Slip

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My husband handed me a little slip of paper almost as soon as we took our coats off and sat down. The paper just said “bra”, which was easy enough, but we hadn’t even ordered yet. There wasn’t really anyone seated near us. I could slip my bra off pretty easily, but I didn’t want the waitress to show up at the wrong time.So I stood up, and took my bag with me. The bathrooms were on the other side of the restaurant. He had waved a twenty at the waitress while we were being seated, and asked for some quiet. She had taken us to a table in the corner of the building, far from most of the other diners, but far from the restroom as well.Of course, it’s not like it was a mile hike. It was just across the restaurant. A fairly large restaurant, but weaving through the tables to the far corner only took a minute or two. At least there was no line. Perks of having dinner at four o’clock on a Tuesday. I went into the restroom. It was nice. Clean. Same weird Egyptian art-deco as the rest of the place. I went into a stall, just for a moment, and slipped my bra out from under my shirt. Easy.I walked back through the restaurant with my bra in my bag. It was dim. Nobody knew or cared, except maybe me. It was just a bra. The waitress showed up almost as I sat down. I couldn’t help but stare a moment, realizing that she wasn’t wearing any bra herself. Probably got her better tips.I ordered a seafood platter. It cost more than we usually spent on a whole night out, but he did say I could order anything. I thought about ordering off the wine list for a change, but I just asked for orange tea. He ordered pasta and coffee, and a couple of appetizers like he always did.With the waitress gone, I relaxed a little. We talked about my new video game and the online card game he was programming. Our drinks came, so I brewed my tea and he fixed his coffee.While I was waiting for my tea to be ready, he slid another slip of paper across the table to me. I knew it would say “panties” before I looked at it. What else would it say? Our drinks were already here, and our food would be a while, so I fished up the side of my ankle-length skirt until I could see my underwear, hooked them with a thumb and slid them down. Dropped them to the floor.Almost to the floor. Getting them over my boots was going to be less graceful than I intended. Especially with the waitress standing right by me with our appetizers. I must have startled, because she apologized for surprising me. She leaned down awkwardly, setting our plates on the table while holding a full tray of drinks with the other hand. I glanced up at her, or more exactly at the bump of her nipple and the name tag “Katrina!” that was right in my face.She asked if we needed anything else, but I couldn’t really think about anything except the underwear stretched around my ankles. My husband waited. Watching me. Two seconds. Five seconds. Then he said we were fine, and that the food looked wonderful. Hero or villain, I couldn’t decide. As soon as she left, I stomped the panties off of one boot and lifted them to my hand with the other. Untangled them from the heel, and then tucked them in my bag.I tasted the squid. It was excellent. I tried a stuffed mushroom. Cheesy. Spicy. Kind of soggy. Hubby and me got to talking again, but it was different. I walked around without a bra often enough at home. I did not normally walk around or sit around in a skirt with no underwear. I could feel the air between my legs and I really couldn’t forget about it. So we talked, but I was distracted.Feeling the lack of underwear also made me really notice the lack of bra under my shirt. I looked down to see the outline of hard nipples against the cloth. That would be really obvious to anyone that looked, but there wasn’t anybody else here. Except that the waitress would be by eventually. Women went in public without bras all the time. It was fine.I’d put too much sugar in my tea.Funny though, I noticed that he too was distracted by my nipples. He would set down his coffee and pick it up again without drinking anything. He kept looking at my chest, a smile twitching on his lips. I finished the calamari while I watched him watch me.The food came. There were no chesty points on display for “Katrina!”, which I counted as a personal triumph. The seafood platter she set in front of me was daunting. isvecbahis She held it in both hands and I got a view straight down her shirt when she set it in front of me. I wondered briefly if my husband had tipped her for more than just a quiet seat, but the food was far more interesting at the moment. I’d be taking home more than half of it, certainly. A few bites confirmed it was delicious. Worth every penny.A few bites were all I got before he handed me another slip. This one, I couldn’t imagine what it would say. I hadn’t even been sure if he would give me another one. I knew he wanted to, and the idea that inspired the whole ridiculous game was to strip in public, but obviously I couldn’t actually do that. Somebody would call the police.I turned over the paper. It read “Skirt. You can lay your jacket over your knees.” I savored a shrimp while I contemplated the text. Sweet of him to explain that he didn’t expect me to just sit in the clear with no pants on.I got my coat out from under my bag and spread it out on my lap, over my knees. It was a big coat, and really it would cover more than the skirt did. On one side. Not entirely effective. I glared at the husband, but it didn’t even phase him. He just watched me with a look of curiosity while he slurped up a noodle. He thought maybe I wouldn’t really do it.I moved my bag to the aisle side so I could sit by the wall. Better. The skirt came off much easier than the panties had.My backside and vagina touched down on the cold seat. A flaw in my brilliant idea to change where I was sitting. I just sat for a moment holding the skirt in my lap, on top of the jacket. Then I shuddered at the thought of the waitress popping up again and seeing that. I stuffed the skirt hastily into my bag and zipped it closed. My plate sat by itself at the other end of the table while I zoned out again for maybe a full minute, trying in vain to adjust. I shivered, not even from the cold of the seat – that warmed fairly quickly – but just from the thought that I was wearing nothing from the waist down, in a restaurant.Not reasonable at all. It was good that nobody was seated anywhere near us. Or maybe it was a trap, since I wouldn’t have done it at all otherwise. If they seated somebody near us now, I’d lose my mind. I forced myself to look around. Hubby chewed his noodles slowly, his eyebrows seemed to be stuck as high as they would go. He really hadn’t thought I’d go through with it.I slid my plate over in front of me. Ate a scallop. It really was good. Ate a shrimp. It was fantastic. Felt my ass against the seat and a slight movement of air across my thigh, exposed to the wall. Ate another scallop. I looked around again, suddenly paranoid. There was nobody. I had to blink like I was trying to wake up. The salmon was lovely.At some point, while I shot back and forth between frozen and hedonistic, my husband had slid his own self and plate away from the aisle too. We would have looked awfully suspicious, sitting at opposite corners like prizefighters, wouldn’t we? I did my best to direct my attention at the food, instead of the seat I could feel with so much skin. Or direct it at him, instead of the air that sometimes drafted all the way up to stir my pubic hairs.Then something else touched the back of my boot. The urge to jump out of my seat hit my desire to stay planted right where I was and turned into a full body shudder. I looked up from my food at my husband. He was still chattering about the “Myrtle” character from his card game and slurping noodles as though the toe of his silky dress-sock wasn’t caressing the back of my knee.His foot slid slowly around to my inner thigh, making its way further under my jacket. I tried to just breathe and enjoy my seafood. Fried shrimp. Lovely lime salsa with those. But even as slowly as he moved, I didn’t eat more than a few bites before he’d gone as far as he could. Brushing his toes through my bush.By the time the waitress came back to refill his coffee and bring me new water for my tea, I was a complete mess. Not only did I have pokies making themselves known right through my shirt, but I was also in the process of making the seat rather slippery beneath me.The woman could have just asked for my cup, but instead she leaned all the way across the table to pour our drinks. Her breasts were a isveçbahis giriş thread short of spilling out onto my shrimp and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. My husband, he never took his eyes off me. Or his toes. His smile made me think of sharks.Standing back up, the waitress hovered for a moment, asking again if we needed anything. I certainly wasn’t going to try to answer her, so I just stared at my food and waited for her to leave. My husband made a show of looking around the table for a few extra torturous seconds. Finally, he nodded at her, said that we were fine, and that we’d need some boxes for the food.He tickled my pubes with his toes the whole time.She came back almost immediately with some containers and boxed up our food herself for what felt like an eternity. Since she was gathering the food, I fiddled stiffly with my tea, trying to look very normal. Trying to distract myself from the very active foot wandering between my legs. Trying not to stare at Katrina!’s tits or down her cleavage as she reached across the table, surely angling for a giant tip.Tea was not an effective distraction, though, from the discovery that my husband could, in fact, extend his toes a little further. I froze completely while he got his sock wet, wiggling those toes in my slit. Feet had never been my thing, but I couldn’t help thinking they were really nice, soft socks.I opened my eyes to see if the waitress was done boxing the food, and instead found her almost nose to nose with me, looking right in my eyes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew exactly what was happening under the table.She repeated herself. Did I want the sauce? I looked over at the cup of tartar sauce in her hand. I said no. She stood back up, the table cleared of food.Either the opening twenty dollar tip bought some silence as well as privacy, or the lights really just were that dim. She took the bill and a credit card with her when she went. She’d be back in a moment, but then we could go.My husband found my clit with his toe, forcing a small noise out of me. I just shivered uncontrollably for a moment, but then he took his foot away. He slipped me another little piece of paper.I really thought about just not turning it over.It said “Shirt. You can wear just your coat.” That would actually be better, at least for the short walk out the door to the car, except the coat was very much in use right now, and needed to stay exactly where it was! Trying to turn it around and put it on at this point would be a disaster. He probably figured I’d just stand up for a moment with no pants. Or uncover myself in the chair while I put the coat on and tried to arrange it. But there was no way I was going to do either one of those things.The waitress came back while I was still stalling. She left the card and the receipt. My husband tucked them away. I really was going to have to stand up at some point. I was about five seconds away from calling the whole thing finished so he’d stop sipping his coffee, just watching me squirm, and start helping. Instead, I thought of my skirt.It’s not like it had disappeared completely. I pulled it out of my bag. It slipped on as easily as it had come off. I scooted to the end of the seat, taking a moment to wipe up the surprisingly small damp spot where I had been sitting. I stood up, put my coat on, sat back down, took a big drink of cold, sweet tea, and slipped the skirt back off. If he thought that was against the rules, he could stick it.He didn’t think that at all. When I glared up at him as I stuffed the skirt back in the bag, he was standing next to the table with our bag of food, grinning and doing a little golf clap. Then he picked the paper up off the table and handed it to me again. Shirt. I wondered for a moment if the waitress had seen the paper. It didn’t matter. I’d never see her again.I headed for the bathroom. My coat was long enough to reach my knees, so it covered everything well enough, but trying to walk quickly made it incredibly drafty. Doubly so because of how wet things were down there. The wind alone was making my stomach flip-flop. So much air and so many people around made my legs stop wanting to work exactly right.I stumbled. Just a little. I did not fall, but I could have, and that whole scene played out in slow motion in my head. I froze for a moment. isveçbahis yeni giriş A few people looked over at me as I regained my balance. They saw nothing interesting and went back to their conversations, but I had an image playing on a loop in my head: myself face down and butt up on the floor, like a bad anime. The humidity went up inside my coat. I walked the rest of the way to the restrooms very carefully.I took off my shirt in a stall. I had to take off my coat first, and hang it on the wall, which left me standing entirely naked for a moment. It was a bathroom, and I was alone, in a stall, with the door locked, but wearing nothing but boots in a public restroom isn’t really normal. I put the coat back on. I’d left my bag at the table, so I stuffed the shirt in the coat pocket and headed out into the restaurant one more time.It was surprising just how much difference the lack of a shirt could make. So much more air moved through the jacket. And there was so much more space. And inside that space, I was so much more naked. My nipples were hard again. Not that they could show through the thick material, but they did rub. Touch, touch as I walked. And there was one drop of wet making its way down my inner thigh now. I made my legs walk anyway.Slowly. A slip now would be the end of me. Slowly past tables full of people who had no idea what was passing by.At least I didn’t have far to go. My husband was already waiting near the front doors with my bag and the food. People were coming in for dinner now, and the doors moved a lot of air when they opened. It was a very crowded place to be with no clothes and legs that didn’t want to walk straight.He held my bag open for a moment. I pulled the shirt out of my pocket and tossed it in. He grinned and held the door open for me.The sun inched its way towards the horizon as we made our way through the parking lot to the car. At least it was a warm day. He stayed right by me, a hand on my arm, steering me towards our car and away from traffic. I was looking mostly at my feet, and I had to hold the coat down and lock my knees every time a passing car sent a breeze swirling my way, up the coat, across my whole body.We got to the car. He set our bags in the back seat. I sat down, got my seat-belt on. I had made it through. Now it was just the drive home and an absolute riot in the bedroom. The wet spot on the back of my coat, where I was sitting, was going to be huge.As he drove slowly through the parking lot, my husband silently handed me another slip of paper. It said “boots & socks”.As I took off my boots and tossed them in the back seat, I thought about how obvious my situation might be to any neighbors who saw me escaping toward the house wearing a long coat but no shoes. Would they think anything of it? Would it matter if they did?It turned out that was the least of my worries. We were getting on the freeway when I was done, going a direction that definitely was not toward home. All my clothes were in a bag behind his seat, I realized, and wherever we were going, he wasn’t going to let me have them back yet.I wondered if he had another little slip of paper. It seemed like a certainty. Wherever we were going, it was somewhere he thought he could get me naked.I wiggled my bare toes, trying to think of what sort of place that might be. I could think of some things we might do after dark, but there were still a few hours left in the day. And, lack of clothing aside, there aren’t so many places you can go barefoot. We were headed towards the coast, so a nude beach came to mind, but that just didn’t seem his style.After what I’d done in the restaurant, just going to a nude beach seemed anti-climactic. Anything I could think of seemed anti-climactic.Which meant that all those things were probably wrong.I looked myself over to make sure I wasn’t flashing any of the cars passing by. Between the seat-belt and the stretching I’d done to get my boots off, my coat was bunched up behind me and twisted around a bit. I wasn’t putting on a show for anyone out the window, but I didn’t really want to distract the driver either. As much fun as that would be.I tried to pull the coat back together, but that didn’t work nearly as well sitting down as it did standing up. I shimmied the edge of the coat back underneath myself, but in this position, the edge only went to mid-thigh. And that was only in the back. If I actually wanted to cover myself, I had to hold the bottom edge closed with both hands. I did do that for a few miles, but after a while I just let it go.

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