Nothing Left to Hide Pt 3

Kelly

A week later, Megan was still naked.

Not constantly.

That would've made it sound like we'd joined a cult.

She wore clothes to work. She got dressed to go grocery shopping. If somebody knocked on the door, there was usually a mad scramble toward the hallway accompanied by language that would have embarrassed a sailor.

But when it was just us?

Clothes had mostly disappeared.

The strangest part was how quickly the strange part disappeared.

A week earlier I'd walked into our apartment and found Megan standing naked in the kitchen, blonde hair around her shoulders, blue eyes terrified but determined, and I'd thought my brain might short-circuit trying to process the fact that I could suddenly see her tits, her soft little stomach, the thick pale thighs she'd always complained about and the full blonde bush between them.

Now she was standing at the stove wearing nothing but an apron, complaining because I'd bought the wrong coffee.

"This is garbage."

"It's coffee."

"It's brown sadness."

"You drank it yesterday."

"I was desperate yesterday."

I walked behind her and reached into the cabinet for a mug.

She shifted automatically to give me room.

Our hips brushed.

Neither of us jumped.

That was new too.

A week had taught us that naked didn't necessarily mean intimate.

Touching was becoming another matter.

Megan turned around.

"You're in my way."

"It's my kitchen."

"Our kitchen."

"Interesting how quickly you've adopted that argument."

She smiled.

Then her eyes dropped.

I followed them.

"Seriously?"

"I didn't do anything."

"You looked at me."

"I've been looking at you all week."

"Not like that."

She was right.

There were different kinds of looking now.

The surprised look was gone.

So was the embarrassed glance followed by pretending neither of us had noticed.

Sometimes we looked because bodies were bodies.

Sometimes because something had changed. Goosebumps from the air conditioner. A bruise on my thigh I didn't remember getting. Megan complaining that she'd gained weight and turning sideways to inspect the soft curve of her stomach.

And sometimes we looked because we were attracted to each other.

We'd finally stopped pretending that one wasn't happening.

"You're pretty," I said.

Her expression softened.

"Pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Better."

"Needy."

"Asshole."

She turned back toward the stove.

I watched her for another second.

Megan was softer than the women I'd usually noticed first. She had that little natural tummy she'd spent years trying to hide, hips that widened beneath it and thick, milky thighs that touched high between her legs. Her tits were full and soft, with those enormous pink areolas and stout nipples that became even more noticeable whenever the apartment got cold.

And then there was the blonde bush.

The first night she'd gotten naked, that had surprised me almost as much as everything else.

She'd noticed.

Of course she'd noticed.

By the third day she'd finally asked.

"You thought I shaved, didn't you?"

I'd nearly choked on my drink.

Apparently my face had answered for me.

She'd laughed.

"Sorry to disappoint you."

I hadn't been disappointed.

I'd told her so.

That conversation had produced approximately fifteen minutes of merciless teasing and one inconvenient erection.

Bodies were still stupid.

We'd simply gotten better at laughing about them.

But something else had changed during that week.

We were touching more.

Not sexually.

That distinction mattered.

A hand on a shoulder.

Her feet in my lap during television.

My hand resting on her ankle.

Megan leaning against me in the kitchen while we talked.

Neither of us announced these things.

They simply accumulated.

Then came Thursday night.

We were watching a movie.

Megan was beside me instead of at the other end of the couch.

That had become normal too.

Her thigh rested against mine.

About halfway through the movie, she shifted and put her head against my shoulder.

I looked down.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're doing the observation thing."

"The what?"

"Where you suddenly become aware of everything."

I smiled.

"I don't do that."

"You absolutely do."

She settled more comfortably against me.

Her blonde hair brushed my chest.

I could feel the warmth of her body along my side.

That wasn't nudity.

That was Megan.

There was a difference.

I put my arm around her.

She went still.

For maybe two seconds.

Then she relaxed into me.

Neither of us said anything.

The movie kept playing.

Eventually her hand came to rest on my stomach.

That got my attention.

Apparently it got hers too.

She felt me tense.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

She left her hand there.

Ten minutes later I couldn't have told you what was happening in the movie.

My attention had narrowed to ridiculous details.

The weight of her head.

Her breathing.

The occasional movement of her thumb against my skin.

The warmth of her thigh.

And, eventually, the predictable response from my body.

I shifted.

Megan immediately knew why.

"Blake."

"I'm ignoring it."

She laughed softly against my shoulder.

"You're terrible at ignoring it."

"That's because there's nowhere to hide it."

"I know."

She lifted her head.

Her blue eyes met mine.

Then she looked down.

Not embarrassed.

Curious.

Back to me.

"Bodies are stupid."

"That's becoming our motto."

She smiled.

But neither of us moved apart.

That mattered more.

When the movie ended, Megan didn't get up.

The credits rolled.

She remained against me.

"Megan?"

"Yeah?"

"You asleep?"

"No."

"Okay."

Another minute passed.

Then she sat up.

For a second I thought the moment was over.

Instead she turned toward me.

"Do you want to come sleep with me?"

Every coherent thought left my head.

"What?"

Her face immediately turned pink.

"I said sleep."

"I heard you."

"Actually sleep."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"No sex."

"Megan."

"I'm establishing the rule."

"Okay. No sex."

She watched me.

"I don't want this to turn into something we're not ready for."

That sentence told me more than anything else she'd said.

There was a something.

We both knew it now.

"I don't either."

She nodded.

Then stood.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Come on."

I followed her down the hallway.

I'd been inside Megan's bedroom before.

Hundreds of times.

It had never felt like that.

The lamp beside her bed cast warm yellow light across the room. Clothes were folded over a chair. A book lay face down on the nightstand. Her perfume lingered faintly in the air.

She pulled back the covers.

Then looked at me.

"This feels weird."

"Very."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I'd be worried if it didn't."

We got into bed.

For the first thirty seconds we lay on opposite sides like two people who had accidentally booked the same hotel room.

Megan stared at the ceiling.

I stared at the ceiling.

"This is stupid," she finally said.

"Extremely."

"We've been naked together all week."

"Yep."

"And somehow this is weird."

"Very."

She turned onto her side.

I looked at her.

She was smiling.

"Nudity isn't the intimate part anymore."

"No."

"This is."

"Yeah."

She moved closer.

Slowly.

Giving both of us plenty of time to change our minds.

Then she tucked herself against me.

Her head beneath my chin.

One arm across my chest.

My arm went around her almost automatically.

We exhaled at nearly the same time.

"Better?" I asked.

"Much."

We lay quietly.

Then Megan said, "One more rule."

"What?"

"If your body does anything stupid, we're ignoring it."

I laughed into her hair.

"That's probably wise."

"And mine too."

"Deal."

A few minutes later she whispered, "Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"I've wondered."

"About what?"

"Us."

My heart kicked.

"Me too."

She lifted her head slightly.

"Really?"

"Really."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"Liar."

I smiled.

"Before Nude Day."

Her expression changed.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you're my roommate."

"That's your reason?"

"You're my friend."

That landed harder.

Megan lowered her head again.

"That's my reason too."

We stayed like that.

Eventually the conversation faded.

Her breathing slowed.

And sometime after midnight, holding my naked roommate against me stopped feeling impossible and started feeling strangely natural.

Nothing happened.

Which somehow made it feel like something enormous had happened.

⸻

Morning introduced a logistical problem.

I woke warm.

Comfortable.

And very aware of Megan.

Sometime during the night we'd shifted.

I was behind her now, one arm around her waist, my chest against her back, her blonde hair against my face.

Big spoon.

And because I was a twenty-two-year-old man who had been asleep, my body had contributed its usual morning opinion.

I froze.

There was absolutely no pretending Megan couldn't tell.

She was quiet for several seconds.

Then:

"I think part of you woke up first."

I closed my eyes.

"Good morning."

She started laughing.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I'm trying to be mature."

"Try harder."

She shifted slightly.

That was not helpful.

"Don't move."

That made her laugh harder.

"Blake!"

"I'm serious."

"You're the one attached to me."

"I'm not attached to you."

"You are making a compelling argument otherwise."

"Megan."

She finally rolled over.

We put a little space between us.

Her cheeks were pink.

Mine probably were too.

"Rule," she reminded me.

"What rule?"

"Bodies are stupid."

"Right."

She smiled.

"Problem solved."

And it was.

No drama.

No assumption.

No obligation.

Just biology eventually settling down while we talked about breakfast.

That morning might have been the moment I realized how much I trusted her.

And how much she trusted me.

⸻

Then Kelly walked into work naked.

It happened the following Friday.

Exactly one week after Nude Day.

I was at my desk wearing the stupid little drawstring pouch HR had finally decided constituted an acceptable temporary compromise while legal rewrote a policy that should never have needed rewriting.

I hated the pouch.

Being completely naked had eventually felt natural.

The pouch made me feel ridiculous.

It covered my dick and balls and accomplished basically nothing else. Some of my natural pubic hair showed above it, which made the whole thing look even more absurd.

Darren called it my "corporate loincloth."

I called Darren an asshole.

It was approximately 8:10 when the office changed.

I heard somebody gasp near the entrance.

Then laughter.

My first thought was:

What did I do now?

Then I looked up.

Kelly stood inside the front doors.

Naked.

Completely.

My brain stopped.

Kelly had always been attractive.

I'd known that.

Everybody knew that.

But knowing someone was attractive while they were wearing clothes and seeing them standing naked beneath fluorescent office lighting were very different experiences.

She was shorter than Megan and more compact, with a naturally lean build and a defined waist without looking sculpted. Her stomach was relatively flat but still human, moving slightly with each nervous breath.

Her tits were smaller than Megan's.

Much smaller.

Natural and soft, settling gently with gravity, with small areolas and tiny nipples that were already tightening in the cold office air.

Her long brown hair fell well past her shoulders, and under the morning light I could see the auburn tones I'd noticed before.

Then my eyes dropped farther.

Kelly was shaved.

Completely different from Megan.

That observation arrived before I could stop it.

Blonde and natural at home.

Dark-haired and shaved standing twenty feet from my desk.

My brain apparently decided comparison was unavoidable.

Kelly saw me.

Relief flooded her face.

Then she started walking toward me.

Every head followed her.

She reached my desk and grabbed my hand.

Her fingers were freezing.

"Holy shit."

"Morning."

"Don't 'morning' me."

"Okay."

Her grip tightened.

"This is fucking terrifying."

I looked at her.

Really looked.

Her face was flushed.

Goosebumps covered her arms.

Her breathing was shallow.

"You actually did it."

"I hate you."

"I told you not to."

"I know."

"Repeatedly."

"I know."

She looked around.

"Is everybody staring?"

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"They'll stop."

"When?"

"Eventually."

"That's not a time."

I smiled.

She didn't.

"Blake."

"What?"

"My nipples are hard."

I glanced down.

She slapped my arm with her free hand.

"Don't look!"

"You literally just told me."

"I know!"

"Kelly."

"I'm freaking out."

"Cold."

"What?"

"You're cold."

She looked down at herself.

"Oh."

"And nervous."

"Very."

"That's why."

She swallowed.

Then leaned closer.

"There's something else."

Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

"What?"

She looked mortified.

"I think I'm..."

She stopped.

"What?"

"A little turned on."

That surprised me.

Her grip tightened again.

"Not because they're looking."

"I know."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"I don't want anybody here."

"Kelly."

"What?"

"Bodies don't read memos."

She stared at me.

Then laughed.

A small, nervous laugh.

"That's actually helpful."

"I've had a weird week."

Her eyes dropped.

Straight to the pouch.

Then she looked back at me.

"What the fuck is that?"

I sighed.

"Corporate compromise."

She started laughing harder.

"Oh my God."

"Don't."

"Your junk is in a little bag."

"I hate you."

"No, seriously."

"Kelly."

"Does it have a drawstring?"

"Yes."

That did it.

She doubled over laughing.

Which immediately made her remember she was naked.

She straightened.

"Okay. Nope. Bad idea."

"What?"

"Moving makes things move."

"Welcome to nudity."

Her face went red again.

"I can feel everything."

"I told you."

"The carpet."

"Yep."

"The air."

"Yep."

"My hair touching my back."

"Yep."

"Everybody looking."

"That fades."

She looked at me.

"How did you do this all day?"

"One hour at a time."

Then the phone on my desk rang.

I looked at the display.

Human Resources.

Kelly saw it.

Her face fell.

"No."

"Yep."

"Already?"

"They're efficient when genitals are involved."

She looked at me.

"Come with me."

"I don't think--"

"Blake."

Her fingers tightened around mine.

"Please."

That changed everything.

I stood.

The pouch shifted.

Kelly looked down.

Then back up.

"Sorry."

"You're going to have to stop apologizing for looking."

"You're one to talk."

Fair.

We started toward HR.

Hand in hand.

Halfway down the hall, Kelly leaned closer.

"Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"If they tell me to get dressed, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Then don't decide yet."

"What?"

"Wait until they actually ask."

She looked at me.

I squeezed her hand.

"One problem at a time."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Okay."

We kept walking.

Then she looked down.

At me.

I knew immediately.

"Oh, come on."

Her eyes widened.

"Is that--"

"Don't."

"Blake."

"Nerves."

She bit her lip.

"Seriously?"

"I told you. Bodies don't read memos."

That made her smile.

Then she squeezed my hand again.

"Good."

"Good?"

"I was starting to think I was the only one."

I looked at her.

And that was when the butterflies hit.

Not embarrassment.

Not merely the adrenaline of walking through the office beside a naked woman.

Something else.

Something inconvenient.

Because that morning I'd woken up beside Megan.

I'd held her.

I'd wanted to stay there.

And now I was walking down a fluorescent hallway holding Kelly's hand, intensely aware of her body beside mine and the fact that she was scared enough to need me there.

Megan felt like home.

Kelly felt like possibility.

And for the first time since Nude Day began, being naked wasn't the complicated part anymore.

I was.