A pair of boys

A few people make their orders, each whispering their answers to the barista just loud enough for you to hear too as to not rule options out for those next in the queue. You begin to relax somewhat after you hear "pink" for the fifth time as the eleventh or so order is made. Soon your lunch break will be over and you will be able to get on your way. It was a good thrill anyway.

"Purple?" you hear and prepare to shake your head again with a mockingly regretful smile which then freezes on your face. Two boys are at the counter, seemingly freshers judging by their leavers' shirts. "Well?" the one who made the guess demands. "Ah... Yes... Yes, it is actually..." you say, feeling the heat of embarrassment radiating from your face. The end of your response is lost in the cheer that around the queue - a larger one that you have seen in this establishment for a long time. There are some groans of disappointment and at least two people can be overheard insisting "I was going to say that!" but most of the patrons are happy for the lucky winners.

You take the sign around your neck off, having wanted to get rid of it for a while. Subconsciously perhaps you want to start stripping by taking off something you will not exactly miss. Even that simple act gets your audience excited, though. The effect of the excitement on you is two-fold. It embarrasses you even more, sure... But it also makes you feel like you attract and command the crowd's attention. You tell yourself to have to look confident and proud doing this, not like someone into humiliation and ridicule. Pretending there is music playing you start to make dance-like movements as you disrobe and the cheering grows louder than ever. For effect you would toss the discarded items aside, but you still need to wear them later so you just pass them to a waitress, hoping she knows to take care of them. The feeling between your legs is telling you you are enjoying this far more than a good girl everyone thought you were just minutes ago should.

The jumper is easy to remove in your current surge of spirit; even when you drop the skirt and step out of it you do not feel too horribly exposed. You have worn garments only slightly longer than the blouse you have on with underwear before, after all. The blouse itself is the major step though, as you have nothing underneath. You are still playing along and pretending to tease when you open the buttons but keep it together with your hands; in reality, however, you are not teasing. You are simply terrified. Finally with a huge metal effort you open it and slide it off before your arms can use it to cover your bare breast on their own accord. You cannot believe you are only wearing a pair of panties in a public place... and these are about to come off too. Your modesty means nothing; you are just entertainment. Which, of course, is just what you wanted. The question is whether or not you still want it now.

You twirl to face away from most people and not too gracefully pull down the last piece of fabric covering you. The noise is almost deafening. You have to stop your little “dance” to put your legs out of the purple panties one at a time and once stopped, you cannot start again. Not that there is anything else to take off, of course. You simply turn and feeling as if you are walking through a cement wall you approach the two winners, the panties in your outstretched arm. The other arm is bent with your palm against your stomach, as you have to make a mental effort not to let it crawl down to cover a usually more private part. When one of them takes the decisive item, he holds it up like a trophy to renewed cheers.

“Please pick a table, gentlemen, Jenna will be ready in a minute” says the manager behind you as the noise dies down somewhat.