by Kara Bryn
I spent the next twenty minutes waiting tables, and it wasn't long before I'd nearly forgotten I only had a small pair of shorts to cover me. If a customer came through the door they would glance around at me, at Cassandra, or at Sue, and they would smile, but they would rarely stare. It was just the way it was in here, and I wondered now why I had been so terrified of it initially.
I barely registered Cassandra taking a telephone call from the back of the café but, suddenly, she jumped and skipped across to Sue. They exchanged some words, and then they wrapped their arms around each other and bounced on the spot, wide smiles across both of their faces.
I waved to Jim to follow me over to them.
"What is it?" I asked.
"We've had some great news!" Cassandra said.
"Oh, you won't believe it!" Sue added.
"Okay, Jim, let's get this on film," I said, and he handed me my microphone.
"Outside?" he said, "I'd love to get all three of you in shot. Full length."
Of course he would: the three of us standing together, beautiful breasts and smiles in the sun. It would be a picture I may never escape. But he knew his craft well, and he was right about how good it would look on camera.
I followed him outside and the girls skipped along with us. Jim set his camera up on the tripod and we stood together, Cassandra to my left and Sue to my right. I saw the red light on the camera and held the microphone to mouth.
"It's near the end of a long day at the Naked Women in Shorts Café, but the girls are very excited about some news they've just had, and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell you about it here." I turned to Cassandra. "So, Cassandra, what is it that has the both of you so excited." I held the microphone in front of her.
"It's our appeal!" Cassandra said, her face filled with delight. She was almost bouncing on the spot.
"It's the day we've been waiting for!" Sue added from beside me. I hoped the microphone picked it up.
"You know we've had our appeal running, ever since we set up the cafe," Cassandra continued, "Well, we won! We just heard. We're no longer 'Naked Women in Shorts Cafe'; from now on we can be what we wanted all along. It's time to lose the shorts!"
Suddenly she unbuttoned her denim shorts and, before I could even register what was happening, she slipped her hands into her waistband and pushed them and her knickers down her legs. They dropped over her slender calves and she stepped out of them, picked them up and waved them in the air, jumping with excitement. Sue, on my right did the same and Jim's mouth fell open.
The two young, naked girls bounced up and down beside me. I heard car horns honking from the street. I wondered if this was more than post-production could censor, but Jim wasn't about to stop filming.
"So, Cassandra…" She was still bouncing up and down so I put my free arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards me. She put her arm around my waist and hooked her thumb into one of the belt holes around my shorts. It felt very intimate as we stood together, our breasts rubbing against each other. I would not have imagined it, but I was mildly aroused by this tiny, vulnerable woman, with her naked body pressed up against me.
"Hey, Sue, why don't you stand on the other side. It's a great shot with the three of you," Jim said from behind the camera. I doubted he'd ever seen a better sight through a camera lens. "And, Sue, can you hold the microphone for Tricia while she closes?"
Sue took the microphone and I put my other arm around her shoulder. I felt her left hand on my waist and she, too, hooked her thumb into a loophole on my waistband. Her small, hard nipple pressed into my side. She held the microphone in front of my mouth.
"That's perfect, Sue," called Jim. I was tempted to remind him that we weren't making an adult movie here.
"Okay, ready when you are, Tricia," he instructed. The red light reappeared on the top of his camera.
"So, here we are, for another CBC first. No longer 'Naked Girls in Shorts Cafe', these two girls have dropped the shorts…" Cassandra let out a whooping noise and waved her free arm in the air. "This may be small town America but, today, I think we've just seen just what you can achieve with hard work, talent, and a whole load of naked ambition." I made sure to emphasise the "naked" pun.
The girls were still animated beside me I had to keep a firm grip on their shoulders just to hold them in place. I tried to ignore the distraction.
"This is Tricia Monroe, and this was A Working Day…."
I was just about to complete the sentence when I felt the girls move in tandem. My arms were still around their shoulders and I couldn't extricate them quickly enough. Swiftly and smoothly, the thumbs that were hooked into the belt holes in my shorts pulled downwards. Now I wished I hadn't let Cassandra unbutton them earlier.
As the rough denim peeled away from my hips, I also realised that the girls had pushed their fingers into my underwear. Once it had passed over the tops of my thighs, the mixed up bundle of denim and cotton dropped to the floor around my ankles. I tried to bend one knee to hide myself, but I knew it was useless: post-production would have even more covering up to do.
My fight or flight instinct took hold, and I came out fighting. With one foot I stepped out of my tiny pile of clothes, and then with the other I kicked it to one side. I decided to finish, standing there naked between the girls.
"…no longer in shorts, at the Naked Women Café."
I stood stock still, wondering how on earth things had gotten to this point. After what seemed like an age, Jim put the camera down and beamed.
"Tell me you got that," I said to him through gritted teeth, "There is no way in hell we're doing a retake."
"I got it," he said, "Every square inch of it." I saw his eyes flicker between the three of us, unsure as to which part of whose body to stare at next.
"You three were amazing," he added, "Perfect. Just perfect."
The Girl On The Tube
I still can't believe it happened. Even now I wonder if I dreamt the whole thing. If it did happen, then surely it would have made the news somewhere? But then, just because they have cameras, it doesn't mean that there's always someone watching them.
It started with a half day off work. It was Friday and I had some leave to use up, so I thought I may as well. I left the office a little after one o'clock and walked to Oxford Circus. I got on the tube to head back home. Even at that time of day the carriage was half full, but I found a seat anyway.
I was never much for reading on the tube, nor playing games on my phone, which seemed to be the modern pastime, so I was mostly occupied with my own thoughts for the weekend. On the way into Liverpool Street the woman next to me stood up and got off and the next set of passengers fought their to the many empty seats.
I'm not usually one to be so obvious, but I just couldn't help myself from staring as a beautiful Asian girl stepped into the carriage. If I had to put money on it, I might have said she was of Bangladeshi descent, or maybe north India or Pakistan.
But regardless of where she or her parents might have been from, her skin was a wonderful golden brown, her hair long and dark, and her eyes large and mysterious, to my eyes at least. I'd guess she was in her early twenties, so just a couple of years younger than me. She caught me staring at her and I saw a hint of a smile. I instantly looked away in terror, and then tensed up as she continued towards me.
I sat rigid with my elbows perched on the armrests as she continued to approach. She passed in front of me and I tried not to stare at her slim legs, long and lithe beneath a pair of shorts. She stepped carefully down the aisle and then, to my horror, she sat down beside me. I kept my eyes locked dead ahead but a frisson passed through me when her arm brushed against mine as she sat down. It wasn't even her arm, just the fabric of her jacket, but I trembled as it touched me.
As the tube pulled out of the station and into the darkness of the tunnel I remained motionless, concentrating on my breathing and on not turning my head, or even my eyes, to the side to take another look at this gorgeous woman besid
e me. Looking dead ahead I tried to make out her face reflected in the window. I don't know if it was my peripheral vision filling in the gaps, or the dimness of the reflection in the glass, but I would have said that she was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.
At the next two stops more people got off and only a few got on. I don't think I moved a muscle the whole time; I just couldn't think how to without being unnatural. My heart was beating hard in my chest.
The girl crossed her legs and I couldn't help but turn my head and stare at the smooth, lean thigh and the gently curved calf that now bobbed as the carriage rocked from side to side. Realising how obvious it was that I was staring at her, I looked avidly in the other direction, as if I was checking which stop we were at, and then I set my eyes directly forwards again. I snatched a glance at the girl's reflection again, and then I froze as I found her eyes looking into mine. I wasn't sure if it was the distortion of the glass, but I thought I detected a smile again. Oh, how I wished I could think of anything to say to her, but instead I kept my eyes locked on my own reflection. I felt like she was watching me the whole time, but I dare not look to check.
At Mile End and Stratford the train emptied yet further, and by Leytonstone there was no-one else in the carriage. Such are the patterns of commuting in London that sometimes, this far out of the centre, trains can be almost entirely empty in the middle of the day, yet in a few hours you wouldn't be able to cram a single extra person in.
Suddenly, her head turned towards me and my head snapped round to meet her eyes. She smiled and I felt my face glow.
"Is this a Hainault train?" she asked me. She had a beautiful, soft voice, and her full lips articulated every syllable. I wanted her to speak again, just so I could watch her mouth move.
"Erm, yes, I think so… I hope so…" I said in not much more than a mumble. "Woodford via Hainault, I think." If it wasn't a Hainault train then I needed to get off it. I hoped it was, and that she would stay on it for a while longer.
She smiled again and I felt my chest tighten. "That'll do. Thank you," she said as my eyes lost focus.
I tried to smile back, and then I recognised the kindly, compassionate smile I had seen in many a girl's eye before. It was a smile that meant I was nice, but I wasn't the type of guy to flirt with. I hadn't expected anything else: she was way out of my league.
As the train bounced along I could feel every movement she made in her seat. The entire time she'd been sitting there I'd moved nothing except my head, and I felt that to move my elbows off of the armrest now would seem odd. So I remained sat in the same position, both enjoying and being made uncomfortable at the same time by the touch of her jacket against my forearm with the movement of the train over the tracks.
Then, I almost started as she leant forwards to stand. I hoped she wasn't getting off at the next stop as she walked towards the carriage doors. I was about to remind her of her bag which was still on the floor in front of her seat, although I was tongue-tied as I watched her legs stride down the aisle. But, as she reached the door that connected to the next carriage she reached across and tried to open the sliding window. It was stiflingly hot in the tube network, even now that we were mostly above ground. I had put the feeling of heat down to her presence beside me, but it seemed it was genuinely warm.
I realised I should have offered to help, but instead I stared at her thighs, her toned calf muscles, her thin ankles and her small, delicate feet wrapped in tiny, short-heeled strappy sandals.
The window slid down and I quickly turned my head forwards again, anxious to show I'd not been staring at her. But, despite trying to keep my eyes locked on the scenery now passing by the window, I couldn't help my peripheral vision from taking all my attention as she stepped back up the aisle towards me. As she turned her back to sit down I took another glance down at her wonderful, golden legs. For a second, with no-one in the carriage and while she was facing away from me, I could just stare.
I was ready to look away as soon as she sat down, but first she slid her jacket off of her shoulders and shook it down her arms, pulling at the cuff. I let my eyes wander across her neck and shoulders, allowing myself to take in her beautiful, smooth skin. She was wearing a vest top beneath the jacket. It was tight with thin straps and it clung to her narrow waist. I felt my pulse quicken again. She folded her jacket in half and, once she was seated, she put it and her bag onto the now empty seat on the other side to her from where I was sitting.
It would have been perfectly normal for her to move seats at that point, to give her more space around her, especially in this heat. People were always moving to free space on the tube, and it was unusual that she'd stayed where she was in the empty carriage. Part of me wished she had moved, but most of me was glad she hadn't.
As sat down my eyes flicked towards, and then away from, the perfect cleavage that I was looking down and across at. It was much more pronounced than I would expect from a girl as slim as she was, and I could see why guys fall for girls so easily. As she sank into her seat her arm brushed against mine and she surely must have felt my muscles tense. My hairs stood on end and my breath faltered a little. I hoped it wasn't too obvious, but as her head turned towards me and I glimpsed a smile play across her lips and I realised it was exceedingly obvious.
The air now rushing into the carriage was doing nothing for the heat and my mouth was dry. Then, I felt her move again, and I dared not turn my head. But out of the corner of my eye I saw her reach down at the hem of her vest top, her arms crossed over each other. And then, I couldn't believe what I thought I was seeing, she pulled it up and over her head. I stopped breathing and I glanced quickly at her as she pulled the top up and over her arms and then dropped the small ball of fabric into her bag. Beneath, she was wearing a black lace bra. It was all I could do not to stare at the soft, smooth brown skin of her chest.
She sat back into her chair and her arm brushed against mine again. My breath was shuddering as I exhaled. It must have been so obvious. Out of the side of my eye I watched her chest rise and fall as she took in a deep breath and let out a large, relieved sigh.
I wondered: is this normal behaviour on a hot tube journey? Does a girl usually strip down to her bra when she's hot? Should I say something about it? What would I say?
But I could barely breathe, let alone speak, and I certainly couldn't move as I sat, elbows still perched on the armrests and hands folded in front of me. I could feel an erection beginning. It wouldn't be the first time I'd had one on the tube, and at least this time I had a reason.
As I was wondering if I should say something she spoke.
"Sheesh, it is quite hot in here," she said, or something like that. I saw her hands move to her waist again. I couldn't be sure for a second but she seemed to be unfastening the top button of her shorts. Then I heard the zip slide, and, levering her shoulders against the back of the seat, she lifted her buttocks and pushed them down to her thights. Without turning my head and with my eyes swivelled in their sockets, I watched as she then leant forwards, her fingers still hooked into the shorts, and she pushed them down her legs, over her ankels, and then pulled off of her feet. She picked them up with her right hand and put them in her bag with her top.
While she was faced away from me for a second I turned my head and confirmed that, yes, she was now in her underwear. It was delicate, black, lace underwear which emphasised her curves and the delicious brown tone of her skin.
Now it was surely too late to say something even if I could think of anything to say. I sunk myself deeper into my seat a fraction and my hands clasped tighter together, both in tension and to try and hide the bulge in my trousers that would be obvious if only she looked over.
She turned towards me and I snapped my head forwards. She must have seen that I was watching her. She remained leant forwards and put her hands behind her back and her chest pushed out. I watched, my body trembling, as her hands felt for the clasp of her bra, pulled the hooks out of the eyes and then, with a shr
ug of her shoulders, the bra slid down her arms and was folded quickly into a bundle. She tucked it into the bag with the rest of her clothes. The marks the elastic straps had left in her skin only made the rest of her back seem even smoother.
Still, she remained leaning forwards. I tried not to stare as her hands moved down to her waist. She hooked her thumbs into her knickers, lifted her buttocks slightly and pushed them quickly and smoothly down her legs, off of her feet, and with one hand she put them too into her shoulder bag on the seat.
I kept my head set dead ahead but my eyes were turning out of their sockets as she sat back into the seat. I could make out the dark, textured circles of her nipples and my eyes scanned down to her narrow waist, across her smooth stomach, and her thin, shaved strip of pubic hair. I watched as she crossed one leg over the other again, her delicate, sandaled foot bobbing as the train skipped across a set of points.
As my eyes traced back up her body U realised her head was turned towards me. Our eyes locked. She had been watching me the whole time, and a faint smile played upon her glossed lips.
"Do you know what stop that was?" she asked me.
"I, um, I'm not sure." I said honestly. How long had her strip tease taken? A minute? Two minutes? Ten? How far had we travelled? All I could think of was "don't stare at her breasts" as she turned towards me. I couldn’t help myself: I glanced down, and then back up again quickly. She smiled again.
Just then the train started to slow and we began to pull into a station. I recognised it by the look of the platform.
"Erm, this is Fairlop," I managed to say. She smiled and I blushed.
She leant forwards to peer at the map above the seats opposite. I took the opportunity to study her delicate brown shoulder blades, her narrow back and her tiny waist. Then, unable to read the small text on the map, she stood and leant towards it, one hand holding onto the grab rail on the carriage ceiling. Her pert, soft breast was lifted by her arm and I wondered what it would be like to put my hands around her waist and to feel the flesh of her small rounded buttocks. My breathing was fast and shallow and I fidgeted to try and relieve some of the pressure in my trousers.
