Wait...was all of that pointless?

In her desire to get back to her hotel as quickly as possible, Emma wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings...and hurtled straight into someone.

The two of them went flying, with Emma landing heavily on top of them.

Temporarily winded, it took Emma a moment to realise who the mysterious person was.

"Carlos!" she shrieked, rolling off him and stumbling to her bare feet.

Carlos Alcaraz was looking understandably shocked and the sudden appearance of a naked girl, and his eyes roved up and down her bare figure as he stood up. Oh, God, why did it have to be him?! A boy was bad enough, but the guy Emma had a crush on? Could this night get any worse?!

"Emma, what are you doing?" Carlos asked, still not looking away.

"I...I...someone stole my clothes!"

"I never thought you would be a nudist, but I'm glad you are," he winked.

"No!" Why did everyone think that she was dressed like this on purpose?! "Please, you've got to-wait, w-what's happening?"

Now that she had her breath back, Emma saw that they weren't alone. Carlos was surrounded by a film crew, which had their cameras pointed at the panting girl.

"We were just recording an interview with Carlos," the producer explained. "But we can always include Emma Raducanu in that, especially if she's wearing her birthday suit! So, how do you two know each other?"

Before Emma knew what was happening, she was walking through the streets with Carlos and an interviewer, circled by cameras and a boom mic. She tried her hardest to cover herself with her arms, but was regularly **** to flash herself for the cameras. The Brit was also panicking that they were walking away from her hotel; she was now further away from her sanctuary then she had been before her streak!

Their walk ended up back at the tennis courts, where Carlos and Emma served some balls and played a few rallies for the cameras. Pretending that she was in a match, the Brit tried to block out the spectators and the flashing cameras as she served ball after ball, her breasts bouncing around uncomfortably and her bare feet in agony as they repeatedly slammed into the court. She stumbled back and forth along the baseline to return Carlos' shots, giving up all attempts to cover her torso.

By the time the producer was happy, Emma was perspiring and out of breath.

"Good game," Carlos smiled, shaking her hand as the film crew packed up. "I guess you nudists still use towels? If you want to go take a shower, I'll find one for you."

"Errm...actually..."

xxx

Carlos couldn't believe what was happening!

When he'd been offered the chance to prank a naked Emma Raducanu, he'd agreed straight away. But he didn't think it would be anything like this!

As per the plan, Emma had streaked right into their path, and Carlos was given a few seconds to fondle her when they collided.

It had been adorable to watch Emma become progressively more panicked as they walked her back to the tennis courts; she was back at square one, but after having endured a huge dollop of humiliation beforehand.

He'd enjoyed watching her perspire and stumble around the court, her breasts jiggling as she slid back and forth along the baseline.

If that wasn't enough of a treat, Emma had then asked him to keep watch over her towel while she had a shower! Something about her clothes being stolen earlier that night...

The Spaniard listened to the sound of running water, and imagined what Emma looked like soaking wet. But he didn't have to imagine it for long.

"OK, I'm coming out now!" the Brit squeaked as the shower was shut off. "Hold out the towel, turn around, and close your eyes!"

Ever the gentleman, Carlos dutifully followed her first two instructions, but kept his eyes cracked open and fixed on a conveniently placed mirror. Moments later, he saw the shivering and wet Emma Raducanu tiptoe into the changing area, arms wrapped around her torso. Unaware of the mirror, the Brit scooped up the towel and hastily wrapped it around herself.

She smoothed down the towel and tried and failed to make her wet hair look relatively presentable.

"OK, you can look now!"

Turning around, Carlos beamed at the red-faced girl shivering, and rubbing her arms in front of him. Her wet, messy hair only added to her cuteness.

She smiled weakly, her eyes fixed on her bare feet.

"Can we please go?"

Emma had already reluctantly agreed with Carlos' suggestion that she should go back to her hotel in just her towel, especially as they had been unable to find a spare set of clothes for her.

A few minutes later, Emma was climbing into the taxi Carlos had booked, keeping a firm grip on her towel to ensure that she didn't flash anyone.

If the Brit had been hoping for a relaxing ride, she was out of luck. The driver hurtled around corners, slammed on the brakes, and narrowly avoided collisions with other cars. The result was that Emma had to keep one arm pressed over her chest to stop her boobs bouncing around, and found herself flung into Carlos on more than one occasion. She tried to keep her distance from him as best as she could in the back of the small car...but also didn't do much to stop herself falling into his lap and pressing her hands against his toned stomach. In any other situation, catching a taxi with Carlos Alcaraz at the end of the night sounded like Emma's idea of a good time, but when she was damp and shivering in a towel, she couldn't wait to get away from him!

Before long, the taxi was pulling up outside the hotel. Emma scooted across the seat, opened the door, and unfolded herself onto the pavement.

"T-thank-" she started to say. But the door suddenly slammed closed, and Emma felt the towel being pulled away from her.

Her eyes widened in horrified realisation of what had happened, but before she could act, the car sped off once more...ripping the towel clean off her body!