Going Commando
“So, what do you think?” said Haven, an enormous grin on her face as she came flouncing back into her room, giving me a little twirl before sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Think about what?” I said, hoping that the color that I could feel rising in my cheeks wasn’t noticeable.
“This top, silly,” said Haven with a laugh. “How does it look on me?”
“Uh, it looks great,” I said, knowing very well to never, ever say anything critical when a girl asked you for your opinion about her outfit.
“Oh, Lance, you’re so funny,” said Haven with a grin. “You’ve seen this top a million times! Come on, now.”
“Uh, sure, sure,” I said, feeling my thoughts whirl in my head. What was she fishing for, if not a compliment on her sweatshirt?
“Come on, take a closer look,” said Haven, popping to her feet, causing her breasts to sway in the most delicious manner underneath the oversized sweatshirt. “Notice anything different?”
“Uh, your Mom finally found it underneath all this mess and then gave it a wash?” I cautiously ventured.
“Lance, you’re so silly!” said Haven with a squeal. “I’m not that messy. Am I?”
“Well...” I said, gesturing at the various mounds of clothes that covered half the space in her room.
“Fine!” said Haven, sticking out her tongue at me. “Yes, it’s clean. Of course! But that’s not what’s different.”
“Well, then, I don’t know,” I said, my stomach suddenly constricting. What kind of game was Haven playing with me now?
“Okay, let me give you a hint,” said Haven, a huge grin appearing on her face. “Watch me as I walk over there and come back.”
Utterly mystified as to what was going on, I watched carefully as Haven threaded her way around the various piles of clothes to the other side of her room and then back, but I couldn’t see anything unusual about the sweatshirt.
“I give up,” I said, lifting my hands in a gesture of defeat.
“Fine!” said Haven, making her way over closer to me. “Let’s see if you notice it, now.”
I felt my mouth gap open as I watched Haven begin to engage in some kind of weird new dance move, her legs firmly planted on the floor while she rapidly wiggled her torso back and forth. But I just couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to be looking at.
“You’re no fun, Lance,” said Haven before dejectedly plopping into a nearby chair. “This was your one big chance to tell me what a woman I’m becoming!”
“Right, right,” I said, my stomach doing a quick, painful flip.
“I joined the No Bra Club!” said Haven, her eyes wide with triumph as she leapt to her feet.
“The what?” I said, suddenly feeling a strange heat shoot up the back of my neck.
“I’m not wearing a bra under this sweatshirt,” announced Haven, a strange gleam in her eyes. “I just was curious if anyone could tell.”
“Oh,” I said, clearly feeling a rush of head flash across my forehead as I urgently readjusted my position on the edge of the bed.
“Yep, full commando!” chortled Haven. “I was sick of that bra, anyway! It’s so ugly, and it really cuts into my skin something awful.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, hoping that my tone of voice came across convincingly.
“Besides, I always wondered what it would feel like to go around braless so that your nipples can feel the fabric. You know, from the inside?” said Haven, her questing eyes boring right into me.
“Sure, sure,” I said with a weak laugh. “I’ve been braless all my life.”
But instead of laughing, Haven flashed me an angry scowl before beginning to pace back and forth between mounds of clothing. “See? It’s not fair that guys don’t have to wear bras. Why is it that it’s only women who have to worry about their nipples all the time?”
“You’re right,” I said, readjusting my position on the bed as discreetly as I could.
“Heck, I’ve seen fat guys with bigger titties than me, and no one ever told them to strap into a bra!” said Haven,” with a half shriek, half laugh.
“Amen to that!” I said, feeling an enormous sense of relief wash over me as the conversation now seemed to be drifting into other topics.
“So, that’s right, Lance! From now on, I’m going to shake my little boobies anywhere I damn well feel like,” said Haven, her face uncharacteristically flushed a pale pink.
“And make fat guys wear bras!” I said, joining in with a hearty chuckle.
But for a long moment, Haven said nothing as she paced back and forth before quickly turning to face me.
“What?” I said, turning my palms upward.
“Lance, you’re the only person who can give me an honest opinion,” said Haven. “Girls are too judgmental, and you’re the only guy I trust.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, my stomach briefly clenching, and it was all I could do to hold my gaze steady.
“Okay, I’m going to walk back and forth across my room one more time,” said Haven. “And I want you to watch. Carefully! And tell me how they look.”
“Looks?” I just barely managed to gulp in reply, my throat suddenly gone stiff and scratchy.
“My boobies, Lance,” said Haven, shooting me a quick frown. “My titties, my boobs! I need to know what they look like in this top.”
“Uh, sure,” I somehow managed to reply, my voice faint and weak.
“You know, tell me if I look too slutty or whatever,” said Haven, flashing me a big grin.
But before I could attempt to reply, Haven had set out to do her little catwalk. For a moment or two, I was confident that I was in control of myself, but as my eyes took in those subtle, captivating shifts and movements in the fabric that sent my entire nervous system into overdrive, I was forced to lunge for a nearby pillow to place my lap so that Haven wouldn’t discover my terrible secret.
