For Want of a Mask

Chapter One: The Sign

If Angela had known the sign in the entrance of Rosa's Beauty Salon was serious, she would have never left her mask at home.

"Not one more step!" snapped the masked hairdresser, scowling with her eyebrows and gesticulating. "Read the sign!"

Angela turned her head in the direction of the hairdresser's frantic fingers. She'd seen the sign before, walking past the salon, and chuckled internally at it. It read,

"You are welcome to enter without a mask, but first you must remove all of your clothes."

Angela had woken up early that morning, put on her exercise gear, and taken a light jog to the strip mall to get her hair trimmed. As the local COVID-19 mask mandate having been lifted a few months ago, she had left her mask at home. She was dressed in a short tank top and leggings, without a scarf or bandanna that could serve as a makeshift mask. She carried only her phone, house-key and a few notes to pay for the trim.

Angela read the sign again, looked back at the hairdresser and tossed her head back in exaggerated laughter. "Haha, that's so funny! You really had me for a moment there."

The hairdresser's mask creased as her scowl deepened. "It's not a joke. See for yourself." She gestured towards a chair in the corner of the salon, where her colleague, who appeared to be wearing two masks, was cutting a blonde woman's hair. Although the chair was angled away from Angela, she could see a bare shoulder above it, and the backs of two bare calves.

Angela's eyes widened in shock, and she quickly looked away to spare the woman's dignity. She turned to leave the salon, but the hairdresser she'd been talking too was now standing between her and the exit door, which had been shut. Adrenaline spiked in her veins.

"You've already exposed us by coming in here," the hairdresser said. "You might as well get it over with. Lucky for you, it's too early for anyone to be around, and there are no other appointments this morning."

Angela bit her lip. The hairdresser's glare hardened. "Have to teach you anti-maskers a lesson. We'll give you back your clothes afterwards."

"Do you have a back room or...?" Angela couldn't believe she was considering this. But she knew she wouldn't be able to get another booking before Rachel's wedding, and she couldn't turn up there with this rat's nest of split ends on her head.

"No," said the hairdresser. "Don't be shy, we're all girls here."

Angela glanced at the other customer's chair in the corner. From this angle, she could see the lady's naked side. Confirmed: they weren't joking. At least she wouldn't be alone.

Grimacing, Angela bent down to untie her running shoes. The hairdresser nodded in approval. Once the laces were loose, Angela pulled the shoes off, and then took her phone and house-key out of her right sock, before removing those as well, stuffing them into her shoes. The floor was cool against her bare feet. But now she had to start undressing for real.

Angela pulled off her tank top first, exposing her stomach and sports bra. For a moment, she imagined she was in a hot yoga studio, and would not be removing anything else. But the hairdresser raised an expectant eyebrow.

The leggings were next. As the stretchy fabric slid down her smooth legs, she knew she was really stripping. Once they were on the ground, she stepped out of them, and the hairdresser took that moment to gather them up with her top and shoes. For a brief moment, she stood in her bra and panties, feeling cold and exposed, hoping against hope that the hairdresser would relent. This was naked enough, surely?

Sharon was the name on the hairdresser's tag, she noticed. Sharon tapped her foot expectantly, and gestured towards the blonde customer. Angela side-eyed her, noting her bare chest, slightly smaller than Angela's own.

"All of it," said Sharon.

Angela could deny what was happening to her before, and pretend she was just going barefoot, or going for a swim, but not anymore. She took a deep breath, reached back, and undid the clasp on her bra. Then, before she could dwell on what she'd done, she hooked both thumbs into the sides of her panties and yanked them down.

Her bra fell to the floor, where it lay in front of her discarded panties for an instant before Sharon scooped them both up. Angela cringed, pushing her thighs together and covering her C-cup breasts with both arms.

"Looks like you need a trim downstairs as well," Sharon muttered. Angela's face reddened at the sight of black pubic curls poking out from between her milky thighs. "Extra charge for that."

"J-just the head will be fine," Angela said. Her voice quavered, but it sounded stronger than she felt inside. Right now, she needed all the cover she could get.

"Alright ma'am, right this way." Sharon said, leading Angela to the chair beside the other naked customer.

"Hi," she said to the blonde lady, who seemed strangely calm.

"Hey there," the blonde lady replied, smiling broadly and looking Angela directly in the eyes. "You have awesome boobs."

Angela blushed and looked away. What kind of person compliments a stranger's breasts? A moment passed, and Angela felt self-conscious about leaving the statement hanging. "Thanks," she said, and then, desperate to return the sentiment, "...you too?"

"These old things?" the lady replied incredulously, looking down. "I wish they could jiggle like yours."

Angela flushed even redder, and despite herself, moved her torso so that her breasts indeed jiggled. The blonde lady made a sound of approval, and Angela immediately wrapped her arms around her chest.

By this time, Sharon the hairdresser had reappeared, wearing an extra mask, with a cart of hairdressing supplies in tow. She asked Angela a few quick questions about how she wanted her hair, and set to work. Angela had originally been planning to get a shoulder-length cut, but changed her mind at the last minute. Her hair currently fell an inch or so below her boobs, and she didn't want it too much shorter. They were drawing too much attention as it was.

Usually, hairdressers placed a sheet over their customers to protect their clothes, but the salon had apparently decided this was unnecessary for naked bodies. As Sharon cut her hair, Angela stared at the mirror in front of her. The woman next to her was an elegant, classical beauty, blonde and blue-eyed, with an aquiline nose and a haughty, proud cast to her features. She was rail thin, with pert breasts and visible ribs. She gave the impression of a model or a Roman empress.

Angela herself had a round face with big brown eyes and dimples that appeared when she smiled, although she wasn't doing that now. Her hair was long, black and wavy. Her body was soft, with the previously remarked on "awesome boobs", which were perfectly round and, at a C-cup, just large enough to feel the effects of gravity. They were topped with pale areolas and small, pink nipples.

Her hips were wide, her butt was ample and firm, and her dark, curly pubic hair was only lightly trimmed. She was shorter than average and had a naturally light complexion. Having been inside a lot lately, her skin was milky white all over, without noticeable tan lines. She was twenty-five.

A small part of Angela's her brain, in a voice she didn't quite want to acknowledge, told her that she looked extremely hot right now. Her training and diet had been paying off.

The blonde woman's hairdresser presented a mirror for her to inspect her new, short hairstyle with. The blonde woman approved, and got up to leave. "Good luck," she said to Angela, squeezing her upper arm. This woman was a bit too familiar. And what did she mean by that?

Angela watched the woman in the mirror, as she walked with her hairdresser to the payment counter, acting completely casual, as if she wasn't naked in public. The blonde woman tapped on her phone to pay and waited patiently for the transaction to go through. Then the hairdresser handed her a bundle of clothes. She gathered them in the crook of her elbow, thanked her hairdresser, spun around on her heels, and walked out of the salon, still naked, clothes under her arm.

"Crazy woman," said Sharon, once the customer was out of sight. "Couldn't wait to strip down. You reacted far more normally."

Angela sighed. "How many customers have you had under this... policy?"

"More since the mandate ended," Sharon said curtly. "This virus is still here, but people want to go around exposing themselves."

Her haircut was finished, and Sharon held up a mirror for Angela to inspect her work. Cruel and unusual health policies aside, this was a great salon, and Sharon had done an amazing job on Angela's hair, taking it from rat's nest to gorgeous, flowing tresses in less than an hour. She nodded her head in approval of the work, hair bouncing beautifully.

Angela got up from the chair, and Sharon took a duster to her body, back and front, swiftly removing any stray hairs. The duster's bristles tickled her bare skin. The contact felt a bit intrusive, but Sharon did it so quickly that Angela had no opportunity to protest.

"Are you sure you don't want that downstairs trim?"

Angela shook her head, jerking her hands in front of her bush.

"Now you get your clothes back," Sharon said, leading her to the cash register.

Angela glanced out of the salon door, noting that the strip mall was still empty. It was thankfully still very early on a Saturday morning, and most of the neighbourhood had clearly decided to sleep in. She arranged her hair so that it fell over her breasts, held her phone behind her butt, and inched awkwardly to the cash register, knees bent low.

Sharon told her the amount, and she retrieved it from inside her cellphone case, where she was also now forced to put her house-key. Sharon slowly counted the notes, rang her up, and then, finally, reached under the counter to retrieve her clothes.

Angela cast anxious glances out of the salon door as Sharon continued to rummage under the counter. She was taking longer than seemed necessary, and panic was setting in for Angela. If she could get her clothes now, she would put them on, and then this whole incident would be behind her. Apart from the two hairdressers and strange blonde lady, nobody would have seen her, and she could get on with her day and never think about this again. Except that she would definitely remember to bring a mask next time she came for a hair appointment here.

"Ah! Here we are!" Sharon said after an eternity. She poked her head up and dumped a pair of running shoes on the counter-top.

Angela stared at her shoes. Her socks were scrunched up inside them, just as she had left them. But the rest of her clothes were conspicuously absent. "What about the rest?" she asked.

Sharon's eyes widened momentarily, and then she shouted to her colleague. "Where are the lady's clothes?"

Sharon's colleague then said something that made Angela's heart sink. "I gave the only set of clothes behind there to the last woman."

Angela stared daggers at Sharon's colleague, and then at Sharon. Both of them shrugged. "That lady," Sharon said, "she was naked when she came in, wasn't she?"

Sharon's colleague slapped her forehead. "Oh yes, that's right! I totally forgot about that. Whoops!"

Sharon and her colleague exchanged amused laughter, as if the mistake they made was nothing serious. Which it wasn't, for them.

"What am I supposed to do now?" asked Angela, sinking into a fetal position.

"Maybe you can catch her if you hurry," said Sharon. "Not nice of that lady to take things that didn't belong to her."

"Catch her?" Angela exclaimed, sinking deeper into her fetal position. "I'm naked!"

"These are running shoes, yes?" Sharon asked, tossing the shoes in front of Angela. "Better get running!"

Angela looked from Sharon to her colleague, her eyes big and tearful. Neither of them showed any sympathy on their masked countenances. "Time is ticking!" Sharon said, tapping her watch.

"Can't I at least have a sheet, or something to cover myself?"

"No, we need our sheets for customers who follow the rules."

Angela huffed, slumped onto the floor, and started putting on her socks. She briefly considered using them to cover her intimate parts, but there was no practical way to make that work. Besides, she would need somewhere to put her phone.

Feeling like she was in some kind of surreal dream, Angela pulled on her socks and shoes, and placed her phone into her right sock. She stood up, dusted hair cuttings off her bare bottom, and took a suicidal step forward, towards the door of the salon.

Panic gripped her. She was about to be naked in public, for real. She froze up, unable to continue.

"Come on lady, we need to close the salon for our break," said Sharon, who was now pushing her towards to the door by her shoulder blade. Angela whimpered, but didn't resist the push, and soon all three women were standing outside, in the long, exposed corridor of the strip mall.

Sharon flipped a "Back in 5 minutes" sign around and pulled the salon door shut. Then she and her colleague waved goodbye to Angela and disappeared around a corner.

Angela stood plastered to the door of the salon, her ass pushed up against the glass, one arm over her boobs and the other covering her pussy. She glanced left and right, across the thankfully still deserted strip mall corridor. There was no sign of the blonde woman, and the parking lot was empty. Sharon's facetious suggestion, of streaking through the mall to find the clothes thief, seemed more absurd by the second. And what if the blonde lady refused to give her clothes back? Then where would she be? No, Angela needed a better plan. She needed help from a friend.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Ride

A sign pointing to the bathrooms hung on the ceiling to Angela's right. She took a deep breath, and sprinted towards it, then turned down the side corridor that led towards the gent's and lady's. She burst into an empty lady's room and hid in a stall.

Angela sat down on the toilet seat, trying not to think about the germs it must be breeding, and caught her breath. For the first time since she had taken off her underwear in the middle of the salon, she felt safe from the eyes of the world. She still couldn't believe she'd actually done that. But she'd had no choice, and now she had to deal with her situation as it was.

After taking a moment to collect herself, Angela looked at the toilet paper dispenser. Empty. Frowning, she got up and switched to the next stall. No luck. And the next. Also empty. The universe, or perhaps more accurately the mall cleaning staff, had denied her even a flimsy makeshift toilet paper bikini.

The hand-dryers by the sinks were, of course, hot-air blowers rather than paper towel dispensers. Angela screamed internally, and then made peace. Still naked, nothing lost, nothing gained. Okay, next stage of the plan. Call Rachel, her best friend.

Angela pulled her phone out of her sock, opened her contacts app, and then had second thoughts. Rachel's wedding was a week from now, and she was incredibly busy with preparations. If she even answered her phone, Angela had no right or desire to lay the stress of this stupid predicament on her. Rachel had enough to deal with already.

Angela scrolled through her contact list. She would call Tammy, another friend, though one she knew less well. Tammy at least lived near the mall, and could come quickly. She would ask her to bring some clothes, meet her in this bathroom, and then drive her home. Tammy would do that for her, how could she not? She would come quickly, pass the clothes over the top of the stall, and then Angela would get dressed and put this whole mess behind her.

Angela tapped on Tammy's name and then tapped call. The phone began to dial.

"Hi Angela!" Tammy said, picking up on the second ring. "What's up?"

Angela was delighted to hear Tammy's sweet, bubbly voice. "Hey Tammy, I need to ask you a favor."

"Sure, anything," Tammy replied. "Well, not anything anything! Like I won't help you bury a dead body, or commit tax fraud, or carry out an assassination conspiracy, or anything like that! But whatever I can do for you that isn't that!"

"Okay, sure," Angela said, forcing a small laugh into her voice. Tammy was a bit strange, and Angela wished it had been a good time to call Rachel instead.

"Listen, this is going to sound weird, but I need you to bring a change of clothes for me to the bathroom at the strip mall by your house. The one with Rosa's Beauty Salon."

"Say no more, that's no problem! I'll be there in a jiffy!" Tammy hung up the phone before Angela could respond. But no matter, she was going to bring clothes. And maybe it was better that Angela didn't have to give her a whole long explanation about what had led her into this situation. She'd have Tammy pass the clothes over the stall door, get dressed, and exit the bathroom cool and confident. She could even tell Tammy that she was wearing something underneath that had a big spill on it. At worst, Tammy would think she was a bit vain, not a crazy streaker.

Angela pumped the air, triumphant. Now all she had to do was wait.

After a couple of minutes, her phone buzzed. It was Tammy. She must be here already, with the clothes. Probably wanted to know which bathroom Angela was in... did this mall have more than one?

"Hello," Angela said, picking up.

"Hey Ang, listen, I'm so so so sorry, but something's come up and I've had to change plans. I still have an outfit for you, that's no problem, we're about the same size I think so I just took out one of mine, but something came up and I can't come to the mall right now. But don't worry, I'm calling a ride for you to come over, told him to stop right by Rosa's, he should be there um, right now, I think, the license number is..."

Angela's heart sank as she listened to Tammy speak at her usual warp speed, unable to get a word in. After rattling off the license number, she said a quick goodbye and hung up. One word from Tammy's shpiel stuck in Angela's mind: the pronoun "he".

So far, Angela had only been exposed to women, which was embarrassing, but being seen naked by a man was a whole different story. Beyond being way more embarrassing, it could be downright dangerous. But rideshare drivers were professionals. She would likely be more mortified than in danger. And anyway, didn't she know that even if a woman walked down the street naked, she still wasn't asking for it? Well, she was about to do just that.

A horn honked outside the bathroom. More than likely, that was her ride. Could she do it? Go out naked and hop into a car with a strange man? What other options did she have? She didn't have any other friends who lived this close by, and she couldn't spend the rest of her life in this filthy bathroom stall. And Tammy was expecting her.

Angela felt a strange courage building inside her, a steel resolve and in some way, perhaps, excitement. She undid the lock and pushed open the door, catching the sight of her naked torso in the mirror. Despite herself, she smiled and winked. Whatever else happened, she was about to make some rideshare driver's day.

A pink streak shot out of the lady's room and towards the Toyota parked just in front of it. Angela glanced to confirm the number plate, yanked the back door handle and tumbled into the back seat of the car, covering herself as best she could. "Hi," she said sheepishly. Her courage had evaporated.

The driver was a gangly, bespectacled blond guy around Angela's age, maybe a bit younger. His eyes looked about ready to pop out of their sockets. "A-Angela?" he asked.

"Yeah," Angela said, putting on a weak smile. "In the flesh."

"And how!" said the driver. "Is this a dare?"

Angela briefly considered how to respond. "Yeah, sure," she said. "It's a dare. I, uh, lost a bet."