Want Ad (archives)

Want Ad

I don’t know why I even picked up the paper. It’s my roommate’s subscription. But I was bored, I guess. Just sitting around our kitchen, wearing just a t-shirt. I normally wear a size “large” to cover me decently, but I couldn’t find any this morning — I guess they’re all in the wash. So I put on a medium. It’s still almost decent, I guess, covering the majority of my ass. Anyway, sitting at home, who cares? So anyway, I picked up the paper, and there it was. It just jumped out at me. A want ad for a waitress at Buxom’s Ice Cream Parlor. There were all the usual want-ad phrases, including some that attracted my interest, such as “no experience necessary” and “will train”. But the one that really caught my eye was “must be comfortable with body”.

I mulled that over in my mind. Comfortable with body. What could that mean? I re-read the ad. Then I looked at my watch. They want girls to just show up any time from 8 am to noon today. My heart skipped a beat. I have no idea why this thrilled me so much, but it did. I grabbed my keyes, and left without any further deliberation, and completely oblivious to the only half-covered condition of my butt. As soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, I was reminded by the looks I was getting that my shirt was a little too short to qualify even as a minidress. I looked down at myself, and saw with horror that it didn’t even fully cover my pussy. I tugged it down a bit, and satisfied myself that I was covered — for the moment. This would have to do, because I was already out of the house, and I didn’t have any other shirt anyway. I shrugged. Then I realized I was uncovered again, so I tugged. I did a lot of tugging as I walked to Buxom’s, because I feel embarrassed when people see my pussy, and that feeling of embarrassment excites me, making my pussy bloom like a pink flower. And then if people saw that, I would be even more embarrassed. So I tried not to get excited.

Finally I got there, and stepped inside. The hostess asked me if I was here for the job interview. I guess she could tell by looking at me I was “comfortable with my body”, I thought, laughing to myself. As she ushered me into a waiting room, I noticed she was wearing just an apron, with nothing under it. I resisted the temptation to pat her bare butt. In the waiting room there were a handful of other girls sitting on comfy chairs and couches. The only available seat was between two other girls on a couch. I felt a little underdressed, and so I was a bit uncomfortable sitting between them, but I decided it would have to do. I pulled my shirt down in back, and tried to sit down on it, but it was too short. I kept my knees together, fully aware that anyone standing before me would be able to see right up there. I put my hands in my lap as further insurance against accidentally flashing.

I looked around the room, and noticed that some of the girls were oddly dressed. One, for example, was wearing jeans and a bra. No shirt. Another was wearing a pair of pajamas that were quite a bit too big for her. When she got up to look for a magazine to read while she was waiting, I noticed that she had to hold up her bottoms to avoid walking right out of them. In fact, when she bent over at the magazine stand, she needed two hands to thumb through them, and her bottoms fell to her ankles, revealing a cute little ass and pussy. She must have known her pants fell down, but she didn’t do anything about it until she found a magazine to her liking. Then she pulled up her pants and went back to her seat as if nothing odd happened.

One by one, the hostess came into the room and called individual girls for interviews. They must have left through another door, because I didn’t see any of them again. Some other girls came and sat down. The new girls seemed more normally dressed, so I started to feel a little naked dressed just in my t-shirt. After a while, the hostess came in and looked around the room. She said each one of us would need to take off one item of clothing in order to be considered for the job interview. Some of the girls gasped, but most said nothing. Maybe they were stunned. The hostess left, maybe to give us time to partially disrobe. I had only one thing to take off, so off it came. I sat on the couch, naked.

One or two girls left rather than strip. I guess this was Buxom’s way of thinning the herd. I looked around, and was dismayed to see I was the only naked girl. Only one girl was bottomless. She was wearing a halter top. One girl was topless, wearing only jeans. The rest of the girls were fully covered, wearing at least panties and a top of some kind. A minute or two after we did our little strip tease, the hostess came back, and collected one item of clothing from each of us. She told us the clothes would be donated to charity. Before we could object, she left.

In the silence that followed, we all just looked at each other. This was one of those rare moments that I felt totally free. I had no clothing to feel uncomfortable about, and it certainly wasn’t my fault that I was naked — I had been ordered to strip, and had no choice but to comply. I sat with my legs apart, fully open for viewing. I rested my hand in the lap of the girl sitting next to me, stroking her through her jeans. She reciprocated, rested her hand in my lap, touching me very lightly. It felt really good to be naked. Soon, the hostess came back. She pointed out to the other girls, in case they hadn’t noticed, that my pussy was completely shaven. She said that was a requirement of the job. Right away, two girls got up and left in a huff. The rest of the girls stayed put.

When the hostess left, I asked the girl next to me if she was completely shaven. She blushed, but didn’t answer. Tentatively, I unbuttoned her jeans, and pulled down her zipper, to see if she would fight me. She offered no resistance. She arched her back as I felt her pussy. Maybe she came, I thought, because she was pretty wet. And sure enough, she was as hairless as me. All at once, the girls got the urge to prove to each other that they were hairless. They all took off their bottoms, and laid them neatly on the tables next to each chair. As they became more comfortable with each other, the girls allowed their legs to separate. But when a new recruit entered the room, fully dressed, they snapped their legs together, put their hands in their own laps (instead of each others’) and acted very modest, until the social pressure enticed the new recruit to take off her bottoms, too. It was fun for me to watch the reaction of a fully-dressed girl sitting among a room full of bottomless (and some completely naked) girls. It’s almost as if some sort of inner drive to conform takes over them, and they just naturally strip.

So it was almost anti-climactical when the hostess finally called me for my interview. They asked me if I minded wearing the Buxom’s uniform, which was a mini-skirt and apron. I said of course not. They reminded me that the uniform consisted *only* of those two items of clothing — no panties, no bra. Again, I said that would be just fine. Then they told me that part of the job was to allow myself to be groped by the customers. I wasn’t very happy about that, but I said that would be OK, too. I wanted to make a good impression at the interview. Then they said if I didn’t perform well — which I took from the context to mean if I didn’t put up graciously with the groping — that I would be punished. The punishment might consist of various forms of humiliation, including, but not limited to relinquishing parts of my uniform.

Against my better judgment, I agreed to all of that, and so I got the job! I asked whether I could have my uniform, but they said not yet — I would have to wait until my first day on the job. But I’m naked, I said. Should I just walk home like this?! Yes, they said, oblivious to my gaping jaw. And then on your first day, they went on, please arrive naked, because there are no lockers for your clothes while you’re working. Finally, my reaction of astonishment must have registered, because one of them patted me on my bare breast and said, Don’t worry, we’ll get you dressed in no time, you’ll see.

They all watched my naked ass walk out. I was so happy to get the job, the sting of having to walk home naked wasn’t so bad. I was looking forward to my first day on the job, but not having to walk back to Buxom’s naked.

Well, your uniform sounds great compared to mine. I signed up for work study, and they placed me in teh facility lounge. I serve coffee, tea, and apparently, ME! My uniform started out as a cute little ruffled skirt and frilly top, but the university outsourced the lounged services. The new company changed everything. My uniform is a white collar, white cuffs, black thigh highs, and heels. That is it. The collar and cuffs are suppose to make me feel loke I’m wearing a top, and the thigh highs are suppose to make me feel like I’m wearing pants. After a while, I did, but not at first. Especially, when my own professors started coming dueing my shifts…
Comment By Buffy At 10/12/2007 7:16 AM

… I was embarrassed serving my history and English professors without clothing. Then my hours changed. I had to report to work immediately after my history course, and stay on the job until my English course. I’m forced to go to classes wearing my new uniform.

I soon got over having to attend classes basically nude. The Dean hired me to served at one of his parties, and all the facility was there. My Psych professor teased my pussy all evening. I was wet, and when some of the professors got a little tipsy, they claimed I needed to be taught a lesson for getting sexually aroused in public.

I’m now working most weekends for parties. The extra money is nice, but my hours at the lounge are crazy. They’ve scheduled me before and after all my classes.

Laundry day is keeping the collar and cuffs clean.

Comment By Buffy At 10/12/2007 7:25 AM

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