The Brookhaven Book Club - Pt. 02

This is the second installment of a four-part series revolving around The Brookhaven Book Club, a group of six ladies who meet monthly to discuss books, drink wine, and talk, i.e., gossip. One of the members decides the ladies might enjoy some daring adventures, getting naked or partially so, and completing a challenge that could allow them to be seen. They all agree to do this and each member fills out four cards describing challenges, the cards are put together and shuffled. Each member draws a card and has four weeks to complete the challenge, documenting what they've done along the way. At the next meeting, each will share what they've done.

This installment covers the adventures of two of the women--Cecily and Gloria.

I hope you enjoy this and the future installments. Rating and commenting are appreciated.

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CHALLENGE #2 - Cecily

Cecily had that "fatal" card tucked in her purse. Even though she was nicely buzzed by the wine she had consumed, she was still Cecily, and what was on the card had her trembling. She kept telling herself that she had agreed to do whatever the card said but couldn't imagine herself actually getting ... naked, or at least topless, and letting others see her that way, perhaps even men.

At home, she sat on the couch, staring at her purse, looking lonely as it sat on the chair across the room from her. Her brain was telling her she had to read it again, but her trembling body wasn't moving to get it done. She decided there were two things she needed to do before she looked at the card that was telling her what her challenge would be. First, she'd go to that website the ladies had discovered, Literotica it was called, and she'd read one or two stories from the Exhibitionism and Voyeur category. After reading how happy and excited the women were when they exposed their nakedness to others, she'd search for pictures that would echo the stories. Hopefully, that would heat her blood enough that she'd be ready to do what was on the card.

It took her an hour to find and read the two stories that had the female main characters exposed and excited, one having very descriptive sex with her boyfriend, who had been watching her get naked, along with several of his friends. When she went to the pictures, she noted that all of the females were smiling as others looked at their breasts and that other part too. She tried to put herself in each picture, only partially successful. Still, she needed to read and try to re-digest what she'd be doing.

Determined to do it, she went to her purse, removed the card, and stretched out on the couch to read. She admired the neat writing, wondering which of the other five had written it. She'd try to check on that in the future, but now, she read.

She was to go to Brighton, a town about 40 miles away, and there she was to go to the Daughters of Jezebel Club. With Jezebel in the name, she was suspicious, so she interrupted her reading long enough to go to her computer to check. She found that it was usually called "The Daughters of Jezebel Strip Club." Her breath caught in her throat as she reread the name, a chill running down her spine. She'd be doing a strip act of some kind, she was sure. In front of a large audience as well, mostly men.

She could back out of her challenge, but that meant she'd have to resign from the book club. A moment's thought and a deep breath steeled her. Despite her timid nature, she had been taught to keep her word, and she would do it, no matter how she felt about it. She continued reading.

She was to sign up for the amateur night at the club. If she thought it would help, she should go early and have a couple of drinks to help her relax. She was to mingle and talk to people. Before the strip show was to begin, there'd be an hour with the dance floor open. Then, when the time came, she was to perform her striptease dance, topless at least. More than topless was up to her. She was allowed to wear a mask since so many people would see her, perhaps someone who'd recognize her. Still, it was Brighton, forty miles away.

She paused her reading to reread. "... since so many people would see her." She wondered how many that might be. As she pondered that, she was surprised when she decided that one, or ten, or one hundred didn't matter. Being seen was being seen.

They had agreed that pictures had to be made to document what each had done. She wasn't sure how that could be accomplished. She wondered, though. What would Mitch think? She'd have to tell him eventually. If she told him now, before it happened, she wondered what his reaction would be. He often embarrassed her by telling her she was a babe, even though, when she was in public, it never showed. He'd be home soon, and she'd know the answer to the important question.

"At least topless, huh?" Mitch asked, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Yeah, at least."

He eyed her a bit suspiciously. He'd known Cecily for eight years, and they'd been married for four. He'd found her timidity fascinating, her lack of confidence a challenge, and when he'd finally talked her into going swimming and seen her in a very conservative one-piece suit, he was amazed at what he saw. It was that day he began telling her she was a babe, always to her crimson cheeks. But she was, and when they married, and he saw her naked the first time, he had no words for the vision before his eyes, "babe" being totally inadequate. He thought she was spectacular and perfectly proportioned.

Cecily watched her husband and recognized the way he was looking at her. She wasn't a mind-reader, but Mitch often unconsciously revealed what he was thinking. Although still fully dressed, she felt naked as he eyed her. She waited anxiously for him to voice his thoughts.

"Can you do it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's not if I do it. I have to do it. The others are going to."

"You sure?"

"They all agreed and drew a card."

"So you don't know what they're going to be doing?"

"We each filled out four cards, put them together, and drew one."

"How could you fill out four of them?"

Red cheeks from Cecily.

"Holy crap, has my sweet and demure wife been watching porn?"

"And reading it," she added, proud of herself for saying it.

"You're serious, aren't you."

"Serious ... and a little terrified as well," Cecily admitted.

"Want me to add to it?"

"Oh, God, yes. I might as well know now."

"If you're just topless, you're going to hear the crowd yelling for you to take it off."

Cecily cringed.

"I guess I knew that."

"You might get by with a tiny thong," he said, hoping to assure her.

She was trying to picture herself in a "tiny thong," but her brain was rebelling.

"Or, you'd be a major hit with no thong."

When Mitch said that, her breathing accelerated so much she was afraid she'd hyperventilate.

"I think nudity is permitted there, but no one is supposed to touch you. Guys will be giving you money, and they'll want to stick it somewhere."

Cecily gasped.

Mitch was smiling and thinking.

"If you have the thong, you can lift the little string around your waist, and they can put the money there.

She was trying to digest "lift the little string" and had trouble doing it. And he had said "if" you have the thong. They'd be close enough to put money there, and she'd be .... And money?

"Money?" she questioned.

"Oh, I guess you might not know about that. Yeah, you'll get money. Guys come up to the stage and, well,,,, He paused. "We can let you wear one of those fluffy garters like you wore at our wedding. They can put the money there too."

Cecily remembered the garter and the wedding where Mitch had lifted her dress, and she had been mortified, sure everyone had seen her upper leg and panties, and she had turned bright red, as she so often did. Now he was suggesting she wear a garter again, and she would lift it away from her leg, and a man, a strange man, would put money under it.

Mitch smiled at her once again.

"Cecily, seriously now. Are you committed to doing this?"

"I may have a heart attack or stroke, but yes, I'm going to do it. I just have to do it before our next meeting. I'll be ready."

"Okay, then. I'll go with you and video it. I have that tiny camera that I'll put in my hat or something."

Cecily watched several more videos and watched each more than once. She practiced, watching herself in a mirror, nearly appalled at what she was seeing. It was the opposite of the Cecily she had been for as long as she could remember. What she did appreciate was how she was improving and looking more and more like the ladies in the videos. She stumbled across a story that nearly echoed her own, the main character being shy and timid, as Cecily had always been, but finding that stripping and dancing in front of a group was thrilling and as exciting as anything she'd ever done.

On trips to the grocery or the mall, she worked to imagine herself walking along naked with everyone watching her. Even thinking that made her heart pound. To help create the mood, she was braless and commando, but only she knew that. She debated about wearing a tight T-shirt but hadn't done it so far, despite how mild that was compared to what she would be doing at the club. Although the club was in Brighton, she wondered if any of the people she was passing would be there to see her.

On her last grocery shopping trip before her performance at the club, Cecily wore a thin and slightly transparent blouse--no bra, of course, but her pale complexion and sandy hair were accompanied by relatively pale areola and nipple. Nothing could be seen through the blouse, although you wouldn't have known that from her demeanor. But, she'd done it.

Cecily had allowed two amateur nights at the Daughters of Jezebel Strip Club to pass while she practiced, but the time had come at last, and she was preparing herself for the evening that lay ahead. She had gathered her courage and gone to Victoria's Secret, telling the sweet young thing that took care of her that she wanted the tiniest thong they had. Of course, when the girl gave her a knowing smile, she turned bright red, but she went home with what looked like two rubber bands and a bandaid.

The club was a little different than some strip clubs in that there was a light meal, an hour of socializing, drinking, and dancing, and then the show. When she had signed up, Cecily learned she'd be the second to perform. She had finally decided that was good, although she had thought that being first and getting it over with might be good.

She wore the lacy black front-closure bra she had picked out when she bought her thong. A short, at least for her, black skirt and a flimsy bright red blouse nearly completed her outfit. Finishing up, she slid the garter to mid-thigh on her left leg and stepped into her black heels. Taking a deep breath, she stuffed her mask into her purse. It was time ... and she was ready.

"Ready," she said to Mitch as she came into the family room."

"Holy shit, let's fuck," he said, jumping up and racing toward her.

"Mitch, don't," Cecily squealed as Mitch gave her a hug.

"About your last chance to back out," he said.

"Part of me would like to. It's so different. But I've been getting myself ready, and I've gotten curious about how well I can do."

He kissed her. "Let's go, then."

At the club, they sat at a table near the side so Cecily would be able to sneak out. Mitch ate the food provided--she barely nibbled. They danced together and, in the club's tradition, other men were constantly cutting in, and she probably danced with ten men before it was time for the show to begin. Looking around, she could see at least twice as many men as women, so the cutting in made sense.

Getting a big smile and a thumbs-up from Mitch, Cecily slipped out the door and headed backstage. She found four other nervous women already there. The manager was there also, filling everybody in with procedures and how things would be done. As it turned out, all five were first-timers, which could make things very interesting. They were reminded of the order they'd be appearing, and Cecily took a moment to appraise the others.

The lady going first appeared to be at least forty years old and admitted that her husband had been after her to do something like this since they were married, and she'd finally relented, just to shut him up. She hadn't planned much about what she'd be doing on stage, and that was what was making her so nervous. She laughed, saying she might just go out there, take her clothes off, and return to this room.

The other three were much younger, college students probably. They were doing it for the thrill of having others see them naked, of displaying their young bodies, and having men ogle them. One was very slender, a second was slightly to the chunky side, and a third had huge breasts but a very unattractive face. Despite her natural reservations, Cecily had to admit that she was probably the best "total package" of the five. She repeated it over and over in her brain, hoping it would help her perform and not freeze when she went onstage.

"Are you guys old enough to be doing this?" Cecily asked with a chuckle.

"I'm twenty-one," the slender one replied.

"Twenty," Ms. chunky said.

"Me too," answered the one with big boobs.

Suddenly she was aware of music playing, the manager out the door and onstage, warming up the audience, filling them in on the performers, and finally calling for number one to come out. The slightly older lady--Cecily had learned that her name was Sandra--appeared, the bright spotlight shining directly on her. There were small holes about eye-size cut in the back wall so that people in the room could watch the performer currently out there.

Dancer number one was moving to the music, awkwardly at best, and had her top off, displaying a plain white bra and a pair of small belly rolls of fat. When she dropped her skirt, she revealed a pair of plain white granny panties. It was easy to see that she was doing this just to please her husband. She undid her bra and tossed it aside, then the same with the panties, revealing some very baggy boobs and a thick, brown muff. Two or three turns, and she gathered up her clothing and was back in the room.

"I hope he's happy now," she grumbled, then looked at the others and smiled. "You young kids have fun. I'm going home."

Cecily was next. She scrambled to get the mask from her purse and carefully placed it over her face, tying the strings behind her head. She took a deep, trembling breath and opened the door, walking slowly to the center of the stage, swinging her hips as she'd seen on the videos.

"Hey, I danced with you earlier," she heard a male voice call out.

"Me, too."

"I did, too," a third voice called.

Remembering something she'd seen on the videos, she blew a kiss in each of the three directions, drawing a murmur from the crowd.

Until she was midway through her teens, she had taken dancing lessons and had enjoyed moving to the music, letting her body carry her along. Never wanting to dance in public, she had stopped the lessons but never forgot what she'd learned. She prayed those lessons would carry her through today.

She began dancing, moving gracefully to the music, her heart pounding as she heard encouraging exclamations from the crowd, barely making out words like "babe" and "beautiful." Others thought she was beautiful, and she still had on all of her clothing. She knew she needed to fix that, and she began unbuttoning the sheer red blouse. When the last button was undone, she turned her back to the crowd and dropped her arms. A shrug caused it to drop to the floor. She turned once more, smiling.

"Okay, beautiful, keep going," someone called.

She hooked a toe in the blouse and raised her leg, causing the black skirt to ride up both her legs, nearly exposing the tiny thong.

More cheers and yells from the crowd as she tossed the blouse to the back of the stage. More dancing, her body undulating back and forth as she had seen on the videos. Some spinning, arms above her head, she finally stopped with her back to the crowd. She was going to do it, had to do it, and was wondering what reaction she'd get from ...

She unfastened the little hook on the front of the bra, and the two sides separated. Grasping both sides, she swung them out as far to the side as they'd go, exposing her bare breasts to the back wall. She stood that way for long seconds.

"Let us see'um."

"Yeah, Babe. Turn around."

She did turn around, closing the bra as she did, a teasing smile on her face. She was already amazed at the things she was doing, some from what she had seen, but others coming from somewhere inside her, a place she hadn't known existed. Looking around, she saw Mitch about halfway back in the crowd, his hat on his head. Poppy and Alina and Gloria and Annette and Lisbet will be seeing this video. Her smile broadened. They wouldn't believe it.

But the crowd was calling to her, and she was ready to respond, her hands holding the bra closed. Suddenly she spread them wide for just an instant and closed them again to whoops and yells from the crowd. She did it a second and third time. Mitch had said to her more than once, "Honey, your tits are perfect." She was going to see what others thought.

Cecily turned her back to the crowd once more and tossed the bra on top of the blouse. "Yeahs" and "okays" rang out from the crowd. She began her dance, spinning as she went, her breasts lifting as she spun until she stopped suddenly at the front of the stage, hands on knees, and shook them back and forth.

The noise was nearly deafening, she thought, until one man stood, his voice booming out over all the others.

"Honey, where did you get those things? They're fabulous."

A chorus of "yeahs" and "okays" followed, and three men came forward, money in their hands. She tugged on the waistband of her skirt, leaving space for the men to stash the money. As they did it, their faces were just inches from her breast. When one turned his head to get a closeup, she could feel his breath on her skin. All of these things were firsts for her. She was sure Mitch had breathed on her breasts, but it hadn't invaded her consciousness. Today, she was very aware of it. But there was more to come.

She had already decided which charity would receive the money that would be stuffed into her clothing ... or garter, and she was hoping there would be a lot of it. She was sure the money-making part of what she was doing still lay ahead, although having everyone gazing at her bare breasts was affecting her breathing.

She moved back to the middle of the stage, not dancing this time but looking around and smiling. Once more, she turned her back to the crowd and began loosening her skirt. When it was unzipped, she pushed it off her hips and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes were closed as she heard the loud howls and cheers. With the tiny string of the thong buried between her butt cheeks, she looked very bare to all who were looking. She stepped out of the skirt, keeping her legs spread slightly, and bent over to pick up the skirt, staying bent for several seconds and giving everyone a view of whatever there was to see. The cheers grew louder and more raucous.

As she straightened and tossed the skirt on the pile of her other clothing, she wondered who this was, about to turn around and expose about ninety-eight percent of herself to these watchers. Whoever it was had taken possession of Cecily's body and was flaunting it for all to see. She made sure her mask was secure, then turned around and began a very sensual and suggestive dance, her hips pumping back and forth as she moved. When she reached the front of the stage, she wasn't alone.