Thirty Minutes or FreebyTx Tall Tales©
A pizza delivery boy's first naturist experience.
Everyone in the story is above the age of 18.
This story was written as part of the Nude Day 2009 competition. I began working on it over a year ago, but stalled. The competition was the incentive to finish it. I hope you enjoy it.
My first two years out of high school, I attended a community college, and worked as a delivery driver for a well-known pizza delivery chain we'll call "Checkers" to protect the innocent.
It was a pretty good job. Most of the drivers were needed in the evening so it didn't interfere with classes. You got paid a salary, tips and commission (to pay for gas) which averaged more than $8.00 an hour when minimum wage was closer to $4.00. And once you really got to know your area, and your repeat customers, you could drive that hourly wage up to over $12.00 an hour.
Heck, I thought it was decent money.
I was one of the top two drivers, out of about 50 in our store. There might be as many as a dozen or more drivers on during a busy evening, but as a top driver you were usually able to pick your own runs. If you could plan out an efficient route, get multiples pizzas delivered on a single run, and get them there on time, you were guaranteed to take 3 or more pizzas out at a time, while the new guys were lucky to get 1 delivered in '30 minutes or less'. It made all the difference. You learned to run back to your vehicle, and into the store, and you avoided high traffic areas. You never turned off your car, and you made change on the way to each delivery for even bill payments. Anything to save a little time here or there. The more runs you made, the more deliveries you made, the more money you made.
Just as important as knowing your area was knowing your customers.
Big Dale, who lived behind the liquor store, ordered an EBA (Everything but Anchovy) pizza every Thursday night at 11:55 like clockwork. It was a short run and a guaranteed $3.03 tip.
A local church group ordered 5 pizzas every other Wednesday right at the heart of our rush hour. It was out of the way and nobody wanted it. I took it every time because the tip was almost always $4.00 and the commission added another $1.50. Worth more than two of most othere delivery trips.
There was a lady on Emerald Lane, in a neighborhood almost nobody could find, at the very limit of our delivery area that would order a pizza every couple of weeks. She only wanted a medium pizza, and she only tipped about $1.00. She always showed up at the door in a sheer black nightgown over black lingerie. I don't think she owned anything else. The call takers would flag me down whenever she placed an order, and I'd do my damnedest to deliver it.
The three guys living on Simmons would only leave about 80 cents tip, but more often than not they'd offer you a beer. You learned to chug it fast.
There was a gay couple in the Monroe towers, 5th floor that NOBODY wanted to take. It would slow you down so much to have to park, go inside, get buzzed upstairs, take the elevator, deliver the pizza and do the same on the way back. I owned that address. They were the nicest guys in the world, tipped $5.00, and would sometimes offer me a beer as well. My kind of customers.
But my favorite customers, hands down, were the Reynolds. The Reynolds lived just outside of our delivery area, but I made the delivery anyway, as a personal run. When the order came in, I drove the 3 blocks outside of the delivery area, made the delivery, which was guaranteed never to be late, and almost always got a $2.66 tip off the deal, the change from $15.00. Even better, I was allowed to buy the pizza at an employee discount, so I made another three bucks off the transaction.
I would have PAID $20.00 to make that delivery. Well maybe not at first.
The first time was an easy mistake. The girl taking the order recognized Nandrell Street as in our area, but left out a digit in the address. Nandrell Street dead ended in a park, and picked up again on the far side, for a distance of three whole blocks, all outside of our area. Anything starting with a '1' was on Nandrell West, and was an address in the 10,000's. She had written down 1042, instead of 10402. I knew it because there were no houses in the 1000 block of Nandrell East.
I was out on the run, and recognized the error only after I'd already delivered one pizza in the area. I went ahead and completed the run.
An attractive older brunette in a robe answered the door. I immediately thought of Dorothy on Emerald Lane, and was almost sorry to have to explain the situation. She asked me to step in while she wrote the check.
"I'm sorry it took a while, ma'am," I told her, even though I was still under the 30 minute limit. "But unfortunately you're out of the delivery area. Our area ends at the end of Nandrell East. I had to drive around the park to get here. In the future, the drivers probably won't be able to make the delivery. Our computer system kicks out the address as out of area, but the pizza girl wrote the address wrong and it slipped through the cracks."
A much older guy, naked as a jaybird walked into the room as I was finishing my explanation.
"Harold!" the lady scolded, then reached for a robe on a hook by the door. "The boy might be offended."
Harold gracelessly took the robe and put it on.
She wrote out the check including a two dollar tip. As she passed it to me she bemoaned the situation. "It's too bad. Nobody delivers out here. What if we met you at the edge of your delivery area, and paid you there? Would that be Ok?" she asked.
"Not really, Ma'am. We're not supposed to do it. Driver's have been robbed, delivering to fake addresses, and we're supposed to call back and verify the number and address." I showed her the address on the check. "They'll catch this one when I go to close-out tonight." The name on the check was Marcia and Harold Reynolds. It matched the 'Reynolds' name supplied on the order ticket.
She looked so disappointed; I wanted to help out if I could. You always liked a two-dollar tipper. And maybe if she understood I went out of my way, she could become a three dollar tipper. Three dollars for three blocks was a pretty good trade off.
"Ma'am, we're not supposed to do it, but if you ask the girl taking the order if Dan is driving, and tell them it's a personal delivery, I'm allowed to deliver it on my own. It's usually for friends and family, off the clock. Just give them the 1042 address, and I'll deliver it when I can. I can't guarantee it'll be in 30 minutes or less, but if it's as late as tonight, I can probably get it here pretty quick."
"Why Daniel! That's very kind of you, but I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."
"I think I'll get by ma'am. I've been there a while, and do a good enough job to get to bend a few rules now and then."
Harold seemed anxious to eat his dinner, and he carried the pizza off to the back of the house. "Let the boy go already, Marcy. He's burning money every minute he's not out there delivering the next pie." At the door he turned, "Thank you young man, your offer is very kind."
"It is very kind, and I'm almost ashamed to say I'll probably take you up on it. Pizza is a personal weakness of mine, and I just hate to go out again once I'm home from work."
"It'll be my pleasure, Mrs. Reynolds. I work most weeknight evenings except Tuesdays. Just make sure you ask for a personal delivery from Dan."
I eased out the door, and ran to my car, in a hurry to get back. Harold was right. I probably lost a run in the time I'd spent there, and the $2.00 tip probably wasn't worth it. Maybe I'd have better luck in the future.
* * *
I'd completely forgotten about the order until three weeks later when Debbie, working the phones, told me I had a personal delivery for Harold. It took a second for that to register and then I checked the address. It was already after 9:00pm so things were really slowing down. "Anything else in the West Falls area?"
Karen, at the next phone station, announced a nearby run she'd taken an order for a few minutes earlier. A two box run, to the right area, with no timer on the second pizza. I was happy to take it.
I got there in 24 minutes. If you've ever been a "Checkers" delivery driver, you get very good at knowing exactly how long each run took.
Harold answered the door again, and I announced the pizza, as was my style, reading from the label. "Large Deluxe Checker's Pizza, one half-no green peppers."
When I looked up I noticed that Harold was naked again. What was that about, was he some kind of damned exhibitionist?
"Harold, your robe." I heard from inside the room, and when I peeked inside the door, I saw a naked Mrs. Reynolds headed my way.
"Jesus!" he griped, walking away with the pizza, sans robe. "It's my damn house."
"Good evening, Ma'am," I said hesitantly, trying to hide my nervousness. "That'll be $12.34." I tried not to stare.
She grabbed her robe from beside the door, slipped it on, and then reached for her purse. "I'm sorry about Harry; he forgets that not everybody is at ease seeing nudity."
She turned and passed me $15.00. "Keep the change, and thank you, that was very quick."
"It was my pleasure, Ma'am," I assured her. "Anytime."
She closed the door behind me, and I tried to recapture that image of her walking to the door, without a care in the world, and as naked as the day she was born. Damn! This topped Emerald Lane by far!
* * *
After a couple of months of occasional deliveries, I didn't get to see Marcia naked again, but I swear Harold never wore a stitch of clothing.
On my latest delivery, I noticed that Marcy was wearing the same robe as every other time.
After she paid me, I hesitated before leaving.
"Yes Daniel? Is there something wrong with the check?"
"Oh no, ma'am. I was wondering if I could ask you a question."
I saw her face light up, a glitter in her eye. "Oh really? I wondered if you'd get around to it."
"Ma'am - are you and Mr. Reynolds nudists?" I asked.
She smiled, "We prefer to use the term naturists."
I was stuck for a reply. I guess I gaped for a few seconds until her pretty laugh brought me out of it.
"Well, that's a unique enough response!" she giggled. "Does it bother you?"
"Oh, no ma'am! I mean, well it kind of surprised me at first, but Harold is right, isn't he? It is your home. I figure you should have the right to do pretty much what you want in your home, as long as it's not hurting anyone else."
"You know, Daniel, that's quite a mature attitude. I only wish that more people saw it your way. Quite a few are uncomfortable around us, even clothed."
"If you don't mind my saying so, ma'am, that's just crazy!"
She smiled. "Yes it is. Thank you, Daniel. She stood before me patiently. "Was there anything else?"
"Uh, no ma'am. Enjoy your pizza!" I took off at a run. It'd be nice to get in a couple more runs before clocking out at 11:00.
* * *
A week later, it was another Reynolds run. 9:10pm. Pretty typical.
I arrived at the door, knocking and waited, wondering.
I didn't need to wonder long. Marcy Reynolds answered the door, saw it was me, and invited me in. She walked to her purse completely naked, and I had the first chance to really look at her. She was very pretty. Slender from behind, with nice curves on her hips and a pretty butt that was exciting to watch as each step put it through its moves.
She leaned over and wrote me a check, and I just stared at her body. Then she stood, walked to me, and handed me the check. I tried to keep my eyes locked on hers.
"Don't worry about it," she said softly, smiling for me.
"About what?" I asked.
"You're expected to look. Just don't stare too long."
I let my eyes slowly run up and down her body, coming back to her pretty face.
"You don't mind, do you? If Harold and I don't go through the pretense of dressing for you?"
"No ma'am!" I eagerly agreed, "Not at all. Not at all."
She had a beautiful smile. She reached out and put her hand on my arm, "You make a girl feel young, Daniel. Thank you."
It was an uncomfortable ride back to the store. I'd have to start wearing loose pants if I continued delivering to the Reynolds.
* * *
After that night our relationship changed. Nearly every week, the Reynolds would order a pizza, and they'd be completely naked when I arrived. I was invariably invited in while they took the delivery, and I slowly grew used to seeing the attractive Mrs. Reynolds in the buff. It didn't change the fact that she was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.
I still couldn't help but look her over every time, and she caught me every time, smiling. And every damn time I blushed like a little kid.
While I waited, I'd usually take the opportunity to ask a question or two, that I'd been thinking about during the week. They seemed to get a kick out of answering.
Me: How long have you been naturists? Harold: I was born naked boy, where's your brains? Marcy: Since I met Harold, 21 years ago. Me: What was he, a babysitter? Harold: Nobody likes a smartass! (But it did make him smile.)
Me: Are there many other naturists around here? Marcy: There are quite a few. We have several friends in the area, and there are at least two 'clubs' within an hour of here. Harold: We're not into the 'private clubs' mind you. Just the landed ones. Marcy: And we're not so much into finding other naked people, we just abhor being clothed.
Me: You mentioned landed clubs? What's that? Harold: Land? Property? Real-estate? Marcy: It's a club with property. Usually have a pool, hot-tub, a clubhouse, barbecues, and events for crowds. You pay a membership, and most everybody is naked. It's like a private naturist resort. Harold: That's what I said, isn't it? Property?
Me: Uh, are you like, swingers? Harold: Do we look like swingers? Marcy: Swinging is about the sex. Nudism is about being unclothed. It has almost nothing to do with sex. It's about comfort and freedom and relaxation. Harold: Answer me, boy. Do we look like swingers? Me: Uh, no? Harold: Damn straight.
Me: I can't get over the sex thing. If you'll excuse me, I have to say I'd want to be with Mrs. Reynolds all the time. Harold: You're with her now, aren't you? Marcy: Don't tease the boy, Harold. Harold: You're the one teasing him. Marcy: When you're naked often enough and long enough, it becomes less about the person on the outside, and more about the person on the inside. Me: (Grinning) I guess that explains Mr. Reynolds. Harold: Nobody likes a smartass, boy!
Me: Is it common for Naturists to shave down there? Harold: They never used to. It's just a kid's fad. Won't last. Marcy: Many of us do. I've had a treatment to remove much unwanted hair, and it's becoming more and more common. It's whatever you're comfortable with. Harold: Men doing it! It's just showing off, if you ask me.
Me: I'd be scared to death of getting hard all the time. Harold: You get over it. If it happens, don't advertise it, relax, you'll be ok. Marcy: It happens. Nearly all the men we know would simply roll over on the beach, or put a towel over themselves if in public. If it happens in your own home, or in a private setting, what's there to worry about? Me: Easy for you to say. Who would know if you got excited? Harold: Are you being a smart ass boy? Trust me you'd know. Marcy: I believe he was referring to me, Harold. If it happens just relax. Practice good manners, cover up if you're in public, and understand, that over time, it's less and less likely to happen.
* * *
One night, about six months after that first delivery, the girl taking the calls said I had a personal delivery, but they wanted me to call first. It was already past 10:00pm.
I called the Reynolds' number, and Harold answered.
"Say Daniel, I know it's late, but could you do us a huge favor?"
"Certainly, sir, if I can."
"Could you make a stop at the Walgreen's there, and get me a damn corkscrew? We seem to have lost ours. If you could pick up a six-pack of Diet Coke, I know Marcy would appreciate it. I hate to ask, but we're entertaining guests from out of town. If it's too much trouble, just let me know." He sounded a bit concerned I'd shoot him down.
"It's no problem sir. I was about to check-out anyway, so I won't be holding up any other deliveries." I told him.
"Just an excuse to look at my woman, I imagine," he said, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
"But of course, sir? Can you blame me?"
"Nobody likes a smartass, boy," he reminded me.
"Yes sir, so I understand. I should be there in around 30 minutes."
It was an order for two pizzas, and I checked out while waiting. A take-home of $56 dollars, not including my salary. A good night. With the pizzas in my hot-bag, I ran into Walgreen's and got the required items.
I was at the door in 22 minutes. A damned good run, including the Walgreen's stop.
Harold met me at the door. He blocked me from coming in for a second. "Her cousin and her cousin's kid are here. Just so you know. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"I don't mind. It's your house, sir."
"Thanks. And thanks for getting the stuff at the store. I really wouldn't have asked normally." He said, opening the door for me.
"Sir. Anytime you'd like me to get something for you, and it's not too busy, just let me know. I don't mind. I imagine you must know that you're not just a regular customer by now. I don't tend to linger in my normal customer's homes."
"She is a looker," he smiled.
I laughed. "Yes she is, but it's more than that. I'm just a little bit fascinated I guess, about the whole lifestyle thing. And I enjoy your company immensely."
I looked into the room and almost dropped everything. Marcy's cousin could have been her twin sister except for very long blond hair, that at the moment had me thinking of Lady Godiva, the end of her hair playing peek-a-boo with her bare nipples.
The 'kid' was a naked girl around my age, a stunning example of what Mrs. Reynolds must have looked like 15 years earlier. It was a little more than my artificially calm demeanor could stand. I was knocked speechless.
"Daniel, thanks so much for everything," Mrs. Reynolds said, coming over and taking me by the arm. "Harold said he thought you might be off for the night, would you care to stay and visit a while?"
I couldn't breathe, never mind talk. I could see the laughter in Mrs. Reynolds' eyes. "It's Ok," she said softly. "We won't bite. Please stay."
I finally managed to utter a few syllables. "Thank you, ma'am. I'd like to stay a short while if you don't mind."
Harold was standing in my shadow. "C'mon in. Why don't you get comfortable?"
I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, still in shock. My brain was in vapor-lock.
"Daniel is a dear friend of ours who's been curious about the lifestyle for a while. I don't believe he's ever indulged around others before." Marcy explained to her cousin.
I removed my shoes and socks, and after some debate, removed my pants as well.
"Daniel, this is my cousin Brenda, and her daughter Alexis, who is attending... where are you going, dear?"
"State. In the fall."
I stood there by the door, in my briefs, my hands crossed in front of me.
"No need to be shy, Danny," Brenda said, "You can remove those."
"I don't think I should," I said embarrassed.
Marcy laughed. "Isn't he darling? It's Ok, dear. An erection isn't going to scare us. To be honest, I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't have one. It's perfectly natural."
I got up the nerve to remove the last article of clothing, and walked into the room, looking for an available seat.
"Goodness!" Marcy said, and I'm sure I blushed three different shades of red.
"Oh! That would have been a BIG disappointment to miss," Brenda said.