I saw the tiny brass panel adjacent to the ostentatious display my firm uses to advertise itself. I'd never seen it there before and all morning as I went about my work as Company Director I couldn't help but want to find out more. Curiosity about what the acronym meant was eating me up inside. I could not understand why. It was unusual to see full stops between each letter, but surely not so strange as to make me obsessive about knowing what the letters meant.
My concentration was completely shot by this. As my colleague spoke, so my eyes watched his mouth opening and closing but my mind was asking, 'does it mean Noted Upmarket Digital Electronics?' After all, this was Silicon Valley and we were all meant to be computer geeks. Or could it have been Never Undersold for Design and Engineering? Maybe there were silent letters in the acronym like and, for, the, or to?
I'd worked in the company for five years. Everyone called me 'Miss Prissy' behind my back. I'd heard them at the coffee machines. I didn't know why. I always dressed respectably in fitted jacket, white blouse, pencil skirt two inches below the knee, best quality panties, garter belt and stockings, well-fitting bra that kept my good sized breasts under solid control, and black leather shoes of the highest quality. I never wore a high heel, being nearly six feet tall anyway. I kept my long blonde hair in a practical and tight bun as I'd been taught to do at finishing school and I always spoke well, having a crisp and clear English accent. I never deviated from this uniform at work, seeing no need to confuse my business things with my private ones.
I'd come over with my late father when he saw the opportunity in computers back in the early 80's. But why prissy? Yes, I did not have a sex life, swear in public, join in dirty jokes on the shop floor or anything like that but underneath I was a red-blooded woman of thirty-five. I could not understand why they couldn't see that. Ok, nobody had asked me out in many years and at work it was as if I was androgynous, but prissy? No, I wanted to live life, if there was the chance for it. I just had never had that opportunity since Daddy died.
By lunchtime I'd exhausted all the acronyms for N.U.D.E. that I could think of. Daddy had had me schooled at the best Catholic establishments in England and then Switzerland, but no recall of my extensive mental dictionary could come up with a suitable explanation. And besides, it couldn't be anything dirty, could it? Surely that would not be allowed on a plaque in the centre of a business district?
By lunchtime it was eating me up totally. I had to go find out.
I went downstairs via my personal exit, feeling more and more excited by the adventure as the glass tube descended to street level. I turned left out of the pneumatic door and walked into the little lobby that was the entrance to N.U.D.E.
A very pretty receptionist greeted me, smiling sweetly and said, "Ah, welcome madam, you must be Dominic's 1 o'clock. Please wait here and I will page him. There are some relevant magazines on the rack over there and please take your jacket off and hang it on the rail. You won't need that for a while."
She giggled as she said this last bit and had spoken so fast that I had no chance to correct her, and now felt in typical English style it would be improper to do so. What should I do? Well, I guessed I could wait and explain the mistake to this Dominic person. So, I unbuttoned my jacket, placed it on a hook, straightening it out of course so it hung properly and then sat in one of the sumptuous armchairs that were placed opposite the receptionist. I picked up a magazine to read but was too shocked and, I admit, mesmerised.
"I'm Dominique," she said jauntily. "I know it can sound confusing but Dominic is my husband and set up this therapy centre. He has freed so many souls from their shackles of repression..."
I was hearing her, but it was what I was seeing that was shocking me. The reception desk was high, with a wooden top. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, you might think. It was the lower part that was unusual. There was a glass panel that curved round. It was frosted bar a two-foot wide section that exposed from Dominique's waist to her calves. I couldn't take my eyes off what I could see.
The folds of her sex were glistening with juice. Dominique had a gold ring piercing her clitoral hood and her shaven labia were plump and full, unmistakeably aroused. There was a creamy white deposit at the lower end, dripping from her vagina. How did I know all this? Because she was sitting with her legs wide apart! Should I tell her? Well, I thought I should but every time I went to speak she said something else...
"Many women and some men have been cured of their reticence about being naked, or helped to celebrate their exhibitionism. If Dominic had not found me I would have stayed the suppressed young thing that sat in an accountancy department, dressed like a nun and never said boo to a goose!"
She laughed again and I found myself laughing with her, starting to think that her description could have been me. As a child I used to go into my parent's bedroom stark naked and bounce around on their bed. I'd done it for years as an innocent child but when I was becoming an adult my father had stopped me. I could not understand why. I felt rejected. When I was 18 and drunk I remembered these pranks, stripped off, ran into their room and did it as a dare. He thrashed me just as he had done when I was a child for other bad behaviour. I had great big stripes on my bottom for days. I felt so guilty too because when he did that I got a funny but very pleasurable sensation in my 'front bottom' from it rubbing against something hard between his legs and I went all flushed and dizzy. He told me it was wrong. It wasn't until I was 19 years old I discovered that I had had an orgasm. How naïve I had been about what was going on and about my body.
"Yes," I said, at last getting a word in edgeways though never letting my eyes shift from staring at her beautiful sex. I did not for one moment find it wrong to admire this woman's private - or in this case not so private - parts. "I was always taught nudity was fine but then whipped for doing it. I've stayed well covered ever since."
"You were whipped?" She asked, her fingers sliding down over her shaven pubis to rest over her clitoris. "Were you naked when it happened?"
"Yes," I said simply, though as I spoke so a tingling began between my thighs. I felt the first hint of my skin flushing. Her index finger was seeking the pink bud below the gold ring. I felt naughty, like I had as a child. I continued speaking. "Yes, I used to..."
I told her the detail of going in to my parent's room.
"How developed were you at that time?" she asked, her finger now sliding between her labia, opening them slightly, the juice flowing and slicking her digits.
"I had developed pubic hair and my breasts grew incredibly quickly," I replied, not aware that I had moved my hand to hold one of them gently as if to illustrate my point. I continued. "So many at school were envious of me, but at the time I just didn't make any connections between these changes and how stern and protective my parents became. You know, mummy once spanked me so hard on my naked bottom for talking to a boy at the garden gate? She said I was showing too much flesh. I was only in my swimsuit that she had bought me! So then I was soundly hit for wearing something she had sanctioned. I was so confused. Still am."
"Well, that is why you are here honey, to get over those things." She said this with such sweet sincerity, though her breathing was more rapid and I could see her fingers delving deeper into her open labia. I was talking to someone clearly masturbating in front of me and I was enjoying it, now no longer shocked! I wanted to turn her on, so continued my tales...
"One day when I was 19 Daddy took me to the river. I sat in my dress on the side, but it was such a hot day and I wanted to swim. He told me I could, but I had not got my costume. I felt my body become even hotter, thinking back to those times when I had stripped and they had spanked or whipped me. I felt, you know," and I whispered it, "wet, down there."
"Oh, yeeesss!" she exclaimed breathlessly, her fingers moving faster and her thighs wider apart. I felt the naughtiness returning and my simple white panties flood with my juice. I opened my legs slightly, wanting to expose myself to the air. Or was it to her? I was not sure. Nor did I care at this point. "Carry on," she urged.
"Well, I just stripped off! I pulled off my dress, unclipped my bra and slipped out of my panties. It was so hot I did not care that I was naked in front of my father. I wanted to cool down in that horrendous heat and besides, he had seen me naked before so what did it matter? Well, that was my rationale, though secretly I wanted a spanking too!"
It was my turn to giggle. This was the first time I'd admitted two things to anyone else. First, I had wanted to be naked. I loved to expose myself. Second, I enjoyed being spanked or whipped, because I got off on it. Now I had a third turn on, by talking about it I could get other people off too and I was sexually hungry through watching Dominique masturbating openly in front of me. I did not think for a moment there was anything wrong in this being another woman.
"I dived into that water and left my father open-mouthed on the river bank. When I came up for air he was sitting there, his hands covering his crotch. You know, for all my schooling I was so naïve about what men had between their legs and what that thingy did! So I called him to come join me."
"What happened?" Dominique asked, her breathing ragged, as the juice spread as she pleasured her sex and scraped her nails over her inner thighs. It was such a turn-on that I now had my legs as wide open as my pencil skirt would allow. I was scared of someone coming in, but then thrilled by it as well, just as I had been at the river when I risked being seen by hunters in the forest.
"He hesitated, but then I implored him to join me. Well, what a sight! I'd never seen one of those thingies get angry, as my Mom called it, later. He was huge and stiff, though once he had stripped off and dived in the cold of the river soon made it shrink." I was laughing, remembering how his face changed from lustful pleasure to a grimace in just a few seconds. "When I dived to look closer on the pretext of swimming around, his winkle was just that, shrimp size. I made a big mistake."
"What?" She asked, now using as few words as possible I noticed, clearly struggling to hold off her orgasm as she heard my story. I was determined to tease her by extending it as much as I could. I realised I could be quite controlling and was enjoying this. My panties were soaking!
"Take..them..off," she panted, clearly noticing my state. She smiled weakly, her fingers working furiously at her clitoris.
I did! In the lobby of a therapist whom I did not know, in front of a receptionist I had only just met but was now recounting my tales of exhibitionism, spanking and incest. This was bizarre but no more than the things I had done in my teenage years and suppressed as a business woman. I sat there, closing my legs again, but pantiless. It felt sinful but good.
"Mmmm." I replied, savouring the freedom and now aware of my nakedness beneath the prim skirt. Yes, I was outwardly prissy I realised. Then I remembered the story...
"I told Daddy that he didn't have a very large thingy."
"Why don't you call it what it is, darling?" she panted. "It's a cock, a dick, a prick but not a thingy!"
"Ok, that is what I called it then. Yes, it was a cock and a very nice one too, but I mocked him. He was so angry! He lifted me up out of the water and dragged me to the bank. I was screaming and shouting at him, but noticing his cock was getting bigger and bigger and bigger as he pulled me nude onto a big boulder. Daddy was always strong, working out daily, so I was no match for him. I hadn't noticed him pick up a branch with lots of twigs covered in masses of leaves."
Dominique's fingers were deep in her. She was leaning back in her chair, almost lost in her masturbation, but still urging me to continue. Her other hand had released a beautiful right breast, completely unfettered by a bra, and whose nipple was so hard and long, pierced twice by crossing gold bars. She was moaning softly. My legs had opened as if involuntarily and my skirt had risen up my thighs, exposing my wet and long inner labia. I wanted her to see. I wanted her to know I was aroused not just by the story but by her. I wanted her, if truth be known. There, I have stated it. I wanted her. This was my fourth realisation.
"He turned me across his lap, beating me severely with the branch. I felt my body go from cold against him, the water still cooling me, to hot. No not just hot, on fire. But the heat was within me. My lower body..."
"Your cunt!" she corrected.
"Yes, my cunt was on fire, desiring the pleasure of the beating and the warmth of my naked father and his ever-so-hard cock that pressed against me right against my clitoris. He must have been aching badly, trying to control his manly desires..."
"Manly desires," she said, mocking me with a fake English accent but said by a woman who was panting and clearly only seconds from a screaming orgasm. "You mean he wanted to fuck rigid his little daughter."
"Well, not so little by this time. I was a 36DD, 22 inch waist and 35 hip, with long legs that men said they wanted to lick from toes to waist, though I'm sure they really wanted to say my cunt," I said, feeling hungry for my fingers on that area that had been so neglected for years. I took the plunge literally, sinking my index finger between my pussy lips. I was so wet I met no resistance. On the contrary things had opened up like a flower.
"Oh yeeeessss, fuck yourself as you talk," Dominique said, now gritting her teeth as she tried to stop her orgasm happening too quickly.
"Thank you," I heard myself say, as if accepting a sandwich in a restaurant! Finishing school, if it had done sex lessons, would have probably had us practicing our manners after being forced to suck a man's cock and thanking the man for use of his prick. Old habits die hard, but new ones such as frigging myself in front of another woman were surprisingly easy to acquire. I wanted nothing better than to please her by doing this. I had two inside me as I continued and felt I could take more.
"Well, he did not fuck me, but I brought me off just with the tip of his cock brushing against me. At the same time, as I came and it was the noisiest I think I have ever done, so he exploded with sperm..."
"Spunk or cum," she interrupted.
"..Yes, cum, onto my belly and pussy hairs. He was embarrassed after that and dived straight back into the water, telling me to as well so that the cold killed any spare, er, spunk. I didn't want to. I was fascinated by the creamy cum on me and the warm feeling that had spread all through my arse and cunt area from the beating and the orgasms. Dominique, I tell you," I said, struggling to keep composure as I felt a huge wave of pleasure threatening to engulf me, "I was so happy and didn't care it was my Daddy. In fact, I was pleased it was him. I could trust that cock, paradoxically. Yes, it was tantamount to incest but I could trust him. Oh, darling I am going to have to..."
She screamed. And I mean screamed. Not a quiet orgasm. No one that could have shattered glass it was so intense.
And I screamed too! I couldn't help it. Miss Prissy was writhing and wriggling and shoving her fingers as high into her pussy as possible. Dominique was punishing her nipples with one hand and her fingers were also far up her cunt. She looked beautiful in the throws of her orgasms. Yes, like me she not only had one but went on to several more. I wanted to crawl over and lick at her pussy, to push my fingers in her. The fourth admission was now the thing I most wanted to do. I instinctively knew that was what I desired. And I told her.
"I so want to fuck and lick you."
"After your session," she struggled to say as yet another wave of her personal tsunami overcame her.
Then the door to the office room opened and a tall man, dark skinned and dressed in a white coat came out. I tried to cover up but it is hard to do quickly when fingers are pushed deep into one's cunt.
"Hello," he said, as if addressing anybody in a surgery, not a 35 year old woman who was now blushing scarlet and felt stupid and dirty for even doing this and forgetting he was there. "You must be my 1 o'clock?"
"Well, y..." I trailed off, interrupted by a buzz on the outer intercom. Dominique must have locked the outer door.
"Mrs Eleanor Fraser here, I have an appointment at 13.00 hrs with Dr Dominic powers?"
Dominique looked at me. I laughed. Soon we were all laughing.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I only really came here to find out what the initials mean on your very unusual plaque."
Mrs Fraser buzzed again and in came a petite and extremely pretty woman in a pure white dress. She seemed to be wearing no underwear as I could see the dark circles of her nipples and I could swear the triangle below was hair not panties.
"Eleanor," Dominic said, greeting her warmly and placing a hand swiftly under her dress. "I see you have obeyed your therapist. Good girl."
I was stunned and turned on too.
"Miss, er, I don't know your name," he said, turning to me, "Has just had a therapy session with my wife. She was asking what the initials on the door mean and I was just about to tell her."
"No," I found myself saying. "No, don't tell me. I want to spend some more time guessing but here is my card." I handed one to Dominique, inhaling her strong sexual bouquet as her hands met mine. "I need to get back to work now but please arrange an appointment via my PA and I can learn more. Lovely to meet you all and I look forward to my treatments."
I was smiling as I left.
It was only when I got back up to my office that I realised I'd left my knickers behind.I didn't care. I didn't want to wear any, just like Mrs Fraser.
So what did N.U.D.E. mean? I cleared my diary for two hours every day for the next four weeks. I intended to investigate thoroughly.