by Olivia Myers
Catherine had many lovers. Her slender frame, supple lips, blonde tresses and deep blue eyes were the stuff of any man’s wildest fantasies. She gave herself to them, willingly and completely, and almost all of them were spellbound from the moment they met her. But when she left them, Catherine knew she had received more pleasure from their encounter than any of them ever did.
And she loved every minute.
Catherine was an exhibitionist. Exhibitionist. The term always seemed so cold to her. It sounds like I’m some sort of performer, she thought. She never thought of herself as merely throwing her tits and ass in the faces of strangers. Ever since she was a teenager, Catherine loved to please. As a pretty cheerleader and homecoming queen, she played her high school role correctly and lost her virginity in one of those classic “backseat of the football player’s car” high school adventures. Her college years and her twenties were full of much of the same – casual date partners who made their best attempts to woo her to bed. She appreciated their attention and advances, but when the ritual took them to the bedroom, Catherine left feeling unfulfilled. Sex was just a physical act, and she knew that finding someone to climb on top of you was about the easiest feat a human could accomplish.
Basking now in the confidence of her early thirties, Catherine realized that she needed more – a mental connection that transcended the ordinary girl-meets-boy storyline every fairytale teaches people to want. Instead of being the hunted, Catherine decided to explore the art of seduction from a new angle. She began to research a fetish she had heard of but knew very little about: exhibitionism. “Streaking,” or running across public venues was something any kid growing up in the ’80s or ’90s had heard of. It always seemed to involve some lone man or woman leading a haphazard chase of cops and athletes in a stadium, eventually being tackled with a blanket and carted off to receive a fine or a night in a police holding tank. But in her research, Catherine discovered a different side to being naked in public. She visited forums and read blogs from women who told their own stories of exploration ranging from childhood games of “I’ll show you mine” to the sensual curiosity of the repressed wife. Within all of the different tales she read, there was a common thread: every single woman left her experience feeling powerful, appreciated, and sexier than ever before.
Soon after her dive into the world of exhibitionism, Catherine decided it was time to give it a try. She chose a Wednesday morning as her first day; the middle of the week was a busy one at the law office where she worked as a paralegal, with a lot of stuffy, unassuming lawyers and corporate clients darting in and out of boring meetings and depositions. After her shower she chose her outfit carefully: a white silk blouse and a charcoal gray skirt that hugged her hips. It took every ounce of courage to not reach for a thong from her dresser drawer. Instead of slipping one on, she pulled the skirt on over her thighs, letting the fabric caress her skin as she strode to her vanity to finish her makeup and hair. When she was done, her wavy blond tresses rested softly on her shoulders, framing a simple yet flawless makeup job of foundation, eyeliner, rouge, and rose-colored lipstick. Usually when Catherine dressed for work or a date, she just thought about making herself pretty. But as she gave herself one last look in her full-length mirror that morning, something was different. Before stepping out of her bedroom, Catherine was excited about the little secret she had under her skirt. She would walk by hundreds of people on her way to the office today; none of them realizing that there was only a thin piece of Italian cotton between them and her already-aching clit. It made her feel powerful and sexy all at the same time.
That first morning without underwear was full of discovery for Catherine. Every time she went to grab a cup of coffee from the break room or was pulled into a meeting to take notes, she couldn’t help but grin to herself. I can’t believe how great this feels, she thought. I’m practically naked, and no one has any idea! When she sat at her desk typing, Catherine spread her legs just wide enough to let a trickle of air slip over her pink pearl, tickling her and adding to the anticipation of what was to come. The morning soon led into the midday – lunchtime. She figured that her best opportunity would be now; there would be more than enough people to choose from, and the courtyard behind the office building was the perfect place to catch some sun … and begin a new experience.
Catherine grabbed a book from her desk and headed outside. The courtyard was a common area for all the businesses in her office building. On a pretty day you could find dozens of lawyers, accountants, and therapists quietly eating or reading. She found a bench underneath a tree near a long walking path, with another empty bench directly across from it. She settled down and began to “read” her book – that is, she held the book in front of her face and sneaked sly smiles to the men and women who passed her. They all returned a smile, but in a few of the passersby Catherine could see something else behind their eyes. It was as if they could see past the façade she was putting up. Are they here to play as well?
Catherine’s mind raced with the possibilities, until an attractive accountant sat across from her with his lunch. She had seen him before in the elevator and in the courtyard, and they had exchanged pleasantries about the weather or their mutual wish for the weekend to arrive sooner rather than later. He pulled out his cell phone and began to browse the web, looking up to give her the usual smile hello. When their eyes locked, Catherine knew that he was the one.
“Hey you,” she said coyly. It was right then that she realized she’d never learned his name. Good, she thought. That will make this even hotter.
“Hey yourself,” the handsome accountant replied. “So good to get out of there on a nice day like this.”
“No kidding,” Catherine responded. “It’s so perfect out here today. I’m just happy I picked this outfit instead of the pantsuit I almost put on.”
The accountant smiled slyly, his eyes drinking in every inch of her. Catherine did her best to avoid noticing though; she didn’t want him to stop. Jesus, it’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes already. “Well,” he finally said after what seemed like an eternity. “If you’re as comfortable as you are pretty in that, then I bet you’re one happy girl.”
Catherine responded with a shy giggle. She knew from the stories she’d read that this was the moment she was waiting for: she had him engaged and comfortable in his masculinity. Whenever she and the accountant encountered one another before, Catherine was content with playing the role of the demure lady, being taken with a dashing man, but now it was time to turn the tables. She took a deep breath, found all of her courage, and in the sultriest voice her nervous body could muster said, “I’m even more comfortable when I don’t wear some things.”
The accountant seemed to catch on quicker than Catherine anticipated. His eyes flashed with that excitement that comes across the face of someone who is about to live out a fantasy. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I can imagine that.”
Now, Catherine thought. It’s now or never. She uncrossed her legs and sat with her knees together. She then looked across the path to the accountant, looking for one more sign that he wanted what she was ready to give. He looked right into her eyes and slowly nodded. Catherine parted her knees slowly, once again welcoming the tickle of the warm air, feeling it creep up her thighs as she spread her legs wider and wider. She continued to lock eyes with the accountant, but as she continued to open up his eyes lowered and she threw her head back. At that moment, an intense, electric jolt rushed over Catherine – it felt like an adrenaline rush and an orgasm were happening at the same time. Now that she wasn’t looking at him, the experience was even better; she didn’t need to see him. There was a peculiar and strong energy that she felt from him. She could feel how much he wanted her, and his frustration in knowing that at that moment, he could not have her. Catherine had all the power; as long as she had him spellbound, he cared about nothing else but her.
The seconds went by like minutes, and after what felt like an hour, Catherine lifted her head up and clo
sed her legs. She smiled at the accountant – who could do very little to hide the nearly twitching bulge in his slim-fitting trousers, closed her book, and stood up. As she walked away, Catherine turned over her shoulder to get one more glance of gratitude from her lover. She was not disappointed. “Let’s hope this weather keeps up,” she called back over her shoulder. “It always puts me in the best mood.”
In all of her years of being wanted by men – all the flowers and candy, all the dating and fucking – Catherine had never been more turned on as she was after that encounter. It was as if she was watching herself from outside her body; the sensation was so new to her that she simply had no comparison. Her body was on fire. Realizing that she wouldn’t be able to last another four hours away from her trusty vibrator, she took advantage of her friendly boss’s standing offer and borrowed the key to the private bathroom. She couldn’t get the door locked fast enough before she leaned against the sink and slipped two fingers inside of her dripping pussy. She fingered herself quickly and expertly, licking two fingers of her other hand to gently massage her clit. The last four minutes of Catherine’s life played in looping flashes in her mind, and she rode the wave of reliving it over and over again until the hardest orgasm she had ever known brought her to her knees on the bathroom floor.
Reason and reality slowly seeped back into her, and soon she picked herself up off the floor. She straightened her clothes and makeup and returned to her desk. As she sat at her desk that afternoon, Catherine knew that this was what she had been missing her whole sexual life. Feeling more like herself than ever before, she tackled her to-do list while plotting her new life as an exhibitionist.
After the accountant, there were many, many others: the fireman at the hook and ladder garage down the street from her townhouse, the very helpful librarian stationed across from her in the periodicals, the pizza delivery boy (one of her favorites – after she answered the door naked, she let him keep the pizza!). With each new conquest, Catherine lost more and more of the timid, submissive nature she had been programmed with. She was still very much a lady – she loved being wined and dined like the next girl – but she no longer took her body as a gift she had to give away to anyone. Instead, it was the tool she used to please her own sexual appetites. She wasn’t obligated to just one form of sexual expression. Catherine still enjoyed what many would describe as “traditional” intercourse with a lover, but now she focused on pleasing herself, giving her lovers the cues they needed to bring her to orgasm. She was never met with resistance to her new aggressive nature; since they wanted to make her cum, all of her lovers appreciated the guidance.
Even with her new attitude between the sheets being well received, exhibitionism was Catherine’s true sexual faith. As she learned more about other people like her – through their stories and email exchanges – she felt part of a community of people that had the ability to feel sexy beyond intercourse. The desire, the temptation, and the restriction of exhibitionism created a tension that made Catherine’s whole body vibrate with every adventure. She laughed out loud when she came across the fact that it was regarded as a mental disorder. This is normal for me, she thought. But if I’m crazy, then so be it!
Crazy. Many people would call Catherine’s next step into the world of exhibitionism just that. But for her, the thrill was all that mattered, and as she plotted her next adventure, she was certain that she was in for the biggest thrill yet.
Catherine’s next big idea came to her, of all places, at the dentist’s office. She was waiting for a routine cleaning, thumbing through last year’s swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated. She always loved to look at the summer suits, if only to laugh and wonder how anyone would want to swim in the square millimeters of fabric that passed for bathing suits. Soon she came across her favorite section: the painted swimsuits. She couldn’t help but be amazed at the detail of the bikini strings, thongs, and tops that looked so realistic in the photos. Anyone would be fooled from far away, Catherine thought. That probably feels amazing…being completely naked in front of people, but they’d only realize it if they stared long enough. That must be—
Then it hit her. The ultimate adventure in exhibitionism was right there in front of her face. “Holy shit,” she muttered – louder than she should, as the scowl on the receptionist’s face helped her realize. She flashed an apologetic smile before pulling her phone out of her purse and hopping online. There has to be someone, Catherine thought, as she tore through her search engine for what she needed. In less than a minute she found a link, committed the street address to memory, and tapped the phone number to make a call.
“Hello, Student Art Collaborative,” said a cheery voice on the other line.
“Yes, hello,” Catherine said. “I have an odd project I was hoping to commission your group for.”
“Okay,” the voice said. “We’re just a group of young artists, though. We get together to work on really innovative projects in between our school assignments. We can’t promise amazing work, but we have fun working together.”
“I completely understand,” Catherine responded. By now she had rushed out of the dentist’s office and jumped into her car, deciding to talk the voice into taking the gig while she was driving towards their crosstown studio. She started the car and activated the speakerphone mode on her cell. “I don’t imagine that my idea is very difficult, but it would require a lot of people working together to get it done in time.”
“Well, how long would we have?” the voice asked.
Catherine glanced at her watch. “Well, the concert starts at 8pm, so about 7 hours.”
“Hold on lady.” The cheery tone was morphing quickly into frustration. “What exactly do you want us to paint?”
Catherine couldn’t help but chuckle about her big idea. “Me,” she responded. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
After a quick stop at her house for some much-needed accessories, Catherine arrived at the S.A.C. studio and met the artists that would give her the look she needed for her night out: three excited young girls named Jamie, Allison, and Paula. They did some quick introductions and Catherine stepped out of her clothes onto a drop cloth in the middle of the floor. After a few glasses of wine and some great mix CDs, the four women were satisfied with the end result: Catherine clad in a painted replica of a man’s tuxedo. The jet black paint for the lapels did a great job of hiding her nipples – along with the black pasties the girls cut out of latex and painted. Although the approving nods of the young artists were definite signs of a job well done, Catherine nearly ran to the nearest mirror, grabbing the bag of accessories on the way to the dressing area across the studio. She squealed with delight when she saw the product. The current fashion trend had brought back the androgynous look for women in men’s formal wear, and the suit cut to have these days fit snug and slim. It would make complete sense for Catherine to be seen in a suit like this, and anyone who wasn’t paying close attention would see her merely as another pretty girl doing what Vogue told her to do. She reached into her bag and slipped on the black heels and bow tie she brought along. Wow, even better, she thought.
Jamie brought over a black overcoat. “Here,” she said, as she motioned to Catherine to let her help her into the coat. “You have to borrow this. This will help keep you warm when you need to, and it will help strengthen the illusion of a real suit.”
“Guys, I couldn’t be happier,” Catherine said. “You did a great job.” She reached for her checkbook to pay the girls, adding an extra $100 to the agreed fee. “Promise me we’ll do this again?”
“Hell yeah,” said Paula. “We’ll be here. I just love what you’re all about, Cat. I hope I can find the balls to do what you’re doing someday.”
Catherine chuckled. “Trust me, you will. I got a feeling about it.” She dropped a quick kiss on each of their cheeks before heading out the door.
The show was starting in less than thirty minutes, and Catherine wanted to make sure her opening act went well.
&nb
sp; Catherine floored it to the concert. She was so excited to start her night; the thought of stirring up some fun at such a rigid, traditional function gave her that warm feeling she had come to love and long for. The symphony wouldn’t have landed anywhere near her list of fun things to do, but the tickets were a last-minute perk from her boss, who had bought them before scheduling a trip to the firm’s London offices. She didn’t think she’d actually end up using them, but now that she stood in the lobby of the ornate concert hall, she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else.
The usher directed her to a section to the left of the stage, along the wall and surrounded by a cluster of boxes jutting from the walls off to the side. Her tickets reserved the last two seats from the far aisle, and a seemingly married couple already occupied the seats next to her, out for what looked like an obligatory date night. Jesus, Catherine thought. If that’s what marriage looks like, I’m so happy I was spared the abuse. Being an exhibitionist taught her a lot about reading people, but there was no secret to be kept about her seatmates – they were miserable.
Not to be done in by a challenge so early in the evening, Catherine took off her coat and draped it over the aisle seat. That left her sitting right next to the depressed husband, who finally noticed her when she slid into her seat. Catherine wasn’t paying attention to the man much anyway. In a room full of hundreds of people, Catherine was completely exposed, on display for anyone willing to take a look and expect something a little more than the mundane. She said hello to the husband next to her, who smiled back with a terse “hello.” His eyes darted everywhere except her face. As she settled in, Catherine could feel the labored breathing of the living statue next to her quicken a bit. She knew that the husband could be onto her at any second, but he was far too reserved – or turned on – to say anything.
