Delores Crosses Town Naked

Early September in Castle Harbor saw most summer renters depart, but not the late summer weather. The days stayed warm, mostly sun-filled, and the nights grew cooler only gradually. A few trees began to turn, a splash of yellow against the green, and the rows of corn that had yielded the first ripe ears turned brown and crisp and rustled in the breeze. But the beaches remained warm and inviting by day, the ocean at its warmest, and were less crowded. For Leslie, this was the time to reclaim the beaches, the bike paths, and the wooded trails from the summer people, and her naturally dark skin grew browner still. The shape of her bikini was barely noticeable—she discarded it at any opportunity— and her breasts became almost of the color of her nipples. Guy approved, and teased her out of her suit even when there was a risk of being caught.

"I am a school teacher," Leslie would protest. "What do my students say if I get into the Castle Harbor Express for 'indecent exposure'?"

"They say, 'Shit, I wish I had been there!'"

"The boys."

"And the girls giggle."

"And the school has to fire my bare ass, whether they want to or not, because the parents go ape shit."

"Well, the principal sure as hell would have nothing to say." Hugh Gaitley was a relatively new member of the Dark Knights; he would not have to imagine how Leslie had looked when arrested.

"He would have to act as indignant as anyone else," said Leslie.

The arguments didn't change much. As they talked, Guy would go on teasing the bikini top, them the bottom, off his wife's flawless little body, trained to perfection in almost daily yoga classes. So far, they had been lucky.

Now, late in the day, on a stretch of deserted Atlantic beach, Leslie waded naked into the calm, warm ocean, squinting in the white glare of the afternoon sun on little rippling wavelets. She turned to Guy, standing beside her. With a grin on her face, she reached over and took his dangling cock in her hand. She gave it two tugs, and said: "Warning bell, warning bell, there is a session of Dark Knights this weekend. You didn't forget?"

"How could I, for God's sake?"

"Oh, that's right," said Leslie, with mock surprise, and, with a swift movement she dropped his penis, cocked her middle finger back against her thumb, and snapped the unfortunate ball that happened to be on her side. Guy yelped in surprise, and his hands flew down to shield himself. Of course, he was in time only to clutch his balls as the sickening, unbearable pain seized his balls, his belly, even his lower back.

"Ow! Shit!" he cried, looking over at her in astonishment.

"You do remember, then?" she asked innocently.

"Fuck," he whined. He said, his voice strained, breath coming hard: "I wasn't ready, at all. From delightful beach, standing by my pretty, naked wife, to agony."

"Straighten up!" snapped Leslie, with mock severity. "You're a Dark Knight."

Guy ignored her, bent double, nursing himself, but his mind went back to the night of their initiation into the Dark Knights, an initiation that went completely off the rails, thanks to two members who had a grudge against him. As he felt the worst of the ache receding, even now, from his balls, he marveled again at what he had suffered, that night. Of course, he had had no choice, none at all.

Leslie bent over and embraced him. She crooned: "I'm sorry, butchy baby—really. Does it hurt a lot?"

"Women can never, ever know," muttered Guy. Suddenly he reached over and snatched a handful of her thick, dark pubic hair and began to surge into the waves, dragging her after him. Leslie screeched, almost fell, and stumbled along. Her hands shot down to grab his wrist, but it didn't help much. She was in the water up to her neck before he released his grip and surged ahead, calling back, "Does it hurt, butchy?" His laugh was cut off as he dived beneath the waves.

Leslie stood looking after him, thoughtfully massaging her pussy hair, then burst out laughing.

When they were drying themselves on the beach, giggling together, Leslie said: "Guy, we've got to talk with Delores before the meeting of the Dark Knights—got to."

"She'll be there, you think?"

"I know Delores—at least, I know her, now. She'll be there."

"After what she did to you?"

"You mean after what you did to her?"

"Well, when I got back from shopping in Riverdale, I stepped in the door and heard you shrieking. Yes, shrieking. And found you tied hand and foot to our bed with Delores licking you into a third orgasm."

Leslie said, thoughtfully, "My clit felt as though it were getting electric shocks—or what I imagine electric shocks might be like."

"May you never find out for sure."

"All things in due course, I suppose. I've found out a lot of things I never imagined I would."

"Not electrodes on your clit."

"No, I suppose not, but listen. We have to talk with her. We at least have to find out what happened to her after you threw her out, like that."

"Quite a challenge for a gorgeous high-school librarian, no?"

Leslie shook her head. "Even now I can't believe it. You left me tied up!"

"I had to deal with her myself. I knew you would interfere, be soft-hearted."

"So you threw her out of the house just as she was, stark naked, and locked the door." Leslie had turned to him, hands on hips, reproachful.

Guy chuckled.

"When you told me, I couldn't believe it!" said Leslie. "That she'd have to drive home naked. But THEN you told me that you didn't even give her car keys to her!"

Guy nodded solemnly, judiciously. "Right," he said. "I figured it would cool her ardor, a little, to find her way home—two miles or—with no clothes on." He shook his head in disbelief. "But she must have done it. She showed up at work, you said. No story in the paper. No gossip. How could she have done it?"

"Well, that is one thing I'm dying to know, aren't you?"

Guy nodded and said, "Cum, just thinking about it."

"But also, how does she feel about us, now?" Before Guy could answer, Leslie said, quickly, "And don't just say 'She had it coming.' Have you any idea, any idea at all, what it must have been like, standing out there naked, absolutely nowhere to call for help, no one to call? This is the high-school library, for God's sake, the wife of the principal! She's incredibly respected, and respectable, in Castle Harbor. Guy! Try to imagine it, for Christ's sake!"

Guy turned to her. He looked contemplative, as though following her direction. Finally, he nodded. "You're right. It's completely incredible."

"She didn't come back to beg you to let her in! She just—left?"

"We've got to find out," said Guy.

"And YOU have to apologize! What she did, she did to me, not you. I would not have punished her at all—certainly not with that fucking nightmare you handed her."

"I was protecting you," Guy protested.

"Bull shit! You were getting off on humiliating a beautiful, sexy woman. You could have ruined her life, never mind humiliating."

A few days later, just at sunset, they sat together on the long, shaded deck of Karen's Place, with a view of the harbor, still packed with yachts, including a few truly impressive mega-yachts. They had selected a table well to the side of the big deck, and in a corner; they needed privacy. From here, the panorama of the harbor spread before them, and, beyond the yachts and their twins reflected in the still water, lay the outer harbor, serene under the September sky. They had not spoken much, concentrating on the cool wine, each preoccupied with vivid memories, conflicting feelings, and a slight case of nerves.

"Here she is," said Guy suddenly, and Leslie quickly looked up. Guy had stood up and was waving at the woman who had just stepped from the restaurant onto the deck.

She was tall—half-a-head taller than Leslie—and her skin much fairer, the pale, perfect skin that collects in the summer sun freckles on the chest, the back of the arms, and the shoulders. She wore a beige sun dress, cool, open to the air, but not especially revealing. Her ornament was her shoulder-length auburn hair—soft, lustrous, swaying as she walked. And, thought Guy, the face was as stunningly beautiful as ever—except that it looked as though it had never known a smile.

Leslie jumped up and hurried to meet her, arms outstretched. "Delores," she said, "you're so beautiful." Delores let her put her arms around her, but did not respond. As she hugged her, Leslie whispered, "And I missed you so much!" Delores nodded. No smile.

"Come on," said Leslie, "say hello to Guy!"

Delores followed her obediently, and, when Guy rose to greet her, allowed him to hug her. She said only, "Hello, Guy."

"Here," said Leslie, with a wide smile, patting a seat beside her.

Delores gracefully slipped into it, and placed her purse on the table. She said: "If you got in touch to tell me again what a bitch I am, I agree completely. If you want to ask me not to attend the Dark Knights any longer, I agree to that."

"Oh, Delores, no!" cried Leslie-a concern, almost alarm, in her voice. "Nothing like that! We wanted to know how you were."

"If you didn't get in touch with me to yell at me, or make demands, then I don't deserve to be seeing you," said Delores grimly. Leslie seemed about to cry, blinking rapidly and shaking her head in protest. She reached out toward Delores's hand, but Delores withdrew it to her lap.

"Okay," said Guy, severely. "Then we demand that you tell us what you did after I threw you out of the house. We want to know everything—all the sexy details. We want to get off on your humiliation."

Leslie shot to her feet. She whirled on Guy, her face bright red. "I want to SLAP you, for that! How can you talk to her that way?"

"Yes, let me give you the whole story," said Delores quietly. "I think that it's pretty good real-life porno. I'll try to spice it up. Spare no awful details."

Leslie sat down slowly and looked at Delores with tenderness. When Delores did not respond, she turned to Guy and whispered viciously, "Shit!"

"Can I get you a drink?" Guy asked casually, looking at Delores.

"Oh, thanks Guy, yes—I'll have a dirty martini." But she added, "I won't have anything, though, if I can't pay the bill."

Guy shrugged. "Sure."

"Well," Delores began, her hands folded on the table before her, "I was not humiliated, really. I felt I deserved to be standing there naked, thrown out of the house..."

"Oh, Delores," Leslie murmured. But Guy flapped his hand in a 'down' gesture, and Leslie sighed.

"I could only think of what I had done to Leslie," said Delores evenly, but added, quickly, "That doesn't make me a better person or anything."

Again, Leslie stirred in protest, but Guy was already shushing her, and she realized that she was making this more difficult for Delores.

Delores said: "I know I wasn't thinking clearly. Temporary insanity, or something. At first, I thought maybe I just walk out into the street, and head home. Truckers, police, kids from the school—who would see me first, and stop, so the humiliation would begin, really begin?"

"But then..." she hesitated. "Well, I do have two kids. Of course, they're away at school, but this isn't their fault. So, I thought, how can I get arrested, written up in the paper, dragged in for psychiatric testing, lose my job—and make it impossible for them ever to live in this town, again?"

Leslie's head was bobbing vigorously, in agreement and encouragement.

"Then, I thought: I wait till it gets dark and creep to the nearest phone, call Hugh to pick me up. But, of course, Hugh would have nothing to say—not after the Dark Knights—so how would that be my punishment? No, I had to get home by myself, naked—pay the price.

"Well, you know how this whole area is connected by woods? Nature preserves, strips of woods in developments, and all the other undeveloped areas—almost behind every house, when you think of it. At least till you get right into the village, and, of course, Hugh and I don't live in the village.

"So I decided to wait until dark, then somehow get back through the woods. I knew it was a long way, of course. I'd get scratched in the dark, maybe hurt myself. I'd have to cross a few streets, but I could just wait until there were no headlights in sight, and bolt across."

Guy was enjoying imagining the tall, elegant woman dashing across the road, her breasts and butt jiggling. Diving into the brush on the other side, heedless of scratches. Maybe one arm across her boobs to keep them from jouncing...

Delores saw his smile and nodded. "Right, Guy. Delores Gaitley, school librarian, running off her big tits through half of Castle Harbor." She was obeying him to the letter: all the details, all the humiliation.

"Anyway, I got into the woods behind your house, as deep as I could go without approaching another house or street. But I knew I couldn't just sit for three hours, till dark. My mind was so agitated; I was going crazy, thinking about what I did—and maybe, I guess, what was to come..."

Now she gazed straight ahead, avoiding their eyes. She said, levelly, "Now for some details. I won't leave out anything, unless you tell me to hurry."

"No hurry," said Guy. Leslie hung her head.

"Well, you know those holly bushes? Very dark green, stiff leaves, with five sharp stickers around the edge? Sure, we all have, a great shade plant. Well, as I left your yard, I spotting one and had an idea. I picked about a dozen leaves and took them with me. I was kind of crazed, remember."

Guy frowned, trying to catch her gaze, but she seemed to study a spot over their heads. "When I got to my spot, to the deepest cover I could find..." She hesitated, then said, casually, as though describing a recipe: "I put two of them in my pussy..."

"No!" cried Leslie in a hoarse whisper. "Oh, no."

"In my pussy, wedged in to get the stickers against my pussy lips, and one wedged between my lips and my clit, to get that, too."

Leslie turned her face to Guy, slowly.

Fortunately for him, he was not smiling. He looked grave, thoughtful, but Leslie wondered if he was just aroused.

"Well," said Delores, gesturing at her bosom, "I wedged two under my tits, to deal with that... And..." again, she paused. "And I wedged three of them in my ass, around my anus." After a silence, in which Guy heard the first faint sounds that his wife made as she began to cry, Delores added, casually, "So the pain really helped me to deal with the time, the waiting. It gave me... gave my feelings an anchor. I was doing something. It was a relief."

She said, as though part of the story, "My drink is here," and reached for her purse. She handed the waiter a bill, and said: "I'm paying for everything. Keep the change."

The waiter glanced down at the bill, and said: "Oh! Oh, thanks, so much."

"No lights over here, if you don't mind," said Guy. "We are enjoying the lights on the harbor."

"Sure, there's no one else in this section. I won't seat anyone here, unless they ask."

Guy nodded.

"So, it got dark, and I got started," said Delores, putting down her drink. "Just started walking and trying to keep oriented, you know."

"But first didn't you..." Leslie began. "I mean..."

"No," said Delores. I left them all in. As I walked, of course, they got pulled and pushed around in me. I think they tore, eventually—some of them, not the ones under my boobs. I could feel a lot of...blood running down my legs, back and front."

As though the deepening darkness made it safer, Leslie began to sob—softly, steadily, inaudible even to someone a few tables away. Delores paid no attention.

"I went maybe an hour," said Delores—"and I did have to cross a couple streets. I knew it would take a long time. Was I scared or humiliated? Not really, except I kept thinking what it would mean—getting caught, would mean—for my kids.

"Crossing the streets helped keep me oriented, of course. And I could avoid people just by avoiding lights. It's tough to be quiet, though, because I chose the darkest places and the branches kept slapping me, and I would stumble. I kept falling."

Noticing Guy's gaze, which had shifted to her bosom, Delores said: "Oh, by the time I got home—and I DID, eventually—my boobs were totally laced with scratches. Ditto my legs. No so much my ass..."

Guy nodded, but he shifted in his chair, as though unable to get comfortable.

"Well, then—I don't know, maybe after midnight—I knew I was totally lost. I knew I was near the bay, though. I could smell the seaweed, and there was a night breeze coming off the water. I had no choice but to get out of the woods long enough to figure out where the hell I was. When I peeked out at the beach, it was bright as day—the moon had risen—but totally deserted.

"I came out, but didn't quite recognize where I was. I mean, we have a long, long coast, right? So I figured I had to walk along the beach until I came to something I recognized. Of course, that would mean people, but I should see the lights from a long way off.

"I thought, first, though, that I would wash off in the ocean." She hesitated. "Now I was finally getting pretty worn down. Lots of blood—from under my boobs, too, not just down my legs. And, well, you know—bleeding and completely naked in the woods in summer—I was covered with bites, just covered. I could run my hand across my belly or my ass and almost feel a texture, the bites were so thick. Now, am I leaving out...? Oh, well, do you know how many bites you can get just on your pussy lips? And even in your butt crack? Of course, there was the blood for them near my ass."

Leslie's face was a blur in the deepening darkness, but they saw that her hands were over her face. They heard her say, very quietly, her voice hoarse with the tears: "I can't hear this, anymore, Delores. You suffered so much. You did this to yourself because of me." Suddenly, as though jolted with rage, she turned to Guy, and whispered: "You put here out there, you fucking, fucking, fucking PRICK!"

"Oh, it gets pleasanter, now," said Delores. "I was wading into the ocean, wondering: What if I'm still miles from home? What if I've gotten further from home? What do I do if it gets light before I reach home? And now I'm not just naked, I look like something the cat has been torturing.

"Well, it was a perfect night. The water of the bay—what's the cliche? It was like glass. And not so far out, I saw a boat at anchor. Not big— well, big enough to sleep a few people. And the night was so still that I could hear the sounds of partying coming across the water. It sounded like guys; I didn't hear the voices of any girls. It sounded like young guys—college, maybe.

"So, I just pushed off across the bay, swimming under the moon. It was an impulse. Who knows, maybe I would be raped and beaten—one can always hope." She hesitated, then said: "Sorry-that sounds self-pitying. Believe me, I didn't pity myself at all.

"It took me only 10 minutes maybe, with easy strokes, keeping my face up to see the boat. I reached the boat and took hold of the anchor line. The sounds of partying were pretty definite, now— laughing, loud voices, music. And the boat was all lighted up. It seemed very welcoming, to tell the truth. Even to a naked lady covered with scratches and bites.

"I called up, very softly, but nothing—too much noise. I called again, louder—just, 'Hey! Can I come aboard?' Still nothing. I pulled my way up the anchor line, a few feet, till my face was closer to the deck, and shouted really loudly. "At last I heard someone say, 'What the hell is that?'

"I dropped back into the water. I didn't want to scare anyone—like pirates coming aboard. And actually, I didn't want them to see right away that I was bare ass. A face appeared above, looking down over the side of the deck. It was a young guy. His voice sounded a little scared, but also trying to sound challenging. He called, 'Who's that?'