naked, afraid, hiding from the police -- again --

     The sun hitting her face woke her up.  It must be mid-morning by now.  She got up and brushed the dry blades of grass out of her hair, off her breasts, then pulled them out from where they had stuck to her short pussy hair and even lodged behind between her butt cheeks.  Time to approach the rest stop and form a plan.  Her previous experience with a rest stop had taught her to be careful.  She remembered the college-age girl with the little car full of clothes, whom she had so foolishly let get away when she had first escaped from Brian Cook’s gallery.  She had to pick someone like that, then without hesitation come out and ask her for clothes.

        Looking up she could see the building ahead containing rest rooms.  She could also see guardrails that must be right next to a parking lot.  Aware someone walking there might see her, she retreated down into the brush.  When she was directly below the building she found a water pipe going up to the building, coming out from the ground.  And a little concrete platform that looked like a maintenance station, with knobs and valves.  And a little spout!

        She put one bare foot on the pipe and felt water running inside.  She hadn’t bathed in three days.  Should she?  She looked up.  No one could see her from here unless they went around behind the building.

        It was almost as impulsive as her decision, long ago, to wash all that stinging boiler muck off herself in the sprinkler in full view of everyone in her dorm.  But not so horribly shaming this time, and somewhat more voluntary.  She slowly turned the knob until a moderate stream of water came out, bubbly and burping at first, but then clear and cool.  Gratefully she stuck her head under it and rinsed and scrubbed a much as she could with just her bare fingers.  She washed the dust from her eyes, from her face, rubbed the water around her neck.  Then onto the rest of her whole naked self.

        It took some contortions, like a limbo dancer, but she bent and twisted so that her breasts, then her back, then her thighs and calves felt the cool running of the water.  She rubbed the water all over herself, joyously, sensuously, almost like her body was one big clit and she was diddling all over herself with the water and her rubbing hands.  She rinsed her feet, getting the coolness between her toes, and felt woken up and alive.  She rinsed out her mouth and took a long, long drink.  She was thirstier than she thought after all that walking.

        Feeling like a total exhibitionist, like a wanton slut, she bent back on her hands and spread her legs and crab-walked her pussy into the downward stream.  Balancing herself on one hand, with the other she spread her pussy lips.  The water felt cold in there but it was so good! She thrust her hips up, putting her pussy right next to the spout.  Hmmmm.  .  .  .  Cold as it was the force of the water on did get her a little aroused.  Then she flipped around onto all fours and stuck her butt up right next to the spout, again balancing herself on one hand as she cleansed her butthole.

        She stood up and shook the water off herself like a dog, and gathered her hair behind her and squeezed out the excess.  Then looked up at the building.  No, no one had seen her.  She looked back down at the spout and turned it off.  God, that felt good.  Thank you God, for giving this to me and letting me feel all these wonderful sensations.

        The hot dry sun lovingly and quickly licked her dry as she bent this way and that to expose every part of her perfect, tanned body to its gaze.

        Now back to work.  The naked girl crawled up to behind the building and stuck her head up to see.  No, no one in the parking lot.  There were two little open windows in the back.  Which one was the women’s room?  No, those windows were too small to climb into.  The pointed roof was inviting.  Could she?  Yes -- there was a fence in back of the building and she used it to hop on top of the rear part, not minding the scraping of the gritty tar shingles onto her belly and knees.  Crouching on the warm roof, she looked down the road, putting her head back down when someone drove past.

        Now a little yellow car came up and parked.  As Tami watched, her head just barely above the line of sight of the roof, a young blond woman jiggled out of the car.  In the back of the car Tami could see suitcases and what looked like several hanging closet bags -- of clothes! The naked girl bit her lip with longing and prayed.  Please God .  .  .

        The lady looked about late 20’s, with stylish summer sandals and a kerchief tied lightly over her abundant platinum blond hair.  The kerchief had a Union Jack design; maybe she was English.  The car had California plates and Tami guessed this lady was moving from one state to another, carrying all her belongings -- and clothes -- with her.  Oddly, she had on a dark turtleneck sweater zipped up to her neck over what looked like a summer dress.  Her cover-up attire did little to hide the fact that she had a very generous bust.  Looking the lady over as she approached the building, the naked teenage girl decided that this lady looked sweet and kind.  Surely the type who would help her and give her clothes, of which she seemed to have a great many.

        The naked girl waited for the slow creak of the closing door below, then scampered back and hopped onto the fence.  She was around to the front in a flash and shot inside.  The lady was in a stall.  Tami got into a stall further down.  No time to wait; she wasn’t going to procrastinate like with those two women at that other rest stop.  As soon as the lady was out and began running water in the sink, Tami decided to make her move.

        Not that it wasn’t harder than she had thought.  Faced with another person, she couldn’t bear to expose her nakedness.  At first all she did was open the stall door and stick her head out and say, “Please, Ma’am, can you help me?”

        The lady saw her in the mirror and looked back with immediate concern.  “Hello?” She did have an English accent after all.  “What’s wrong, luv?”

        Tami cleared her throat, ashamed that this lady could see her bare feet, feeling her awkwardness because with the stall door open she was pinned against the toilet seat which had who knows what kind of germs on it.  “I -- my friends -- my sorority -- they took my clothes and left me here as a joke -- naked.”  Now that she finally had the chance to say her well-rehearsed words, they were so difficult coming out.  Tami was just not a good liar.  “Could you give me something to put on?”

        The lady looked down to the floor and whispered, “No, not again.  That hospital .  .  .”

        “What?” Tami said.

        “Never mind,” she said, then looked at the quivering naked teenager behind the stall door.  “You poor thing!”  She reached for the ring of the zipper on her black sweater, right up at her neck.  “Here, dear, let me give you this.”

        Tami watched as the lady fiddled with the zipper.  Feeling uncomfortable where she was, she decided to be bold and step out, hands over her breasts and pussy, so that she was standing in front of the lady.  She watched as the lady’s large breasts jiggled with her motions.

        Finally, a friend!  Tami just had to introduce herself.  “My name’s Tami,” she said.

        The lady paused in her struggle with the zipper and offered a hand to Tami, which she bent forward to clasp so as not to take her arm away from covering her breasts.  The lady said, “My name’s Jenny, luv.  Jenny Hamilton.  You don’t know how much I understand how you feel! Now,” she said, returning to her zipper, “after I give you this there are some things in the auto you can have.  You poor thing .  .  .”

9.

        The naked girl watched as Jenny continued to struggle with her zipper.  “Love, I’ve got lots of things you can have,” Jenny said, her breasts jiggling.  “I -- uhh! -- had a mishap at my last job in Los Angeles, but I got an offer in Florida and my friend Ashley’s arranged a flat .  .  . Darn this zipper .  .  .  So it’s my moving day and all my clothes are in the auto.  Shoes, pants, socks .  .  .  you name it .  .  . Just let me get this thing on you .  .  .”

        It was almost unbearable for Tami to wait these last few seconds before she would be finally covered.  She just could not stand being all exposed, the bareness of her feet on the clammy floor, her bare butt, her bare shoulders.  Jenny represented the world of clothed persons, and in a moment Tami would finally make the transition back, being part of that privileged class that Jenny was a member of.  The naked teenager wanted to tell Jenny to hurry, but she didn’t want to be rude, and the English lady certainly seemed to be trying.  The naked teenager clutched her hands to her breasts and pussy more tightly, pressed her legs together, put one foot on to cover the toes of the other, waiting, waiting .  .  .

        Tami knew that for the first time she had encountered someone who was nice and not out to get her, who was ready and willing to give her the clothes she so desperately craved.  With this lady, at last, she could relax.  She unwound a bit from her tightly coiled nakedness.  As she relaxed she began to enjoy the ironic humor of the situation.  She couldn’t help smiling and said, “You sure seem to have difficulty taking things off.”

        Jenny rolled her eyes and then returned to the stuck zipper.  “If you only knew .  .  .”

        Why Jenny was wearing a dark coverup sweater on a hot day, over a summer dress and sandals, was a mystery.  Maybe to hide her bust?  Not very successfully, though this lady did not have huge boobs like Marisol.  Speaking just between us girls, Tami said, “You seem like you have a lot to cover with that,” Tami said.

        “Unhh!” Jenny tugged with such force that the zipper almost broke.  “I’m a 38CC.”

        Tami was puzzled.  Jenny didn’t seem that fat.  And -- “I didn’t know there was such a size.”

        “Actually there isn’t,” Jenny said.  “What those girls did to you wasn’t right.  You should report it to the police.  Oh shoot!”

        Jenny’s arms flew downward in frustration and both young women looked at her neck, the ring now broken off the zipper, and then at the ring in Jenny’s right hand.  She’d never get that sweater off now, short of cutting it open with a scissors!

        “I’m sorry, luv,” Jenny said, looking into Tami’s eyes.  “I feel for you, really I do!”  And then, to Tami’s surprise, Jenny hugged her, crushing Tami’s hands and breasts between them, Tami enjoying the fabric of the sweater and summer dress against bare skin.  In her ear Tami heard a whisper: “I feel like you’re my little sister!!”

        Jenny disengaged and headed for the door.  “Stay here hidden.  I’ll get some things for you.  What size shoe do you wear?”

        “Um, 9,” Tami said, thinking quickly.  Actually it was 8, but after months and months of going barefoot she probably needed something bigger.

        Opening the door, Jenny said, “I’ve got some sneakers that would be perfect.  And sweatpants.  And a T-shirt.  And socks --” Her voice disappeared with the closing of the door.

        The naked girl stood there awkwardly, then finally let the hands fall from her breasts and pussy.  She edged back into the stall, then closed it in front of her and closed her eyes in prayer.  “Thank you God.  Oh, God, at last! In a few seconds I’ll finally have CLOTHES! CLOTHES, CLOTHES, CLOTHES! Oh God thank you SO much!!” She sniffed and fought back tears.

        She waited.  Maybe one minute went by.  The sense of anticipation was intense, she couldn’t wait.  She couldn’t resist going to the door and opening a peek --

        There was a police car! A highway patrol car, having pulled up next to Jenny, who was standing outside her car, one arm weighed down with clothes, the other hand holding sneakers stuffed with white rolled up socks.  Jenny, a look of concern on her face, was speaking to a female officer in the passenger seat.  Tami could make out the words and saw Jenny pointing toward the building.  “They took all her clothes.  I think she might want to bring charges.  ‘Tis a terrible thing what happened.”

        The female officer got out and followed Jenny toward the rest room.

        In stark terror Tami looked around.  That little window in the back was too small but it would have to do.  She grabbed the sill and propelled her head through, realizing she would be falling head first outside.  Fortunately there was that fence to grab onto.  She dragged herself through the window, the sill painfully scraping against her breasts and thighs and finally the tops of her feet, then she hopped the fence just as she heard the creak of the door opening.  She ran frantically in a diagonal down through the brush which scraped her breasts and tummy and legs.  She didn’t care -- she had to get out of sight of the police and FAST!

        Officer Biggsette thought of looking through the rear window, but by that time there was nothing to be seen back there and in a moment her stern visage was fixed upon Jenny Hamilton and contemplating criminal mischief charges.  Plus, she had noticed that this Hamilton lady’s inspection sticker had expired.  .  .

        .  .  .  .

        NUDE GIRL ALERT

        Tami stood on Main Street and contemplated the headline in the window of the newspaper vending box.

        Not that she was out to expose herself.  This town was called Tombstone Flats, New Mexico, and according to the sign the population was 326.  And it was around 3:30 a.m.

        And freezing.  She hugged herself, her legs together, her toes almost numb standing on the gravel, watching her breath come out in clouds.  Well, maybe not “freezing”, as in 32 degrees Fahrenheit, but still pretty cold.

        Her eyes shifted left and right.  There was not a soul around -- except there was a police car patrolling somewhere, she had seen it from the roof of that store where she had hopped after getting that ride on that empty cattle truck.  It was a daring jump; the interstate wound around a hill and suddenly she could see this little town right down below her.  It was just after dark, and as the truck got into low gear to climb up the hill, she jumped out into a sandy gully on the side of the road which fortunately was as soft as it looked.

        She wasn’t too worried about the police seeing her.  If she heard the car coming she could easily leap into an alley, and it was so silent here that she could hear it from quite a distance.  She just didn’t want to be caught in its headlights.

        She looked up and down this “Main Street”, this short line of stores and offices on each side, the drug store she was standing in front of, then her bare shoulders drooped as she concentrated again on that newspaper.

   NUDE GIRL ALERT

        Obviously the headline was about her.  Obviously the all-points bulletin sent out by Chalfont -- at the instigation of Henry Ross, it was easy to figure out -- was still in effect.  But what did the article say? The three-word headline was just above the fold in the paper, a broadsheet, and she had no way to see the other side.  She wished she had a quarter to open the box with.  She had looked, but there were none on the ground nor in the return slots of pay phones.  And kicking the vending box open with her bare foot, that would not only hurt, but the crashing sound would reverberate through the whole town, attracting the police.  The risk wasn’t worth it.  She stared a hole in that headline and finally realized she just would have to never know what it said.

        She thought of that bulletin in the post office.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  Damn that Mr. Ross!  What an evil, sadistic man!  Will he ever stop torturing her?!  She thought of the many humiliations he had subjected her to during that awful weekend “helping out” at his house.  How he was at the bottom of all the bad things that had happened to her.  And now, he was threatening to have her committed.  That, especially, scared her.  She had heard once about a newspaper reporter who faked his psychiatric diagnosis to get committed to a mental hospital, but then lost track of his contact person and couldn’t convince the doctors to let him go.  They thought his story was just a manifestation of his paranoid delusions and he ended up being stuck inside.

        If they caught her way out here, Mr. Ross would have her committed out here too, thousands of miles from help.  And somehow she knew they would manage to keep her naked!  She imagined herself having to undergo “total nudity therapy”, and had a fleeting image of herself up on a treadmill, on a pedestal for better viewing, head and pussy shaven, having to run with frantic sweaty bare feet and bobbing breasts as a doctor in a white lab coat paraded class after class of graduate students to see her.  “You see here this unfortunate patient, the victim of advanced psychotic delusions, we have to keep her without covering and exposed at all times as her permanent lifelong therapy .  .  .”

        Tami shuddered and idly kicked a pebble with her toe.  Well, no way I’m setting myself up for that.  I will make it home somehow, finding clothes along the way, without ever letting myself fall into the hands of the police.  The naked girl had a grim determination now.  And was getting more confident that she’d succeed.  After all, she had gotten through three big states already, almost a third of the distance back to Rhode Island.

        With all the plants she was finding, she would solve her biggest problem, food.  For which she could also thank the easygoing habits of store owners out here.  Just two hours ago she had found an shed behind a grocery store.  Inside were hot dog rolls and jars of olives.  An unorthodox late-night snack, but she enjoyed it.  And then a bonus, a jar of strawberry jam.

        A flash of headlight far to her left and she darted into the alleyway.  She crouched down as the patrol car approached and meandered by.  Then it was gone.  She mused on what a boring job it must be in this town to be on late night patrol.  Her uncle was a cop, and he had talked about how boring patrolling was.

        The naked girl, squatting in the alley, looked down at her toes in the dirt.  There was a stone nearby.  An odd thought came to her.  It was hard to see in the darkness but she scrawled in the dirt with the stone:

        “Tami Smithers Was Here”

        It was a little crazy, but it made her feel good.  She stood up and thought of erasing it with her feet.  But she decided to keep it there.  Her little poke in the eye to Henry Ross.

        She decided to go back to her favorite place in this little town, the roof of the hardware store next to the gully.  She hopped onto some barrels and was on the flat tar roof in two minutes -- looking across at the back of the little clothing store, the dress on the display mannikin, complete with shoes and nylons, that was still brightly lit.  And with the back door half open!

        She had spent a solid half hour looking at the steep drop between the two stores.  It had to be thirty feet, a fatal jump into what was total blackness.  As she looked down she had to squint into the glare of the big floodlight on top  of that pole next to the interstate, hiding from its glare behind the little brick chimney which scraped against her breasts.  In the cold her breath formed little clouds in the glare.  She kept crouching there behind the chimney, peeking around it to look at that dress, watching the little clouds of her breath, hearing the big trucks boom by on the interstate above her.

        It was so pitch dark down there that she couldn’t see anything -- not that it would matter.  A jump would be impossible.  How could she do it?  She looked to the sides of the clothing store, but there was nothing next to it, no way to climb up from the sides, and there were high walls on each side, one forming the side of another store, the other simply a high wall that must have had some other purpose at one time but now just stood there, twenty or thirty feet high, mocking her, daring her.  And climbing around the tops of those walls would do no good -- aside from shining like a beacon for the police to see, a naked girl lit by a floodlight, there was just solid brickface above, no way to climb down to that dress from above.

        A pitch black pit to jump into.  Impossible.  Yet that dress was so pretty, blue cotton, a little frilly for her taste, but about her size.  And the white shoes and nylons.  .  .  God .  .  . Her freezing toes flexed on the gravelly roof behind the chimney and she felt almost about to jump forward, a bird in flight, to get that dress, or whatever else could be got behind that half-opened door.

        Finally she decided to quit torturing herself.  She climbed off the other side and into the gully and peed, then found a hidden spot and went to sleep.  When morning came she crept onto the roof of a nearby diner and, after about an hour of waiting for the right one, caught a truck.

        It got onto the eastbound interstate and whipped around the hill, going terrifically fast, not with the slowness that had allowed her to jump off the cattle truck.  Once more the naked girl, peering through a hole in the canvas, saw the little town beneath her, this time in daylight.  And then she saw that there was no pitch dark pit at all, there was a series of steps going right down from the roof of the hardware store to the back door of the clothing store, painted black so that she could not have seen them.  She could have just walked down there and grabbed the dress, or had her run of the clothing store.  Upon realizing this, there was nothing for the naked girl to do but cry.

        .  .  .  .

        NUDE GIRL ALERT

    A HOAX

        Albuquerque, August 6 -- A series of fax notices sent to police and post office locations in the Southwest, warning of a psychotic nude woman demanding clothes, has been revealed as a hoax.

        According to the fax, the woman, whose name has been withheld, would disrobe in her car and then enter public buildings and demand clothes.  The fax also stated that attempts to give her clothing would trigger psychopathic and violent behavior.  A telephone number to a Northeastern college was given as a contact number for psychiatric guidance, stating that she was an escaped patient from an associated institution.

        The college, which has requested not to be identified, has informed the FBI that this was clearly a hoax and though the telephone number had the college’s exchange, an internal investigation had indicated that no students, faculty or staff were responsible.

        Said Henry Ross, counsel to the college, “This was obviously a sick joke played by someone who just picked a college number out of a hat.”

        A spokesman for the FBI said that their investigation is continuing but because no one was harmed their file on the matter will likely be closed soon.