Threads: A Harry and Barbara Story

"You're being uncharacteristically quiet."

Barbara made the observation as Harry drove through the dark, nearly empty streets. They were on their way home from a "required" social function that neither had wanted to attend, but which Barbara found she had rather enjoyed. Harry hadn't spoken since they had entered the car. He glanced over at his wife, who was looking at him questioningly. He turned his eyes back to the rain-drenched pavement.

"I've spent the past four hours wanting to tear that dress off your body!" he finally growled. His vehemence surprised Barbara. She had no doubt he was telling the truth.

"If you felt that strongly about it, what stopped you?" she asked, then immediately wished she hadn't. She hadn't meant to challenge him, but that's what it sounded like, she realized. Harry chewed her remark over for a while. It wasn't like her to be catty. He decided to answer her straight out.

"We have an agreement, remember?"

They were both silent for a while. Some time ago, when their marriage had been in difficulty, Harry had introduced Barbara to exhibitionism, which she found to her surprise to be remarkably stimulating. For several months Harry had found ways to show her off in public, and she had willingly, even eagerly, allowed him to do so. She had begun to explore this side of herself independently as well. Eventually, though, she had come to feel that things had gone too far. She had set some rules and restrictions which Harry had accepted, however reluctantly. In short, she had put herself in charge, and after that their "adventures" had become less frequent, less exciting, less spontaneous, until finally they had drifted back into the dull routines of everyday life, abandoning any "showing off."

Barbara suddenly realized that she had forgotten how exciting that time had been and how good things between them were during that part of their married life. She could also tell by the vehemence in Harry's voice that he resented the restrictions she had imposed, although he had never mentioned it to her before. All this must have been pent up inside him and growing into a barely contained fury which had only begun to be released with what he had said.

"If you can find a bar open anywhere, Harry, I think I need a drink, please." Harry's face was grim, but he nodded. He drove for several blocks and turned a few times. It was late, but there were a few places still open. Finding a place that was suitable for a couple in semi-formal clothes might take some looking, but he thought he could find at least one. At last he spotted a place that looked clean from the outside, with a few late model cars parked in the adjacent lot. Harry pulled into the lot and cut the engine.

Inside, they paused briefly to look the place over. Two of the tables were occupied by young couples; two older men sat at a third. A few men sat at the bar near the door. There was one barman. The waitress, if there had been one, was nowhere to be seen. The barman could easily handle the orders of the few customers. It was well after midnight; the place probably closed at one, or perhaps two, depending on the trade.

Barbara led Harry to the far end of the bar and arranged herself on the padded stool farthest from the door. Harry took the seat next to her. The stools had low backs, which made them quite comfortable, Harry found. The barman drifted down to their end of the bar and Barbara ordered a Margarita while Harry asked for a single-malt Scotch on the rocks. After their drinks arrived, Harry turned to Barbara.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." He looked Barbara up and down while he was apologizing in a way which belied his words. Barbara was wearing the simplest of little black dresses, a spaghetti-strap cocktail sheath cut straight across the bodice and straight across the hem at the knee. It was just so damned ordinary! It showed nothing, hinted at nothing, of what was underneath, and Barbara had a terrific figure. The dress may have been perfectly suitable for the social evening they had attended, but damn it all!

"You meant what you said," Barbara replied, "you shouldn't apologize for telling the truth."

Harry shrugged. He started to say something, then stopped. He drained his Scotch and signaled the barman for another. Barbara put a determined look on her face and motioned for another drink for herself. She worked diligently at emptying her first drink before the second one arrived, and just managed to do so. Harry gave the barman a twenty and waved him away.

"You just look so great, and that dress does nothing for you..." Harry let his thought drift off. He clenched his fists.

"Maybe you could improve it?" Barbara ventured. Harry stared straight ahead. Barbara hesitated, then slid off her stool. "Why don't you think about it while I go powder my nose."

Harry drained his Scotch and ordered a third. He'd started nursing it when Barbara returned. He stood up to hold the stool while she climbed into it. Barbara was short enough so that she had to lift herself onto the stool rather than to sit down on it. Harry looked at her as she moved to settle herself. Something was different about her, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Would you order me another drink?" Barbara asked. Harry complied. She drained her glass as the barman brought the third Margarita. Harry paid as before and they were left alone. Harry glanced around. No one was paying them any attention.

Harry looked down at Barbara's knees and realized that she had removed her stockings. More than that, there was a small raveling of thread at the hem where the seam of the dress ran up the side of her leg. How did that get there?

He reached down and took the thread between his thumb and forefinger and idly began to turn it around his finger. The thread easily came away from the seam. Barbara spread her knees slightly to keep tension on the seam as it began to part until it became a slit to mid-thigh. Harry reached down and broke the thread, leaving just enough to take hold of again. Barbara smiled happily and crossed her legs, showing a fair amount of inner thigh as she did so.

"Do you think that's an improvement?" she asked. She had that slightly wicked tilt to her smile, and her eyes were dancing.

"It's a fair start," Harry said.

"Have you looked at the painting across the room?" Barbara asked ingenuously. She rotated on the stool toward Harry, kept turning until her back was to the bar, and recrossed her legs. There was a loose thread at the hem of the other seam as well.

Harry knew she was daring him, teasing him, taunting him. And letting him know that she was up for whatever he was. He turned toward her, elaborately using both hands to set the hem and the thread so that anyone who might glance their way would be drawn to the unusual behavior. Barbara leaned her shoulders back against the bar so that her body was nearly reclining.

Harry took the thread between his thumb and finger. This time he pulled the thread straight back, away from the dress, not winding it up but pulling it against his own body. The seam gave way, the opening spreading slowly up her thigh to her hip as he took the measure of the room to see if anyone was watching. The young couple at the front table were trying to pretend they didn't notice, but they obviously were paying close attention and from the movements of their own hands under the table, were getting turned on.

Harry gathered in the loose thread and repeated his motion, pulling the remaining thread straight back across his body while Barbara lay back against the bar without moving. The seam parted inch by inch from her hip to the double seam under her arm. There was nothing between the dress and her lovely pale skin. She had removed everything under the dress when she was in the ladies room.

Harry was very pleased. He pinched off the thread. Barbara sat up and uncrossed her legs, flashing more than thigh as she turned back to him. Harry glanced down the bar. She had lots of attention now.

He pulled the thread from the first seam until it reached the cross-seam under her right arm and pinched it off. Barbara was now wearing two pieces of cloth held up by two micro straps and held together by two thin cross strips under her arms. It was more than obvious that she wore nothing else except her shoes. Barbara crossed her legs and the front piece of cloth fell off to one side, revealing one large, perfect, creamy breast with its erect pink nipple, her nipped in stomach, her curving hip and abdomen and the beautiful golden red curls below and the generous smooth thighs. Harry sighed.

Barbara finished her drink and looked invitingly to Harry. He finished his Scotch. Barbara slid off her stool and stood away from it. Harry stood up and looked at the room. Everyone was watching them now. He turned back to Barbara. She pirouetted, causing the two pieces of cloth to flare away from her body. Harry could hear the gasps of breath from the room. Barbara was smiling a happy, almost childlike smile. Then she stopped turning. The two pieces of her dress settled back along her body.

Harry walked to face her, careful not to block the view from the rest of the other patrons. He kissed her lightly on the forehead.

" Any time you're ready," she said. Harry looked at her quizzically.

"Do it," she said. "Tear it off."

Harry nodded. He placed his hands on her shoulders and moved his fingers down her arms and then back, raising her arms out to her sides and bringing his hands to the two sets of straps, two over and two under her arms, and paused. There wasn't a sound, not a breath. Then he jerked his hands down and the straps gave way and the two pieces of dress fell to the floor and Barbara stood in all her naked beauty, still as a living statue. Time seemed frozen.

Barbara turned around once, very slowly. Her full breasts with engorged nipples pointed proudly above her concave stomach, her hips flared miraculously into her rounded abdomen in front and her gorgeous, dimpled, protusile ass behind. Her full thighs tapered to firm knees and calves and then to absurdly small ankles and tiny feet. Harry was entranced.

Finally the barman found his voice and stammered, "Ah, folks, you can't... I'll have to call the cops, I could lose my license..." At the sound of his voice, everyone began to breathe again. Barbara looked over at him.

"It's all right, we're going. This was all we came in for. Thanks. We'll be leaving now."

She took Harry's arm and walked with him the length of the room, not hurrying, letting everyone get a good look at her nakedness. At the door she turned and waved goodbye. As Harry held the door, she backed through it until she stood next to Harry under the canopy over the entrance. It had begun to rain again. Barbara jumped into Harry's arms.

"Do you mind carrying me to the car? I don't want to get my shoes wet!"

They both laughed uproariously and Harry carried Barbara to the car and placed her tenderly on the front seat. The windows of the bar were full of astonished eyes but Harry and Barbara paid no attention as they held a long, passionate kiss. Then Barbara curled up on the seat under Harry's arm and they drove off into the night.