The Cubicle Ch. 06

I laughed as I came to my senses early the next morning. The sheets were in a wad around my upper half, my naked butt poking out from the tangle of sheets. My pillow was wet with drool. I must've slept well! In the bathroom, I saw in the mirror that my skin was etched with the impression of the knotted bed clothes, and my hair was a mess.

I wanted some exercise before I did anything else. I reached for my new workout clothes, but remembered the pact that I'd made: First time changing into anything new had to be done somewhere "unprivate," leaving my previous outfit right there wherever I changed. I didn't want to give up my summer dress yet, so I wrapped myself in a bath towel, picked up my workout clothes, and cracked open the door to my room. I could hear people stirring in the room above me, so even though it was Sunday morning, I'd have to be careful. As I peeked out, I heard someone coming, so I quickly let the door close. The sound of footsteps and a rolling suitcase passed by.

I thought of chickening out, of making an exception. After all, I really wasn't completely awake yet! But the thought of not going through with it disappointed me. Deep within, a voice said, "No, Lisa, you must."

"I must," I parroted in a whisper. "I must." And then the feelings from the day before came over me, and I knew that I would obey the voice. It was as if i had no choice. Taking a deep breath, I peeked out of the door again, and, hearing nothing, opened it, flipping the door lock to keep the door from closing behind me. I scampered as quickly and quietly as I could down the hall toward the small recessed area for the vending machines.

Once there, I dropped the towel from me. My naked body was reflected in the glass of the junk food machine. I could see clearly my dark nipples and pubic hair. I struggled getting the bra on over my head – fortunately with my hair the way it w, I didn't have to worry about it. Then I wiggled into the shorts. On the way back to my room, I heard voices behind me as a door clanged open. I ducked back into my room.

Giggling quietly, I was immensely glad at what I'd done. My breathing was shallow. Their was a deep craving and resolve to continue my pact to the end of my vacation. It shocked me, really, because in the moments before I drifted off to sleep only seven or eight hours ago, I'd considered whether I'd gotten my fill of the reverie and freedom, as I'd come to call it. Clearly, I had not gotten my fill. With the voice came an important epiphany: This was a compulsion, something I had to do. Leaning on the inside of my hotel room door, I realized that I enjoyed the risk for an important reason – that I didn't want to be in control, and the risks I was taking had to do with wanting to feel base, degraded and dirty. I would obey the Voice in my head no matter what, I decided. I must trust it.

I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My new microfiber sports bra did little to hide anything. My nipples poked out through the thin, unlined turquoise material, and the dark areola of each breast shown through faintly, but clearly enough. The shorts were low-rise, so a lot of skin was on display between my breasts and hips. In the bright light, I could see the shadow of my public hair contrasting with my pale skin through my shorts. Both bra and shorts were skin tight, leaving no doubt as to the contours of my body. Turning, I saw how the shorts showed off the roundness of my ass.

"God, Lisa," I said, staring in disbelief.

Gazing at myself, I brushed my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. About to turn for the door, I heard the Voice say, "Roll down your waistband." I looked again into the mirror and complied, turning it down an inch or so, baring the points of my hips.

My trip down to the workout room and the workout itself were uneventful. Few people were up and about yet, it being Sunday morning. No one came in the room while i worked out. i ran on the treadmill for a half hour, working up a shiny sweat that made my nipples more visible. On the way to the breakfast room afterwards, I did pass a man in the hallway, who seemed to dwell on me during our short encounter. I blushed and couldn't bear to look at him.

The breakfast room was surprisingly crowded, however. I almost decided not to go in, and wouldn't have if I were not so hungry. I felt eyes from all directions while I hastily acquired a bagel, a packet of cream cheese, and an orange juice. My sweaty face turned hotter. I left with the food in my hands and hurried back to my room. Inside, I sat at the little table and ate, sweat pouring off of me, reliving those moments of embarrassment. I couldn't understand why I felt aroused, and fought the urge to strip and rub myself to an orgasm.

Finished eating, I brushed my teeth. I was about to hop in the shower, but the Voice said, simply, "No, pack your things and go on your way." I obeyed.

Four hours later, I parked at a fast food restaurant and found a cabin in the mountains online while I ate a salad in the car. I made reservations for three nights. It was another four hours' drive. Heading out of town, I spotted a mall, and changed into my summer dress (since I'd already worn it, I could change in private now), finally peeling off my workout clothes. In the mall, I found a pair of nylon shorts with deep pockets, a loose fitting white cropped tank top that would be comfy in the heat, a small, floral backpack and some plastic water bottles for the hiking I was planning to do.

Nearing the mountains, I decided it was time to change into my new clothes – the Voice had told me not to use the air conditioning in the car, so I was sticky and craving the feel of fresh clothes. Passing through a small town, I spotted a narrow walkway between two frame storefronts on Main Street. I found a parking place and, carrying the bag containing my new outfit, I did a little window shopping. The stores had just closed for the day. Gradually, the street became empty, and I went to investigate the walkway.

I peeked into the shadows, then looked around. No one was coming, at least along Main Street. I walked the length of the walkway; it was only a few feet wide. Reaching the other end, I saw a near empty parking lot. This was perfect.

I walked to the middle of the walkway and was about to remove my dress. But I had an idea that I knew came from the Voice. I continued to the Main Street end of the walkway and set down the bag containing my new clothes. Then I turned and made my way to the other end. There, I stopped, my heart pounding. I reached back and unzipped the dress, and pulled it off, dropping it to the concrete. Now wearing nothing but my sandals, I walked slowly toward my new outfit. Two-thirds of the way there, a couple walked past the entrance to the passageway. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt so terribly vulnerable. Reaching my clothes, I put the top on first, and as I stepped into my shorts, a man walked quickly by, unaware that a few feet from him in the shadows was a half-naked, sweaty but attractive woman.

My heart pounded in my chest for the next hour as I completed my long trip. I picked up the key to my cabin and some groceries at a general store, acutely aware that it was pretty obvious that I wasn't wearing a bra, not to mention the fact that I was beginning to smell like a person who hadn't showered.

It was beginning to get dark ten minutes later when I drove up the gravel track to my cabin. It was a cozy little thing, a one-bedroom shanty with a porch nestled in the woods in a ravine. I could hear voices a hundred yards off or so, which I presumed to be my nearest neighbors.

It was much more humid in the woods, so the heat felt almost oppressive. Already, my new clothes were most with perspiration. On the front porch, I took everything off and hung my top and shorts on a nail to air out. My body was shiny, my hair flat and dull. I hadn't shaved my legs since Friday morning, so they were beginning to feel prickly.

But for some reason, it felt good.

I fixed a banana sandwich in the dim light of the kitchen, and sat in the rocker on the front porch as the day faded into night. I spread my legs obscenely over the arm rests and tweaked my nipples as I ate. As I chewed my last bite, I slipped a finger into my sweaty, smelly pubic hair, between the folds of my pussy, and found my hungry clitoris, moaning as I hit the bull's eye. I came four times, my ecstatic cries resounding in the darkness. I smelled and tasted my fingers ravenously, the mixture of pungent, salty sweat and erotic juices filling my senses. I was in heaven.

I woke early the next morning, the birds making beautiful music to begin the day. It had cooled a bit overnight, but it was still humid. I lay there musing for a while, my fingers tracing the contours of my tits. It felt good again to be thinking of myself in vulgar terms: tits, pussy, cunt, ass, dirty.

After I peed, I fixed a bowl of cereal and went out on the porch to listen to the birds. The morning air caressed my nakedness. Leaning back as I ate, a foot slung over the arm of the rocker, I imagined what that must look like from where my car was parked, my pussy on display. I giggled. In the morning light, I could see the dark stubble on my legs. I wondered if it would match my auburn hair. Under my arms there was visible stubble too.

I decided to go on a hike. On the map I found a trail fifteen minutes or so away that went to a mountaintop that I wanted to try. So I threw some trail food together, filled my bottles, reluctantly put on my top and shorts and running shoes and headed out. It would be an eight mile hike, the information I had said, the first half, of course, being the challenging part since it climbed the mountain. After the top, there was a loop of about two miles before it met up with the main trail back down the mountain to the road. I was glad to have a rigorous workout ahead of me.

Rigorous was an understatement! The first mile and a half was fairly level, but then the trail turned into a snake, winding its way steeply up the side of the mountain. As the sun got higher in the sky, of course, the heat combined with humidity to create an oven like feeling. I loved it, though, for the sake of the exertion and the beautiful scenery. I didn't see any wildlife like I'd hoped, but the forest was deep and serene. Neither did I see any people, which didn't surprise me, since there were no other cars in the small parking area below. Even so, I behaved myself during the climb up the trail, concentrating on the exercise and experience of being deep in the mountain forest. I drank in the rich aroma of the trees with each labored breath, my thighs burning from the exertion. The thin cotton of my loose top stuck to me, drenched in sweat and becoming a bit translucent.

Panting, I made it to the summit, where there was a series of rock outcroppings perfect for resting and enjoying the incredible view over the valley below. I found a spot in the shade on a large flat-topped rock a little higher than the trail, which was about 50 feet away. I sat down, the rock feeling surprisingly cool against the backs of my legs, even in the heat. I opened another water bottle, noting that I'd already had more than half of my supply. I didn't find that too concerning since the descent would not be as difficult.

Catching my breath, I decided to take my clothes off to air out a bit. I found a suitable branch to hang them in the sun about 30 feet away, back toward the trail. I went back to my spot in the shade and laid down, appreciating the coolness of the rock on my bare skin. Propping my head on my backpack, I looked down the length of my toned body, framed between my breasts, beyond my flat six pack, my bush glistening with sweat and my athletic thighs was a gorgeous view. I could see tiny cars on a road sparkling in the sunshine a couple of miles away, but other than that, it was a panorama of green trees and mountains. Two hawks circled lazily high in the humid, hazy air.

A single dark cloud eased into view, and I could see a shower falling from it. I hoped it would pass over me. Sure enough, the slight breeze set it on course for me, and for three or four glorious minutes, I got a rinse from Mother Nature. Laughing, I stood and danced in the rain, the cool, clean water refreshing and invigorating me. The cloud moved on, and the sun shone again. I sat cross-legged in the sunshine to dry off a bit and then as the heat returned, I laid back down in the shade and dozed off.

I don't know how long I flirted with sleep, but gradually I became aware of male voices that were growing louder, accompanied by the clunking of hiking boots on the rock laden trail. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But suddenly they seemed very real, and very close. I sat up and spun toward the trail. About a hundred feet away through the thick brush, I saw movement in the direction I'd come from – perhaps a baseball cap and a red t-shirt. I wanted to run for my clothes, but I panicked. I was afraid they'd see me. Besides, perhaps they'd just pass me by, so the risk of being seen scampering naked seemed unnecessary. A feeling of dread came over me.

I rolled onto my stomach, laying low, so I could watch them. My nipples on the cool rock reminded me of how vulnerable I was. I looked longingly at my clothes hanging in plain view and hoped the men were too engrossed in their conversation to notice.

Panting, one of them said, "Damn! That was a climb!"

"No shit!" Was the breathless reply.

There was the sound of breathing and and heavy footsteps.

"I'm ready for a break, man."

"Goddam, you ain't kiddin'" was the laughing reply.

The footsteps stopped as they looked around. I saw the baseball cap turn in my direction.

"C'mon ... "

The footsteps resumed, coming right at me. Hugging the rock, I frantically looked around for an escape. To my left, the rock sloped off to the ground about six feet below. I grabbed my backpack and scrambled off the rock, then downhill toward the front of it where it rose about ten feet above me.

As I became still, I picked up on their conversation again, having missed some of it while in the process of hiding.

"I don't know."

"I don't see anyone."

"Neither do I."

"Seems like an odd place to leave clothes."

"Probably somebody airing out stuff after the rain the other night, and they forgot 'em."

"Yeah, hard to say."

I heard boots on the rock right above me. I pressed into the face of the rock, trembling.

"Dammit, I hate it when people can't pick up after themselves."

"Yeah, it's fucking aggravating as hell."

"Remember the time we found all those tin cans?"

"Hell yes!"

"We'll, obviously, there's no one here, so we might as well pack this bitch's clothes out of here. Hate for this place to get trashed up."

I wanted to scream! My mind raced – I could call out to them and ask that they please leave my clothes; on the other hand, I was naked, alone in the wilderness with two men, who could easily do what they wanted with me. I was scared.

So I did nothing. I cowered below the rock for the next half hour, listening to them ramble on about girls, their wives, sports, jobs and even politics. Finally, they decided it was time to go.

"Don't forget the bitch's clothes," one said, laughing.

"Damn, they're still wet from that rain!"

I heard a backpack zipper open, a rummaging sound as my clothes disappeared into the pack, and then, receding voices and footsteps. I stayed in my hiding place for another five minutes or so, to make sure the men were well on their way. Then I crept around and back up onto the rock. I looked to the place where I'd hung my clothes, confirming what I already knew. I had no clothes whatsoever.

My emotions were in a tumultuous conflict. I squatted down, hugging myself to cover my nakedness, stifling sobs. At the same time, I relished what was happening. I realized my sobs were more about the fact that I liked this, that instead of being truly horrified, I liked the feeling of absolute vulnerability, that this happened without my consent or control. I was sobbing because I was scared of my feelings, because I was gladly relinquishing control. I buried my face in my hands.

"God, Lisa! What's becoming of you?"

I sat down and considered what to do. First of all, I was thankful at least that I'd left my shoes on. I also had my pack with water and food. The question was how to get down the mountain without being seen. The trail didn't afford many ample views of the way ahead to spot oncoming hikers. And how would I hide quickly if necessary? These were questions without many ready answers, I decided. I was just going to have to start walking.

Before standing up, I looked out across the valley one more time. It was the middle of the afternoon now, another six or so hours of daylight ahead, plenty to get back to my car. I was relieved that I'd been lucky enough to put my car keys in the pack instead of my shorts.

I realized that I needed to pee for the first time since I'd gotten out of bed – I lost most of what I'd had to drink through perspiration, but since I'd had a lot during my rest stop on top of the mountain, I needed to go. I rose to a squat and watched as the dark yellow pungent stream ran down the slope of the rock. I had nothing to wipe with, but decided that it didn't matter. I rose and felt a few drops run down my inner thighs. It felt good to be dirty.

The feeling of exposure as I began down the trail was tremendous. The pressure of the straps of my backpack made my tits feel especially exposed. I walked cautiously, stopping frequently to listen. I decided to skip the loop portion of the trail, since I was unfamiliar with it, and it would add two miles to the return trip. In the portion with the switchbacks, I heard clambering footsteps. It sounded like a group of people. I climbed off the trail, up a rock and into a small crevice about ten feet above and waited. The voices were young, both male and female, perhaps late teen or college age. The flirting among them was obvious and silly as they noisily went past. I realized as I lay there that if they were laying attention, they might catch a glimpse of me, since the trail rose quickly, overlooking my hiding place. I was glad for the thick foliage to camouflage me. Even so, my pale skin seemed to glow in contrast to my surroundings. I held my breath until they were past.

Moving on, I reached the flatter part of the trail without encountering anyone else. I could hear traffic in the road now. My pace slowed as I grew more cautious, since as the woods opened up, there were fewer obvious places to run for cover, and being closer to the road, I guessed that my chances of encountering people were greater. The trail wasn't as rocky, either, which meant that footsteps were harder to hear.

Behind me, I heard laughter and voices from around the bend, coming closer, and quickly. Instinctively, I ran off the trail, searching desperately for a hiding place. Now I heard a sort of galloping sound, the thudding of many feet on the dirt. Twenty feet from the trail, I leapt behind a large tree and squatted, peering through the underbrush toward the trail. I saw familiar faces whiz by from left to right. It was the same group I'd seen before, and they apparently were racing back to the parking area.

I sat down in the leaves to rest and to give the runners some time put more distance between us. I got out a water bottle and drank. It felt so gloriously strange to be naked in the woods, literally miles from clothing. If anyone saw me, everything about me would be evident. At 33, I was too old to be considered young enough to be doing what I was doing, so immediately, there would be the indication that something was different about me. At 5'7, my long, toned legs, my perky tits and hard, flat stomach, I knew that I exuded sexuality. Sitting there I could smell myself. My prickly legs were not hiding the dark stubble rising up out of my pale skin. My pubic hair was neglected as well. It was I trimmed and unkempt, stubble growing on the sides where I usually shaped things up with a razor. A person would see all of this, and know that I was depraved, perverted, base.