After a few minutes, I said goodbye to Kyle. The day was done, and since it was a Friday evening, some of the boys and I were leaving for the local bar, as was our Friday evening tradition.
We talked about everything but the workplace, as was also tradition. In the bar, we were more friends than colleagues, and we preferred forgetting about work for a few hours. I even acted less stern and my demeanor was much more friendly. I didn’t need to be severe or stern outside of work, so I just wasn’t, and the alcohol sure helped. By that point, I had had two martinis, which already made me quite tipsy. Maybe that’s why the conversation went the way it did.
We were talking about a famous comedian and his upcoming show in town. He’d be doing his show on Saturday, and the boys were having a debate on whether the show would be cancelled last minute because of the jokes he made—not very politically correct ones. There was already an uproar on Twitter and some people in the city, including the mayor, had asked the venue to cancel his performance.
“They won’t cancel,” Greg said. “He’s too big of a name.” Clark argued for the opposite, and as if doing that had fanned the flame of Greg’s confidence, the latter declared: “I’m 100% sure. You know what? If I’m wrong, I’ll come to the Christmas party shirtless.”
I gave him my best wolf-whistle with a jokingly seductive look. The boys thought I was joking, but there was an element of truth to it—Greg was fit, and I wouldn’t have hated seeing what was underneath that suit and tie. Again, I can’t repeat enough times how lucky I was to be surrounded by genuinely attractive colleagues. But my seductive whistle was interpreted as nothing serious. My looks and attitude were sure to cause that. To them, I might as well have been another man: I dressed masculine and acted tomboy-like around them. I don’t think most of them, if any, could even imagine themselves kissing me.
“Keep your shirt on, Greg,” I said, “they’ll cancel the show, believe me.”
“How do you know?” Before I could even answer, he giggled, having had some incredible idea. “And what will you do if I’m right? This is a dare—you have to do something if you lose.”
“Oh, let me think, I don’t have much of an imagination.”
“Something embarrassing,” Chad intervened. “This is a dare, you’ll have to wear your ugliest t-shirt, something like that.”
As if I had any ugly clothes. They wouldn’t know, seeing how I always wore plain tomboy clothes in the workplace, but I had one hell of a sense of fashion. The boys knew tomboy Mila, the stern office leader, and they knew nothing about wild Mila, the one who loved showing her body off in lingerie and acting the part of the submissive slut; the sensual Mila who knew how to look good in makeup and nothing else.
The boys went on discussing something else—they must have noticed how I was lost in my thoughts. They probably believed it meant I wasn’t up for the dare, but I still was. Oh, I very much was, I was just thinking of the consequence on my end. Thinking about my slutty days of my twenties brought me back to one of my best experiences. I was 24, slutty and ever eager to show off my body. I was seeing this boy from one of my classes, and the relationship was still in its infancy. Nevertheless, my horny ass wanted to be around him all the time, and so I followed him on his weekly visit to the local strip club, something he and his buddies did all the time.
As happens in strip clubs, you have a few martinis, which I did, but the next cocktail was the interesting one. The martini itself was not the interesting cocktail, but rather the mixture of martini… and the announcement that this particular evening was an amateur’s night. I liked the boy I was seeing, and I knew dancing on stage would hurt him a bit, since he’d be jealous of all his friends seeing me nude. But I didn’t care. I was young, there was alcohol in my blood, and lots of boys I could show off to. (It was one of the nice things about that strip club—situated close to our college so most of the customer base was young men my age, not dirty old fucks).
So that evening, I did one of the craziest in my life: I went up that stage and stripped in front of dozens of guys. Now you know what the most exciting part was? Recognizing some of these faces. Since most of the customers were from my college, I made eye contact more than once with faces I knew from my classes. It was one of the best experiences ever. It provided me with images to touch myself to for many nights in the years that followed, but after that, wild Mila slowly evaporated. Oh, she never disappeared, but work and profession came into my life, and by the time I started working in offices, there was little time left for that sort of wildness.
And it sucked. But now, this whole dare thing had gotten me thinking. There was an idea in my mind. I missed the wild Mila inside, and here I had a chance to bring her back in the most bombastic and awesome way. I thought about it for many long, silent minutes.
The boys looked at me dumbfoundedly. “You heard me right,” I said. “If I’m right, and if the show does actually get cancelled tomorrow… I’m coming bare ass naked to the Christmas party.”
At first, they acted as if I was bullshitting. But as I kept on promising that I was serious, their smiles went away, and they saw I was dead serious.
And so, with that promise, Saturday came… and the show was cancelled. Now, we can go back to the start. I think the whole picture makes a little more sense now, doesn’t it?
I approached the part of the building where the party was taking place. There were already many voices coming from there, just like I wanted. I had made sure to arrive twenty minutes later so that the boys would all be there already. I wanted all of them to see me at the same time. Guess I’m an attention whore after all. The jazz music playing from the headphones was smooth and sensual, the voices joined it like a choir, and the sound of toasting and glasses meeting gave a beautiful atmosphere to the meeting. There was a nice, calm energy to it all. But now, another very different energy would be joining the group.
The back of the group was so crowded that most didn’t even see me, but as soon as Chad and Kyle did, the latter approached me with a completely dumfounded look on his face.
“What the…”
“I keep promises,” I said calmly, acting mostly casual but with a slight sensuality to my bearing. My whole body was bare before him and he couldn’t stop looking at it. “We had a debate over whether the comedian’s show would be cancelled last night or no, when we went to the bar. I said that…”
“I know what you said, Greg told me, but Mila… What the hell, I thought it was a joke.” He turned all authority-like and raised his finger towards me.
“Don’t you raise your finger to me,” I said with an almost threatening tone. NO ONE raised their finger at me. Kyle brought it down, but his angry and panicked demeanor didn’t disappear.
“You’re putting clothes on. Now.”
“I left all my clothes at home.” I was bullshitting of course—I had “changed” in the bathroom, but Kyle was too confused to think straight.
“Then go home and come back with clothes on. Mila, I’m your boss and your superior. This is an order.” My, my… This was the first time Kyle was ever speaking to me in that tone. There he was, towering over me in his suit while I was completely naked. I liked how he was giving me an order. I almost wished he would grab my arm and pull me away from the party. Or maybe slam me gently against the wall in an attempt to get me to cooperate.
“You don’t give me orders. And even if you did, you could during the job. This isn’t the job. This is a party, and you have no right to tell what to do, pretty boy.”
That “pretty boy” got him all confused. I could empathize with his confusion—he was facing this strange, unknown person who was supposedly the Mila he knew, but one without any clothes and wearing nothing but makeup and raw sensuality. Her tough attitude didn’t go anywhere, however.
“Mila, what the fuck? Don’t you feel embarrassed? I mean… this is horribly sexist, we’re all guys in suits and you’re all naked like a whore!”
I liked the part where he compared me to a whore—I imagined him calling me one with a smile on his face, and it turned me on. But the rest of what he said; now that was a big no-no.
“Woah there, big boy,” I said sternly. “Don’t you think you have ANY right to lecture me on what’s sexist and what’s not. I’m not some idiot, Kyle, I know exactly what I’m doing, and I do whatever I want to do. You know what’s gonna happen, pretty boy? I’m gonna enjoy myself tonight. I’m gonna walk around in front of every single one of my colleagues and parade myself like a slut, because that’s what I want and that’s how I like it. And YOU don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”
