National Nude Daisy: Part 1
A timid waitress dares to bare all on national nude day.
Based on a post by CupidStuntDotEXE. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Daisy: T minus 8 hours.
I spray cleaner over the table and start wiping. My thin chiffon black shirt rides up, letting the cold metal kiss the strip of exposed skin. I gasp, and my stomach flinches away, but settles against the cool surface. My five-foot-nothing frame can barely reach into the corners, so I rise onto my toes and stretch, raising my hips above the table's edge, and almost folding myself in half.
Perfect.
Gives the people milling about behind me an exaggerated view of my lack-of-ass. I'm fucking 23 years old! Someone tell my ass that it's not on a teenager anymore.
The last customer is dawdling on his way out, and Samantha's work smile twitches on her face as she inches the door closed on the unwanted conversation.
I don't share her enthusiasm.
Today went by in a flash, and tomorrow edges ever closer.
It was written in my diary nearly a month ago. National Nude Day, starting at sunrise.
The one day of the year public nudity is completely legal, instead of technically legal.
What, in all the gods' names, did I agree to?
"You're off tomorrow, right?" Sammie asks, placing a tray on the table next to mine.
My breath stalls. "Yup," I say, trying to act casual. "Going to a festival in the city with my besties."
I had the response rehearsed, so as not to reveal too much. An entertainment website mentioned at least 5 different festivals on the calendar, so I'm safe with that ambiguity.
The real honest event that Sammie cannot be told; A fucking nudist festival I am so not ready for, and definitely not ready for any of my workplace colleagues to know. Can you imagine if they found out? Gods, that would be mortifying.
"Sounds fun, I'm jelly." Sam smiles, hoping I'll give details.
I can hear chatter from the kitchen, so I move to the table I've been saving. Glancing to make sure Sammie isn't watching, I pop the top button of my shirt open and bend over the table. I angle myself toward the kitchen door, pretending I'm not watching it. Pretending I'm not deliberately showing what little cleavage I have, but; Kenny will come out soon.
I'm not a shameless flirt, but I don't know how else to get him to notice me. All I have are these small moments, and even smaller hopes. 'Good morning'. 'See you tomorrow'. That's it. That's all I have.
The door opens, and I freeze.
Breath held.
Tiny chest puffed.
Feeling like an idiot.
The thought of him stealing glances at me, or just noticing me at all, makes me quiver. I can already feel my nips drilling through my bra.
He just strolls out like it's nothing, shaking his hair like a damn shampoo model. My teeth find my lip, and my damn heart flutters like a hummingbird.
"Night," he says, waving. "See you tomorrow, Daisy."
"See you good morning," I blurt out.
My head slams against the table.
Crash. Burn.
"See you good morning?" I mutter. "What the fuck, Daisy. What. The. Fuck."
Sammie laughs. "That was so smooth, Daize."
"Shut Up," I say, throwing the rag at her.
I've had this stupid crush on Kenny since I started working here. He's so sweet, and so very handsome. The way his hair falls down when he takes his hairnet off, ties my stomach into knots.
On my first day, I forgot my lunch and my purse. He literally made me a meal, and even paid for it. I almost cried and decided right then that he would be my husband; boyfriend; we'll kiss one day?
I sigh.
Maybe our hands will brush together at some point? But, since it's a year later and I still haven't said a full coherent sentence to him; Outlook is bleak.
John, the manager, walks out of the office and looks at us. "Daisy, you're opening tomorrow, right?"
"Uh, no? I booked the day off, remember?" I ask.
"Oh yeah, right," he says, rubbing his bald spot. "Sorry, losing track of everything as per."
"We'd be worried about you if you weren't, boss," I say, picking the tray up and walking into the Kenny-less kitchen.
He laughs nervously. "Doing anything nice?"
"She's going to a festival in the city," Sammie answers for me. "I think it's a code for something, because I hadn't heard of anything."
Good. The last thing I need is Sammie running her mouth about it. She's a sweet girl, but a gold medal winning gossip. If she knew, it would be global news within a week. Absolutely not. The workplace rumor is that Sammie and the boss are secretly an item. But neither of them will admit to anything.
Hiding in the kitchen, my hands shake as I wash the cups. My heart is literally vibrating. How did I let my former roomy, Eliza, talk me into this? Why? That girl is too damn convincing for her own good.
For my own good.
Naked. In public?
A chill runs down my spine, and I grasp the stainless steel sink to steady myself.
It'll be fine. I try to convince myself. I'll be fine.
My objectively gorgeous friends will be with me, so no one will even notice me, the pixie ballerina, at all.
Is that better, or worse?
I don't know.
Drying my hands, I walk back through the cafe in a daze. Offering a small, polite smile to John as he holds the door open for me. The streets are full of people. Early evening hour in the center of a massive city. I hate crowds so much. Eclipsed by smartphone screens, I either dart out of the way or get flattened.
Will the streets be this busy tomorrow?
In the three years since the law passed, I haven't seen a single nude person in the city center Or anywhere outside. I suppose that's the English for you. Especially here.
Nudity is definitely not professional enough.
The hour-long train ride home is nerve-wracking. Tomorrow, I'll be an hour away from my clothes. Every seat is full, morning and night. Clinging to the handrail in my usual spot, pressed between half a dozen other commuters. I can't help but imagine tomorrow. My petite, naked self pressed between these same people.
Idle hands grazing unrestricted flesh.
Eliza: T minus 7 hours.
This is so stupid. I'll just make an excuse to Eliza. Not feeling well. Stubbed my toe. Dropped my liver on the way home.
At least the streets on the way back to my flat are clear. That's one benefit of living in the greater metropolitan area. When I turn the corner to my street, I can see Eliza sitting on the wall outside my place. Fiddling with her phone.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, shaking hands fumbling with my keys. I know exactly why she's here. To stop me from backing out.
"I figured you'd be thinking of excuses," she said, hopping off the wall. "So, I'm here to keep you honest;" Eliza pulls a bottle of wine from her bag. "And drunk."
We head inside, and Eliza makes herself at home. She's been my best friend since primary school, and I hate the power she has over me. Not that she's ever used it for evil, but she can shove me way too far outside my comfort zone.
I hate how she's always right.
In the kitchen, Eliza pops the cork and gestures at me with the bottle opener. "Clothes off," she says, raising her eyebrows and nodding expectantly.
My shoulders drop. "Now?" I plead, giving her my best pout. "I'm so tired."
"You can put that lip away for a start," Eliza says, pouring the rosé into the big wine glasses. "Get used to being naked. It'll make tomorrow easier."
"Here," she says, handing me the glass. "A little Italian courage."
Sighing, I take the glass and chug half of it. "That's Australian."
"Really?" she asks, checking the label. "Italian, Australian; I knew it was one of the 'alians'. Regardless, nudity. Now."
Eliza perches on the edge of a chair. Perfectly elegant in her damn power suit. The gray material stretching over her thighs, reminding me how utterly outclassed I am. She sips from the giant glass and wiggles her fingers at me.
"Fine; fine." I resign myself.
Kicking my shoes off first, I get the easy part out of the way. The black skirt go next, and they are half-way down my thighs before I even question why I'm obeying her. The cool air on my bare legs makes them clench.
She's really going to make me do this.
My shaking fingers move to the shirt next. It has enough buttons to delay, building that agonizing coil in my gut. Every loose button exposes me more. I feel sick, but I can't stop.
Eliza is smirking at me as I fumble with the last button. With a shaking breath, I slide the shirt off my shoulders and let it fall.
"There," I say, adjusting my knickers. Glad for the wine and the warmth it's bringing.
She just rolls her eyes and raises an eyebrow. Scolding me without words until my head falls. I know what she wants. Reaching behind me, I unclasp my black 32 B push-up bra and let it hang loose on my shoulders. Giving her one last futile look of silent, rejected pleading, I let the bra fall to the floor. Nipples hard and tingling in the cold. My nipples always over-react.
She stares at me until I slip my thumbs beneath the black nylon lace panties, sliding them to the floor, and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes and dignity.
She didn't even let me keep my thigh-high socks on.
I can feel my skin prickling with the damp evening chill and Eliza's attention. Grasping my arm over my tit and crossing my legs in front of me. A small shake of her head and even those small mercies are stolen.
My lowered hands tap my bare thighs impotently.
She nods. "Good. How do you feel?"
"Naked, cold, naked, and stupid," I say, trying to find that elusive courage in my wineglass.
My head and the glass are tilted way back when I see a flash and hear Eliza's phone camera.
I choke on the mouthful of wine. "Did You Just Take A Picture?"
"Oh, yes. I did," she says. A wide, mischievous grin spreads slowly over her face. "Do you remember Henry?"
The sudden shift in topic throws me. "The guy you were 'dating'?"
"Fucking, yes. Now, his sister's best friend's cousin is dating the best friend of Kenny's brother," she says, her foot is twitching with excitement. "Isn't that interesting?"
"Objection; relevance," I say, in an amateur Horace Rumpole impersonation, while pouring myself another glass. I'm going to need it.
"Overruled." She shifted forward in her seat. "I have Kenny's mobile number," she says, waving her phone at me.
My eyes widen, and I drink more. She wouldn't send that picture to anyone. Would she? No, that's; I mean, I was ever-fantasizing on him seeing everything anyway;
No. No no no. Not like that, not without; you know. My fantasy involves Fondling. The desire is for him to help me out of my clothes.
"Eliza, please. I know you wouldn't share my nudes with my co-worker," I say, almost sounding convinced. "It would spread around the staff. Other cafes. Waitresses talk. Samantha; no you wouldn't."
"Actually, I would, because I know things that you don't."
Eliza stands up and walks over to me, placing her hand on my chin and turning my face toward her. Her hazel eyes glaring deep into me.
She rubs a thumb over my lip, wiping up some spilled wine. "Wonderful things," she says, pressing her lips to her thumb before licking them. "Juicy things, Daisy."
Juicy things? About Kenny? What did she learn? It could be anything. Eliza has a way of extracting information from casual conversations that would make MI6 very interested.
I bite my lip and look up at her smug, smiling face. "Ha-how juicy?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow." She smirks. "Do you still want to back out?"
My chest is so tight every breath I take, shakes me.
I slowly shake my head.
"If you don't want to, you know I'm not going to force you, right?" she asks, kissing me on the head. "I push you because I love you."
I take another large, nervous sip from my glass.
"Daisy, do you remember why you agreed to this?" she asks, slipping her jacket off.
"Uh, no?" I deflect.
Eliza folds her coat and places it on the table. "Because you want to be seen," she says, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor. "More than that, you want to feel desired. Because you don't even notice when you are, you feel as though you are not."
I watch her fold her skirt and place it on the jacket. Without a single breath of hesitation, her bra and panties join the pile, and I'm left staring at her. I would kill to look like her. She has her mother's Italian genes. I swear she's related to Sophia Loren.
Tall. Leggy. Graceful. And those tits? They defy all reason. This isn't the first time we've seen each other naked. I mean, we've been friends for over a decade, but no matter how often it happens, no matter how hard I look.
I can't find a single flaw.
Not one.
"Tell me," she asks; pouring herself some more wine.
"Just envious of your perfect body," I mutter.
She smiles. "Thank you, but I'm not perfect."
Bullshit. If Eliza walked into my cafe, I would bet an entire week's wages on Kenny asking her out.
Pointing to her left nipple. "This nipple is larger," she says, pinching it and tugging her tit. "but the whole boob is slightly smaller. They are also heavy, as you can imagine double D's would be, so gravity and physics are against me. They hang far lower than I'd like."
Eliza steps over to me; shifts the glass into her other hand, tracing a finger around the circle of my tit. "I would love to have tits as shapely and pert as yours," she says, giving my nipple a playful flick. "And those cute little pink nipples? Daisy, I don't think you realize how envious of you, I am."
Envious of me? Her tiny, dumpy, chronically-single, charity friend? I cock my head and look up at her. She's seriously good at pep talks. My nipple is still tingling where she flicked it. Great. Now I can't stop thinking about it. The warmth from the wine is spreading throughout me, and I can feel that rosy rosé flush on my cheeks and body. The cold air on my skin feels amazing now.
I give Eliza a big hug, which presses my face into her hot skin and soft tits. "Thanks," I whisper. "I'd probably never do anything, if I didn't have you to talk me into it."
She wraps an arm around me, her hand sliding down my back, causing the muscles to twitch and flex with the pleasant tickle that follows.
"I think you were always planning on going through with it," she says, resting her glass on my head. "You just enjoy letting me think I've convinced you. It helps your anxious nerves if you can deflect your bold actions onto a trusted friend's influence."
I carefully pull back to look at her. "How do you figure?"
Eliza smirks again, her eyes flicking down towards my stomach. "You shaved your muffin."
My eyes flick away from her knowing smirk. "I waxed last night," I mutter, hiding my beet face behind a desperate mouthful.
I scamper to my laptop, dodging the accusation. "Hey look at this subject change," I say, booting it up to access a soothing playlist. "Let's not get drunk in silence, hmm?"
The music helps, and I almost forget I'm naked; or at least stop worrying about it. I even dance a little, at Eliza's bemused insistence. All it takes is a bottle and a half to find my courage, and by the time we stumble into our twin beds, I'm actually excited to show everything to the world.
Until;
Alarms. Daylight. Hangover. T plus 1 hour.
I wake engulfed by Eliza. The first attempt to open my eyes is punished by the morning. Eliza is now in my bed.
Learning my lesson, I lean closer, retreating into the comfort of her cleavage. She stirs to draw me in, and I wonder why I even tried to move at all.
If only that incessant beeping would fuck off. We have a rule against turning off each other's alarms. She almost lost her job when I turned off her alarm, a few months ago.
The beeping continues until Eliza groans and slaps my bedside table, then the lamp, finally killing the alarm. We both melt back into each other, sighing in the silence. It's 7am.
"Coffee. Please, bring me coffee," she mumbles, pulling the blanket over both of our heads.
I open my eyes beneath the cover, wiping the crust from my lashes. My cheek is wet, so I rub my face on the blanket and mop my drool from her chest. After checking she isn't looking, of course.
Sliding out of bed, I rest my feet on the floor and stare at them. I don't want to be awake. I want to be asleep in the warm boobs. Standing up, a challenge in its own right, I'm chilled and painfully pulled out of my slumber by the cold morning air. I waddle toward the kitchen. I catch a glance of myself in the mirror that slaps the fog away.
Bare skin.
We're going into the fucking city, naked. Today.
I drag my hands through my hair as I shuffle into the kitchen. "You can do it, Daisy," I mumble, flicking the kettle on. "You want to do it. Don't let the fear beat you."
That's easier said than done. If I was being totally honest, the idea of it excites me a little. Just a little. The novelty of it. It's daring, and I'm never that. But; it's also terrifying.
What if someone takes a picture?
If they post it online, boom; Everyone I know has my nudes and I'm a floozy; A desperate pariah. A slut. Banned from all the church social events, and doomed to never find a respectable husband.
Which is just my life in a 'slut' shell.
I fill the cups with some strong, milky coffees. Three scoops. Extra milk. Guzzle-safe. Stumbling back to the bedroom, I see Eliza stretching in front of the opened curtains. She has no shame.
None.
"What are you doing?" I ask, offering a cup. "What if the neighbors see?"
Eliza smirks. "Daisy, we'll be walking out of here naked. They're going to see."
Oh shit. That's right. That's; A lot of the neighbors now have street facing cameras.
Oh fuck.
This will not be some quick thing that goes away. Things will never be the same. I chug the cup while catastrophising. From now until the day I move, every look I get, every smile, every nod, every 'good morning'; I'm going to be wondering if that neighbor saw me. If they have actual footage of my unmentionables.
Would they jerk it looking at me? Do I want that?
It would be nice to feel; desirable? Sexy? But what if it's not even hot enough for them to jack off to?
This is stupid, but it might be nice to be sexualized for once. Not in a gross way, but feeling pretty, or even just comfortable in my skin.
The way Eliza is.
My heart goes into overdrive as we get ready. Showering, brushing our teeth, doing our hair and make-up. The most mundane things, but they're a countdown. When each new thing is finished, I'm one step closer to the moment all my walls come crashing down.
Can you actually die from embarrassment?
Eliza, fucking Eliza, is as calm as I've ever seen her. Perfectly applying her perfect lipstick to her stupid, perfect lips. Her hands aren't even shaking. How? Was she a robot this whole time?
"I got you something," she says, sliding a ribbon-tied box from her handbag. "I have one to match."
Inside is a small, rustic leather bag with two straps.
"A leg bag?" I ask, watching as she pulls a larger one, unwrapped, from her handbag.
Eliza takes the bag from me. "You needed somewhere to keep your sundries," she says, kneeling and fastening the belt and leg strap. "You look very pretty."
I examine myself in the mirror, adjusting the bag. It hides nothing. In fact, I think it frames my hairless muffin.
"It's drawing attention to my bits."
"Good," she says, fastening her own bag and standing next to me in the mirror. "I think today is going to be a lot of fun, don't you?"
Fun? My stomach is doing flips, and my face is a crimson catastrophe. We haven't even stepped outside yet. I look at my toes and try to dig them into the carpet. Maybe if I anchor myself here, I won't have to go. A tiny squeak escapes me.
I have to do this. Not have to, but if I keep taking the safe option, I'm never going to do anything. Ever.
Eliza wraps her arms around me, and my hands latch onto her. "I'm so scared," I whimper.
"I know, but you know what?" she trains my gaze on my reflection. "You're beautiful, bold, and brave. It scares you, but you're doing it, anyway. That's courageous as fuck, Daisy. Powerful. I'm so proud of you."
She kisses my head and reaches for her phone. I just stare at myself. I'm picturing the crowds. The laughter, everyone pointing at me. The tiny charity case with her fucking super model friends.
For fuck's sake, one of them; Frankie, is literally a model.
I'm grateful to have such distractingly beautiful friends around me, but; won't it be worse if I'm nude and still invisible?
If they look at me, I might actually explode from the embarrassment, but if they don't look at me? I might as well accept I will never, ever be seen.
Why am I doing this again?
"Hey," Eliza says, squeezing my shoulder. "Stop spiraling. Relax."
I nod, but we both know I'm lying. Fiddling with my hair, the one thing I can control, I flitter between styles. Perhaps a pony tail? I hold my black hair behind my head. No, that just keeps my face, and all of my embarrassment, completely exposed.
Will exposing more even matter?
Bella and Frankie. T plus 2 hours.
The doorbell rings and I instinctively take a step toward the door and freeze. What if it's the postie? Or Amazon?
What if it's Jehovah's? Coming to save my soul and take me into their cult? That might actually be worth it.
I look toward Eliza, who just nods toward the door. "Don't you dare cover up."
Dragging my heels toward the door. Clenching my fists at my side, each step brushes cool air over my flushing skin. My neck, chest, definitely my face are all burning. I struggle to control my breathing as I wrap my fingers around the cold metal latch.
No covering up. Don't be a coward. Be bold. Be brave; and put on your confidant smile.
I swing the door wide open, not giving myself the chance to hide behind it. A sigh of relief bursts out of me as I see the other two friends for this insanity. Frankie, the literal model. Six feet of unrealistic beauty standards, and a very sweet, if ditsy girl.
Bella, the other lunatic, is terrifyingly gorgeous. Blue-black hair, pale, pierced, and tattooed; she is the big-titty-goth-girlfriend of every redditor's dreams.
Bella tilts her sunglasses down and stares at me. "That bag makes your cunt lips stand out," she says. "I love that for you."
Frankie kneels to hug me, pressing herself into me. "I can't believe you're actually doing it. You're so brave, meeting us at the door in all your ballerina glory.”
"Neither can I, Frankie," I say, stepping aside to let them in. "Neither can I."
Frankie bursts into the house and starts stripping, leaving clothes wherever they land. By the time the door is closed, she's naked and hugging Eliza. Bella stomps more deliberately into the front room. The coffin backpack is dropped onto a seat, and she hoists her loose black dress over her head.
I stare at her pierced nipples. I knew she had them pierced, but it's just now dawning on me that she's showing me, a peripheral friend, her tits.
"I have my clit pierced too," Bella says, tugging her mound up to reveal the silver ring. "Since you're staring, might as well get the whole show."
"Sorry. Sorry," I say, averting my gaze. "I'm really nervous and I just realized that Eliza told me last week that you showed your boobs to a total stranger."
Bella stuffed her dress into her backpack. "I got my clit pierced at a festival," she says, putting the thin chain straps over her shoulders. "There were dozens of strangers watching. It really isn't as big of a deal as you might think."
"Easy for you to say. You're stunning." I shuffle toward the kitchen. "Would you like a coffee?"
"So are you," she says, finding a playlist on my laptop. "Black, no sugar; Please."
I poke my head into the bedroom. "Coffees?"
"Do you have any low fat almond milk?" Frankie asks.
"I have water. If you like, I can show it a picture of an almond?"
Eliza snorts.
Frankie glances at Eliza and chuckles, too. "Um, black is fine. No sugar, but could I have some cinnamon, chill powder, and turmeric if you have any?" she asks, turning to Eliza. "They are so healthy. People need to have more of those things in their diet."
Shaking my head, I go back to the kitchen and start making the drinks. Who puts turmeric in coffee? I open the fridge to get the milk and the cold air washes over me. I forgot I was naked again. That's good, right? If I can get used to it, maybe it won't be so bad. Now that I've noticed it again, I am suddenly so very aware of my nipples.
Fuck.
I toss the carton of milk on the counter and slam the door shut. Maybe if I close my eyes, I can forget again. The kettle is getting louder; the girls are laughing in the front room, and my nipples are so hard they're pinching themselves. I cup my tits, hoping a bit of warmth will calm them down, but the pressure just makes it worse. A quiet moan escapes me as I realize that this will be an ordeal of body awareness.
The cold vinyl floor beneath my feet. The tickle of my hair as it brushes over my shoulders. Fuck, even my breath is washing over my chest.
I'm so nervous. So warm.
Shifting my weight nervously, I try to stop my hands from shaking as I spoon the instant coffee into the cups. A bead of condensation from the milk carton rolls over my fingers. I groan. If I back out now, I'll never forgive myself.
After the drinks, and a few last-minute mirror checks. Mainly from me. I'm definitely not stalling. My three gorgeous, annoyingly confident friends step outside onto the street, leaving me lingering in the doorway. It's nothing to them at all. Standing in the street, naked as the day they were born.
The sunlight is only making them look more amazing.
Breathe.
I shut my eyes and step outside. Immediately the daylight warms my skin, and sun-heated stone welcomes my bare feet. I look at the sky and for a moment, everything is alright. Basking in the sun's warmth is soothing. I turn around and face my flat. My face contorts into a serene peaceful expression of contentment and poise. Inwardly I'm a wreck!
The open door.
The threshold.
Back that way is the old Daisy. It's safe. Familiar. That Daisy was suffocating. Invisible. I need to be more.
I need to be seen.
Shutting the door, I put the keys into my leg bag and rest my head on the door. "So far, so mortifying."
"Daisy, we're going to miss the train," Eliza yells.
"Yes, yes. Thank you for reminding me about the hour-long naked train ride into the busy, crowded city," I say, taking another steadying breath and trying to focus on the warm sunshine on my back.
My naked back.
Streets of Town. T plus 3 hours.
Walking along the path to the street, it takes every last bit of my willpower to keep from covering up. When I reach the street, my safety net welcomes me with a naked huddle, and their infectious excitement. Then the cuddle splits, and I see a neighbor walking his dog.
Staring at us.
At them, mostly, I would imagine. It's still my street. I'm going to see him again tomorrow. My hands shoot to my face as I sink into a squat. I wish I could sink lower.
The center of the earth would be nice.
"Morning," he says, crossing the road to avoid us.
The girls wave back, but I just squeal into my hands. This is all too much. Peeking through my fingers, I watch him glance back. Checking them all out. Them, but not me. I'm in a parade, now, but I'm far from being a featured float. Maybe I'm the clown?
Bella squats next to me and wraps an arm around me. "You can go home if you want, you know?" she whispers into my ear. "I think you should keep going, though. Not because Eliza said so, or because you think you're obligated. Do it because it scares you. Do it to prove to yourself, not us, that you can."
Her warm breath in my ear sends tingles over my scalp. Goths can be just as empathetic and comforting as anyone else.
Looking up from my hands, I lean my head onto her shoulder. "I see him every morning."
"Stand up, Daisy. Never hide who you are," Bella whispers. She kisses me on the head and stands up, gesturing at Eliza and Frankie as if they were causing the delay. "Can we move? I'm at risk of getting a tan."
I take a deep breath and stand up. "Wouldn't want that," I say, tapping my hips with my hands. "You'll get kicked out of the Gothic group chats."
"Are you okay?" Eliza asks, nodding toward my flat. "We can turn back if it's too much."
I look at the door I shut. The old Daisy. "I don't feel different yet," I say, looking up at the sky. Beautiful and blue.
My support network is looking at me. The only ones who see me. They're so amazing, not just for how loved they make me feel, but they believe in me. Sometimes it's like they see things in me I can't even acknowledge. I close my eyes and hold my breath.
Just one step.
My legs are tight, almost frozen, but I will my foot forward. Then the next. By the time I'm able to open my eyes, I'm walking. As natural as it's ever been. The warm stone beneath my toes as I take each careful step a reward for my bravery. Every breath shudders, and my face in burning, but I'm doing it. The new Daisy is in this direction, somewhere, and I'm going to keep walking until I find her.
"Didn't think I'd make it this far," I say as I reach the main road.
With no response, I spin around and go stiff. My friends are still waiting by my flat. The distance makes my stomach clench. A car honks as it passes, making me jump and squeak.
I frantically wave for them to join me. They take their sweet time as I bounce nervously on the street corner. Shooting glances around in every direction like a meerkat looking for lions, I want so badly to curl up again. But I don't.
I refuse to.
More cars. More honks. I can hear some slowing down as they pass behind me. My shoulders tense and rise. My toes try to dig into the stone. Shifting hands move instinctively to cover me. It's only by digging my nails into my palms and locking out my elbows that I'm able to keep them at my side.
The car that slowed turns onto my street and stops next to me. I cringe and wave again for my friends. My whole body is tense, but Frankie breaks into a sprint to get to me.
Bless Frankie, that energetic beauty.
The car window winds down, and an older man leans over. "Are you alright, petal? Did something happen?"
I force my head to turn toward him. My every muscle is so stiff I'm shaking. I don't even bother trying to smile.
"N-no, j-just having a w-walk," I say, noticing his eyes drifting over me. He sees that serine expression on my visage and marvels. How did my body contort a confident mask to cover my inner terrors?
He just nods and moves back into his seat, but he doesn't drive off. He's still looking at me. This is what I wanted, isn't it? To be seen?
With a held breath and closed eyes, I turn to face the car. "A-and you? G-good day s-s-so f-far?" I ask, ever concerned for a neighbor's welfare.
The man smiles. "It wasn't, but you've definitely perked it up."
"W-well the-they are pah-perky," I say, and immediately cringe, inwardly My visage is stoic in it's mirage of confidence. The hell! I'm such a phony!.
He laughs. "Yes, they are. This your first time doing anything like this?"
I squeeze my eyes and nod. "Not usually this s-stupid."
"You and your friends have some guts, but then; if I looked like you, I don't think I'd ever get dressed," he says, tapping the steering wheel harder. "Sorry, I know it's not 'PC' to say stuff like that."
I let my face relax and my eyes open again. Frankie is close, but she stopped moving. She's mouthing 'are you okay?' but keeping her distance.
I nod. I am okay. He saw me, and I didn't die. It's humiliating, but I did it.
"No need to apologize," I say, taking my first steady breath since I've been outside. "It actually really helped. Thank you, kind gentleman."
"Thanks for the reason to smile," he says, glancing toward Frankie, then taking a longer look at me. I can almost feel my skin tingling where his gaze lands.
"Man, I wish I could stay here all day," he says, resting his hand on the gear-stick "But duty calls."
"Nice meeting you," I say, leaning over to look in the window. "Maybe book today off for next year."
"Today? Oh, ooh; It's that nude day." He rubs his forehead. "Now, it makes sense. That's a great idea. Good luck on your, uh, walk."
I wave as he drives off, slowing as he passes Eliza and Bella. I turn to Frankie and scream as she closes the distance and screams with me. Bouncing together, I can't help but grin from ear to ear.
"I did it. I did it."
"You did," Frankie squeals, matching my excitement. "I don't know what, but you did it."
"I didn't hide. He was checking me out, and I let him. I even talked to him."
Frankie stopped bouncing and scratched beneath her boob. "Oh yeah," she said. "You're embarrassed by this stuff, huh?"
"I don't know how you do it, honestly." I turn to face the main road. "But I think I'm getting used to it."
Frankie steps behind me and rests her hands and chin on my head. "I guess it's a lot like the first time I did a nude photo shoot. It's like; I didn't want to, but that's the job sometimes. Scary, but they were super professional, and when the robe came off, they had me do stuff like jumping jacks, cartwheels. Fun stuff. After that, I didn't mind being naked so much."
Her hands moved to cover my eyes. "And now I don't care because my nudes are part of my portfolio," she said, sneaking a hand to my tit and tugging on a nipple.
They're so sensitive, probably because they've been pointing the way forward all morning, but when she squeezes it, I moan. Then flush hot.
Frankie giggles. "Are you getting a bit randy?" she asks, giving my ass a squeeze. "Because I'm game if you are."
"You surprised me, that's all," I say, batting her groping hands away.
"Sure I did. Anyway, I guess what I was trying to say is; post your nudes online. Then you won't need to be nervous about being naked."
I spin around to look at Frankie. My head cocked as I try to figure out if she's joking or not. "I don't think that solution would work for me, Frankie. I appreciate the advice, though."
I think about what she said. Doing physical activities to get comfortable in a situation. Could that work?
I have another quick check for onlookers, and finding none, I do a quick set of jumping jacks. Frankie joins in, for some reason.
The paving stones are hard under my feet, but bouncing barefoot is liberating. Natural. Like it's how my body was supposed to be. How I was supposed to move. Every bounce gives my boobs a jolt, but they recover quickly. I notice Frankie's are almost constantly jiggling.
I guess my tits really are perky.
I finish the jacks and take a deep breath. Smooth. Steady. My hands are still. I can feel the weight of my tits, the ache in my thighs, and the sting of the wind on my skin.
I like it.
For the first time, I actually like it.
I'm going to be okay.
When Eliza and Bella finally catch up, we continue our walk to the station. I'm practically skipping, which brings the others a lot of amusement. I had expected to be hyper-aware of my body, but feeling how massive my grin is right now? That I did not expect. Cars honk, and I wave. I turn to face pedestrians on the other side of the street.
I am alive. The wind caresses every part of my sun-warmed skin. The coolness of it leaves a tickle in its wake that I simply love. Even in the station, which had six or seven people waiting for the train. All of them staring at us as we waited. Muttering to each other.
That's okay. Talk. Mutter. We were brave enough to do this, and you weren't I said loud enough for my girls to hear. I grabbed my tits and squeeze them. Did they get bigger? I know they feel hot. Obviously because the sun is beating down on this beautiful day. I'm almost sad when the train pulls in, because it means I'll have to spend an entire hour away from the gorgeous rays of the sun.
No matter. It's just an hour.
I feel like I can do anything.
Transit. T plus 3:15
I turn to face the train as the doors hiss open. My smile slowly fades as I scan the wall of faces staring back at me. Mouths open.
I forgot how busy the morning trains are.
"I can't do this," I mutter, shaking my head.
"What can't you do? Be naked in front of dozens of people?" Eliza asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Because take a look. You already are, and you're absolutely crushing it."
Frankie hops up the step onto the train and offers a hand. "You can do it, besides; I sort of left my wallet in my coat pocket and I need you to pay for my ticket, please," she says, flashing a big pleading grin.
Bella and Eliza both step onto the train and look back at me.
"Or stay here naked and alone," Eliza says.
I whimper, but grab Frankie's hand and let her pull me onto the train. I whimper again as the doors hiss shut and my hour as a naked sardine begins.
Facing the window, I watch the platform vanish. My house. My clothes. Safety. My shoulders tense up again and I shuffle into a corner. To my relief, Bella grabs a handle near me and gives me a bit of a shield. I look up at her and examine her tattoos. There's this incredible snake that coils up her leg, and it appears as though the head of it is; inside her.
Something else she had to disrobe for. How is she not mortified?
Eliza has one hand grabbing a rail on the ceiling, the other flicking through her phone. She's completely unfazed. This is just another commute for her. The other passengers are ogling, even the women are staring and whispering to one another. Why am I the only one bothered by this?
"Daisy; Daisy," Frankie whispers.
I turn to her and she squats, opening her legs to reveal two stick-on googly eyes on either side of her pussy.
"Hewwo," she says, in a deep, silly voice while tugging her lips open.
I can't hold it in. I burst into giggles, pressing my hand against my mouth to keep quiet, but it's no good. Frankie continues her routine and I'm in tears. The passengers who can see start quietly snickering to themselves as well, and just like that, the bubble of tension bursts.
Even Bella is chuckling.
I take a breath and step out from behind Bella. "You're something else, Frankie," I say, nudging her with my shoulder.
"I thought it looked cute. Watch this," she says, wiggling her hips, making the eyes jiggle. "I love these things."
"You love everything," Bella says, putting her back to the wall. "It's infuriating."
"You love stuff too, princess of darkness," Frankie says, standing up and adjusting her folds. "And I love you for it."
Now that Bella has moved, I'm fully exposed. No more Gothic cover, but I appreciate how she waited for me to take the first step. That's a classic Bella move. There's no fanfare, and she won't ever make a big deal out of anything. Just quietly offers support until it's clear you don't need it.