I might as well get used to nudity

If I’m going to be working at the family business, I might as well get over any remaining hang ups about nudity — my own or others.

I shrug and hope that my voice sounds casual. “Well, it’s not as if anyone who works here should be shocked by the sight of skin, right?” I begin to remove the coffee-soaked blouse, hoping he can’t see just how much my hands are shaking.

Clint grins and starts to peel off his attire, as well. I try not to ogle, but I can’t help but notice and appreciate that Clint’s body is just as fit as I suspected. The defined pecs and six-pack abs are not the freakish kind of a professional body builder, but more of the well-defined nature of a naturally-athletic man who makes a point of taking care of himself.

I **** my eyes away from him because my fingers are struggling with a button. I swear at myself for behaving like a schoolgirl. After all, it’s not as if I haven’t undressed before a guy before, and it’s not as if I haven’t actually had a guy undress in front of me. I’m nowhere near the sluttiness of my big brother, but I’m not exactly innocent and pure as the driven snow, either. Even so, being this close to Clint, I feel as nervous as I did when Jimmy Connally took my virginity in the backseat of his car.

“Having trouble?” asks Clint, who has noticed my difficulty. I look up and see him standing directly in front of me, wearing nothing but form-fitting black boxer-briefs. My eyes are riveted between his legs. When he was wearing his slacks, I tried to look for any clue about what he might be hiding there, without a lot of success. Now that he is down to a single skimpy garment, it’s much more difficult to disguise the fact that he has a lot more going for him than Jimmy Connally’s five-inch, 30-second wonder.

“Um... My button seems to be stuck,” I manage to say, looking up from his crotch into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Let me help,” he says, moving my hands out of the way and taking over. His hands do not shake at all as he expertly addresses each of the remaining buttons. Then, without asking, drops to one knee in front of me and helps me ease out of my slacks. He holds them for me as I gingerly step out of the soiled clothing. As I do, I notice that his face is so close to my crotch that I can feel the warmth of his body radiating against my skin.

Once free of the coffee-stained clothing and wearing only my bra and panties, I try to stand casually, but I find that I have no idea what to do with my hands. I awkwardly clasp them in front of me before crossing my arms over my chest and then resting them on my hips.

Clint steps back and looks at me, admiringly. “Hmmm... Not bad at all. I can tell you already meet most of the qualifications for most of the jobs around here. I’m pretty sure you won’t have any trouble making it here at Cum On.”

Since he is openly checking me out, I feel less pervy about returning the favor. My eyes soak up the gorgeous sight of the man, who appears so relaxed in my presence. I notice that his eyes are focused on my chest... particularly my right boob. His forehead wrinkles with a look of concern.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, suddenly feeling very self-conscious once again.

“Oh... It’s nothing. I just....” He leans in and looks closer at my chest. “I was wondering if the coffee soaked through to your bra. I couldn’t tell.”

I look down and confirm that my bra is dry. I can’t quite say the same thing about my panties, which I notice have suddenly grown rather moist, ever since Clint stripped down to his undies.

I run my fingers over my bra to confirm that it is dry. I look suspiciously at Clint. Was this just a sneaky way for him to get me to take my bra off, or was he genuinely concerned about the possibility of me getting coffee on my fresh set of clothes?