THE DARE
Times had not been good. Kemper & Kemper Imports in Portland where I was a financial analysis laid off half the staff, and just when it looked like we’d be hired back, it folded. The meager weekly checks from unemployment weren’t going to keep me in my apartment and buy food at the same time. My savings were shrinking, what little family I had couldn’t help, and my credit cards were maxed. Still, I figured something always turns up. I hoped. Okay, I was scared.
My best friend Cathy Sommers stopped by on a pleasant spring afternoon, bubbly as always. She brought lasagna from Petro’s and a bottle of excellent red wine. We had known each other since college, about ten years, and always shared our deepest secrets. I didn’t whine about my job situation, but it was a hard topic to avoid.
“I thought studying business administration was a good idea,” I lamented. “You seemed wasted working in a saloon.”
“I took management classes,” Cathy protested. “But yes, operating a nightclub is more reliable than accounting. They aren’t going to replace me with a computer.”
My name is Sarah MacKenzie, a twenty-seven-year-old brunette with nice tits, long legs, and sparkling blue eyes. When I’m not so worried. Outside of work, I like old movies, 1980s pop music, and can quote Shakespeare. Well, maybe a few lines of Shakespeare. Cathy is shorter and a little thicker, with a cute bun of blonde hair, and exciting green eyes.
“So, what’s the occasion?” I asked as we washed the dishes.
“I’m here to collect on my dare,” she answered.
“Dare?”
“Don’t be coy. Last year, for my dare, you made me go to the Cindi Lauper festival wearing a white tank top, thin beige knickers, and no underwear. And no umbrella. When it started raining, I looked naked.”
“Yes, that was hilarious. But the year before, you made me pose nude for Mrs. Doubletree’s art class at the college. And invited our old classmates to watch.”
“Because you made me jump out of a cake at your brother-in-law’s bachelor party the year before that,” Cathy recalled. “In a string bikini that kept sliding off when it got covered in icing. This year, it’s your turn.”
Of course, we had been doing this a long time, alternating dares from year to year. Though I hadn’t expected to pay up again so soon. It had only been ten months.
“What is it you want me to do?” I conceded.
“It’s been tough for you lately, so this will be an easy one,” she replied.
She went to the door of my second-floor apartment. Below was the pool yard surrounded by four stories of walkways. About forty apartments. Going forward from the pool yard was the gate to the street. Down the stairs and towards the back was the parking lot. The apartment had strong security gates, and rumors of security cameras, though I’d never seen any.
“You want me to go swimming?” I asked, standing next to her.
“No, I want you to streak the pool area. Do a full circle.”
I looked down. Old Mr. Bedlow was lying in a beach chair. He’d been reading a book, but now seemed to be asleep. Bitchy seventy-year-old Mrs. Hagershawl was on the other side, sitting in a chair knitting. The pool was often busy in the afternoon, and later in the evening, but was quiet at the moment.
“Topless?” I questioned.
“No, you have to streak stark naked,” Cathy said.
“Naked! I can’t run around the complex naked,” I insisted.
“That’s the dare. If you’re fast, you’ll barely be noticed. You can always claim later that you were wearing sheer underwear.”
“This is crazy.”
“It will be fun,” she persisted with a twinkle in her eyes. “Now let’s do this. I need to be at work by seven.”
I doubted that was a good excuse. Cathy managed Sheena’s Lair, a popular nightclub on Main Street and Jackson less than two miles away. Just a few blocks from her new condo, so getting to work would only take a few minutes. It was just past six o’clock. I looked down from the walkway. It would be okay if I was fast.
“Let’s get this over with,” I sighed, stepping back inside and starting to strip. Cathy took out her phone with a giggle.
“No photos on the internet,” I warned.
“We both know the rules,” she said, taking a few snapshots. “I’ll be at the top of the stairs keeping an eye out.”
I slowly peeled off my Portland Blazers t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Then the bra.
“Shoes?” I asked.
“No shoes. Completely buck-naked,” she demanded.
The shoes were kicked off, and then my thumbs went into the waistband of my panties. This was getting very embarrassing. Cathy was grinning from ear to ear, ready to take more photos. The panties dropped to my ankles and came off.
“Shaved?” she admired. “Were you looking for a hook-up?”
“Just because I haven’t dated in a while doesn’t mean I don’t like being prepared,” I defended, a hand over my ample breasts and another over my crotch.
“Very smooth,” Cathy inspected, giving me a gentle stroke. “You’ve still got a great body. Playing golf and tennis?”
“Not so much lately.”
“Things will get better,” my best friend assured me. “Now let’s get going.”
I moved to the door. Cathy went first, checking to see if the walkway was clear. I reached for my house keys.
“You won’t need those. No one is going to rob your apartment in the next five minutes,” Cathy lectured. “Just leave the door unlocked.”
It made sense, and I’d look silly running around with nothing but a set of keys. I set them on the table next to the door and stepped out. The pool yard staircase was to my left. I walked slowly past several apartments covering myself, and Cathy followed a few steps behind. We had done some streaking in college, eight years before, but always late at night through a quiet campus. Never when there was still light, even if the sun had almost set. Okay, maybe once or twice we streaked through malls and concerts.
I started down the stairs, studying the pool yard. Looking at the other apartments for movement, and the two gates. No one was coming in the front, and so far, no one from the parking lot in the back. They would need keys to get through the security gate, so no strangers were lurking around.
“You’re looking good, kid,” Cathy said, stopping at the top of the stairs.
Reaching the bottom step, I took one last look and made my move, scurrying along below my own walkway. Mr. Bedlow stirred but didn’t look up. At the far end of the pool, I saw Josh Andrews suddenly stop and stare at me as he emerged from the laundry room, his arms filled with clean clothes. He was a skinny college student with spiky red hair and big eyes. Startled at first, he offered a leering grin and stepped back as I ran past, making my loop around the far end of the pool.
“Slut,” Mrs. Hagershawl muttered as I passed her.
“Sorry, ma’am,” I apologized. “I lost a bet.”
“You lose a lot of things,” she sneered.
I kept going, now seeing the stairs ahead. Cathy had retreated, now standing next to my door and holding it open. I gratefully increased my pace, taking the stairs two steps at a time, and rushed along the walkway. And then everything changed.
To my horror, I saw Cathy reach inside, twist the knob, and yank the door closed! I could hear it lock from twenty feet away.
“Cathy! What the fuck!” I shouted, pulling on the handle. “What have you done?”
“Just a harmless prank, my dear,” Cathy chuckled.
“Open the door,” I shrieked, looking around to see if anyone was watching. Mrs. Hagershawl seemed to be taking an interest.
“I can’t. I don’t have the keys,” Cathy replied.
“Goddamn it, what am I supposed to do?”
“Well, if you remember, I have keys to your apartment at my place,” Cathy answered. “But I don’t have time to get them for you. The key to my condo is under the flowerpot near the front door. Help yourself.”
“Your condo is two miles away!” I exclaimed.
“Only one. Maybe a touch more,” she snickered.
“At least give me a ride,” I demanded.
“Oh, no. I can’t have a naked woman in my new car. You’ll soil the leather seats,” she rejected.
“Cathy—” I began to plead.
“Honey, I’ve got to get to work. If you don’t want your keys, I’ll be back after my shift to help.”
“When does your shift end?” I asked.
“Not so late. About 2 a.m.”
“Eight hours from now? I can’t be naked for eight hours.”
“Maybe your neighbors will help?” she mischievously suggested.
It didn’t take long to dwell on that. My neighbors were jokesters, pervs, and stuffy zealots who would see my nudity as divine punishment. They’d call the police before lending a hand.
“Please, Cathy. Please don’t do this,” I begged.
“When I was virtually naked in the rain at the music festival, you said a dare is a dare. It goes both ways. Now I need to go. If you don’t want your duplicate keys, I’ll see you after work. Or maybe in the morning. I may need some sleep.”
She boldly went down the stairs, skirted the pool, and strolled out through the front gate where her car was parked on the street. I knelt down at the walkway railing, hoping too many couldn’t see me. I wasn’t sure what to do, locked out of my clothes, trying to hide on the apartment walkway. I’d been naked in public before but not like this.
“Having a bad day?” Mrs. Hagershawl asked, coming up the stairs from the pool.“A friend has pulled a mean prank on me,” I answered, hunched down trying to cover my nudity.
“I have extra clothes in my car,” she offered.
“Can I come into your apartment?” I requested.
“I’m not letting a naked slut like you into my apartment. Do you want the clothes or not?”
“Yes, please.”
I rose up slowly, seeing a dozen people now on their walkways watching from around the complex. It was so embarrassing. I used my hands to keep myself covered in case any of them were taking pictures.
Mrs. Hagershawl and I went down the backstairs, pausing in the alcove. Through the security gate, I saw at least forty cars, not sure which one belonged to my new benefactor. I hoped it wouldn’t be a long walk, for the parking lot lights had just turned on.
“You are a very pretty girl, for a naked slut,” Mrs. Hagershawl complimented. “Be thankful I’m helping you.”
“Oh, I am. Thank you so much,” I assured her.
She pushed the gate open and stood aside as I entered the parking lot. But she didn’t follow me. I turned back, wondering. And then she shoved the gate closed with a loud clasp of the lock. I jumped back, pushing on the metal frame. It wouldn’t budge. The witch laughed.
“Enjoy your evening, sweetie,” Mrs. Hagershawl gloated with an evil glare. And then she walked away.
I was locked out of my complex, naked, just as the sun finished setting. I doubted anyone would let me back in, and even if they did, I couldn’t get back in my apartment. It was so humiliating.
THE STREAK
I considered what to do. Certainly, walking bare ass to Cathy’s condo for my keys down a busy boulevard was out of the question, but there was a quiet suburban street a block away that ran in the same direction. I might be able to sneak by, pass through Mansfield Park, and reach Main Street. From there it wouldn’t be hard to go the rest of the way. Other than crossing a very busy street. I sighed. This wasn’t going to be fun. But what choice did I have? At least I could steal some of Cathy’s clothes and get dressed.
I crept out onto the side street, mostly apartment buildings like mine. Dull and dreary. I couldn’t afford to be in a hurry, hiding in bushes for five or ten minutes at a time as drivers returned from work. I was good at hiding. Like in my profession, I could be observant and patient. Then I’d move on, sometimes using my hands to cover myself. At other times, with a clear run, I’d just move along. My firm B-cup breasts weren’t bouncing too badly, though I did need to restrain them on occasion. Thankfully, the temperature was good. Cool but not chilly.
Upon reaching the corner, the apartment buildings disappeared, replaced with suburban homes, tidy fourplexes, and small bungalow courtyards. There were a lot of trees and broad lawns, but fewer hedges. Cars parked in driveways would provide some protection if I ducked low enough. It was kind of exciting, in a terrifying sort of way. And quite frankly, Cathy and I had indulged in similar adventures.
I pushed on, block after block. Plucking bushes for cover was pointless. Leaves don’t really hide very much and attract even more attention. A few people saw me. An old lady with her dog. A guy watering his lawn. There was a couple out for a stroll who would go home with a new story. Several drivers honked when they spotted my pink ass wiggling along the sidewalk. I knew from experience to keep going.
Each time I came to a corner, I would stop and look both ways, making sure not to get caught in anyone’s headlights, and then scamper across. One large intersection had a camera to catch motorists running red lights. Would it spot me? I waited for the green light.
Finally, I reached Mansfield Park. It was long, wide, and dark except for the tennis courts, basketball courts, and a late-night soccer game being played under bright lights surrounded by fifty cheering fans. Obviously, I avoided those areas, though I did briefly fantasize about streaking the soccer field, imagining the shocked expressions.
Sneaking along on the soft grass was fun, and a little stimulating. Well, more than a little stimulating. The arousal was growing stronger, my nipples hard. I briefly considered finding a quiet spot to relieve my tension and then got smart about it. Getting caught by the cops in the park naked was a misdemeanor. Pleasuring myself might be a felony. I didn’t need the legal fees.
I was most of the way through the park, seeing the ghostly streetlamps up ahead on Main Street, when there was a noise behind me. Footsteps. I had gotten a strange sensation of being followed a few times, and who wouldn’t follow a naked woman if they could? But this was more persistent. I ducked off the trail behind a tree and waited.
It was Frank Bessinger, a man who lived in my building. About 45-years old, tall and thick, with jowly red cheeks and a bald head. At 300 pounds, his shoulders always slumped and he walked like the Incredible Hulk. I jumped out, scaring the hell out of him.
“What are you doing here, you sick fuck? Trying to rape me?” I cursed. He jumped back, a hand over his heart, almost stumbling.
“Following you wasn’t my idea,” he stuttered in his gruff Jersey accent.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. “Your friend Cathy made me promise to watch out for you. I’ve been following since she locked you out of your apartment. Which was a sweet trick, by the way. If any creep tries to give you grief, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
“Watching me run around naked isn’t so bad, either. Is it?”
“Ain’t complaining,” he replied, attempting to smile.
“You’ve been watching me for a long time.”
“You’re really pretty.”
“Are you expecting a reward?”
“No, I know you’re way out of my league,” he sadly answered. “But a guy can dream, can’t he?”
Hell, this bloated slob was more frightened than I was. I turned to leave, hearing him sigh. I had no doubt he really was trying to protect me.
“Oh, what the heck,” I suddenly decided, turning back.
I pushed him down on a park bench, opened his pants, and went to work on his dick with both hands. It wasn’t a bad size, though not so thick as the rest of him. He was stunned. Speechless. Not responding right away, but he didn’t resist. He leaned back, trying not to fall off the bench, hardly able to breathe. I was completely naked, on a park pathway, giving my strange neighbor a hand job, and I felt completely in control. Powerful. I doubled my efforts until he burst like a geyser, working him until there was nothing left.
Frank wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. He was totally spent. I got up, pleased to have paid a debt. He gave me a handkerchief to wipe my hands.
“Do you want me to do something for you?” he hesitantly asked, looking at my wonderful tits and shaved womanhood. Perhaps a little wetter than it should be.
“No,” I firmly answered. “But thank you for offering.”
“Do you want my jacket?” he suggested, starting to take it off. I seriously considered that. Why wouldn’t I? Naked in the city. Tricked by my best friend.
“No, but thanks,” I replied.
“No?” he questioned.
“Cathy and I have played these games since college,” I explained. “She’s getting the better of me this time, but next year, I’ll get her worse.”
I was already thinking of my revenge.
“You girls are crazy,” Frank concluded.
“Yes, we already know that. I can go the rest of the way by myself,” I decided.
“I’ll give you some space, but I won’t be far away,” he warned. “A promise is a promise.”
It was a few minutes past 8 o’clock when I reached Main Street. It was busier than I hoped. Cathy’s nightclub was to my right on the corner of Jackson Avenue, a block away. Her new condo was several hundred feet to my left. I stayed in the park walking parallel to the sidewalk, looking for traffic patterns. Cars went by, and then more cars. A big truck. And then the traffic signals at each end were red at the same time. …
