuff. I like my things. Bring them back, please," I pleaded. "I need them."

"I can't spoil this for Marc. Please don't ask me to do that. He's really excited about this, I know."

"But I just can't understand why..."

Sam put his arm around me and cuddled me, as a parent might do to a disappointed child. I put my face in his neck and whimpered.

"Jake is bringing over some of your new things for you right now," Sam said excitedly, again as one would talk to a child.

"Jake?"

"Yes, he'll be here soon."

"What things?" I ventured to ask.

"Oh, now, I can't tell you that. That's part of the surprise."

I sighed deeply. I didn't know what to say or do. I just stood there in the closet as Sam held me.

"Hey, you know what? That sure is a cute little dress you've got on there." His voice continued to address a child.

I'd forgotten all about my chemise. I'd gotten used to it by now, I suppose. I guess that if I could get used to running around in public in bedroom attire, I could get used to just about anything.

"It's not a dress," I replied with an edge to my voice. "It's a chemise. Sleepwear," I added. "Marc...laid it out for me to wear, today." I couldn't bring myself to say, 'Marc made me wear it,' which crossed my mind. I knew that if Marc were here, he'd simply say he made a request and that it was up to me what I did. I knew there was truth to both ways of looking at it.

"Well, I tell you what. Let's hang it up on your side of the closet, then there will be something there. It will be the first of what will be many pretty things. Okay?"

"What?" was all I managed to squeak.

Sam took a hanger from the rod and held out his hand. My mind took a few moments to sort out just what was going on here, but I got the message. Marc's words, "All you have to do is ask," rang in my ears. The moisture in my eyes began to build, again. Yes, Sam spent several hours with me yesterday while I was naked, and yes, I did rather enjoy it, but this was different. First of all, my husband was there last night, and he wasn't here now. I did it to amuse Marc; he really enjoyed seeing me naked in front of them. It was for him! Secondly, I thought that after last night I would never see Sam again. That was one of the things that made last night the least bit possible. I was like a person on vacation in a foreign country, behaving in a way I would never even consider behaving back home. I couldn't just hand over my last bit of modesty to this young man. I just couldn't!

"It's not as if I haven't seen it before," Sam prodded when he sensed my reluctance. "Marc would want you to, I'm sure."

Those were the words that were the key to everything. I knew he was right, of course. Marc would want me to strip off this chemise in a flash. Yes, in the last few days Marc had become very vocal and demonstrative in his desire to have me naked. It's as if suddenly all his subtle hints and veiled suggestions of years past had finally come together full force in a loud crescendo: Marc wanted me naked! I knew it, but still I couldn't budge.

"Jake and I have been working..."

I stopped listening to his words, though he continued to speak them. I knew he was restating in one form or another the words I heard Marc say on the phone: "We owe you." It dawned on me it was Marc's intention for me to pay our debt to these young men for today's chores. I now understood the debt and the required method of payment. I knew what Marc wanted.

I placed my fingers gently on Sam's lips to indicate he needn't say anymore. 'All right, if I'm again in their debt and this is how I must pay,' I thought to myself, 'I'll show them. I'll show them all that I know how to pay my debts!'

Slowly, ever so slowly, I drew my hem upward, stopping just at my pussy. I don't know whether I did it to tease, or to have a final thought. Sam stepped back so he could see better what I was doing. I watched his face as I began again. My shaved slit came into view and I continued to raise it further. I felt the cool air hit my clitoris at the same time a gentle stream of air could be heard coming from Sam's lungs. I continued the upward motion smoothly past my belly and did not stop. When the hem cleared my nipples I felt the moisture in my loins. I drew the garment over my head and handed it finally to Sam. I shivered slightly. I thought I was going to be strong, defiant in my role as debtor, but I couldn't help but blush. As Sam held the chemise and didn't move to hang it up, his gaze on me burned like a laser. I felt naked, very naked. Involuntarily my left arm crossed my breasts and my right hand covered my pussy. I was thoroughly humiliated standing there before this fully-clothed eighteen-year-old. My body posture was one of shame. I felt degraded. My eyes were as wet as my pussy.

Sam moved at last. He placed the chemise on its hanger and hung it on the rod. He bent down to my feet and unbuckled my shoes. He gently raised one of my feet, then the other to remove the high heels; my cooperation was mindless, robotic. He put them in the shoetree hanging on the wall, then closed the sliding glass door. That's when I noticed something new, something strange. The click I heard as the door closed was that of a lock engaging. Sam had installed locks on the glass doors! My eyes grew as large as saucers. I dropped my breasts and reached for the door. I pushed it, but it would not open. I turned to Marc's side of the closet to find it locked as well.

"What have you done?" I demanded. My left arm returned to my breasts.

"Marc wanted the locks installed. I don't know why, really. Do you?"

I was as dumbfounded as I'd been already many times on this bizarre day. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief.

"Well, I have that last box to carry to my car, then I'm finished with Marc's list. Is there anything you'd like me to do for you? I've got some time..."

He stood there and patiently waited for my response. He seemed not in the least nonplused that a woman was standing before him frantically clutching herself, hiding herself. All I could do was shake my head.

"Say, could I have a beer? I'm really thirsty, come to think of it."

I shook my head up and down slowly, still not finding my voice.

"Great. I'll take that last box out, first."

He left me standing there looking like an idiot. I felt like an idiot and reasoned like one, too. I knew I would have to go to the refrigerator, find some beer, and serve him. I also knew that I would have to talk to him, entertain this guest in my home, in the nude, as he drank. Marc's voice saying, "We owe you" and "All you have to do is ask," went around in my head like an unwanted song.

I don't recall how long he was gone. It couldn't have been long, but for however long it was, I just stood there in the closet, covering myself. Another person might have closed the bedroom door and barricaded herself from prying eyes, but that never even occurred to me. I heard the front door open and close when he returned. I heard the door to the refrigerator open and close. I did not move.

"Liza?" he called from the kitchen. "I got you one, too. You want it?"

When I didn't reply, he came looking for me. He was startled to find me in the exact same position he left me.

"Are you alright?"

I looked at him, but still said nothing. He gently grasped me by an elbow and escorted me from the bedroom. He said a few things, but I wasn't listening. I just tried to walk as gingerly as I could with my hand at my crotch and my arm over my breasts. He made no comment about the way I covered myself.

When we got to the kitchen he helped me up on the stool at the counter. I sat staring at the opened beer before me, unwilling to uncover myself to pick it up. Strangely enough, though, I did want to drink it. Sam was content to ignore my predicament and continued to talk to me, tell me stories. I can't say exactly what was going through my mind, but I suppose I was reliving the events of the day, trying once again to reconcile myself to the idea that I had an obligation to be sitting naked in my kitchen in the middle of the afternoon with a fully-clothed eighteen-year-old boy.

Suddenly, without forethought, I reached for the beer with the arm that had been covering my breasts. I drank hungrily. As the cool liquid drenched my throat, I began to revive. Some of the good feelings I remembered from the previous evening's naked adventure began to fill me. I felt my nipples harden as I felt Sam's eyes on them, and it was okay. I continued to drink.

When I sat the bottle down, it was empty. I continued to hold it, though, as if it were my only grasp on reality. With the hand that had been covering my crotch, I reached over to Sam and laid it gently on his arm.

"Thank you, Sam. I needed that," I said sweetly.

"Yeah, nothing like a good beer," he grinned. "Too bad it doesn't stay with ya long, though. I'll be right back."

He jumped down from the stool and headed for the bathroom. It occurred to me that I, too, needed to use the bathroom. I'd had several beers at lunch and now this one. With all that had been happening, with my mind so occupied with other matters, I guess my brain just couldn't be bothered by the pressure down there. I thought of Ally, and warmth flooded my body. I remembered how she taught me to wait until the very last second, and it occurred to me to try that again. I decided to wait.

"Ah, that's better," Sam announced his return. "Would you like another beer, Liza?"

"Sure, why not?" I smiled broadly at the thought of the added pressure it would cause.

As he was getting the beer, there was a knock at the front door, followed by its opening. Jake hadn't waited to be let in, and entered carrying several beautifully wrapped packages.

"Hi, Liza!" He said as he went past us into the living room to set down the packages on the coffee table. "I've got some really nice things for you."

I jumped down from my stool and scurried to the packages. I picked up one, then another. I tugged at a ribbon.

"Oh, no! You can't open them till Marc gets home," he laughed.

"Oh, please. Just one. Please." I jumped up and down like a five-year-old, feeling my breasts bounce for his visual pleasure.

"This is all you can have for now." Sam handed Jake and me each a beer.

"At least tell me what's inside, then," I begged.

"Nope. I'm under strict orders."

I must have been feeling that beer, because it seemed just the right thing to do to sidle up to him, put my arm around him with my bare breast pressing against his chest, and beg some more.

"How about just the little one? I'll unwrap it carefully and rewrap it after I've had a peek. Marc will never know. Please?"

"Sure, let her do it. Why not?" Sam took my side.

"Well, sure you'd agree with her," Jake said to Sam. "She's been sitting here naked turning you into silly putty." He laughed.

"Well, now I'm naked for you, too," I said. "You should let me do whatever I want. I am, after all, naked. New rule!" I announced. "The naked person gets whatever she wants."

"How about this," Jake countered, "if I let you open it, you have to do whatever we want."

I took a swig from my beer. I had to think about this a minute.

"Tell me what you want, first!" I began negotiations.

"Well, let me think." After a pause and a drink from his bottle, he said, "Last night you didn't really let us get a good look between those beautiful legs of yours. How 'bout you have to sit on the kitchen counter with your legs spread?"

I gasped. He was asking me to do something I had never done even for my husband. The idea that I would be so closely scrutinized down there was, well...if not humiliating, then certainly embarrassing...yet, somehow flattering, maybe even...intriguing.

"Come on, Liza," Sam joined in, "let us have a good look."

"I don't think..." My heart raced. I blushed.

"Yeah, come on, Liza," Jake chimed in. He took the small box and dangled it in front of me: tantalizing me.

"If I did that, it would only be for the big box," I weakened.

"Deal!" Jake shouted. "Up on the counter with you!"

"No, wait a minute. I get to open the box, first."

"How do we know you'll hold up your end of the bargain if we let you open it first?" Sam asked.

"Haven't I always paid my debts?" I challenged.

"All right," he had to agree, "but you have to stay there as long as we say, okay?"

"Within reason, for god's sake," I shot back.

"Deal!" Sam agreed.

I kneeled on the floor next to the coffee table and set about carefully undoing the scotch tape on the largest package. As I worked and the boys watched in silence, I had time to notice the fullness of my bladder. The pressure was becoming really uncomfortable. I pressed my legs together tightly. I concentrated on the task at hand.

Inside the box was an elegant black dress, though short, very short, with spaghetti straps. It was the kind meant for parties and important gatherings. The material was light, as if woven by butterflies. I pressed it against my body, as women do to take the measure of a dress, but Sam and Jake raised such a fuss that I had to remove it quickly. Nothing could come between them and my nakedness, apparently.

"Okay, it's time for the counter, now," Jake said in a jubilant voice.

"I have to rewrap it, first." I stalled.

"No, I'll do that later."

Sam took my elbow again and led me to the kitchen counter. He helped me climb on the stool, then onto the counter. I circled like a dog, looking for just the right spot to sit.

"Put your legs over the edge," Jake instructed. "Move as far forward as you can and spread them wide." He was absolutely gloating.

I noticed right away a problem. I needed the pressure of my thighs to help counteract the pressure of my bladder. Spreading my legs could be dangerous. I wondered if maybe it was time to abandon this game I was playing with myself and go to the bathroom. As I was mulling it over, though, Sam and Jake were prodding, giving instruction, and telling me to hurry up. When I was in position and ready to spread them widely, I closed my eyes, held my breath, and bore down against my bladder with all my might. Beads of sweat formed at my forehead.

"Wider," they chanted.

I found that if I leaned back, pressure was relieved on my bladder a bit, so I did, much to the delight of the boys. The more I leaned back, the greater their view; I supported myself on my elbows. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, and I must admit that I enjoyed their attention.