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It's
been a busy day! When I read Mr C's email
warning this morning I felt a terrible
sinking feeling; a sudden realization I
might be deeply disappointed. He warned if
I neglected to perform any of the daring
challenges he'd set for me simply to
hasten the ultimate humiliation I knew
would come eventually, he'd withdraw from
the blackmail game I'd spent close to two
years painstakingly plotting for myself.
Even though I'd only known Mr C for less
than a week, I already knew instinctively
he was just the man to make my long-held
fantasy a reality - to have my boss at
work serendipitously discover my secret
desire to surrender myself to him in any
way he wanted. It had become an obsession
and so the thought of having everything
fizzle because of my own stupidity
preoccupied my thoughts throughout the
rest of the morning.
Much of
the morning was spent doing nothing much
at all besides lounging around reading the
weekend papers with my husband. While
reading the papers an idea suddenly struck
me as I was browsing one of the Arts
sections. A small advertisement soliciting
students for life drawing classes due to
begin next month reminded me of a
proposition put to me earlier in the year
- a proposition I'd all but forgotten
until this morning. I should probably
quickly explain something about the
library where I work.
Whenever
I tell most people I'm a librarian they
invariably think immediately: librarian -
public library. Most times I don't even
bother denying this assumption because
doing so forces me to admit I actually
work in a library which is infinitely MORE
dull for the average person than a regular
library. It's a research library
specializing in art history and
conservation and attached to an art
college which means most of our people I
deal with every day are academics and
occasionally students who have a deeper
interest in art history than is offered by
the college (which actually has Modern Art
as its main focus - Californian
Philistinism at its highest level!) Oh,
and every now and then we'll get visits
from art dealers or auction house agents
looking for inside information on an
infantile abstract pastel piece which some
shyster is trying to unload on them. But I
digress.
Earlier
this year a tutor from the college came
into the library searching for information
on somethingorother and during the course
of our conversation he asked me if I might
be interested in modeling for one of his
life drawing classes. The question came
right out of the blue and if I hadn't
known he worked for the college I would
have considered the question to be a
laughable pick-up line. Thinking back, it
probably was partly a pick up line. It's
not like he looked attractive to me or
anything although I'd always thought he
was quite an affable guy; an air of
ex-hippy/beatnik about him and a kind of
sparkle in his eye which made it easy to
overlook his graying baldness and
underestimate his fifty or so years by
half. Anyway, I was so surprised by the
unexpected proposition that I laughed him
off and never gave it another thought. It
was only out of politeness I took his card
and while it was a challenge three months
later to find it in the 'black hole' which
is my handbag, I found it and bravely
decided to try and get in touch with him.
I had to
wait until after lunch to be alone in my
apartment (my husband had tickets for the
Dodgers game this afternoon and it was
after lunch before he went to have a few
drinks with friends and later to the game
with them.) Eventually I plucked up the
courage to dial the cell phone number on
the card given to me by the art tutor,
Jeremy. My chest constricted and my
stomach knotted nervously with each
ringing tone so that when he finally
answered I felt like I could hardly
breathe. It's almost a sickness with me
but I can easily remember every person
I've ever met. Jeremy clearly wasn't
anything like me in this regard and I felt
like I was making an idiot of myself until
he finally twigged to who I was and why I
was calling.
Anyway,
we ended up talking for quite a while and,
he had to make a call or two and get back
to me, but he managed to put off the
regular model for his classes tomorrow
morning and another Tuesday afternoon. In
case it's not already clear, Jeremy tutors
'life drawing' classes and I will have to
pose nude in front of a group of college
art students for each hour and a half long
class. It was difficult to contain my
enthusiasm, unlike Jeremy who sounded
quite blase about the whole idea of women
posing nude for his classes. In fact he
even warned me most models actually found
nude modeling to be the dullest and most
tedious of all the modeling assignments
and that I should bring a book to read so
as not to die of boredom. If only he had
an inkling of all the wild thoughts that
were racing through my mind! Which book do
you think I might take along? Well,
thinking back to what Mr C had said about
me fulfilling my obligations with regards
to the little challenges he'd set to see
me embarrass or humiliate myself, I've
decided to take Pauline Reage's 'Story Of
O' to pass the time while everybody is
staring at my nude body! I feel so
exhilarated with the excitement of it all
that I can barely type at the moment.
There's still a slight logistical problem
for me in that Monday's class begins at
11am and Tuesday's at 4pm which means I'm
going to have to rearrange my lunch times.
Tuesday is the least of the problem. I can
cut work early if I start earlier in the
morning that day. Monday is slightly more
tricky in that I only get an hour for
lunch, the class is an hour and a half and
it will take me probably fifteen minutes
to get across to the college to be there
on time to begin the class. Thankfully my
boss is not too demanding with regards to
when I take my breaks and it shouldn't be
a problem taking two hours in the middle
of the day as long as I begin work earlier
in the morning and stay back a bit later
in the afternoon.
So,
after getting all worked up about what
lies ahead for me tomorrow I decided to
refresh my memory of the challenges Mr C
had set. However, there was still one
other thing which had been occupying my
thoughts for the past 48 hours - the
challenge that Mr C had made clear I had
to do as punishment for forfeiting an
earlier, relatively more simple challenge.
To strip completely naked, lock myself
outside my apartment and then go and ask
the landlord to let me back in. Being as
excited as I was I knew I could have
quickly brought myself off right there and
then but I reminded myself of one of the
other challenges which made it clear I
wasn't allowed to do that. Besides, I also
knew my enthusiasm for the task I was
about to do, not to mention the total lack
of rational thinking ability I have when I
get this excited, would quickly vanish
once I orgasmed.
I dashed
into the bathroom and undressed as quickly
as I could. My whole body felt electrified
as I stood naked in front of the bathroom
mirror. I brushed my hair and pulled it
back into a tight ponytail before applying
make-up to my face; a light dusting of
rouge for my cheeks; a little mascara to
accentuate my eyes, and some bright red
lip gloss that seemed totally
inappropriate for wearing Sunday morning.
I sprayed my neck, breasts and stomach and
even the insides of my thighs with a mist
of my favorite perfume 'White Linen' and
as a final touch, carefully brushed my
swollen nipples with some rouge to
highlight the manifest state of their
arousal.
My knees
threatened to buckle under my trembling
weight when I opened the door to my
apartment and cautiously stepped outside
onto the deserted hallway. My apartment is
on the third floor of an old four story
building - one apartment per floor; two
small shops (now offices) on the ground
floor and the landlord who also owns the
building living in the top floor
apartment, which has access to a rooftop
garden with views back across the valley.
I didn't even stop to think as I gently
closed my apartment door; it was like
being possessed by some uncontrollable
outside force which forced my arm to pull
the handle. The sound of the latch
clicking into place, locking me outside,
seemed louder than usual. Maybe I was just
more aware of it? Whatever the case, I
felt a rush of instant excitement knowing
I now had no choice but to journey
upstairs and face the landlord.
The old
wooden stairs squeaked quietly under the
threadbare carpet as I made my way up to
the landlord's apartment on the floor
above. I'd never really thought much about
him before. I rarely ever saw him and in
all of the three years my husband and I
had lived in the block, I'd never had a
reason to go higher than the third floor.
Now, not only was I going up to this
seemingly forbidden floor above, I was
completely naked!
I don't
know what I expected to see. The fourth
floor was every bit as nondescript as the
floors below except the carpet on this
level was noticeably less worn than the
floors below. The door to the landlord's
apartment didn't look much different from
my own; small tarnished brass door knocker
below a spy hole; modern silver keyholes
to deadlocks above and below an old
fashioned door knob; an italicized beaten
brass number four on the door. There was
no sign of life; the whole building seemed
so silent as to be deserted.
The
landlord, as far as I could remember from
what my husband told me about him, was an
old widowed guy, supposedly loaded with
money but living alone and never
entertaining visitors or anybody for that
matter. On the few occasions I'd seen him
in the building he'd reminded me of an
older version of the actor Roddy
MacDowell. He just seemed to have one of
those 'eyes too close together, stunned
expressions' on his face whenever I saw
him or nodded any kind of acknowledgement
on the rare occasions we passed on the
stairs.
I stood
at the landlord's door doing nothing for a
long moment before nervously rapping my
knuckles a couple of times. Then I held my
breath and listened. Nothing. Again I
knocked, a couple of times each time a bit
louder. Still nothing. I began to feel a
mild panic coming over me. It hadn't
occurred to me he might not be home! I
hugged my bare breasts and hips, feeling
the warmth generated by my excitement
slowly draining from my naked body. I had
avoided the brass door knocker because I
was afraid of being heard by anybody on
the lower floors but now I was forced to
use it. The tack-like rat-a-tat-tat of
metal against metal resounded loudly
through the entire apartment block even
though I barely touched the thing.
Finally! The sound of movement inside.
I waited
for the moment I was both dreading and
anxiously eager to come. Nothing. I
pressed my head against the door and
quietly called "hello?" through the door.
Nothing. Perhaps I'd imagined the sound
inside. I grabbed the door knocker again
and, steeling myself for the noise,
knocked four or five times in a short,
loud burst of nervous impatience.
"Who is
it?" a voice came from inside.
My
moment had come and I felt immediately
light headed, breathless and dizzy. I
tried to speak in a normal volume and told
him I was the neighbor from down stairs
and then stood back from the door,
assuming he would try and check through
the spy hole before opening the door. This
became the hardest moment. I sheepishly
covered my nakedness with my hands but
there would have been no chance of him not
realizing I was nude unless he was totally
blind. I could sense him looking at me but
again he asked "who is it?" I could feel
my face now burning with embarrassment.
"I'm
from downstairs - I've locked myself out
of my apartment," I called back. I heard
the snib of the deadlocks turning and
watched as his door creep open an inch or
two; a length of chain stopping it from
opening wider. Try and imagine Roddy
MacDowell's pointy nose, close set eyes
and "that expression" gazing back at you
like a strange and distorted Jack
Nicholson's face in the poster for The
Shining and you're some of the way to
imagining what I saw! I had to repeat
myself yet again before he finally closed
the door briefly, unhitched the chain and
then opened the door more fully.
He
seemed to think he was on Candid Camera or
something because he kept looking past me
towards the stairs behind. I smiled a
crooked, embarrassed smile and explained
I'd locked myself out of my apartment. His
only reply was "like that?" There wasn't
any real surprise in his expression and
this was unnerving for me. "Yes" I said,
blushing more deeply. He didn't ask
anything else. He just stood there for a
long moment silently summing up the
situation; his small, beady eyes darting
up and down me and then past me to the
stairs. It was difficult to read what he
might have been thinking. He appeared to
be taking the whole thing seriously or at
least with an indifference that suggested
he was neither amused or serious. When it
seemed like we'd reached some kind of
impasse, I had to ask if he had a spare
key to let me back in to my apartment.
"Yes" he said, still staring at me for a
second or two before suddenly shuffling
back into his apartment, closing the door
until he re-emerged a minute or two later.
It
wasn't until the landlord suggested I
'lead the way' that I felt a proper tingle
of excitement. I kept my hands clamped
modestly over my breasts and pussy as I
walked ahead of him back down the stairs
to my apartment. I wondered what he must
have been thinking as he followed; whether
he was watching my bottom jiggle with each
step I took; whether the sight of me
completely naked like that might actually
be arousing him. Once I got to my door I
looked back at him and glanced down at the
front of his baggy trousers. There was
clearly a bulge there; not very large, but
the vague signs of an erection. I quickly
looked away, not wanting to be caught
staring but at the same time hoping he'd
notice me staring and see that I was
highly aroused by the embarrassment of
being caught naked by him.
The
landlord stepped up to my door and
searched through the small bundle of keys
in his hand. He unlocked my door, saying
nothing as he let me back in to my
apartment. Then, without looking back,
disappeared back up the stairs to his his
own apartment. I can't believe it - I DID
it! The perverse satisfaction I'm feeling
right now is impossible to describe. The
whole embarrassing experience didn't last
more than five minutes in total but I
expect to be high on the sexual euphoria
it created for hours!
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