Jenny's Moving Experience

Author: Jack

Keywords: .

Summary: When moving house Jenny has to make the trip naked, and then she get's pulled over for speeding...

Jenny stood in the middle of the empty living room, marvelling at how different it could be stripped of the furniture and possessions that had transformed four bare walls into a home full of life and happy memories. Her husband’s recent promotion had given them the chance to buy their dreamhouse, but now that it came to actually moving it was hard to give up the home they’d started their life together in.

Shaking her head, Jenny pushed her melancholy reflections aside. If this house had been a nice place, the new one would be even better. And the memories in this old place weren’t all happy, after all. There had been some bad times, too . . . and a few embarrassing ones she preferred not to dwell on. That encounter with the rose bushes, for instance . . . or the shredding swimsuit in the pool. The new house was only a few miles away, but maybe it would give Jenny a fresh start, so she wouldn’t feel she was constantly living down some of those awful accidents.

Anyway, it was too late for second thoughts. The moving van had already left, carrying all the furniture on the way to the new place where Jenny’s husband was already waiting to supervise the unloading. All Jenny had to do now was go through the place one last time to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important, and then she could be on her way to the new house and the chaos of unpacking she knew was waiting for her there.

And, of course, dinner with her husband’s new superviser tonight. What a mess that had turned into. Nobody in their right mind would schedule an important dinner with the boss on moving day, but of course that was the way things had worked out. "It’s just a casual night out," Mr. Farnsworth had said. "You ought to be glad of the chance to get away from the mess for a few hours." And since he was due to leave for Cleveland tomorrow for two weeks, he’d insisted. So all that was hanging over Jenny – taking the time to clean up and find the right clothes, and then a night listening to more of Mr. Farnsworth’s thinnly-veiled comments about her looks while the man’s wife subjected Jenny and her husband to her own brand of disapproving scrutiny . . . this was looking like one of those days Jenny would rather forget about.

Well, she wasn’t getting anything done standing here and feeling persecuted, she thought. Time to get back to work.

She’d already been through all the rooms upstairs, and all she really had left to check was the living room, the kitchen, and the garage. Jenny looked all around the big, empty living room, but aside from a few bits of trash that had been hidden by the couch the room was empty. She nodded, satisfied, and started for the kitchen, pausing by sheer habit in front of the spot where the mirror had hung by the entry foyer and then laughing at her forgetfulness. It wasn’t as if she really needed to check her appearance, anyway. Old clothes were the uniform of the day for moving, and she’d chosen a lightweight summer dress that had seen better days to work in. In the July heat, with the air conditioners on their way to the new house, she thought she’d chosen pretty well, too, although she was afraid her outfit was a little too tight in places, and wearing a little thin in others. Certainly the three movers hadn’t made any secret of their admiration for her slender body and 38DD breasts. Jenny blushed at the memory of some of the looks she’d gotten, and a couple of the comments she’d overheard.

She hadn’t chosen the dress to show off her body. Far from it. Jenny was painfully shy and desperately wished people – men, especially – wouldn’t notice her, but it never seemed to work out that way. She hadn’t even realized that one of the seams along the side of the dress had started to give way until she heard the head mover describing her bra in loving detail for one of his partners. Well, at least she’d worn a sports bra today, one that minimized her bust line and covered everything up. With another deep red blush she went on to the kitchen, forcing herself to think of the job at hand.

Jenny methodically checked all the kitchen cabinets one last time, finding nothing. The kitchen had a side entrance that opened up to the laundry room, a small mudroom, and the garage, and it was through these that she now made her way. The garage seemed cramped after the open spaces of the empty house, thanks to her car and the big, built-in workbench that her husband had hardly ever used. Her eyes flicked to the automatic garage door opener for just an instant, but of course there was already a better one mounted in the new place so they’d decided to leave this one for the new owners. Jenny studied all four corners of the garage carefully, spotting nothing out of place. Everything seemed secure . . .

No, wait. What was that up on the shelves above the workbench? Jenny frowned at the box, half-hidden in the shadows. Of course they’d all managed to miss it, up there. For a moment she was ready to dismiss it as unimportant, some old assortment of odds and ends from one of her husband’s old projects, until she remembered what they’d kept up there. After her uncle had died, they’d stored a box of old papers and memorabillia up on that shelf, and some of it went back three or four generations in her family. Why, her great-great-grandfather’s old diaries from the Civil War were part of that collection, and other things that could be valuable. Jenny couldn’t leave those behind!

She stood for a moment longer, sizing up the problem of getting the box down. The shelf was high and awkwardly placed, and the box was large. It wasn’t going to be easy. If only she’d spotted it while the movers had still been around.

Jenny scrambled up onto the top of the workbench, glad there was no one on hand to watch as her skirt rode up and revealed her long thighs and a quick flash of her white underpants. She paused for a moment to tug the skirt back into place. Even alone, she was self-conscious enough to want to stay decent. Then she studied the shelf and the box, biting her lower lip uncertainly. This wasn’t going to be easy.

By standing on her toes and stretching out as far as possible she thought she would just be able to get one hand on the corner of the box while steadying herself with the other. If there had been a stepladder around, of course, it woluld have been simple, but their stepladder was in the moving van with everything else right now. Jenny reached out tentatively, not quite far enough, and uttered a few unladylike comments under her breath. Then she tried again, stretching full length this time, and touched the box before a sudden feeling of unsteadiness made her draw back again. It didn’t help that her dress and bra were so snug – they made it even more awkward to reach.

She wasn’t going to let this thing defeat her! Jenny made a third try, and this time braced herself well so she could make a real lunge at the high shelf. And this time she was able to get a good enough grip to start shifting the box closer. A couple of feet would have it positioned closer to where the workbench wouild let her get right under it and lower it down. No old box was going to stop her.

Just then Jenny heard an all-too-familiar sound, one she had learned to dread. The awful buzzsaw sound of tearing cloth . . . and the pressure across her chest was suddenly gone. Her large, heavy breasts were swinging free within the confines of her dress, the fabric rubbing against her nipples like then gentle touch of her husband. She couldn’t afford to stop moving the box now, when she was so close, so Jenny ignored her accident and kept pulling. A few minutes later she had the clumsy thing where whe wanted it, and could straighten up, pause, and assess the damage.

Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. The dress wasn’t badly ripped, although the seams that had been starting to let go on the sides now gaped a little wider than before. Her bra, though, had simply been unequal to the strains she had placed on it. The straps and the hook had all given way at once, and there was no way to fix it. Jenny pulled it out of the top of the dress and regarded it as a general might regard a mortally wounded soldier who had given his all in a hopeless battle. Well, she suffered worse accidents than this one, she thought. She’d just have to be careful of the side seams of the dress until she had a chance to change.

Jenny dropped the bra and got the box off the shelf, lowering it carefully to the top of the workbench. Then she climbed down with exagerated caution. This was exactly the kind of situation that usually got her into trouble, and she congratulated herself when she had both feet firmly on the concrete floor and could stand up straight without snagging her dress on any splinters or old nails that marred the surface of the workbench. Usually, her bad luck just seemed to make such encounters inevitable.

Her handbag was in the car, and Jenny crossed to the passenger door, reached in through the window, and fished her keys out. She opened the trunk, leaving the keys in the lock as she returned to the workbench, gathered up her ruined brassiere and laid it on top of the box, and then carried them back to the trunk again. The box fit in well among the handful of other last-minute items that had been stowed there earlier – more evidence, Jenny thought, that her luck was running pretty well today despite all the problems she had to overcome.

Jenny closed the trunk and pulled out the keys, but they slipped from her hand and clattered on the hard slab floor. "Luck’s running well, is it?" Jenny muttered. She crouched down to retrieve the keys, which had skittered away under the back of the car. It took some awkward bending and reaching to get them, with her ass rubbing against the coarse wood of the garage door, but at last Jenny grabbed them in triumph and stood up.

Or started to, at least. As she straightened, she felt a sharp tug at the hem of her skirt, and that threw her off balance. Jenny stood up, all right, but to the accompaniment of that same tearing-cloth sound she’d heard before. Her skirt had caught on an old, rusty nail that protruded near the bottom of the garage door, and it had ripped the back of the dress free from knees to waist. She staggered to one side with her arms out as she tried to keep from falling, and only steadied herself at last when her outstretched hand slammed against a small grey box mounted on the wall.

The box that controlled the garage door opener.

Slowly, inexorably, the door opened with a sound of grinding gears and rattling chains. If Jenny had been at herself, she would have had time to react, but as it was she was too stunned to do anything but lean against the wall, breathing hard, unable to think clearly. Later she would think of reversing the garage door before it had a chance to open, or of freeing herself and running for cover, or of all the other things she might have done. But at that moment she didn’t react until it was far, far too late.

The skirt of her dress was still snagged on the nail, and it hadn’t ripped all the way off when she’d stood up. Jenny didn’t realize that until she felt at tug at her hips, a tug suddenly relieved as the garage door continued to rise and the dress came apart at the seams. Buttons flashed in the sunlight suddenly pouring into the garage. With one last pull at her arms and chest the dress finally gave up the fight, just as the brassiere had done before, and tore completely away from Jenny’s lovely body, leaving her standing by the open garage door clad in nothing but her sneakers and underpants.

Jenny found herself looking out across the driveway at two teenagers riding bikes on the sidewalk. The boys slammed on their brakes and stopped dead in their tracks, staring back with eyes wide at the sight of the pretty blonde with the enormous bare breasts. Instinct kicked in at last for Jenny as she squealed, crossed her arms across her chest and fled, running back into the mudroom and slamming the door behind her..

She leaned against a counter, breathing hard, and tried to regain a measure of composure. Why, WHY did things like this happen to her? Jenny felt helpless, trapped. She couldn’t leave the mudroom without exposing herself to the whole neighborhood through curtainless windows. And no doubt those two kids would spread the word of her plight. The picture of a crowd of curious youngsters – and no doubt plenty of adults, too – gathering outside her house in hopes of catching a glimpse of Jenny’s nearly-nude body rose in her mind, making her blush all the way to her dark aureole.

What could she do? There were no clothes in the house, nothing she could cover herself with at all, in fact. She couldn’t call anyone for help, because the phones had been disconnected – and why hadn’t she agreed when her husband suggested she get a cellphone to carry in her purse? Given the trouble she kept getting into, she should have jumped at the chance instead of worrying about the expense.

Jenny could see only two possible courses of action, and neither of them had much to recommend it.

She could try to get help from a neighbor. But that meant she’d have to run the gauntlet outside wearing nothing but her panties, exposing herself to anyone and everyone who might be out there. Jenny wasn’t even sure which of her neighbors might be home in the middle of the day – she knew that most of the households in the area had two-income families, and she wasn’t ready to throw herself on the mercy of any of the kids who might enjoy prolonging her agony just for the fun of seeing a grown-up squirm. No, Jenny didn’t relish the idea of running from house to house, looking for help, under the intent eyes of kids like the two who had seen her already.

There WAS one alternative, and while it sounded almost as risky Jenny was beginning to think it might be her one way out of this mess.

Her keys were still in her hand, thank God. She might easily have dropped them under the car again, or worse yet they might have fallen and bounced outside onto the driveway, but somehow she’d kept her grip on them through her whole garage ordeal. So it was possible Jenny could get in her car and drive out, and even though she’d still be almost naked she might be able to cover up enough to avoid attracting attention. Why, she wouldn’t even have to expose herself in the garage again . . . there was a second garage door control mounted within reach of the mudroom door, so she could close the door, get in the car, and use the remote attached to the visor to open up again when she was ready to leave.

In the middle of the day, sticking to back roads as much as possible, she just might make it all the way to the new house without being spotted. Then . . . well, maybe she could get straight into the garage, or find a way to sneak in the back without being seen, or signal her husband for help – something. Anything. At least once she got there she could find some clothes and get dressed. Of course it was a fifteen or twenty minute drive to the other side of town, and she would be in danger of being seen all the way . . . but still, in a moving car she’d only be in view for a moment. Better than being trapped here or forced to try to find help on foot.

Suddenly resolved, Jenny cautiously opened the mudroom door and reached awkwardly around the corner to hit the garage door opener switch. The door rumbled and clanked again, as the door slowly closed. When the noise stopped, Jenny cautiously peeked around the door frame to make sure no one was inside. Then, feeling more confident, she entered the garage with her head held high, determined to overcome her problems.

She went to the garage door and picked up the rags that had been her dress. It wasn’t in any condition to wear, but Jenny figured that it might give her some coverage in the car, so she tossed it into the front seat. Feeling better about her plan, she got into the car, then arranged the tattered cloth across her chest and used the seat belt to hold it approximately in place. It wasn’t very effective, but at least her breasts weren’t hanging completely out in the open.

Jenny ventured a little smile as she turned the key in the ignition and hit the button on the garage door remote. The door opened, and she quickly backed out into the driveway. Surprisingly, there was no sign of the crowd of onlookers she’d been dreading, and that lifted her spirits even higher. Surely she would be able to get to her new house without incident after all! She pulled out onto the street and set off.

The trip wasn’t without its problems, of course – Jenny knew her luck wouldn’t allow her to make it without some difficulties to overcome. With the windows rolled down – and it was just too hot to drive with them up, with no air conditioning in her used Grand Am – the breeze tended to displace the remnants of her dress where the seat belt didn’t hold them down, so Jenny found she was safest if she drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm clutched across her chest holding everything together. Even at that she knew she was showing a lot more skin than she was comfortable revealing, but her prediction that she could dodge the traffic by sticking to side roads was proving right.

She was also finding the seat belt itself distinctly uncomfortable. Jenny hardly ever wore a seatbelt, laws or no laws, because a belt across her ample chest never fit right. Today it was worse, because there were one or two places where the ruined dress just didn’t cover exposed skin and the belt rubbed against her with disturbing side-effects. Her sensitive nipples were getting hard and crinkly from the constant stimulation, which tended to distract her from her driving.

Perhaps that’s why she got into trouble.

There was one place where Jenny could not avoid getting on a major road, a two-mile stretch of Route 19 that was the only practical way, short of going straight through downtown, of getting from one side of town to the other. As she approached the intersection where she’d have to turn onto 19 she could see that traffic there was moderate, plenty of cars passing but no sign of stop-and-go congestion. Well, it was the lunch hour by now, and traffic did pick up then. Jenny was feeling confident that she wasn’t going to attract undue attention, but underneath that surface confidence there was a tightness in her stomach. She was all too well aware of the risk of being seen in her half-dressed state.

Jenny pulled up to the stop sign, glancing to the left and seeing there was no approaching traffic before the car came to a full stop. Anxious, she gunned the engine and made the turn, but in her haste and with one arm still folded across her breasts she didn’t hit her turn signal, either. All she wanted right now was to get to the West Castle turnoff so she could get off the main highway and reach her destination without incident . . .

Red and blue flashes in her rearview mirror, and a couple of quick hoots of a siren, jerked her back to the here-and-now. Oh, NO, she thought, not a cop.

Not now!

Jenny pulled to the side of the road, hoping against hope that the policeman just wanted to pass her to answer a REAL call, but she knew right away that her hope was in vain. A glance at the speedometer as she was slowing down showed that she’d been driving with a lead foot; even as she was slowing down she was still going five miles over the posted limit of forty.

Sure enough, the police cruiser pulled to a stop behind her, and Jenny saw the door swing open in her rearview mirror. A uniformed officer walked slowly toward her. Jenny squirmed uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, trying to rearrange her ruined dress so that it covered as much of her as possible.

"Do you know how fast you were going back there, Ma’am?" the policeman’s voice was flat and neutral, like he was reciting lines he’d repeated entirely too often.

"Er . . . no, uh, Officer . . ." Jenny peered up at the name badge on his chest. "No, Officer Biggs. I’m sorry . . . I guess I was just . . . distracted."

Still seeming oblivious to Jenny’s disheviled appearance, the policeman had produced a ticket book and was starting to write. "Well, you were doing fifty-five in a forty mile-per-hour zone, Ma’am," he said. "That, and failure to come to a complete stop at a stop sign . . . and failure to signal properly . . . that all adds up to some pretty unsafe driving, you know." He continued to write for a moment. "Also a rather hefty fine, I’m afraid."

"I . . . I’m sorry," Jenny stammered. "I really will try to be more careful. . ."

"May I see your license and registration, please, Ma’am?" Biggs asked. Jenny fumbled one-handed with her purse, still trying to keep her other arm across her chest to keep the rags in place across her breasts. She managed to find her license and hand it to the policeman, then reached across to the passenger-side visor where the registration was clipped together with insurance and other information.

When she turned back to hand the registration slip to the officer, she saw that he was now paying much closer attention to her than before. His sharp scrutiny made her glance down. Blushing, she tugged at one corner of her makeshift covering that had slipped aside enough to partially reveal one full breast.

"Ma’am, are you . . . injured?" Biggs asked. "You seem to be having some trouble with that one arm . . ."

"Oh, no, Officer . . . I’m okay," Jenny said hastily. "I, er, that is . . ."

"I think, Ma’am, that you’d better step out of the car." His eyes had shifted downward from the tattered remnants of the dress to Jenny’s long, bare legs.

"Er . . . uh . . . please, Officer Biggs . . . I really don’t think . . ."

"I said step out of the car," the policeman repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "NOW!"

Jenny fumbled to release her seatbelt under his impatient glare, then opened the car door. She tried to clutch the ragged dress in front of her, but inevitably it slipped some as she shifted. Worse yet, as she tried to swing her legs out and stand, Jenny felt some resistance at her waist.

When she reached down to try to find what her panties were snagged on, the dress started to slide down. Squealing, Jenny grabbed it before it could fall completely away. She froze for just a moment, trying to figure out what to do next.

"What’s the matter? Need help?" The policeman took her arm and pulled, and Jenny had no choice but to stand up. She came up out of the car.

Unfortunately, her underpants didn’t. Snagged on the buckle of her seat belt, they ripped clean away, and Jenny felt the warm wind gently caressing her exposed pussy. With a cry she tried to cover herself, but that loosened her grip on the dress and it fell away, leaving her standing by her car on the busy roadside, under the eyes of the police officer, naked except for her shoes.

A car sped by, tooting a horn in obvious salute to the show Jenny was giving, and that made her blush again. Worse, the breeze from the passing vehicle caught the ruined dress and sent it flying far out of reach.

"Hmmm." Biggs was studying her with a hint of a leer on his craggy face. "Looks like we’re going to have to add Indecent Exposure to the list."

Jenny did her best to cover herself, one hand cupped over her snatch, the other arm back across her breasts again. "Please, Officer, I can explain . . ."

"Look, I don’t care if it’s a sorority prank, or some dare off one of those pervert Internet pages, or what," Biggs told her. "Your reckless driving was bad enough, but this is too much. I think it would be best if you came down to the station with me."

"To JAIL?" Jenny wailed, close to tears.

"Just until we get things sorted out, ma’am," Biggs said. Jenny fought for self-control.

"Do you . . . do you at least have something I can wear? Or a blanket? Or something?"

"I’m afraid not, Ma’am," Biggs said. "Maybe we can find something for you down at the station. If you’d please step back to my car . . ."

Biggs drank in the view as Jenny walked ahead of him to the police cruiser. This lovely blonde woman was the best thing he’d seen in months, and he was silently blessing his luck. She was gorgeous, not tall but incredibly well built, with enormous tits and a tight ass. He had a thing for blondes anyway . . . and the good look he’d got of her pussy had confirmed she was a natural blonde, for sure.

Of course, he had some blankets in the trunk of the car, but there was no way the woman would know that . . . and Biggs didn’t want to cover this babe up under any circimstances. What a show they’d make when he paraded her into the station house!

First, though, he figured he could stretch out his fun a little bit right here. The babe was plainly shy, and he figured that would make the next few minutes doubly fun . . . for Officer John Biggs, at least.

Jenny felt a little better when she crossed to the side of the police car that was shielded – a little bit, at least – from the road. Cars had been coming by constantly the whole time she’d been out of her car, and she knew everyone had been getting an eyeful. She was disappointed that the policeman didn’t have anything for her to wear, but at least she’d be able to huddle in the back seat of his car for the trip downtown, and surely there she’d be given something to wear! Pausing by the rear door of the cruiser, she glanced back over her shoulder at the policeman. The look on his face was disturbing, and Jenny started to blush all over as she realized he’d been watching her ass as she walked.

"All right, Ma’am, please lean against the trunk of the car on both hands and spread your legs."

"What?" Jenny squealed, indignant. "You’re not going to f-f-frisk me?"

Biggs chuckled. "Oh, I don’t really think that’ll be necessary, Ma’am," he said. "I don’t think you’re carrying any concealed weapons . . ."

Jenny started to relax a little. "Oh, good, I . . ."

"But you still have to assume the position!" the policeman rasped. "It’s proceedure! Now do it!" Hastily Jenny obeyed the order, leaning against the car. The sun had made the trunk hot, and it burned her hands, but she gritted her teeth and didn’t complain.

Anyway, that was the least of her worries, she thought, realizing how the position she was in made her big breasts hang heavy in front of her. And every time she shifted her hands to relieve the pain from the hot metal, she knew she jiggled suggestively.

It was getting so that she was wearing a permanent blush.

Biggs let her lean on the car for a long minute, enjoying his view of her shapely bare ass. Finally he stepped forward and used one oversized boot to prod Jenny’s ankle. "I said LEGS APART!" he growled. He didn’t kick hard, but he made sure the nude girl got the message.

Jenny shifted her legs further apart, all too aware of the view she must now be presenting the cop. Oh, God, she thought, he’llbe able to see my . . . privates! Swallowing hard and trying to slow the rapid beating of her heart, Jenny tried not to think about her plight. But as a convertible passed by, slowing noticeably as four guys craned their necks to get a better view of her breasts hanging down over the trunk, Jenny couldn’t help but dread whatever might happen next.

"That’s better," Biggs said, stepping back again to get a better look at her exposed ass and pussy. He wished he could frisk her after all. The chance to run his hands over all that lovely bare flesh . . . but over his ten years on the force he’d learned how far he could push things without drawing more than a mild reprimand, and Biggs was pretty sure copping a feel would be more than he could get away with. The girl would probably be too embarassed to lodge a complaint over being ogled – after all, she was the one who’d come out for a drive with nothing on – but she might make an official protest if he went any further.

Still, he could still squeeze some more enjoyment out of this. "Right hand behind your back, Ma’am," he said. Jenny was slow to respond.

"Wh-what?" Biggs grabbed the hand and jerked it roughly behind her, producing a set of handcuffs and securing them on her wrist in one deft motion.

"Now the other one!"

"But . . . you don’t have to –"

"Stop talking and do what I say!" Biggs grabbed the other arm, forcing her to stand up straight as he fastened the other cuff. "Or do you want me to add Resisting Arrest to the list?"

Jenny shuddered. But somewhere inside her she found a tiny core of determination. She turned toward Biggs, for once hardly even thinking about her state of undress, and looked him in the eye. "Wait a minute. If you’re arresting me, you didn’t read me my rights . . ."

The policeman gave her a little smile as his eyes strayed down to her rosey-tipped nipples. The girl was breathing hard from the combination of exertion and emotion, and with her arms cuffed behind her back her tits were even more prominent than they’d been before. "Oh, you’re not under arrest yet. That’s something we have to determine down at the station. Of course, if you want me to make it official now . . . ?"

Jenny shook her head. "No . . . but, if you’re not arresting me, why did you put these handcuffs on me?"

"I told you before, it’s all procedure," Biggs said patiently. "Look, I gotta take you down to the station. It’s for your own good. We can’t have you out here in public with nothing on but your shoes, can we? But I’ve got rules to follow, and when I bring in a suspect I gotta use the cuffs. See?" Jenny didn’t see, but she was afraid of getting into deeper trouble. And her little burst of resolve was starting to wither away under the policeman’s half-leer as he studied her naked body, his eyes quite obviously wandering up and down her torso from her breasts to her pussy and back again. She nodded resignedly.

"Good girl," Biggs said. His whole spiel had been nothing but bullshit, of course, but he’d figured the girl would buy it. The real reason for the cuffs was so that Officer John Biggs could get a nice, long, uninterrupted look at her nude body. She was so shy that she’d been trying to cover all the good stuff up, but now she wouldn’t be able to all the way downtown.

He wasn’t sure what appealed to him most, those magnificent boobs or that lovely pink pussy that was only partly covered by her short, fuzzy blonde pubic hair.

Well, he’d be getting a good look at both.

Biggs reached past her to open the rear passenger door, brushing his arm as if accidentally across her breasts. She let out a little yip and tried to jerk away, but with her arms cuffed her balance was shakey and she started to stumble. Quickly the policeman grabbed her with both hands, one on her shoulder, the other on one shapely bare hip, steadying her . . . and held on just a little longer than he needed to. He sighed reluctantly and let her go, then opened the car door. "Get in," he said gruffly.

Still blushing from the policeman’s lingering touch, Jenny sat down on the seat ginergly, flinching a little when Biggs guided her head through the door with the same hand that had caressed her waist before. Without the use of her hands, getting into the seat was awkward, and Jenny knew she gave the officer another show when her legs parted as she swung them inside. She hated not being able to cover herself.

Biggs closed the door and went around to the driver’s seat. Getting in, he made a big production out of adjusting his rearview mirror, using it to study the naked girl for a little while longer before he started up the car. "Ready to go?" he asked with a grin. "Don’t worry, we’ll have you safe and sound at the station in just a few minutes."

Jenny didn’t answer, too lost in her feelings of embarassment and concern. The cruiser pulled out into traffic and started down the road, and for a moment Jenny’s eyes rested on her car, off on the roadside looking as lost and forlorn as she felt.

It was at that moment that she realized she’d left her purse in the car. She wasn’t just naked now – she didn’t have ANYTHING, not money, or ID, or anything else. Just a pair of old shoes and socks. And Biggs had kept her license and registration with the ticket tucked in his pocket . . .

She tried to persuade him to go back, but he just shook his head and glanced into the rearview mirror as he replied. "Don’t worry about your stuff. A tow truck will take your car to the impound yard, and they’ll lock up your purse until you can pick the car up."

"But . . ." Jenny trailed off. There was no use arguing. It was clear that Biggs didn’t care what happened to her, as long as he got an eyeful.

Her stoic silence persisted through the entire drive down to the police station. By the time they got there, Jenny was getting more and more uncomfortable sitting with her hands cuffed behind her back on the hot vinyl seat, but she forced herself to sit still with her eyes locked on the back of the seat in front of her. She knew squirming would only give Biggs more to look at, and she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact again.

At last they stopped, and Jenny could feel her dread building again as she waited for Biggs to climb out and come around to let her out of the back seat. Route 19 had been bad . . . but this would be worse. A lot worse.

The police station was located in the heart of town, in a big building that housed all the city offices. The parking lot reserved for official vehicles was bounded by a chain-link fence that separated it from the lot that served one of the town’s most bustling strip shopping centers. Plenty of people were sure to be there to see her indignant exit from the car and the long walk to the station-house door. Even though there were several other empty spaces closer, Biggs had chosen a spot right at the end of the lot.

Getting out of the car was even harder, handcuffed, than getting in had been, and Jenny realized that if she didn’t get out quickly Biggs was likely to use it as an excuse to "help" her out. Gritting her teeth, she swung her legs out quickly as soon as the door was open despite the risk of what else she might show Biggs – not that Jenny figured there was much left for him to see, by this time.

That thought didn’t do a thing to lessen her blushes.

She managed to stand up on her own, but couldn’t prevent him from "steadying" her with one burly hand clamped around her arm, the fingers just brushing the outside of her right breast. He marched her toward the door at a slow, deliberate pace.

A pair of policemen came out of the station and stopped dead in their tracks a few yards in front of Jenny, grinning openly.

"Wow, Johnny, looks like you outdid yourself this time," one of them said.

The other chimed in. "Yeah . . . the bust of the century!"

All three policemen laughed while Jenny reddened further. To her horror, Biggs didn’t keep moving. Instead he stopped, retaining his hold on her arm

(section missing)

Inside Room Four, Jenny had found that she could cover herself up fairly well when she sat down in one of the straight-backed chairs and arranged her hands and arms strategically. She wondered idly why no one had brought her the promised clothes yet, but with Officer Biggs on the case she wasn’t expecting anything to happen very soon. For a time Jenny entertained herself with fantasies of filing charges against the policeman for every kind of sexual harassment the law might recognize, but she knew she’d never be able to follow through on any of it. The thought of describing everything she’d been through today since the cop had first flashed his lights at her . . . No, she’d do almost anything to avoid that. And Jenny knew how often a woman who made such charges was treated as if she was the real criminal. She could just see Biggs getting some sleazy lawyer to dig up details of some of her past accidents and turn her from an innocent victim into some kind of perverted exhibitionist who enjoyed displaying her body every chance she got.

That would be even more humiliating, she thought, than anything she’d been through today.

Her glum thoughts were interrupted by the door opening, and she hastily made sure she was as decent as she could manage as the captain came in.

"Sorry about the delay in finding you something to wear, er, Ma’am," he said. "I’m sure Officer Biggs will be here with something soon." He sat down on the other side of the oblong conference table, focusing his attention on a spot above her head with every appearance of being almost as embarrassed by the situation as Jenny herself. Normally men’s eyes tended to lock on a point somewhat lower. "In the meantime . . . I’ve spoken to Officer Biggs about his conduct today. Understand, from his description of the situation he was perfectly right in insisting that you come down to the station, whether your, ah, circumstances were the result of an accident or a deliberate act of exhibitionism on your part. There are laws against public exposure, Ma’am. Moreover, your own safety was also a factor. So it was best to bring you down here, where we can find you something to cover up, give you a chance to get in touch with a relative or a friend, and see that you make it home safely.

"On the other hand . . ." The captain steepled his fingers on the table in front of him and transferred his attention to his own fingertips. "Bringing you into the station with nothing to cover you, and in handcuffs . . ."

"He told me he didn’t have anything I could put on," Jenny ventured. "And he said the cuffs were . . . procedure."

The captain cleared his throat. "Ahem . . . by a very strict interpretation of the rules, yes, that’s true. I’ll have to look into the other matter. Normally we do provide emergency blankets and such, but it’s possible his cruiser wasn’t stocked properly." He looked directly at Jenny for the first time, meeting her eyes. "At any rate, as I understand the situation you were originally stopped for several traffic citations. Those stand, regardless. I’m inclined to accept your claim that the exposure was an accident after observing your . . . demeanor. You don’t seem like the kind of young lady who would make a habit out of running around naked in public."

"Thank you, sir," Jenny said quietly. She had to stifle a giggle, though, that threatened to burst out despite her embarrassment and fear. If the captain only knew . . . .

"The real question is whether Officer Biggs took any action that you wish to file a complaint about. As I said, he was right in bringing you here, but at the very least was . . . overzealous in his adherence to procedure. The fact is, I’m afraid a good chunk of the force here in town is still struggling to get out of the dark ages. I sometimes think that if we could just get a few women on the force we might lose some of the giggling boy’s-night-out attitudes around here, but that’s just a dream. Some of my men, I’m ashamed to admit it, think the uniform and the badge are licenses for them to throw their weight around . . . and if Officer Biggs used his authority to take advantage of you in any way, you do have the right to file complaints. And he will be punished if your complaints are proven valid."

Jenny didn’t react for a long moment. This was her chance, her one and only chance, to say something about what she’d gone through – the sobriety test, the way Biggs had stared and leered and done everything possible to exploit her nudity . . . the way he’d displayed her to those other two officers out front and kept her standing, naked, in public, while they talked and ogled her.

But she still couldn’t see going through with it. Finally, Jenny found her voice and shook her head. "No, captain . . . I’d really rather just forget the whole thing. Please."

She thought she detected a look of relief flitting across his face. Well, of course, the police department didn’t need to have its officers accused of being perverts.

"If you’re sure, Ma’am . . ." The captain paused a moment longer, then nodded. "All right, then. You can use that telephone there to call somebody to come and pick you up. I’m afraid you probably won’t be able to collect your car from the impound yard until tomorrow morning . . . by the time they get through the paperwork, they’ll likely be ready to close down for the day."

"That’s . . . that’s okay, sir," Jenny said.

There was a knock on the door, and Biggs stuck his head in. "Uh, Captain, I wasn’t able to find much in the locker room that I thought the young lady could wear." He held something up. "But I thought this’d be better than nothing, y’know?"

The captain stood and took the garment from Biggs, looked at it for a moment with his lips pursed in disapproval, then dropped it on the table near Jenny. "You could probably have done better than that, Biggs," he said, "but I’m not going to stretch this out any further. Ma’am, I’m sorry . . . but he’s right, this’ll cover you for the moment. If you want, I can have him look again . . . or you can settle for this until your ride gets here. When you call, I’d suggest you remember to ask to have some clothes brought out to you."

Jenny looked down at the garment on the tabletop, but didn’t reach for it with the two men there. It was a man’s white tank top, a lot like a shirt she’d used as a nightie in her college days. It was skimpy, but looked long enough to cover her, and it was clean. "Don’t go to any more trouble for me, Captain," she said. "This will do until I get some real clothes."

She waited for the two men to leave the room before standing up and taking the shirt. Jenny held it up in front of her body and looked in the mirror, biting her lower lip as she realized that it wasn’t nearly as long as the one she’d worn in college. But it really was better than nothing, she told herself firmly, and pulled it over her head.

When she looked in the mirror again, she wondered if that was really true. It came down only an inch or so below her crotch, and almost any kind of movement was likely to expose her ass. Worse, it was tight across her chest . . . and the outlines of her large, dark nipples showed up clearly through the thin white fabric. Jenny stared at her reflection a while longer, then shrugged. It would have to do.

She didn’t realize as she turned toward the telephone on the table that the shrug by itself had lifted the back of the hem up high enough to expose her bare backside once more.

Jenny sat down by the phone and reached for the receiver before she realized she had another problem. She didn’t have her purse with her, or her little red address book. Worse still, she just COULDN’T remember the phone number for the new house. Her husband had gone round and round with the phone company about it after learning that something about the exchange boundaries in the area would keep them from keeping their old number, even though they were only moving a few miles. She still knew the old number by heart, but not the new one.

Inspiration struck her. Maybe the old number had a recorded announcement to direct callers to the new one. She dialed, but all she got was a computer that told her the number had been disconnected. Jenny supposed her husband had been trying to save some money . . . like her turning down a cellphone.

For a long moment Jenny was almost frozen, not knowing what she could do. After everything she’d been through, her mind wasn’t very clear, and she couldn’t come up with a number for anyone. She could call Information . . . or ask for a phone book . . . but somehow she just couldn’t face explaining her problem to the police captain. She just wanted to get out of the police station and GO HOME.

Then a phone number did surface from the depths of her confused mind. A friend . . . her best friend, maybe . . . someone she could turn to.

She’d call Ashley. That would work.

As Jenny dialed, she had a brief moment of doubt. She regarded Ashley as a good friend, of course. They took trips to the mall together, hung out together . . . why, Ashley had even been able to recommend her cousin to handle the move when the schedule with their original movers had gotten all snarled at the last minute. But sometimes Jenny wasn’t sure if Ashley liked her as well as she liked Ashley. A couple of times Jenny had suffered one of her accidents in circumstances where it seemed that Ashley might have made things worse . . . like that bathing suit Ashley had given her for her birthday without warning her that it was for tanning only, and would dissolve in the water. Should she really turn to Ashley for help now?

Jenny pushed the doubts aside. That was just paranoia talking. Of course Ashley would help her. Why, she’d understand Jenny’s plight if anyone did. A couple of times the accidents had happened to Ashley, too.

She punched the last button and listened to the line ringing with a little feeling of relief. Ashley would help her out. The end of her long ordeal was almost in sight.

"Hello?" Ashley was annoyed; of course the phone would ring just as she was about to step into the shower to freshen up for an evening on the town. She didn’t let her feelings show through in her voice, in case it was something important. But God help the person on the other end of the line if he or she was a telemarketer, a wrong number . . . or that little twit Jenny trying to play on their supposed "friendship" again.

"Ashley? It’s me." Yeah, it was Jenny, all right. Ashley felt her temper starting to slip. Since the last time that one of her plans to humiliate the annoying little blonde in public had backfired and ended up with her stripped and running for cover, she’d been trying to cool things off with Jenny. But the blonde lived up to the reputation of her kind for denseness. Just as she’d never realized that Ashley really didn’t like her perky disposition and indefatigable good cheer, so too she seemed incapable of recognizing a brush-off. From time to time she still tried to set up shopping trips and other outings, and she turned to Ashley every time something went wrong. Ashley had even tried foisting off her loutish cousin’s hole-in-the-wall moving company on Jenny when she’d called to whine about her moving problems, but all she’d heard back were compliments and praise for being such a lifesaver.

Well, if she was calling now to complain about something her cousin Billy had broken, she’d hear all about how Ashley really felt today . . .

"Ashley?" Jenny’s voice quavered. "I really need your help. I got in the most terrible trouble today . . ." Ashley’s annoyance faded as the blonde spilled out a long story of nudity and humiliation. Why didn’t her plans to get Jenny in that kind of trouble ever work out as well?

As she listened, a smile lit up her face. From the sound of things, little Jenny was in a real corner. Down at the police station with no money, practically no clothes, no way to get home . . . and hadn’t she mentioned something the other day about having an important dinner engagement tonight?

With a little bit of help, Ashley thought, Jenny’s bad day might still have a chance to get even worse.

"Okay, okay, Jenny, calm down," Ashley finally interrupted her. "I get the picture. Look, just give me time to put something on and drive downtown. I’ll be there in . . . oh, half an hour, tops. We’ll get you home, don’t worry. Everything will work out just fine."

"Oh, thanks, Ashley. I knew I could count on you. You’re the best." Jenny paused. "Don’t forget, I really need something to wear. Anything. Please."

"I’ll be there soon, Jenny," Ashley said, carefully not responding to Jenny’s words. "Hang in there. Bye."

She hung up, then picked up the receiver again and checked the number scrawled on a scrap of paper she’d almost thrown away but left tucked under one corner of the phone instead. Ashley dialed the number for Jenny’s new house. After several rings her husband answered, sounding distracted.

"Hello? Jenny, is that . . . ?"

"No, it’s not Jenny." Ashley smiled to herself. It felt a little strange standing there talking on the phone with a handsome man like Jenny’s husband, stark naked. She decided she liked the thrill it gave her. Or was it the anticipation of getting Jenny in more trouble, somehow?

"Ashley? Look, I can’t really talk right now. Jenny should have been back a couple of hours ago, and I’m getting frantic . . . and now I’ve had a call from the office, they want me to go take care of some damned emergency, but the movers are still here . . ."

"Whoa, big fella," Ashley said. "Calm down. Look, Jenny got into some kind of little scrape. She’s okay, but she had some kind of misunderstanding with the police, and ended up at the station with her car impounded. I don’t know all the details. She just called to ask me to pick her up . . ."

"Oh, God, that’s a relief. You’re sure she’s okay?"

"She’s fine. Really. Look, it might be an hour or so before we get there, but I promise I’ll deliver her as soon as possible. If you have to go to the office . . ."

"Well, I really hate to leave with the movers still here. Maybe I’d better wait for Jenny . . ."

Ashley could almost see the pieces to a perfect plan falling into place. "Nonsense. Look, you put Billy on the phone and let me put the fear of God into him. Believe me, everything will be fine until we get there, okay?"

"Yeah . . . okay, Ashley." Jenny’s husband sounded like a man in the desert offered a drink and a shady spot to rest. "Hey, listen, we really owe you on this one. I know sometimes you must get a little ticked off at the way Jenny clings . . . she’s so shy, she has a lot of trouble making friends, and she overdoes it with the ones she does make. But you’re a real friend when it counts."

That almost made Ashley have an attack of conscience. Almost.

But it passed by the time her cousin got on the phone, and Ashley explained what the movers could do if they wanted to get a little something extra out of their hard day’s work.

Then she had one more call to make. She had to look up the number in the phone book, and when the phone was answered she spoke in a thick nasal voice, the one all her friends referred to as Fran Drescher on acid. "Hel-lo? Mrs. Farnsworth? I’m calling from the office about the time of your dinner engagement this evening . . . ?"

After a seemingly endless wait, Jenny was delighted when Ashley came into Room Four. She jumped out of her chair and raced to greet her brunette friend, heedless of the way her tee-shirt rode up as she flung her arms out to give Ashley a hug. "Oh, I’m so glad to see you, Ashley," she said.

"Sorry I didn’t get here sooner," Ashley told her, flashing a smile. "I came as fast as I could." Actually, she’d made her phone calls, finished her interrupted shower, and changed her cat’s litter box before leaving, but Jenny didn’t need to know that.

"I’m just happy you’re here. All I want to do is get dressed and get the h-heck out of here." Jenny stepped back, her eyes suddenly questing. "Uh, Ashley . . . you DID bring me some clothes, like I asked, didn’t you?"

"What?" Ashley asked, her face perfectly straight. "What are you talking about? You didn’t say anything about wanting me to bring clothes. I thought you said they’d found you something to wear . . . ?"

"Oh, yeah, this." Jenny tugged at the shirt, trying to pull it down lower to cover her ass and pussy, but all that succeeded in doing was to accentuate her breasts that much more – and the shadows of her nipples through the cloth. "I was sure I told you . . ."

Ashley shook her head. "I’m sure you didn’t, Jenny," she said. She affected a look of concern. "I’d give you something, but, well, look at me." She was wearing shorts and a tube top, practical for the hot weather. "Wouldn’t do us much good if I lent you something and then I got stopped for Indecent Exposure, would it? Hey, look, it’s no big deal, really. What you’ve got covers all the strategic spots, you know. From what you said on the phone, you were heading home in a lot less when you left the old house. All we have to do is get you in, and let you dig through your stuff, and you’ll be fine."

"The movers . . ."

"They’re probably done by now. Don’t sweat it. Even if they’re still there, I can keep lookout for you, warn them off until you get dressed, whatever."

"Yeah . . . okay. I guess."

"All right, then. Let’s get moving."

Jenny followed Ashley out of Room Four and back into the controlled chaos of the stationhouse. As soon as she was out in public again she grew instantly aware of how the tee-shirt clung to her body, snug around her chest, the bottom swishing just below her crotch as she walked. There were a couple of whistles as she made her appearance, and a tough-looking guy in a leather jacket and handcuffs broke away from his police escort long enough to step in front of her, lick his lips, and announce in a loud voice "I think I’m in love!" The cop grabbed him by the collar and jerked him out of the way so Jenny and Ashley could pass.

Outside Jenny looked around nervously, but didn’t see anyone close by watching her. She breathed a little sigh of relief and walked with Ashley to the little red sports car that was the brunette’s pride and joy.

The ride to her new house went without incident, and Jenny was really starting to feel that the ordeal was over. Her sense of relief faded when she saw that the moving van was still parked in front of the house, and there was no sign of her husband’s car anywhere. But Ashley reassured her again as they pulled into the driveway. Jenny got out of the car carefully, tugging the tee-shirt into place and praying she’d get inside without meeting anyone. Not even a whole day at the new address and she was already running the risk of being branded as "that girl who runs around half-naked," just as she’d been at the old house.

Inside, Ashley called out, "Billy? Billy? Anybody here?" But there was no response. "They must be somewhere out of earshot – maybe the basement. Come on, Jenny, let’s find your stuff. Where’s your bedroom?"

Jenny took the lead up the stairs and down the short hall to the big master bedroom. Ashley called out to her cousin again, but still got no response. When she followed Jenny into the room she almost walked right over the blonde, who had stopped short just inside the door and was groaning softly.

"Oh, God . . . oh, no . . ."

"What is it, Jenny?" Ashley asked, packing her voice with all the concern she could muster. If her cousin had carried out his instructions, she already knew what was wrong . . .

Jenny waved her arm to take in the bedroom and all its contents, not realizing what the gesture did to bring her shapely ass back into view yet again. "Just look . . . the movers put all the boxes in here instead of where they belonged . . ." She trailed off, then pointed. "Look, that’s one of my suitcases, there. Back behind that big pile, and under a bunch of other stuff. I don’t think I can get at it . . . and I don’t even see and of the others." Jenny hovered on the brink of tears. The room was almost filled with boxes, stuff that should have been downstairs in the den, even stored away in the basement. The bed, the dresser, the closet, were all blocked off, and from the looks of things the stuff she really needed was all at the very back of the mess, impossible to reach. "Oh, how did they ever get things so messed up?" She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to calm down. Why had her husband left the house, left the movers unsupervised while they did this? Had he gone looking for her?

"Hey, cuz, I thought I heard you calling me!" Jenny jumped as a man’s voice came from the doorway behind them. "Howdy, Ma’am," he added, grinning at Jenny. He looked her up and down. "Sure is a cool-lookin’ outfit for a hot day!"

The other two movers had appeared behind him, and they were staring at Jenny too. She suddenly realized how much of her backside was revealed to them, squealed, and tugged the shirt down as her face grew red.

Cousin Billy didn’t seem to take any notice. "Ma’am, your husband, he got called down to the office for some kind of emergency. Said he’d be back out here in time to get ready for dinner. We were just gettin’ wrapped up, but we didn’t want to leave until we’d seen one of you, to make sure everything was done the way you wanted it and all."

"It is not," Jenny said. "Who told you to put all these boxes in here? Why, I can’t get at any of the things I need to get dressed . . . ohmygod, get ready for dinner, the Farnsworths . . ." She checked her watch. It was hard to believe it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. She might still pull everything together before they got to the house at seven to pick Jenny and her husband up, but not with all her stuff buried the way it was. And there was no way she could move those boxes by herself . . . or even with Ashley helping. "Look, uh, Billy, you really need to clear out most of this stuff. It’s really important."

Billy scratched his head. "Well, now, I don’t know, Ma’am. I mean, your husband paid us for the work we agreed on – four o’clock finish time, that’s what we agreed. We wouldn’t’a stayed this long except for not wanting to just leave the place when neither of you were here." He looked at the other two men behind him, who nodded. "Fact is, my boys’n I’ll need to get some overtime for a job this big."

"Money . . . money . . . I don’t have my purse, or my checkbook! I don’t know where my husband might have left his – if he didn’t take it with him." She turned to Ashley. "C-could you . . . ?"

Ashley shook her head. "Gee, I’m really sorry, Jenny, but all I’ve got with me is a ten. I could go home and get my checkbook . . . but that would take a while. It’s getting to be rush hour out there, you know . . ."

"Hey, look, lady, I wish I could help you . . ." Billy said.

One of his assistants leaned close and whispered something to him. Billy looked at Jenny, then back at his men. They talked together in low tones for a moment. Standing to one side of Jenny, Ashley hid a smirk. The three of them were playing their parts just perfectly. She was really going to enjoy seeing how Jenny handled this tough spot.

"Moe, here, he’s got an idea," Billy said at last, looking back at Jenny. "We can move your stuff for you, just like you want."

"Oh, good . . ." Jenny trailed off, suddenly looking suspicious. "Wait a minute. Just what kind of payment will you take?"

"Why, that’s simple. Just the shirt off your back, Ma’am."

"WHAT?" Jenny took a step back, as if the mover had attacked her physically. "You can’t be serious!"

"Well, why not? Hey, nobody’ll get hurt, nothing’ll happen. What Moe here thought was that we’d do the work a whole lot better if we had some encouragement, you see. So we figure if you’d just stand there and watch while we move the boxes – even tell us where you want the stuff – well, we’d do the job, and then we’d leave. Nothing else."

"But you want . . ."

"For you to take off that shirt. Yeah." Billy gave her smirk. "Hell, it don’t cover up much as it is."

"Billy!" Ashley said with mock severity. "I’m surprised at you. You three had better just get out of here, right now. And hope nobody ever comes asking me what kind of job my cousin the mover does!"

The mover shrugged. "Well, if you say so, cuz . . ."

Jenny found her voice. "No . . . wait a minute . . ." She couldn’t believe what she was saying. But what choice did she have? If they left now, she’d never get ready in time for dinner, and that could ruin everything for her husband.

And besides, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been through this already.

"Look but don’t touch, that’s the deal, right?"

Billy grinned at her. "Hey, I saw your husband. I don’t want him hunting me down! All we want is a little . . . visual aid. To make the work go smoother."

"Ashley, you’ll stay here . . . you won’t leave me alone . . . ?"

"Of course not, Jenny," Ashley said. Inwardly she added, honey, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. "I didn’t know you had it in you."

Jenny turned her back on the three men and slowly, reluctantly raised the tee-shirt over her head. She handed it to Ashley and turned back to face the movers, her hands taking up their shielding positions almost by instinct.

Billy waited for a few long seconds. "You know, it would be a whole lot more inspirational if you were to, oh, I don’t know, put your hands behind you head?"

"Of course," Jenny sighed. She obeyed.

The three movers went to work, then, slow and methodical. Box by box they emptied out the room, while Jenny stood still near the door, hands clasped behind her neck and her proud chest thrust out for their almost-constant inspection. For a while her cheeks burned red with shame, but after a time she realized it really didn’t matter to her as much as she thought it would. At least she was indoors, and she was fairly sure the humiliation would stop soon. Earlier in the day things had been far, far worse.

Not that she enjoyed having the three men study every inch of her exposed anatomy. The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that she was making the sacrifice so that she wouldn’t let her husband down. When the Farnsworths arrived at seven she’d be dressed to kill, and they would never know the terrible trouble she’d been through all day today.

It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually the room started to empty out a little. Finally Jenny could see all of her suitcases, and the boxes that were supposed to be here in the bedroom, and she let out a sigh of relief. Out in the hall she heard a clock striking 6 PM . . . had she really displayed herself naked for these men for an entire hour? But she still had time. She could still make it.

"All right, that’s all you need to do," she told Billy when he came in for another box. "Please just go now . . . you’ve had your payment, just like you asked." She turned. "Ashley, could I have the shirt back now?"

"Well, now, hold on a minute there," Billy said. "I said we wanted the shirt off your back, and I meant we’d take it as a keepsake. Give it here, cuz."

He extended a beefy hand just as Jenny reached out for the shirt. "No!" Jenny said. "That wasn’t our deal!" She tugged at the shirt, but so did Billy. And Ashley, Jenny thought, must have been trying to keep her cousin from taking the garment, too, because she tried to snatch it away at the last moment.

All three of them pulled at it . . . until it ripped. Ashley actually stumbled backwards and landed on the bed, still clutching most of the back of the shirt. When she came back to her feet, she failed to notice that her tube top was now bunched around her waist, exposing her breasts. They were smaller than Jenny’s, but firm, with hard, pointy nipples.

Billy dropped the fragment of the shirt with a shrug. "Well, can’t be much of a keepsake now, I guess. All right, me and the boys’ll go. But, hey, if you ever want us to move something for you cheap, I’m sure we can work out the same kind of easy payment plan again." His gaze settled on Ashley. Behind him, attracted by the sound of the scuffle, his men followed the direction of his look, and the one called Moe whistled. "Hey, cuz," Billy said, "thanks for the tip!"

Ashley’s look turned nasty, and she seemed about to say something when she suddenly looked down and realized that her tits were exposed and pointing toward her cousin like the double barrels of a shotgun. She flushed and yanked at her tube top while the movers laughed and started down the hall.

Jenny went over to help Ashley, but the brunette waved her off. "Never mind, never mind," she said. For a moment the blonde studied her friend with a quizzical look. If Ashley hadn’t known her breasts were hanging out, why had she reacted with such anger to Billy’s comment about a "tip?" Another moment of paranoia gripped Jenny, until she heard a clatter on the stairs.

"Honey? Jenny? I’m back!"

It was her husband, back at last! Jenny ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs, heedless of her bouncing breasts as she ran to meet the man she loved. Finally, he was back, and she could feel safe again in his arms . . .

As she burst into the living room, her husband called out again. "I hope you had a chance to start getting ready, Jenny!" he was saying. "I pulled up just in time to meet the Farnsworths on the front step. Seems somebody screwed up and rescheduled us for six . . ."

Jenny came to a stop in the middle of the living room. There amid the clutter of furniture that hadn’t been arranged and boxes only just moved there (oh, at such a cost . . .) stood Mr. And Mrs. Farnsworth, perfectly turned out, the very picture of quiet, middle-aged, corporate dignity.

And Jenny, naked, ran from the room. When she passed Ashley at the foot of the stairs, she didn’t even notice the brunette's evil little grin of triumph.