Now that I was aware of my own nudity, I was also aware of the bizarre sensations that came with it. The sticky feel of my bare back and behind pressed against the leather seat covers. The roughness of the pedals beneath my bare soles. The discomfort of the seat belt where its edge pressed up against one of my nipples. How had I not noticed this before?
I felt... excited. In an aroused way, yes, but also with the warm tingle of doing something wrong. It's like that guilty feeling you got as a kid when you tried to peek into the boy's locker room in school. I should return home. It's logical, it's normal, I can put an end to this whole embarrassing affair...
...yet I'm a writer. When will I ever get an opportunity to experience public nudity like this ever again? As a writer, am I not honour bound to explore new experiences so that I can share them with my audience? My particular genre was erotic romances, so really, when you think about it, I didn't really have a choice.
I pulled off the main road and drove into a strip mall parking lot. I found a space as far away from the stores as I could as I wanted to sit a while and gather my courage. If I had parked closer people would be looking in at me, and if they saw me before I was ready I would have just freaked out and drove away. I looked at the dashboard clock. Ten minutes had passed since the police had pulled me over. That meant I had fifty more to do some shopping and get home before I was arrested.
"Just five more minutes." I told myself, eyeing the people walking in front of the stores. "Just five minutes to gather my courage..."
And then what? I'd probably give myself another five minutes as I wasn't quite ready yet. And then after that another five. I pushed aside my emotions and pulled the handle of my door. I slid out of the car, my bare feet sore against the rough asphalt of the parking lot. The summer sun had also left it uncomfortably warm. I closed my door, placed the key into my handbag and made my way towards the stores wearing nothing but a smile. I noted how my breasts, unrestricted by clothing, bounced up and down with every step I took. I started walking on my tiptoes; partly to stop the bouncing, but also to keep as little as my feet on the hot ground as I could.
People were staring at me. I can't remember all of the details, but I remember individual faces staring at me. An old black man grinning widely. A teen boy staring at me openly but forcing a disinterested look on his face. His goth girlfriend slapping him on the arm and telling him not to look at the whore. A little girl staring wide-eyed before her mother, shock written upon every feature, covered her eyes and pulled her away.
There were two shops that caught my eye. One of my tasks for the day had been to buy a new toner cartridge for my printer, and I guessed the store called 'Think Ink' would be able to help me. I also noticed a shoe store and, although I wanted to experience complete and utter public nudity the truth of the matter was that my feet were starting to hurt.
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