“Come As You Are”
The phone rang. Lila fumbled around for it in the pitch darkness, her eyes still stuck together with sleep. She found the receiver, almost knocked it off the stand, grabbed for it, and finally managed to hold it to her ear. “’lo?” she said sleepily.
“Répondez s’il-vous-plaît,” said the voice on the other end. Then a click. Lila was left holding the phone in total confusion.
She got up, and set the phone back on the hook. Still blinking sleep out of her eyes, she opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Thankfully, her room-mate hadn’t been woken up by the strange phone call. They got along well, but she didn’t want Brian getting an eyeful of her wearing nothing but a pair of panties. He might get the wrong idea.
She walked into the living room of the apartment, still trying to puzzle out the meaning of the strange call. “Répondez s’il-vous-plaît.” That was French, wasn’t it? She grabbed her car keys, trying to dredge up memories of a year of junior-high French class. Nothing seemed to be coming to mind. She wished she could just go back to bed—as she passed the clock in the tiny kitchen, she saw that it was well after midnight. But that phone call nagged at her. Instead, she walked out of the apartment, closing and locking the door behind her.
The voice did seem somewhat familiar, Lila thought as she padded down the hallway in her bare feet. Maybe it was one of her friends, making a prank call. “Répondez s’il-vous-plaît.” It sounded familiar too. She pressed the call button on the elevator, feeling a slight tingle as the air conditioner blew a faint breeze onto her bare nipples.
When the elevator arrived, she got in and pressed the button for the parking garage. “Répondez s’il-vous-plaît.” Right, right. That was what the acronym RSVP stood for. Répondez s’il-vous-plaît. Please respond. That still didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Who would say, “Please respond,” in perfect French, to a college sophomore in Jacksonville, then hang up before she could answer?
The buzzer dinged, and she headed out of the elevator towards her car. For a brief moment, Lila tried to remember if there were security cameras in the parking garage. If there were, she was probably giving them a bit of a free show. But the idea didn’t seem to bother her too much; she had other things on her mind. Some French person had called her up, asking her a question—no, not even a question, just asking her to say something—but hadn’t given her a chance. It didn’t make any sense. Of course, she realized! It was probably just a prank call. A meaningless gag. Her mind finally settled on that score, she got into her car for a little drive. Just something to clear her head before going back to sleep.
But something wasn’t...wasn’t right, Lila thought. There was something wrong about the whole thing. Something like...of course. How could she be so stupid? She buckled her seat belt, snugly resting the chest strap between her breasts. Then, starting the car, she backed out of her spot and exited the garage.
The night was warm and humid, but Lila decided not to turn on the air conditioner. She wasn’t wearing very much clothing, and the warm, damp air felt good on her body. She decided to be very careful about obeying speed limits. It wouldn’t do to get pulled over by a cop wearing just panties. He’d probably want to ask her why she was driving around so late wearing so little, and she’d say...she’d say...she’d say it didn’t matter, that was all. Because it didn’t. She felt a warm, pleasant tingle between her thighs as she realized that. It didn’t matter why she hadn’t put on any clothes. She was just going for a quiet drive to noplace in particular.
She took a left, then a right, then another left. She was on the freeway now, and a part of her mind marveled at the way she seemed to know exactly which turns to take. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t driving anyplace in particular. She almost missed a turn on her way to noplace in particular, but the part of Lila’s mind that seemed to know where she was going wasn’t about to let her miss a turn.
Something about the voice on the other end of the line seemed to bother her, though. She kept thinking about it, even though she knew that it was all just some silly prank call and she shouldn’t let it worry her. She thought she knew the person. But she didn’t know anyone in France. Did she? Maybe it didn’t matter. Every time she thought about letting the matter drop, about how unimportant it was, she felt the tingling between her legs intensify. Pretty soon, she was rubbing her thighs together just a little. It felt good not to think about it. She knew it’d feel even better not to remember the phone call at all.
One hand held the steering wheel, while her other hand slipped into her panties. Somehow, Lila found that masturbating didn’t affect her ability to drive at all. Another part of her brain just took perfect control of the wheel, perfect control of that part of her body, and allowed her to just feel better and better. The more she accepted the situation, the better she’d feel. She didn’t need to think about the phone call, or the drive, or her near-total nudity, or that she was masturbating frantically while driving, or even about the fact that she felt a subtle but insistent pressure not to think about these things. When she stopped thinking about her need to stop thinking, she had a small but intense orgasm. The wheel didn’t even quiver in her grasp.
Finally, Lila pulled up to the curb outside of a small suburban house, and slid her fingers out of her panties. They were damp with arousal, she noticed as she got out of the car. She’d left a little wet spot on the car seat. That was OK, it wasn’t leather. She got out and headed for the house.
Lila rang the doorbell, wondering whose house this was. She’d clearly gotten a little lost during her drive—probably the masturbation hadn’t helped her sense of direction. She hoped that whoever lived in this place would overlook her skimpy clothing and help her find her way back home; it was late, and Lila really wanted to get back to bed.
She was shocked when her freshman psychology professor answered the door. Behind him, she saw several other people, some psych teachers she recognized from campus, others students like herself. The students, she noticed, all wore “outfits” like hers—she saw some women in bathrobes, some in pajamas, still others wearing nothing at all. All the students were female, she realized, and all the professors were male. The students all seemed to have glazed, half-awake expressions on their faces. Lila wondered briefly if her own face had the same expression, but she knew that it felt better not to wonder, so she stopped. Her clit buzzed with pleasure when she stopped wondering.
“Doctor Munroe!” Lila said. “Hi!” She started to cover herself as she walked through the door, but realized it probably wasn’t important, not when he’d already seen her breasts, not with all those other naked or half-naked women in there. It felt good to realize that it wasn’t important. It felt better to realize that Doctor Munroe was staring at her breasts. It felt even better to realize that her hands were caressing and fondling her tits of their own accord, almost without her knowledge. “I, um...I was just in the neighborhood, and, um...”
“It’s good to see you, Lila,” Doctor Munroe said with a hint of slyness in his voice. His very familiar sounding voice, Lila managed to think briefly. She wondered if he spoke French. Then her nipples decided that it didn’t matter, not when they were getting tweaked like that. “Glad you could make it to the party.”
“Party?” Lila noticed the quiver in her voice. She was really getting horny, she thought. “I, um...I’m not exactly...ahhh...dressed for it.”
“Don’t worry, Lila,” Doctor Munroe said. “The theme tonight is ‘Come As You Are’.” Lila barely even heard the last three words of the sentence, because as soon as Doctor Munroe said “Come”, she felt the hot tingles in her nipples spark down into her cunt, and she swayed on her feet as another orgasm hit her. “Come as you are.” Lila let out a little moan, and felt her knees go rubbery. “Come as you are.” Lila squeezed her thighs together tightly, sinking all the way down to the floor as her fourth orgasm of the night hit her, and her third in less than a minute. “Come as you are.”
“...as...i...unnnh...” Lila was bent down on all fours now, and her panties were practically translucent with juice. She barely even noticed Doctor Munroe closing the door behind her. She barely even noticed him pulling her panties aside, and the only thing that seemed important as he slid his cock into her pussy was that she lift up her ass to allow him easier access.
Everything made sense to her now.