Half-dressed
I am a very sociable person, and in one of the letters, I received feedback on my story and a new proposal to do something unusual. To others, this might indeed seem strange, but not to me, and I happily began thinking about how to present all this to my friend and colleague, who is one and the same person. We work together in the reading room of one of the libraries, just the two of us, and nothing escapes her notice when she found out about my passion and interest in nudism.
It's winter outside, and the thermometer reads minus thirty. It's no resort in our reading room either, though it's supposedly warm. In the evening, having thoroughly thought through all the details, I ask Irinka to help me move
the table."What for?" she asks me.
"There's a draft from the windows, and my back isn't government-issue," I reply.
We take the table and move it closer to our desk, placing it behind our backs. The front panel perfectly covers our backs, and it fit quite normally into the setting. Then I take all the books from my desk and the nightstand and arrange them on this table in small stacks, pressing them tightly against each other and the bar. The height increased by another twenty centimeters, and practically the entire back was hidden from the supposedly drafty cold from the window and, of course, first and foremost, from the curious eyes of the readers. Sitting down on the chair, I wiggled a bit and said.
"Well, that's much better; the books are within reach, and the cold draft isn't as bad."
"But you're used to walking around naked, and here you've gotten a bit chilled," said Irinka.
"But now it's cozier and warmer to sit here," I replied.
"You're up to something again," Ira suddenly asked.
"Well, sort of," I answered.
"Just not in front of me," she suddenly grumbled.
"Alright, let's go home; it's already late," I said and pulled Ira into the closet to get dressed.
We walked together to her house, and I briefly told her what I wanted to do. Of course, I couldn't not tell her, to avoid trouble and in case the boss called, so she could cover for me. At first, she refused, citing my last stunt at the university, but then she waved her hand, saying you can't change me, and agreed.
The next morning, I practically flew to work, hoping to experience something new. It was freezing outside, minus thirty-two, but I was even hot from what I was about to do. For several days, due to the frost, I had been going to work in trousers and a turtleneck, but for this, today I wore my sweater with a high neck, which I hadn't worn for about a year and a half. It was very soft and warm. The decently long hem of the sweater, during severe frosts, covered half of my bottom and hugged my buttocks tightly.
When I entered the reading room, I immediately felt that something was off. It was cool, and I didn't even feel like undressing. Then Ira came in and noticed it too. We didn't even have time to exchange a word when our respected boss entered.
"Girls, you don't have to work today; we have a minor breakdown, so it's cool everywhere. But, in general, as you wish," she said and immediately left.
"Well, shall we go home?" said Ira.
"Well, if you want, go, but I'll sit for a bit," I replied.
Ira left immediately, without even undressing, and I decided to check how everything would look in place in her absence. Closing the door behind me, I took off my coat and, getting myself into the state in which I planned to spend my entire working day, sat down at the desk. It was original and unusual, but I immediately felt a cold draft and started to freeze. I got up and went to the thermometer. It was only seven degrees.
"Yes, just the right temperature," I said and dressed more warmly.
"So, girls, I'm going to a seminar; I won't be here until tomorrow—you'll lock up," she said and, checking the temperature in the room, added.
"It's practically Tashkent in here today."
"Yes, not like yesterday," Ira and I answered in unison.
"Well, alright, get to work," she said and left.
I looked at Ira and smiled. What luck, such luck, I thought.
Ira also smiled and gave me a once-over. I, too, looked at her adoringly once more and asked.
"Well, will you cover for me if anything happens?"
"Alright, what else can I do with you, or else you might come up with something even crazier," she said and also started changing.
I quickly took off my coat and, sitting on the sofa, pulled off my boots and then my trousers, remaining with a bare bottom in just the sweater. Putting the trousers in the closet next to the coat, I put my boots back on and, twirling in front of the mirror, asked Ira.
"Well, what do you think of my outfit?"
"I understand that minis suit you, but not to such an extreme length," she said, giving me a look from head to toe.
"Well, I think it looks pretty good," I said and turned in front of the mirror once more.
The sweater was, of course, long and hugged my body and waist tightly, covering my buttocks a little, though I thought it was a bit longer on me. Probably shrank after washing, I decided, but it was too late to back out. It was almost eight o'clock, and readers could arrive any minute.
"Well, how does it feel?" she asked.
"Well, it seems okay—only the sweater rides up high when I put my hands on the keyboard," I replied.
"That's nothing; wait until you have to get something from the card catalog—then your bottom will definitely be in plain sight," said Ira.
I immediately turned halfway and reached for the cards. I could get them without standing up. I could reach even the top ones, but when I stretched my arms toward them, my bottom became completely exposed and was half-turned toward the readers, who hadn't arrived yet.
"Ir, what should I do?" I asked.
"Well, let's move the nightstand closer," she suggested, and we both started moving, if you can call it that, the immovable nightstand with the entire card catalog.
"Ir, come here," I called my colleague.
Ira came over and asked.
"What do you need?"
"Stand here," I asked her to stand in the girl's place. The guy was standing a bit further away.
"What's visible?" I asked quietly and performed all the same hand manipulations and body turns.
"Seems like nothing, just a tiny flash on the left side when you reached your hand and started turning," said Ira.
"What about like this?" I said and first turned, then raised my arm and got a card.
"That way, nothing is noticeable," said Ira.
After that, it went like clockwork. I retrieved cards and logged books with practiced movements. Ira found them and gave them to the readers, constantly glancing at me and smiling. An hour passed, then a second, and the third hour was almost over. There was about an hour left until lunch, but I couldn't hold it anymore and wanted to pee. But I couldn't even imagine how to get up in front of the readers, so I took a piece of paper and wrote to Ira.
"I need to pee."
Ira read it, was surprised, first looked at me in bewilderment, then laughed, took a pencil, and wrote.
"Just get up and go; Tatyana isn't here anyway," and, handing it to me, she started watching me, laughing.
I understood that I couldn't just get up like that—everyone in the reading room would immediately see my bottom—but I didn't want to pee on the chair either. The last thing we needed was that smell all over the reading room. Peeking out from behind the books, I looked at how the visitors, engrossed, were each reading their own book, and made up my mind. It was only about three meters to the closet. I stood up and, half-crouching, came out from behind the desk, pulling the sweater down over my bottom as much as I could. Irka was even taken aback and opened her mouth in surprise. Quickly taking three steps, I disappeared around the corner and hid in the closet.
"You've completely lost your mind," Ira whispered.
Silently, I threw on a robe and quickly walked out into the corridor, almost running toward the toilet. What a relief I felt, freed from that burden, that I wasn't afraid of anything now. Returning to the reading room, I took off the robe again and, making sure no one was looking my way, took those three steps and practically collapsed onto the chair, pressing my bare bottom against it.
During lunch, I walked around the reading room in just the sweater and looked at myself in the mirror. Ira tried to talk sense into me and get me to dress, but I decided I would sit it out until the end of the day.
After lunch, I again felt a slight embarrassment when two men tried to flirt with me, but Ira helped me, quickly found books for them, and suggested they move along so they wouldn't bother me.
There were a few more risky situations where I could have been exposed, and Ira always came to my aid, distracting the visitors and explaining to them that I had urgent work and no time. Some tried to lean over my desk to whisper something quietly in my ear, but I moved away and, I don't even know how, managed to keep them at a distance.
Whether anyone saw that I was sitting in very short clothing and whether I was even wearing a sweater or a knitted dress like that, I don't know. But I did notice a few smiles directed at me. What Ira wanted to tell me at the end of the workday, I still don't know—because she started to say something, then fell silent, and only when we parted near her house did she simply ask.
"So, when will you be flashing in such an outfit again?"
"As soon as you agree to cover for me," I replied to her and jumped into the minibus.
That's the story that happened to me yesterday, and I'm in a hurry to tell you about it.
19.12.2012 Marina .K
Chelyabinsk.