The Price of Underwear Ch. 01

It was back in my humble college years. I was sipping a beer with my good friend on the patio of Churchill's pub soaking up the last few rays of the sinking summer sun and listening intently to her recount the details of the previous evening's bachelorette party.

She smiled each time I interrupted to probe her for more, both mocking my enthusiasm for particulars and relishing her hold on my complete attention. Of course, being a 22 year-old male, who could blame me. She was the first woman I knew who had ever attended a bachelorette party. In fact, she was the first person I knew to attend any wedding related party. No one I was friends with was even close to marriage. I had a clear image in my mind of the Bachelor party - I had been to enough strip clubs in my life - but I could not wrap my head around the bachelorette party. The idea of a bunch of guys getting drunk and letting loose is hardly news and while I had, even then, seen my fair share of girls "gone wild", there was something about the idea of a bachelorette party the grabbed my curiosity.

No doubt some of my interest can be attributed to simple hormones - what straight young man wouldn't be interested in the drunken escapades of a sexually charged mob of women. But there is more to it for me. First, I love the idea of a group of uninhibited and empowered women. Second, being a bit of an exhibitionist myself, I was very intrigued by the public nature of the whole thing, particularly the various tasks the bride-to-be was required to do. But getting the details was like pulling teeth. My friend basically just put the subject out there like she had gone to the grocery store yesterday, fully aware that half the reason we were sitting together over these beers was because I was more than curious. I'm sure she was purposefully being vague. Forcing me to ask questions and enjoying the deliberate revelation of each detail.

"Wait, wait, wait! Go back to the list. Jenny did all of those things?"

"Every one."

"Come on, everything?" I stared at her in disbelief.

"Everything." She replied as she leaned back in her chair folding her arms across her chest and smiling smugly at me.

"Topless body shots?"

"Everything."

"Holy shit! Man, I would have loved to see that. Was the bar crowded?"

"Yup."

"And she just laid down on the bar and raised her shirt or did she take it off?" I was leaning so far forward I was almost halfway across the table. Her smile grew and her eyes twinkled.

"Honestly, Jenny was awesome," she said leaning forward again and dropping her voice slightly. "The guy forked over the twenty bucks and Jenny grabbed him by the collar and lead him through the crowd to the bar. All of us jumped up to follow them. By the time I had pushed through all the people, Jenny had jumped up on the bar and was leaning over talking to the bartender. As he dipped into the speed rack to make the shots, Jenny turned back to the crowd, smiling at us and surveying the landscape. Then in one motion she just whipped her top over her head."

"Fuck off!"

"I'm serious. The best part was that no one really noticed at first. There was a guy so intent at peering around her torso to get the bartender's attention that he didn't even notice the hot girl sitting on the bar had just stripped down to nothing but a bra and a mini-skirt. Then again, when she reached back to unclasp the bra, he must of noticed something, because he forgot all about ordering drinks."

"She took off her bra? On the bar?" My jaw was on the floor. I could not imagine little Jenny Ableman perched on a bar in a crowded club and casually removing her bra.

"I know right. Crazy." My friend's eyes danced with mischief. She looked like the cat who ate the canary. "It gets better," she continued, "Jenny grabs the salt in her right hand and lifts it high above her head and then cups her left boob in her other hand and licks her own nipple and douses it with salt." She paused for good measure. I'm sure it was clear from my facial expression that my brain had just exploded, but I know she was enjoying herself.

"OK, OK, more. More!"

"She leaned back on the bar arching her back and tilting her head to the side. Jenny's guy got his money's worth, but pure pandemonium broke loose. I am sure at least five other guys got a good feel in, before the bouncers escorted us from the club. Ironically, the guy who was right next to her never did a thing. He looked like a deer in headlights," she paused and looked me square in the eyes, "a little like you right now."

"No doubt," I said falling back into my chair shaking my head and reaching for my beer. "That is fucking insane. Insane. . . Girls are fucking crazy."

We sat in silence for a while as I went over the story in my head. It was hard enough to reconcile the woman in the story with Jenny, who I knew to be a quiet, studious girl. I was trying to imagine whether I could go through with something like that and just thinking about it I could feel the adrenaline begin to flow. The idea was also really turning me on, when my thoughts were interrupted.

"We got a guy naked in the street." Again she made this statement as casually as a comment about the weather. Shattering my little erotic introspection and at the same time almost reading my mind, she sat back and smiled waiting for me to take the bait.

"Naked? How?"

"Well not fully naked, but we bought his underwear."

"What do you mean?"

"Jenny needed to get a guys underwear. It was one of the things on the list. This cute guy was walking by as we came out of the club (she was dressed again at this point) and she asked him if he wanted to give her his underwear. He said he liked them and did not want to part with them and kept walking. That's when another guy piped up saying he would sell her his underwear. He was also pretty cute and next thing I know we are standing on a street corner negotiating price. All the girls are egging him on. Eventually we agree to pay him ten bucks if he'll give them to us in the alley - you know the one right on the other side of Whiskey Bar."

"Yeah yeah. And he did?"

"Sure did. But he was very nervous. There were eight of us so no one could really see him from the street, but he was still dropping trou in front of eight strange ladies. A pretty vocal group of ladies. Shirley kept saying 'get 'em off'. I was nearly on the ground I was laughing so hard. Anyway, we gave him the money and the guy was shaking, but he took off his pants, hesitated for a second, and then pulled down his boxers and handed them to Jenny."

"And?" I said smiling motioning with my chin.

"And what? . . . Oh . . . yeah, not bad. He was actually a bit hard. The best was as he reached for his pants, Shirley stepped on them saying 'not so fast' and ordering him to stand back up."

"Did he?"

"He sure did. I think people are much more compliant when they are naked in the middle of a crowded street. He just stood there. She looked him up and down for a good minute. We were all laughing hysterically, but looking also. After what I am sure felt like an eternity to him, Shirley just lifted her foot and walked off. We all followed howling and leaving the poor guy scrambling to get his trousers back on."

"That is too much," I said again laughing in disbelief. She was laughing too. We both reached for our drinks and after a couple of seconds it just came out. A tiny little innocuous sentence that change the course of the entire night.

"I can't believe he did that for ten bucks."

She looked up from her beer with a puzzled look on her face. "Seriously? That's the part you can't believe?"

"No. . . I know. . . but think about it. You can't even buy a pair of boxers for ten bucks. Fucking Calvin Kleins are like twenty dollars." I looked at her and her face was totally serious and then she burst out laughing.

"You are too much," she said in between giggles. I sat back smiling as she recovered her breath. When she regained her composure, she said, "So how about thirty bucks?"

"To get naked in the middle of the street? No way." I said shaking my head.

"OK how about just for your underwear?" She was smiling, but her voice was serious.

"For a pair of my underwear?"

"Not not any pair. The ones you are wearing." She said tapping her index finger on the table to emphasize each syllable.

"What?"

If there was any uncertainty left she reached into her purse and put three ten dollar bills on the table.

"You're serous?"

"What's the matter Colonel Sanders, chicken?" she said now tapping the bills. Some people know exactly how to push your buttons. She was one such person.

"OK, but I am not taking them off here or you are paying a lot more money." I said still uncertain if I was actually going to go through with this.

"No problem," she said, "just take them off in the bathroom and bring them back to me. It's worth thirty bucks just to know that you'll be walking around for the rest of the night with no underwear on." And then just to give me one more little push she said, "it's no big deal. Girls do it all the time."

"Fine. Fine. I'll be back. I expect to be paid when I return."

She sat back smiling ear to ear and fanning herself with the bills as I walked away. I went into the bathroom stall and locked the door. I was shaking a bit as I undid my jeans, not because I was nervous, but the adrenaline was kicking in. I stepped out of my shoes and then out of my jeans. With no where to hang them, I just put the waistband in my mouth as I lowered my black boxer briefs to the floor. I stepped out of them and draped them on my shoulder. I trembled for a second from the exhilaration and felt myself start to harden. At this point I was acutely aware of the other people in the bathroom and the fact that I was standing in nothing but a black t-shirt, with my underwear over my shoulder, my jeans in my mouth and a burgeoning hard-on. Some guy pulled on the stall door and that shocked me back to reality and I quickly put my jeans back on, stuffing my underwear into my front pocket. Nothing like the thought of getting caught standing naked in a pub bathroom with a semi-erection to get you moving.

I flushed the toilet for appearance sake - as if anyone was paying attention to me - and washed my hands. As I walked back through the bar I felt every move of the jeans. Now I realize that for some people this is really no big deal. But if you have never done it, let me tell you, it's something. In fact, even if you rarely wear undergarments, I imagine that handing over your underwear in a business transaction in the middle of a crowded pub on a lovely summer evening, would make even the most seasoned "commando" notice the absence a whole lot more.

I returned to the table and sat down. She sat up and leaned forward, "Well?"

I slid the folded up underwear across the table under my palm. She pushed the money across the table and pulled my boxer-briefs out from under my palm.

She held them up in front of her face pretending to examine them. "Nice," she said.

"HEY! " I shouted in a shrill whisper, my voice cracking slightly, as I reached across the table to pull them down.

"What? I am just examining my purchase," she said smiling and feigning like she was going to raise them up again before turning and tucking them into her purse.

"So you have my underwear, what now?"

"Now we order more drinks. How about some shots?". . .