Watching Me, Watching You

by Gwennan Thomas

  How would I feel about wearing nothing at all on the bottom? I hope I didn’t look overly excited when I replied.

  ‘Great!’

  People who’d known me just a couple of years ago wouldn’t believe it if they could see me now. I was fairly quiet and studious when I first went to university. I had a boyfriend back home so I didn’t get involved in the crazy sleeping around that went on. I felt a little sad thinking of my high school sweetheart, but I had to follow my heart and travel so we’d made the decision to go our separate ways. I had to admit my sex life as a single was much better, though I still missed him in those little moments alone. But now I was following my heart into this naughty little assignment. I didn’t actually need the money, really, I had plenty saved up from my more standard skimpy jobs to fund the next few weeks, but I’d developed a taste for showing off and that wasn’t about to stop at bikini bottoms.

  The manager was still talking. ‘That’s great – you’ve been very popular and reliable, we’ve been really pleased with you. But this is a bit different, a few girls have thought they could handle it but then not liked it when they got there. But we’ll send you to a friendly little party on Friday night and see how you get on.’

  She handed me the address and timings on a printed sheet. And there were the instructions again. Dress code: waitress’s own choice, but pussy completely exposed, nothing at all on the bottom.

  Just reading about it was getting my underwear wet. I couldn’t wait to rush home and try some half-outfits on.

  I ended up standing in front of my bedroom mirror with clothes all over the bed. I eventually decided on a white blouse tied short at the front, black over-the-knee socks and high heels. And nothing else. I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked hot. I looked hot. I couldn’t believe I was going to walk round a party like this. I fell back on the bed, my hand going straight between my legs, watching in the mirror as my pussy opened up, my fingers feeling the pool of moisture there. I came in minutes thinking about being a filthy show-off and, better still, getting paid to do it.

  When Friday came around I took the outfit from where I’d carefully hung it. I briefly wondered what I should wear to travel there. Jeans or just a coat over the top, or something totally different and change when I got there? It was way too hot to wear a coat or long top so I just put it on with a little tube skirt, and left the panties off. I figured I may as well start as I meant to go on.

  As it turned out, I got a little practice in on the way to the job. I was going around in a battered red “ute” – a small pickup truck – which I planned to drive to Sydney after I’d had my fun in Perth. I needed gas so I pulled into a station and had a wicked thought as soon as I came to a halt. Someone was going to get a treat tonight. The attendant, an attractive older guy with a deep tan, started filling up my tank, and I made a big show of getting my purse out of the truck. I leaned over, knowing my buttocks were just peeping out of the tiny little skirt and that he’d be staring at me, not daring to look away in case he missed the chance to see a bit more. I teased him with this for a second, then leaned over a bit further, feeling the rush of air that confirmed my pussy was well and truly out. I heard him draw breath. I allowed him a good look before I “found” my purse, and straightened up again, smoothing down my skirt as if nothing had happened. He was looking at me with pure lust.

  I smiled, paid, and then drove away, knowing he’d remember me forever – probably more vividly than he’d recall half the girls he’d actually slept with.

  I got to the address given to me by the agent. It was a large bar and I’ll admit I started to feel a bit apprehensive as I walked in the door, worried about who I’d meet first and whether they would judge me for being the girl who walks around with her pussy on display all night.

  I needn’t have been concerned. As soon as I walked in, two guys came up to me – the brother and best friend of the guest of honour, the stag as it turned out, or, as they call them in Aus, the “buck”. I saw the best man’s eyes dart straight away to my skirt, could almost feel his heart beating faster as he imagined me out of it. I don’t know who was more excited by the prospect.

  I was paid up front, way more then I’d ever earned in one night before, and assured that I’d make more from tips as the night wore on. I learned that there a bar which would be attended by another bottomless girl from the agency, that she’d make up the drinks orders and I’d be on tray service to the tables. The guys pointed out where the buck would be sitting and said to make sure I gave him plenty of attention. Also, the bar was hired privately so normal rules didn’t apply and I could go as wild as I liked. I smiled, not yet sure how wild I did like.

  The other skimpy was already in the back room that had been set aside for us. A tall brunette from Canberra, she wore a black tube-top over her perky breasts and nothing else. Despite my excitement, and even though I’d tried on my own outfit, there was still something shocking about seeing her dressed like that in the flesh. Her pussy was shaved and I could see everything. I hoped she didn’t notice me staring as she extended her hand and introduced herself as Anastasia, telling me I could call her Anna.

  ‘Jessica,’ I said, shaking her hand.

  ‘Ever done one of these before?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. If you get pissed doing tray let me know and I’ll swap ya – the bar’s easier.’

  She seemed totally businesslike about the whole thing, I didn’t think it was the right moment to admit that I’d much rather work the room than the bar as I’d have the opportunity to show my pussy to more guys.

  Eight o’clock rolled around and we got to work, if you can call it that. We walked out on to the floor, where the bucks were gathered, rowdy and excitable. They cheered and jostled when they saw us, compliments and lewd comments mixing together. Anastasia was nonplussed by both in equal measure, while I was equally excited by both.

  Anastasia made a bee line for the bar and I was suddenly alone in the middle of a group of men, naked from the waist down. I’ve never felt panic and arousal so strongly at the same time. When you’re wantonly exposing yourself in public you’ve already broken a major social taboo, and this lays the way open for everyone else to break with conventional etiquette too, so the guys never mince their words with strippers and naked waitresses.

  ‘Wow, baby, that is a pretty pussy. I’d love to stick my tongue in it, your legs around my neck. What d’ya say?’

  ‘Come here so I can finger-fuck you. I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Are you wet? Hey, Dan, she’s all wet! Horny bitch, bet you’d love to take us all on!’

  I smiled, feeling a bit overwhelmed and faint, actually wanting to just let them grab me and have their way, but simultaneously enjoying the fact that I could be coquettish and professional with no knickers on.

  I went to the bar, wiggling my bum as I walked, knowing every eye in the place was on me. Anastasia had lined up a tray of shots and pointed me over to the buck’s table. I realised that, as the men were seated, my bare pussy would be right at eye level as I served them.

  The guys were all gathered round the buck so I had no trouble guessing which one was him, and I approached him from the side. His friends saw me before he did so when he turned his head, my naked lower body was inches from his face. I put the tray down and handed him a glass. He looked me up and down, lust-struck. The guys cheered and all took a shot, without taking their eyes off me. They tipped me a few bucks, and a few more compliments.

  I took my time getting back to the bar, smiling at guys as I went, lapping up the attention. I caught sight of myself in one of the bar’s mirrors, bottomless in a roomful of men. This wasn’t work!

  I served another table, a couple of quieter guys sitting apart from the others. ‘Why don’t you sit with us for a bit, baby girl?’ One of them asked.

  I looked around, checking everyone had a drink who wanted one – I took my waitressing duties as seriously as the rest of m
y job! They all seemed satisfied so I sat down, crossing my legs and placing my hands on my knee.

  ‘Aww, that’s such a shame, hiding away like that,’ the same guy said, pulling a fifty out of his wallet and casually folding it on the table in front of me. ‘Why don’t you show me a bit more?’

  I took the bill, tucked it in my top, then briefly uncrossed my legs. The guys just stared appreciatively, so I leaned back and spread my legs across the chair, giving the two of them a good long look at my pussy, enjoying it as much as they did.

  ‘How about a little dance? Just jump up on the table.’

  I climbed up, struggling a bit with my heels and the slippery table top. They stared up at me, transfixed, as I circled my hips and ran my hands up my thighs. I was getting wet so I opened my legs a little way so they could see the effect all this was having on me. I got down on my knees, stretching face down with my uncovered arse and pussy towards them, enjoying the filthy comments and unblinking stares from the two men.

  The buck’s table was signalling for more drinks so I made my excuses, leaving the duo looking blissed out. I picked up another tray of shots from the bar and made my way over to the buck. I put it down on the table and deliberately dropped the tip tray. I turned and bent over, taking my time picking it up to the cheers of the men.

  I glanced at Anastasia, who was clearly bored and checking her mobile, seemingly unconcerned about her state of undress and my going above and beyond the job description. She was the one missing out, I decided, and I was going to have some real fun.

  ‘OK, guys, who’s up for some body shots?’

  They all cheered.

  I lined up the tequila shots along the side of the table, and hopped up onto it. Money started to fly straight away. I laid a long line of salt down the centre of the table, from one end to about halfway up, and lay down with a leg on either side of it. I placed sliced limes all over myself, on my stomach and the tops of my thighs, then slowly splayed my legs wider. I told the guys to start licking up the salt, with one condition – the buck had to go last.

  They had all gathered at the bottom end of the table to get a good look at my spread-open pussy. Then the first guy licked up a bit of the salt, took a shot, and picked a lime off my thigh, lingering slightly, his breath on my skin and the juice dripping down my leg.

  Another guy took his turn, then the next, then yet another, the diminishing line of salt bringing each successive one closer to having his face in my pussy. And as it went on, each seemed to take more liberties with the limes, taking his time and licking and sucking my skin as he picked up a juicy slice with his teeth.

  Finally, the buck’s turn came around. He licked up the last few grains of salt, his hair brushing my swollen and throbbing lips, making me moan involuntarily. I felt him breathe in, inhaling the scent of my juices, struggling against an impulse to bury his face in my wet pussy. He groaned slightly, took the shot, and pressed his lips to my lower stomach as he bit into the last lime. I was sticky with lime juice, drunk on desire, and covered in money. I wanted him to eat my pussy, and so did our audience, who were chanting, ‘Lick her cunt! Lick her cunt!’

  The buck was in no rush to finish the lime, loitering around my pussy, but there was a pained reluctance underlying his lust. I guessed he’d made a promise to his fiancé that he’d behave, and didn’t want to break it.

  The best man eventually pushed him out of the way.

  ‘If you’re not going to lick it, then I am!’

  The guys were all pushing each other to keep a clear view as he pressed his lips to my clit, gently at first then becoming more and more insistent. I was already so horny from my night of showing off that my orgasm started to build quickly as his tongue traced over my clit and lips. My nipples strained against my bra, the feeling of being naked on the bottom but fully clothed on top strange and somehow dirtier than being completely nude.

  ‘Finger-fuck her!’ Someone in the audience yelled out. This caught Anastasia’s attention from the bar. She looked over, disinterested – it obviously wasn’t the first time she’d seen this kind of debauchery, even if she wasn’t up for getting involved herself. This idea excited me more, that this wasn’t likely to be a one-off, and I could be doing this every weekend.

  I felt a finger slide inside me, then two, finding the sensitive spot deep within, rubbing in circles and thrusting in and out. My hips started to lift off the table, pushing towards him. The guys cheered louder as my arousal was clearly out of control, and I came loud and hard, grinding my pussy into his face and hand. A few more tips landed on and around me.

  I lay in a sticky heap on the table, till one of them asked me to get some more shots.

  ‘I don’t think she can walk straight yet,’ said another guy, and he definitely had a point.

  My legs were still very shaky so it was with some difficulty that I teetered on my heels towards the bar. Anastasia had laid out more shots, and other tables were shouting and beckoning me over, yelling that they wanted to do body shots too.

  ‘You look like you’re enjoying yourself at least,’ Anastasia said with a wink.

  ‘Nothing wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure,’ I replied, heading for the next table, and the next gang of men. She shook her head, but she was smiling.

  I lost count of how many orgasms I had that night and of how many men ate my pussy and fingered me in front of their friends. Anastasia dressed and packed up quickly, pecking me on the cheek and saying she had a date to get to. At 2 a.m., I knew exactly what she meant by that.

  I sat for a few moments, in no hurry to dress – I’d had so much fun going bottomless I didn’t want it to end. I counted my money – well over 800 Aussie dollars and that was on top of the basic wage I’d be getting. Honestly, though, I’d have done it all for free, not that I was going to admit that to the guys who’d tipped me so generously!

  I was just about to put my skirt back on – reluctantly – when I heard a soft knock at the door. I instinctively made to cover myself but remembered everyone had seen everything already, and answered it just as I was.

  The best man was standing there. He looked me up and down again with a lazy smile, the memory of his licking me to orgasm in front of everyone fresh in both our minds. He handed me a business card.

  ‘I’ve been looking for someone like you to do a few jobs for me. A bit of cooking, gardening, washing my car, and … well, just hanging out at my place. Dressed exactly like that. Good money. What do you say?’

  I took the card and tucked it into my skimpy cropped top. I’d definitely be making that call. Nothing wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure.

  Your Ultimate Fantasy

  by Elizabeth Coldwell

  At first, I thought it was the cheapest, laziest present Grant could have given me. I’ve never measured the strength of his feelings for me in terms of how much money he spends – he’s always had plenty of other ways of making me feel valued and special – but it was my birthday, after all. At the very least he could have picked up a bunch of flowers from the all-night petrol station down the road. Instead, when I opened my card, a small, rectangular piece of paper fluttered out. I immediately recognised it as one of the Love Notes from the book in my bedside drawer.

  I’d been given the book as a Secret Santa gift at work a couple of years ago. The minds of the blokes in my department never seemed to rise very far above crotch level, so you knew you had a more than even chance of opening your beautifully wrapped parcel to discover a pop-up copy of the Kama Sutra, or something edible and penis-shaped. These were a little less tacky, if no more practical. I’d never felt any inclination to make use of them. Designed to look like banknotes, they carried the message “I promise to pay the bearer on demand …” followed by some kind of romantic or vaguely naughty action, from breakfast in bed to a lapdance. At the back of the book were half a dozen notes deliberately left blank for you to come up with your own suggestion. On the one I was holding now, Grant had written in
his usual messy scrawl, ‘Your ultimate fantasy.’

  I must have failed to disguise my disappointment, because Grant said, ‘Sorry, Roz. I really did mean to nip out and get you something before the shops shut, but the main server went down, and by the time we’d fixed it …’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. Sometimes I wanted to tell Grant he didn’t need to work such ridiculously long hours, but he’d heard rumours of cutbacks within the company and he seemed determined to do whatever it took to make sure he wasn’t affected personally. I tucked the Love Note into my jeans pocket. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to make good use of this. Now, let’s have dinner.’

  Grant came home the following evening with a box of handmade Belgian truffles and a bouquet of roses so large I had to split it between every vase in the house, making me feel guilty about my petulant response to his original present. I knew he cared about me; I just resented the fact that, increasingly, I seemed to come lower down his list of priorities than maintaining the hardware in the IT department he oversaw.

  The more I thought about it, though, the more I discovered I liked the idea of being able to ask him to fulfil my ultimate fantasy. It gave me a delicious feeling of control, knowing that at some moment entirely of my choosing I would be able to order him to …

  To what? It wasn’t as though my mind wasn’t packed with fantasies. Some Grant knew all about. We talked about them in bed sometimes, because he enjoyed how excited it made me. His hand would snake between my legs, feeling the wetness there, as I told him how I’d love him to rent a hotel room across town so I could travel to meet him there wearing nothing but high heels and a full-length faux mink coat. Or twist my hair in pigtails and put on knee socks, then drape myself over his knee for a bare-bottom spanking.

  We both liked that one so much we’d actually tried it out. Grant relished the role of my stern guardian, forced to chastise me for disobeying him. I squirmed and yelled on his lap as he spanked my arse till it was red and sore, then sighed in bliss as he kissed the hurt away before working his way lower so he could tongue me to a soft, melting orgasm.