Nothing Left to Hide Pt 4

Megan was naked when I got home.

That had become so normal that I barely registered it at first.

She was curled into one corner of the couch with her phone in her hand and one thick, pale thigh folded beneath her. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose knot that looked as though she'd put it up hours ago and forgotten about it. The apartment was cool enough that goosebumps stippled her arms, and her stout nipples had tightened at the centers of those enormous pink areolas.

She looked comfortable.

At home.

Completely herself.

Then she saw me.

More specifically, she saw the pouch.

Her blue eyes dropped.

There was a beat of absolute silence.

Then she started laughing.

"No."

I shut the door.

"Don't."

"What the fuck is that?"

"Megan."

She put her phone down.

"Come here."

"Absolutely not."

"Blake, come here."

"No."

She was already getting off the couch.

"Why?"

"Because you're enjoying this way too much."

She started walking toward me anyway.

And that was a mistake.

Not hers.

Mine.

Because instead of concentrating on the ridiculous pouch HR had made me wear, I watched Megan cross the room.

Her blonde hair was twisted loosely behind her head, a few strands hanging around her face. Her full tits moved softly with each step, the huge pink areolas impossible not to notice against her milky skin. The apartment was cool, and her stout nipples were already firm. Beneath them, her small tummy curved naturally into her hips and those thick pale thighs I'd admitted I loved.

There was nothing particularly provocative about what she was doing.

She was just walking toward me.

That was enough.

My attraction to her wasn't theoretical anymore. It wasn't something I could file away under friendship or curiosity or the novelty of suddenly living with a naked woman.

My body made that very clear.

Megan noticed.

She stopped.

Her eyes dropped, then came slowly back to my face.

A smile appeared.

"Oh."

"Don't."

"Blake."

"Megan."

She took another step toward me.

That absolutely didn't help.

"Is that because you're embarrassed?"

"No."

"Nervous?"

"No."

Her smile widened.

"Cold?"

I stared at her.

"No."

"So bodies are stupid?"

"No."

That surprised her.

We'd used that phrase all week. It had become our escape hatch whenever either of us reacted at an inconvenient moment. Butterflies, goosebumps, morning reactions, hard nipples, awkward warmth. Bodies were stupid. Laugh and move on.

But this wasn't that.

I held her eyes.

"This is all about you."

The teasing disappeared from her face.

Not completely. The smile remained, but it changed.

Softer.

"Me?"

"You're walking toward me completely naked, Megan. What exactly did you think was going to happen?"

Her cheeks flushed.

For once, she became self-conscious under my gaze. She glanced down at herself, taking in the same body I'd just watched crossing the room, then looked back at me.

"I don't know."

"Well, now you do."

She came the rest of the way toward me.

Slower this time.

She stopped close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off her skin.

Her eyes dipped once more toward the obvious evidence of what she did to me before returning to my face.

This time she didn't make a joke.

"That's actually kind of nice."

I laughed softly.

"Easy for you to say."

"No, I mean it."

Her hand settled against my chest.

"I spend half my life worrying about my stomach and my thighs and whether my tits are too big or whether everything about me is just..."

She shrugged.

"Too much."

"Megan."

"I'm serious."

She glanced down again.

"And then I walk across the room and apparently that happens."

I smiled.

"Pretty compelling evidence."

That brought the laugh back.

"So this one's not bodies being stupid?"

"Nope."

"Not nerves?"

"No."

"Not adrenaline?"

"No."

She tilted her head.

"Just me?"

"Just you."

The satisfaction that spread across her face was immediate.

"Good."

"Oh, don't get smug."

"Too late."

She stayed close another moment, her hand still resting against my chest.

"I'm absolutely remembering this the next time I complain about my thighs."

"You'll complain about them tomorrow."

"Probably."

"And I'll tell you you're wrong."

"Probably."

"And we'll do this again."

Her eyes flicked downward.

"Maybe."

I shook my head.

"You're trouble."

"And you're standing in our living room proving my point."

There wasn't much of a rebuttal available.

"Apparently."

She grinned.

"I can live with that."

For another second neither of us moved.

Then her eyes dropped farther.

The mood shattered.

"Oh my God."

I closed my eyes.

"Here we go."

"Is that a drawstring?"

"Megan."

She started laughing.

"Your dick is in a little bag!"

"It's called a pouch."

"That's worse!"

She bent forward laughing, blonde hair falling loose around her face.

I waited.

Eventually she straightened.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Not even a little."

She looked at it again.

"Why?"

"HR."

The laughter slowly left her face.

"What happened?"

"Today got weird."

She studied me.

Megan knew me well enough by then to hear everything hiding underneath those three words.

"Weird how?"

I walked toward the kitchen.

She followed.

I opened the refrigerator despite not actually wanting anything from it.

"Remember Kelly?"

Megan leaned against the counter.

"The woman from work?"

"Yeah."

"The one you've mentioned approximately four hundred times this week?"

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

"Whatever."

She smiled.

"Yes. I remember Kelly."

I closed the refrigerator.

"She came to work naked today."

Megan's smile disappeared.

Not dramatically.

It simply stopped.

"What?"

"She showed up completely naked."

Megan stared at me.

"Because of you?"

"Not exactly."

"Blake."

"I actually told her not to."

"You told her not to get naked?"

"More than once."

"And she did it anyway."

"Yep."

Megan looked away for a moment.

I watched her processing it.

I'd been the idiot who misunderstood an email.

Megan had spent the weekend watching me and gradually become curious enough to try nudity herself, privately, at home, with someone she trusted.

Kelly had apparently taken the opposite route.

Straight into work.

"Wow," Megan finally said.

"Yeah."

"Like..."

She looked at me.

"Actually naked?"

I almost laughed.

"What other kind is there?"

"You know what I mean."

"No clothes."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Megan's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And you saw her."

There it was.

Not accusation.

Not yet.

Just awareness.

"Yes."

"All of her."

"Megan."

"That's a legitimate question."

"Yes. All of her."

She looked down at herself.

It happened quickly.

Her eyes moved over her own body almost as though Kelly's existence had suddenly changed how she saw it. Her full tits. Her soft stomach. The natural curve below her belly button. Her thick thighs.

Then she looked back at me.

"What's she look like?"

Dangerous territory.

"Kelly?"

"No, Blake. The mailman."

I smiled despite myself.

"Megan..."

"What?"

"Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Compare."

"I'm not comparing."

"You haven't even heard the answer and you're already comparing."

She folded her arms.

"Fine. I'm curious."

That I believed.

"She's pretty."

Megan's face remained neutral.

"Okay."

"Long brown hair."

"I've seen her hair."

"Right."

"Keep going."

I sighed.

"She's shorter than you. Smaller."

"Smaller how?"

"Megan."

"Blake."

I laughed.

"You're impossible."

"So are you. Answer."

"She's leaner."

Megan glanced down at her stomach again.

I immediately pointed.

"That."

"What?"

"That's exactly what I told you not to do."

"I'm standing here naked while you're describing another naked woman."

"You're the one who asked."

"I know!"

She laughed, but there was nervousness underneath it.

"What about her tits?"

I stared at her.

"What?"

"I'm curious."

"Smaller than yours."

That answer came too quickly.

Megan noticed.

"Way smaller?"

"I'm not ranking tits."

"That means yes."

I rubbed my forehead.

"Yes. They're smaller."

Megan looked strangely satisfied.

Then caught herself.

"That's terrible."

"A little."

"I don't want her to have ugly tits."

"She doesn't."

Megan's eyebrows rose.

I closed my eyes.

"Jesus Christ."

"Gotcha."

"You set me up."

"Absolutely."

I pointed at her.

"This conversation is over."

"Nope."

I started walking away.

She followed.

"Blake."

"No."

"One more."

"No."

"Does she shave?"

I stopped.

Slowly turned around.

Megan was trying desperately not to smile.

"Why would you even ask that?"

"Because I want to know."

"Why?"

She gestured toward herself.

"Because I don't."

I looked before I could stop myself.

She caught me.

"Eyes up."

"You literally pointed."

"I know."

I laughed.

Then answered.

"Yes."

Her eyebrows rose.

"Completely?"

"Megan."

"Okay, okay."

She was smiling, but then something changed.

"So you noticed."

I knew exactly what she meant.

"Of course I noticed."

She nodded.

"And she noticed you."

"I'm wearing this."

I pointed at the pouch.

"Not this morning you weren't."

That caught me.

Megan knew my routine.

She knew there had been some period before HR's newest compromise when Kelly was completely naked and I'd been nearly so.

"Megan..."

"I'm not mad."

"You look mad."

"I'm thinking."

"Okay."

"And maybe a little jealous."

There it was.

Honest.

I stepped closer.

"Nothing happened."

"I didn't say anything happened."

"I know."

She hesitated.

"Did she have the same body-reaction stuff we did?"

That surprised me.

"Yeah."

"Nerves?"

"Mostly."

"Butterflies?"

"Something like that."

"Cold?"

"Definitely."

Megan nodded slowly.

"And other stuff?"

I understood.

"She said she felt a little aroused."

Megan's eyebrows went up.

"At work?"

"Not because she wanted anybody there. She was nervous, exposed and hyperaware of everything."

Megan went quiet.

Then nodded.

"I understand that."

Of course she did.

She'd described almost exactly the same experience herself.

"That's what I told her."

"What?"

"That sometimes your body reacts before your brain decides what anything means."

Megan looked at me.

Then, inevitably, her eyes dipped toward me.

"What about you?"

There was no point lying.

"I was attracted to her."

Megan's expression changed.

Not anger.

Something quieter.

"Okay."

"I don't want to pretend it was just nerves."

Her eyes came back to mine.

"Like with me?"

I understood what she was asking.

I stepped closer.

"No."

Her eyebrows drew together.

"No?"

"What happened when you walked toward me wasn't random."

She looked at me for a long moment.

Then some of the tension left her shoulders.

"Okay."

I smiled slightly.

"You're pleased with that answer."

"A little."

"You're impossible."

"You've mentioned that."

Then I took a breath.

"There's more."

She closed her eyes.

"Oh, fuck."

"It's not terrible."

"Every time somebody says there's more, it's terrible."

I sat at the kitchen table.

After a moment, Megan sat across from me.

She didn't cover herself. A week earlier she would have been acutely aware of sitting naked across from me.

Now the nakedness wasn't the vulnerable part.

The conversation was.

"Kelly and I talked at lunch."

Megan waited.

"She told me she likes me."

Her expression barely moved, but her fingers tightened together.

"Okay."

"I told her I like her."

Another pause.

"Okay."

"And..."

Megan stared at me.

"I asked her out."

That landed.

She looked away.

For several seconds the only sound in the kitchen was the refrigerator humming.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Wow."

"Megan."

"I'm okay."

"You're not."

"I didn't say I'm happy."

Fair.

She stood and walked to the counter.

I watched her shoulders rise with a slow breath.

"I feel stupid."

"Why?"

She turned around.

"Because I'm jealous."

"That doesn't make you stupid."

"I know. But I am."

She looked down at herself again.

"This is ridiculous."

"What is?"

"I'm standing naked in front of you, Blake."

"I noticed."

"Shut up."

I smiled.

She didn't.

"You slept in my bed last night."

"I know."

"You held me."

"I know."

"And this morning you were very obviously happy about the arrangement."

Despite everything, I smiled.

She didn't.

"Then you went to work, spent the day with another naked woman and asked her out."

When she said it that way, I sounded like an asshole.

"I didn't plan that."

"I know."

"I wasn't lying beside you thinking about Kelly."

"I know."

"Then what?"

She folded her arms.

This time she wasn't hiding her body.

She was protecting herself.

"I don't know what I'm allowed to feel."

That hit me.

"Anything."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Why?"

"Because you're the one both women apparently like!"

She immediately looked embarrassed.

"Sorry."

"No. Don't apologize."

She looked away.

"I'm jealous."

Quiet.

Simple.

Honest.

"Okay."

"Don't say okay like you're taking notes."

"What should I say?"

"I don't know."

I stepped closer.

Not touching her.

Just closer.

"Megan, I don't know how this works either."

She looked at me.

"Did you kiss her?"

"No."

That mattered.

I could see it matter.

"Did you want to?"

I hesitated.

"Yes."

Her face tightened.

I hated that.

"But I didn't."

"Because of me?"

"No."

That surprised her.

"Then why?"

"Because asking her out was enough."

That answer seemed to settle something.

Not fix it.

Settle it.

For several seconds neither of us spoke.

Then Megan asked, "Is she prettier than me?"

"No."

"That's diplomatic."

"It's true."

"She's thinner."

"Yes."

"Smaller tits."

"Yes."

"Flatter stomach."

"Flatter."

"Shaved."

I stared at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Blake."

"Yes."

She looked down at herself.

At her stomach.

Then her thighs.

That bothered me more than the jealousy.

I reached for her hand.

"Megan."

"What?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Turn her body into evidence against yours."

She looked at me.

"Kelly looks like Kelly."

"And I look like me."

"Exactly."

"With my stomach."

"I like your stomach."

"My giant thighs."

"I love your thighs."

That slipped out.

Her eyebrows rose.

"Love?"

I smiled.

"Apparently."

She tried not to smile.

Failed.

"And these?"

She gestured toward her tits.

"Megan."

"What?"

"You're fishing."

"Absolutely."

I laughed.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I like your tits."

"My giant pink dinner plates?"

I lost it.

"Megan!"

She started laughing too.

"That's what they look like!"

"They do not."

"They're huge."

"Your areolas are big."

"Thank you, Dr. Mercer."

"And your nipples are..."

I stopped.

Her eyebrows rose.

"Are what?"

"Stout."

She stared at me.

Then burst out laughing.

"STOUT?"

"I panicked!"

"Like a beer?"

"I don't know!"

She was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

I couldn't help laughing with her.

Finally she wiped her eyes.

"God, you're an idiot."

"Apparently."

She reached across the table and took my hand.

The laughter faded.

"Blake."

"Yeah?"

"I'm still jealous."

"I know."

"I don't know how this works."

"Neither do I."

"I don't want to lose this."

She squeezed my hand.

"Whatever this is."

I looked at her.

"I don't want to lose it either."

She nodded.

"Okay."

Then she sighed.

"When's the date?"

"Tomorrow."

She groaned.

"Of course it is."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Megan."

She looked at me.

"I hope it goes well."

I stared at her.

"You mean that?"

"Mostly."

I laughed.

She squeezed my hand.

"I want you happy."

"I want you happy too."

"Unfortunately, I also want Kelly to develop a sudden and completely harmless allergy to you."

I laughed.

"That's fair."

"Nothing serious."

"Of course."

"Maybe just hives."

"Megan."

"Temporary hives."

I stood and walked around the table.

She looked up.

I held out my hand.

"What?"

"Come here."

She stood.

I hugged her.

Her naked body pressed against me, which made the moment considerably less tidy than the conversations people have in movies.

She settled her cheek against my chest.

I kissed the top of her blonde head.

Her arms tightened around me.

No promises.

No labels.

No pretending jealousy didn't exist.

Just Megan.

Me.

And the uncomfortable realization that tomorrow night I was going on a date with Kelly.

After a moment Megan spoke against my chest.

"Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"If you're taking her somewhere nice, please wear pants."

I smiled into her hair.

"I'll consider it."

She pulled back.

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"And underwear."

"Now you're being controlling."

She slapped my chest.

I laughed.

Then she smiled.

But I could still see the uncertainty behind her eyes.

And I knew mine probably looked exactly the same.

Because Nude Day had started with one stupid misunderstanding.

Two weeks later I was sleeping naked beside my roommate, falling for her, attracted to a coworker who had followed me into the strangest workplace experiment imaginable, and preparing to take that coworker on a date.

At this point, clothing was the least complicated thing in my life.