Chapter 13

Carla stripped completely for these car rides -- initially, always at night, then later, in broad daylight -- and we both grew extremely turned on by her showing off. Quite often, nobody was aware of what was going on, but it was always the thrill of knowing that somebody could POSSIBLY find out and spot a flash of breasts or buns, that really got us going.

Cheryl was used to seeing Carla nude at home when she visited our apartment, but not in the car. It was a new side of Carla that Cheryl would soon grow used to (though not necessarily to love). I wish I could say that Cheryl started sharing Carla's passion for nudie rides and such, but rather than embellish the story too much, I'll stick closer to the facts as I remember them.

At summer's end, we saw less of Cheryl. I hit the books intensely since it was my senior year and I was also busy applying to various graduate schools. It was at this time that Carla decided to quit her part-time job in a gift shop at one of the city's malls. She was bored with the job and we could float on what I made at my two part-time jobs. Well, "float" isn't exactly the right word: stumble along is better. And if the truth is known, both Carla and I were dipping increasingly into our respective savings accounts.

Without having to go to work, Carla occupied her time by sleeping extremely late, getting up, sunning herself to a dark copper bronze as long as the waning summer allowed her to (it's a good thing we lived in a very warm southern state that allowed her to tan outdoors; when the weather finally got too chilly, she joined a tanning salon to maintain her dark coppery tones).

She would also spend long periods taking lazy sensuous baths, reading a good supply of erotic paperbacks, watching a lot of TV and getting into mischief from time to time. She enrolled for a semester in school, but she seemed to be stuck in the limbo of perpetual sophomore and dropped her courses before mid-term, as had been her pattern for many a semester. She even passed up trying out for a couple of plays put on by local playhouses because she didn't like any of the roles.

That autumn saw the emergence of a new Carla. She stopped wearing clothes altogether, except to go out now and then. Her smoking increased from about a half-pack of Salem's a day to a full pack. Her body filled out more and she grew voluptuous. Let me stress that Carla had never been a waif. Let me also stress that she did not grow fat at this time -- but there was definitely a curvier, thicker and more generous look to her. Her breasts grew larger and her tummy acquired a beautiful roundish fullness; her hips flared a bit more. But the most significant change was best evident from a rearview. Carla's shapely, curvy and round butt became even more pronounced and round.

I called her "Bubbles" from time to time (as in "Bubble-Butt") and Carla loved the new nickname and turned and gave her ass a saucy shake when I called her "Bubbles." I liked these rewards, even if she hadn't given them to me, I would have gotten to see her sexy buttocks swaying from side to side, since Carla was now a full-time home nudist.

If all the changes in Carla had been as pleasant to deal with as her expanding but oh so attractive shape, I guess things wouldn't have been too bad. But Carla changed in other ways, too. I saw a self-centered side of her emerge when she lost a girlfriend who had always tolerated Carla's nudity but who asked that she please cover up when her boyfriend accompanied her to our apartment. One night, Janice and Rick were due to stop by and I reminded Carla that they were due any minute and that she'd better cover up soon. She giggled as she pulled on her ever-present glass of wine and said she wanted to pull a joke on Jan and Rick. Sure enough, when they arrived, Carla answered the door stark naked. Jan had warned Carla about these pranks before; several times, in fact. That was the end of that friendship.

"Fuck her, then," Carla said, but I knew that she was hurt inside. Carla, like many theatrically inclined people I've met, craved attention and without my being able to provide it so diligently, she began to seek crazier thrills on her own to get the attention she so needed.

She'd stay up late watching videos (many of them porno tapes) or talking on the phone with a girlfriend who tolerated her increasingly bizarre mood swings, then usually wake me by cupping me or sucking me to erection and demanding sex. I remember indulging her many a night, kissing her boozy mouth and swimming through wave after wave of pleasure in a dreamy haze.

I often think how crazy Carla would have gotten if we had had access to anything like the Internet in the 80s. We had computers, of course, but the vast Internet highway had not yet blossomed into what it is today. As a result, we had to rely on videos to enhance our sexual escapades; magazines and erotic sex letters magazines, too. Carla loved these books and urged me to buy a new batch each week, even when money was tight.

"We need them, baby," she would coo and then whine, "Pleeeeeze!"

I complied, not because I needed them -- I had my hands full with our own frolics and school and work -- but because I knew that she loved the stuff to enhance her solo pleasure. It was at this time, when our lifestyles became so different, that I began to fear that Carla might have too much time on her hands to remain faithful to me.

I remember on several occasions waking up to use the bathroom and hearing soft moans coming from the living room. I'd gaze out from the darkness -- a voyeur in my own home -- and there Carla would be, sprawled out naked on the couch, legs spread wide, a small splash of lamplight illuminating her bronze skin. She would be fingering herself frantically with one hand, a glazed look in her eyes, holding a PLAYGIRL or erotic letters pocket magazine in her other hand. I watched her fingers dance over her wet clit and slide themselves deeply into her bald pussy and on a few occasions, I stuck around to see her back arch and her hands drop the magazine as she rode the throes of her latest orgasm.

Once, I couldn't help myself and spoke up. "That looks like fun," I said softly.