Casandra Dell

Casandra Dell had been waiting in the parking lot for nearly a quarter of an hour, unwilling to get away from the car's heater. "C'mon, Come on!" she said under her breath once again. "Come-" she caught back her impatient wishing as the navy blue Prius finally arrived. "It's about time!"

After doing something inside for well over a minute, the balding, overweight man got out. Cas ducked out of his sight. She hoped. When she did raise her head, she saw through the closed windows he had just about reached the back alley behind the lot. "Now!" she told herself.

But it was a long moment before she could bring herself to open the car door. In a flash, her bare feet slapped against the cold cement, pebbles and grit. Fearing that this was bruising her soles focused her mind away from other thoughts. Stupid! The dare she had taken would be a total waste and her life ruined if she couldn't stay on her feet!

Her timing, though, was almost perfect! She managed to stop the backdoor before it locked itself shut. When she pushed herself though, only then did the man turn to see who had invaded his restaurant's kitchen. A thief?! An attacker?! His hand had automatically reached out for the nearest heavy object.

The clang and echoes of the skillet was nearly deafening, but he didn't hear them. All he saw was a naked woman!!

"H,hello, Mr. Paulson!" she said too perkily. "I'm not late this time!"

Transfixed by her large boobs, pudgy figure, perky tits, waxed pussy, and knockers, it was only on hearing her voice that Peter Paulson recognized the stripper as, "Dell!?!" Even then. he had difficulty going to his former waitress's face.

"I can, can..." no she was too nervous to explain. Instead, she pointed to the tattoo on her cheek. Her face's. "See?!" It was little bigger than her left eye but still recognizable as the classic circle-and-slash NO over what could either be thought of as a shirt or dress.

The man still didn't seem to comprehend. ("I should get one on a boob. Or two," she told herself.) She follow the thin strap that led from her shoulder down to her small, small purse. "I have a registration card," she said, fumbling to get it out.

"Registration...." It was only then that it hit him. He almost yelled, "You a NUDIST!!?"

"Officially! I'm recognized by the Federal Bureau of Lifestyles! I'm government protected!" Then came the threat, "If you don't hire me again, I'll sue! Do anything against me, and the United Lifestyles Liberation Warriors will protest and blacklist your restaurant!