“Take off your clothes,” he simply stated, in that matter-of-fact, confident tone of his.
I stood in the middle of the room and looked around.
We were in his bedroom. This was the first time I had been invited to his place, and I felt a little flustered.
I know what happens in bedrooms.
Looking around the room, I took in all the pertinent features: a large bed, a night table with a lamp and a charging cable on it, and a dresser at the opposite wall. Minimalist, and masculine. A simple picture hung on the wall over the bed, an abstract print of an nondescript nude woman facing away from her painter.
Erotic, I thought. He likes erotic imagery.
Turning back to face him, I met his eyes. He stood near the dresser, looking at me. Waiting.
I could feel myself getting tingly in all sorts of places.
“Go ahead,” he repeated. “Take off your clothes. I want to look at you.”
His tone softened, but he wasn’t asking a question. Nor was he demanding. He simply stated a fact. Nudity was the desired result here, and it was up to me to make it so.
This is what you wanted, I heard my internal voice say inside my head. To experience things. To explore, and experiment with your sexuality. Stop delaying and just do it.
I decided to indulge him. And myself.
Slowly, while maintaining eye contact, I lifted my top over my head.
I watched his eyes move down my body, resting on my breasts, covered in a black lace bra.
My nipples hardened. I shifted my position slightly, from one hip to the other, revealing more of my sexually-awakened state than I was ready for at that moment.
But he saw it. He saw the arousal, and it pleased him.
“More,” he said.
I looked at him carefully. Was he, too, getting aroused, even this early in the game?
He didn’t reveal anything. Not yet, anyway.
Realizing I needed to unzip my boots in order to get the rest of my clothing off, I contemplated how to make my next move as gracefully as possible. I didn’t want to bend over too suggestively, or risk losing my balance.
I decided to sit on the foot of the bed, and slip the boots off. They came off easily, along with the socks. When I was done, I was suddenly an inch shorter, even while sitting down.
Somehow, this messed with my head.
Glancing up at him over by the dresser, I searched his face. Did he notice my hesitation?
If he did, he didn’t let on. He stood leaning against the dresser and just kept waiting, patiently.
I stood up, and faced him again. With my right hand, I reached for the zipper in my skinny jeans, and pulled it down. Keeping my eyes on his face, I wiggled the jeans off my hips and down to my ankles.
He followed along, watching me step out of them.
Now, I was standing there in just my black lace bra and panties.
He nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything.
The room was semi-dark in that wintery, late afternoon sort of way. The lamp on his bedside table had not been switched on.
I didn’t want it switched on, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to think of it either.
Despite my increasing arousal, I still felt a little self-conscious. I was, after all, stripping for a man whom I didn’t have a sexual relationship with. Well, not a physical one. Yet.
But that was about to change.
Bringing my focus back to the task at hand, I met his eyes again.
He’s was still standing there, waiting.
I realized what he was doing. He wanted me to push beyond my own comfort zones. To be naked, and sexually appealing, to him, as well as to myself, by my own hands. I knew I had to go through the motions, to undress myself for him, make a show of it. To tease, and provoke.
To be in charge.
The voice in my head returned. I was there, in his bedroom, for a reason, and now was not the time to hesitate, or change my mind.
I decided to continue stripping off my clothes.
Watching his face, I slid the bra strap off my right shoulder until it was halfway down my arm.
Then I did the same on the other side.
Once both straps were down, I slipped them off my arms and freed my breasts.
I exposed myself to him, the man whose bedroom I was standing in.
Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to cover myself up, or at least turn around, but I knew he wouldn’t approve. Like he said before, he wanted to get a look at me.
So I stayed where I was and continued to face him. Arms at my side, almost naked, and exposed.
He of course watched every move I made with astute attention.
I realized something then. I was beginning to enjoy myself. I liked the undivided attention on me. I liked how I felt, despite the little bit of embarrassment.
To get the bra off my body, I needed to reach the clasp at my back. I turned it around until the clasp was in the front. Once I unclasped it, I slipped the bra off my body and dropped it on the floor next to the pile of my other, previously discarded clothes.
All I had on now was the panties.
I took in a breath and swallowed hard. I felt like I was provoking him, seducing him in ways I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
I searched his face for clues of what he thought about me.
He gazed at me the way straight men do when looking at nude women. He took in every inch, every curve. It was flattering, but also a little nerve-wracking.
I suddenly realized there was no mirror in this room.
Forcing my brain away from thinking about my body’s self-perceived flaws, I waited for him to raise his eyes back up to mine.
He took his time, exploring me. Taking in the nudity already exposed, and the nudity still to come.
Pleased despite his stoic reaction, I experienced a strange sort of empowerment overcome me.
I also felt the moisture increase between my legs. It made me wonder if I was leaving a stain in my panties.
Should I look, or touch myself, I wondered briefly.
But I didn’t dare. Not that he would have minded, I just didn’t want to make it obvious.
By now I felt like I entered a sort of mental sub-space. I realized what appeared to matter more was how I was feeling, rather than what he, my audience, was feeling at the moment. The embarrassment, the slight humiliation I experienced, it took on a different dimension suddenly.
I allowed myself to focus on my own sensations, and not worry about his.
He’s a big boy, he can handle his own arousal, I told myself while turning my attention to my panties.
The objective here was for me to end up naked, I knew. He expected it. He said so. And I had agreed.
I wondered how I would feel once I pulled my panties down. What he would think when he saw my most intimate part. What he would do. He would still be dressed and I would be completely nude.
Before I changed my mind, I placed my hands into the waist band of my panties and slowly pulled them past my hips.
To be continued… part 2