2 comments/ 10752 views/ 15 favorites Sportswriter's Dilemma By: rd75000 Author's Note: This story is fiction but it's hard to believe that something like this hasn't already happened. Bets involving nudity have been made (and lost) is other parts of the world, so it seems like only a matter of time before some US broadcaster is caught in a similar situation. ***** When Kate Rossi left home to attend college, her father gave her two pieces of advice. First, follow your dreams; you can do anything you want to. And second, watch your mouth -- someday, it's going to get you into trouble. It turned out that he was right on both counts. Growing up, Kate loved sports and imagined that someday she would be a soccer superstar. And although she excelled at the game in high school, by her senior year she realized that she would never succeed at the collegiate level. Standing five foot five, she couldn't keep up with the long stride of the taller players no matter how hard she tried. And as she had matured into a young woman and developed, as her mother would say, curves in all right the places, she discovered that she was consistently outmaneuvered by other, more slender athletes. Not that there was anything wrong with her appearance -- her dark hair and eyes provided a startling contrast to her pale skin, something noticed immediately by almost every woman she met. And although it was a constant struggle to keep her weight below 140 pounds, that weight was perfectly distributed on her 36-25-37 frame. And for most men, it was her D cup breasts that were her defining asset. Entering college, she had decided to pursue her love of sports off the field by majoring in journalism. Over the years, she had gotten used to the stares and comments from guys, and in some ways, it worked to strengthen her desire to succeed as a sportswriter. She wasn't about to let any smartass convince her she couldn't make it as a journalist when she knew she was better than they were. She wrote at a furious pace, and the style of good sports writing came easily to her. She quickly became the lead reporter for her college newspaper, and during her last two years, she was regularly placing pieces in the local newspaper. She even had a few articles picked up for national syndication, which made for an impressive portfolio when she entered the job market. Upon graduation, Kate had no trouble landing a job as a sportswriter and worked quickly through a series of positions at newspapers in increasingly larger cities. Then, at age 27, with an established reputation, she went freelance, picking up assignments from major magazines for national sporting events. That led to appearances on radio and on one or two rare occasions, television broadcasts. She felt she was on her way. And now, at 29, she was well known to many fans as well as to other reporters. Even with that record of accomplishment, there were still some people that downplayed her abilities as a writer, treating her not as an equal to her male colleagues but instead as a girl who, they believed, had made her way in the business because of her tits and not her talent. And chief among those detractors was Ronnie Simpson, a sports "shock jock" who hosted a nationally syndicated radio talk show every weekday morning. Ronnie would occasionally read excerpts from her articles on air and deliberately take the opposing position. He somehow always managed to attribute their differences to the fact that "women don't know enough about sports" or that she in particular had an obstructed view because of her large breasts. And, to make matters worse, he was an ardent fan of the football team that had won three Super Bowls in the last decade while her team hadn't won a championship in thirty years. So, it was hardly surprising that as the season progressed and the two teams emerged as the dominant forces in their respective leagues, she became a more frequent guest on his program. Typically she would dial in on Monday morning, and the two would review the weekend's games. Ronnie's comments typically focused on the inevitability that he was backing the future Super Bowl champion while Kate's team was somehow managing to remain in contention simply through a combination of dumb luck and the sheer ineptitude of their opponents. She was infuriated by his comments, but she managed to control her emotions and delighted in poking holes in his facts and observations. Neither of them liked or respected the other but they continued the on-air bickering -- it was great for his ratings, and the extra work helped her income and gave her a wider national stage. But at best, it was an uneasy working relationship. Just as Kate had predicted, both teams survived the playoffs and by late January were headed for the Super Bowl. And so it was inevitable that she would be asked to appear on Ronnie's radio show on Friday, two days before the Game. But somehow she hadn't been prepared for the direction that the conversation would take and, true to her father's words, it was her big mouth that got her in trouble. During the segment, each of them offered an analysis of the teams' strength and weaknesses and then gave their predictions. Ronnie foresaw an easy win for his team while Kate forecasted an extremely tight game with her team winning by a small margin. "I can see that we're never going to agree on the relative strengths of the special teams," Ronnie was concluding. He paused. "You do understand what the special teams are, don't you Kate?" he said in a condescending voice as if talking to a first grader. "Yes, I do Ronnie," she responded tartly, "but it's the defense that's going to make the difference in this Super Bowl, and that's why on Monday I'll be celebrating while you'll be making excuses." "You sound so confident, Miss Rossi," he replied. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to put your money where your mouth is?" "A bet?" "Yes, Kate," he responded. "Didn't you know that people sometimes bet on sports?" The tone of his voice was just too much for Kate and without thinking, she snapped back. "You're on." "Just a minute, though. We haven't even discussed the stakes," he said in a taunting voice. Something about his tone set off the alarm bells inside her head. But at the same time, it was too late to back down. Quickly calculating what she could afford to lose, she responded, "Well, I'm sure I can match whatever you wager." "Oh Kate," Ronnie said in a tone of surprise. "It's not my money that I'll be wagering. I talked to the station about this before the broadcast, and they thought a bet was a great idea. So they're willing to pledge $50,000 to your favorite charity if your team wins." She was dumbfounded and started to blurt out that he had to be kidding. But she caught herself, making a sort of half-strangled sound that she then quickly tried to cover with a cough. "It wouldn't be fair to ask you to come up with that sort of money, so I thought I'd suggest some other way for you to have some skin in the game, so to speak." All of her distrust returned with a rush. Kate didn't like the sound of that phrase "skin in the game," and she feared she knew exactly where this was going. But at this point, she had no choice but to play along. "Go on," she said, trying to keep the note of skepticism out of her voice. "Well, I have a lot of connections in the world of media, and I happen to know that a certain sports magazine would be interested in putting some pictures of you in their publication. So, I'll put up the fifty thousand on my side and all you have to do is agree that you'll pose for them if you lose." "And I suppose posing for them means wearing something a little provocative and revealing?" Kate replied, playing for time. "No, it means wearing nothing provocative," he grinned in delight as if she had stepped into his trap. "In fact, it means wearing nothing at all. If your team loses, you'll have to strip naked and pose for the magazine." He waited, and hearing no immediate reply, he continued. "You know, show your fans the goodies, as they say." He paused, "But of course you don't think that's going to happen, do you? Kate ran through a string of obscenities in her mind, silently calling Ronnie every name she could think of. But she couldn't back down -- her pride wouldn't let her, and she would be ridiculed by fans around the country. And, she reflected as she took a deep breath, what did it matter anyway. Her team was going to win and her favorite charity would be $50,000 richer. "It's a bet," said Kate confidently. "When my team wins, I'll stop by and together we can deliver your check to the Cancer Society. And," knowing that the audience wanted to hear it from her own mouth, "if they lose, I'll appear nude in the magazine." There were cheers in the background at Ronnie's radio studio, and they quickly signed off for her segment. As she removed the headset and turned off her microphone, she slowly shook her head and muttered to herself, "Oh daddy, what have I gotten myself into now?" **** Everyone -- fans as well as sports writers and analysts -- agreed it was one of the best Super Bowls ever. The teams were well matched, and the lead passed back and forth between the two throughout all four quarters. For most of the game, Kate's stomach had been in knots, alternating between exhilaration and despair. For any fan, watching their team compete in the Super Bowl is always a terrific thrill. But after making the bet with Ronnie, her excitement and nervousness had risen to a whole other level. It didn't help that several colleagues had texted her right after the radio show to ask what the hell she was thinking. Didn't she realize, they pointed out, that winning the bet was basically meaningless? And if she lost and reneged on the deal, Ronnie as well as a lot of others in the business would never let her forget it. Worst of all would be losing and paying up on the bet -- her reputation as a serious sports writer would be harmed, perhaps irreparably, and many mainstream publications probably never hire her again. Her apprehension ruined the entire weekend. She tried to keep her mind off of what she had done by throwing herself into her work Saturday, finishing up two long pieces that she had promised to deliver the following week. She had intended to sleep late on Sunday, but woke up before dawn, tossing and turning in bed for another two hours before finally getting up. She flipped aimlessly through the talk shows and pre-game specials, unable to concentrate on anything other than her own folly. Kate had turned down a number of party invitations and a last minute offer from some friends to catch the game at a nearby bar. Several times in the past she arranged to watch with several fellow sports writers so they could discuss the game as it unfolded. But she knew they were aware of her bet, and the last thing she wanted was to be around other people if the unthinkable happened. But, she kept telling herself, it was impossible that her team would lose. She had watched them all season with an increasing sense that this was a team of destiny. Like any real fan, she was certain deep down inside that their time had finally come. And the additional consequences -- the fact that she would have to decide whether to pose for nude pictures that would be seen by hundreds of thousands of people or forever live with the reputation as someone who didn't live up to their word -- appeared intolerable. They simply had to win. So it was with a huge sense of relief late in the fourth quarter that her team stopped their opponents at midfield after a blocked pass on a fourth down play. Leading by four points, they took possession of the ball just as the two-minute warning sounded. Now, she thought, all they had to do was kill the clock as the other team used up their timeouts. Even if they were forced to punt, it would place the ball at least ninety yards from the goal line and with only enough time left for one play. She could finally relax, and she began to compose the lead paragraph for her article that would be posted online that night and run in papers tomorrow across the country. Then, suddenly everything went horribly, drastically wrong. With less than thirty seconds to go and unable to convert on a third and two situation, their quarterback inexplicably threw a pass rather than punt. Out of nowhere, a defensive back intercepted the ball. He ducked two or three tackles, made toward the sidelines to stop the clock, but then realized there was an open field in front of him. Kate watched in horror as he galloped past the fifty, the forty, the thirty, the twenty, swerved to avoid one last futile attempt at a tackle and then plunged into the end zone as time ran out on the clock. The game was over, and her team had lost. Everything seemed to stand still -- the noise of the TV faded into a dull buzz as she sank back in her seat. She felt totally defeated, unable to move for several minutes. She looked down, half expecting to already see her clothes already stripped off and lying on the floor. This can't be happening, she thought. It can't, it can't. Finally, she leaned forward and, staring at her computer screen, highlighted the paragraph she had written during the closing two minutes of the game and hit the delete key. She then started typing again. "One of the most unforgettable Super Bowl games in history came to a thrilling conclusion tonight. As a lifelong fan of the losing team, I can repeat all the trite phrases about what a great contest it was, how well everyone played, and how lucky we were to see such a game. But the truth is that there's no comfort in this outcome. It hurts -- it hurts a lot. And it hurts especially for me because I have to make two phone calls tomorrow morning. The first one will be to a beauty parlor to set up an appointment for a bikini wax (and ladies, you know that can hurt almost as much as losing). And the second is to Ronnie Simpson to let him know that I will live up to my end of our bargain. Because, as my Dad always taught me, 'Kate, you should never welsh on a bet.'" **** The phone call with Ronnie the next morning had been short and definitely not sweet. Ronnie kept their conversation direct and to the point; it was time for her to deliver on their bet. She responded that she had already heard from Sports World magazine and they were negotiating the terms of her appearance in the magazine. "Talk is all very good, Miss Rossi," he replied. "Just let me know when the pictures are published, and we'll be happy to have you back on the program." With that, he hung up on her. Kate placed her phone down, realizing that his words were just one more reminder that no matter what she did now, her career and her income were going to take a hit. If she went through with the photoshoot, she could expect many of the mainstream publications to shun her. And if she backed out of the bet, she'd never get another shot at national radio. But not living up to her word, she decided, was not an option. Over the next few days, she had numerous occasions to rethink that decision. She had a series of calls with the magazine as well as with a lawyer friend that she had asked to review the contract. After each call, she kept asking herself the same question: "Do you really want to go through with this?" The answer, she came to realize, was more complex than she had initially thought. Yes, she was determined to honor her word, no matter what the personal consequences. But by the time she faxed back the signed agreement, she had accepted the fact that this was a challenge that she was determined to meet. Yes, the stakes were higher than facing a superior opponent in soccer or busting your ass to meet a deadline. But those situations had always gotten her adrenaline pumping and spurred her to do her best work. She decided to face this situation with the same level of determination. All of these thoughts were going through her head several days later as she sat by herself trying to enjoy a cheeseburger in a New York City bar and grill. She had come to the city that afternoon at the expense of Sports World magazine and met with Julie Chapman, the assistant managing editor who had contacted her after her appearance on the Ronnie Simpson radio show. Together they had finalized the timing and details of the photoshoot. The magazine wanted to move quickly to get her pictures in print while the media buzz around "the bet" was still fresh in the public's mind. Also, the issues in the weeks after the Super Bowl were typically their lowest-selling ones, and Sports World was counting on her pictorial to boost circulation. As Kate sipped on a beer, she realized that information still evoked mixed feelings for her. It was always good to know that her work would help circulation -- that was every writer's goal. But she would have preferred that the interest was generated by her words and not, as it was in this case, by her body. She chuckled quietly to herself as she recalled a bit of advice she had heard somewhere once -- "if life gives you lemons, make lemonade." "Looks like I'm going to be making some lemonade tomorrow," she concluded. Sports World had told her to expect to be in town for several days. They wanted to meet with her briefly in the morning at their offices for a few publicity photos with the staff. Julie would then take her to the studio to meet the photographer and videographer. During the negotiations, Kate had learned that they planned on taking pictures for the magazine article as well as shooting a video that would be posted on their website. Kate was uncomfortable at first with the idea of a video -- photos were bad enough -- but the proposed compensation was substantially more than she had expected. Ultimately there didn't seem to be any difference to her between total strangers staring at her boobs in a video or in a photo, so she agreed to do both. So, here she was grabbing a bite to eat before she headed back to her hotel to try to get a good night's sleep. "I don't want to have dark circles under my eyes for the photos," she thought to herself. "Just in case anybody's bothering to look at my face." She had almost finished her second beer and was thinking of asking for the check when she happened to overhear a group of guys talking loudly behind her. What grabbed her attention was the mention of the name "Ronnie Simpson" followed by a mention of the "chick who lost the bet." Her back was to the group, and she was wearing her hair pulled back and tucked under a baseball cap, which she had pulled low over her forehead. That, and the fact that she was dressed in jeans and a non-descript, somewhat oversized sweater, made her confident that none of the group would recognize her. So she turned a bit to be able to hear better as their conversation continued. "Have you seen a picture of her?" "I think so," another in the group replied. "Well, she's hot. But there's no way she's going through with it." A third person joined in. "I heard on the show the other day and she said she was. That girl has balls." That got a general laugh from the group. "Hope not," the first guy said followed by a general sound of disgust from the table. "Still, that's pretty awesome. I mean would that be the ideal girlfriend or what? Loves sports and knows what she's talking about. Killer body and not afraid to show it." The fifth friend now spoke up. "I could spend my whole life looking for someone like that and never find her. Why do I never meet girls like that?" "Definitely not at a place like this," the first guy joked as he raised his glass to his buddies and took a long sip. It was all that Kate could do to refrain from getting up and going over to tap that guy on the shoulder. But if there was one thing she had learned as a journalist, it was not to interrupt when someone was talking candidly. That's when you got the best copy. Sportswriter's Dilemma "Can I get you another?" a female voice startled her, and Kate turned back to see her waitress standing in front of her table. "Umm, guess not. Think that's it for tonight," Kate said. She smiled at her as if to apologize for interrupting her eavesdropping. "Don't worry, I won't tell them," she said as she took the check, left it on the table, and moved onto her next customer. Kate settled the bill and stepped out into the chilly New York winter night. But somehow, the combination of the beers and the overheard conversation left her with a warm glow inside and a new found confidence that the next couple of days were going to be good ones. **** The following afternoon Julie accompanied her to the studio where they'd be shooting and introduced her to the two key people on the set, the photographer and the video director. "Kate, this is Daniel. He's done dozens of photoshoots for us." Julie had sensed the journalist's nervousness, and she wanted to let her know that they had a first-class team assembled. "We picked him because he's photographed a number of the athletes who were doing this for the first time. So he knows what it's like to work with people who aren't professional models." The photographer shook hands with the sports reporter and said that he was looking forward to working with her. "Thanks, Daniel. I'm sure I'm in good hands here." "And this," Julie continued, "is Marcus, our videographer. One of the best in the business." "I'm flattered," Kate said, wanting to get off on a good foot with everyone. "As Julie has pointed out, I'm no model, so I'm going to need all the help I can get to avoid embarrassing myself." She noticed the three of them quickly glance at one another, and she wondered if she had come closer to the truth than she realized. She could just imagine the conversations among them and the crew as they planned for this shoot -- something along the lines of "the magazine came up with this harebrained scheme and we're stuck with trying to make it work." "Well, if that's the case," Kate thought to herself, "we're all thinking the same thing." The photographer and videographer returned to working with their crews on the lighting and backdrops while Julie introduced her to Amanda, who spent the next hour with Kate going through some wardrobe choices. They had already gotten her measurements and clothes sizes and the journalist was impressed by the large number of outfits on hand. She couldn't fail to note that most of them were definitely sexier and more revealing than anything she had ever worn. Kate then spent the rest of the afternoon with the hair stylist and make-up artist. Given that her normal morning routine involved a maximum of five minutes in front of the mirror, she was amused that there could be so much to do. But when they finally completed the work and let her take a look at herself, Kate was amazed at the results. Her first reaction was "who is that woman?" followed almost immediately by a gasp. "I'm beautiful," she thought. The eyeliner and make-up had accentuated her dark eyes, producing the effect of deep and mysterious liquid pools that commanded attention. She had always thought of her face as somewhat plain and square-jawed -- in short, unremarkable. But the blush on her cheeks served to accentuate the bone structure, and the dark lipstick gave a new focus to her face. "You like?" the make-up girl asked, smiling as she observed Kate's reaction. "Very much so," Kate answered sincerely. "You really can work magic." The woman nodded, acknowledging the compliment. "You'd be surprised at what most models look like without their make-up. You could definitely get some work with your looks." She paused and looked down the hallway to where the cameras and lights were being set up. "But right now, let's see how you do tonight. Julie's waiting for you." As Kate walked onto Daniel's set, Julie stepped forward and took her hand. "We've been talking and we'd like to start with some shots of you in the team jersey. That will give us a chance to fine tune the lighting and should help you get comfortable in front of the camera. So, you can go with Amanda and she'll get you set. Given the team colors, I'd suggest dark blue panties with the jersey. That should be all we need for now." When Kate reappeared on the set, she was wearing an oversized jersey that came about halfway down her thighs. Other than panties, she was naked under the shirt. "Okay," Daniel spoke to his crew. "We're ready to start. Let's run through the different lighting combinations we discussed and see what looks best. Kate, just stand and face the camera and I'll move you around." The rapid clicks of the camera were barely audible but it was distracting to see the crew in constant motion as they adjusted the lights. "Kate, keep looking at me. Watch the camera. Don't worry about those guys. They're invisible -- not even here." A loud crash of equipment off to the side caused Kate to turn her head quickly with a startled look. Daniel walked up to her and talked softly. "Just ignore all that. You are the most important person on this set, and that's all that matters. The camera is your audience, and all you have to do is focus on that." "Don't worry," she responded. "I'll get the hang of it." But she had begun to wonder if she really would. Things improved slightly; she managed to tune out the distractions, listening carefully to Daniel's directions. "Look left, look right, now place your hands on your hips while taking a step forward. That's it," Daniel commanded. "I like it. A little sassy...proud of your team. Now turn and bend forward slightly." She could hear the camera clicking. "No, that's not working," he barked at one of the assistants. "I need a shorter jersey. Get the smaller size." A young woman appeared out of nowhere with another top and handed it to Kate. "Oh, I get it," she thought to herself. "Guess I just change here." With that, she took a deep breath and pulled off one jersey and exchanged it for the smaller size, slipping that over her head. As she finished pulling the top down and turned back to face the camera, she caught one of Marcus's team aiming a video camera at her from the side. "Better get used to this, girl," she muttered under her voice. The hair stylist stepped forward with a brush to expertly adjust a few strands of hair. Daniel now had her pose facing left, then right as she leaned forward with her hips thrust back. "Good, good," he said. "Now raise the jersey to your waist. Keep your butt out, let the bottom of the shirt sit there." She could tell that this was providing a clear view of her panties with just a hint of flesh visible above the waist. "Okay, Kate. I need you to straighten up, face the camera and slowly raise the top. Hold it when you get to your breasts." A series of rapid fire clicks followed. "Have some fun with it. Tease the camera a little." She tilted the shirt a bit, raising it higher with one hand so a glimpse of her underboob could be seen. She then tried raising both sides to reveal the bottom curves of both breasts, moving the top from side to side as she felt her large breasts swaying with the fabric, and then quickly lowered the jersey. "That's it, keep it going. Let's see that from the back." She turned away from the camera and this time was emboldened to raise her top even higher. At one point, she felt her orbs slip completely out from under the jersey and started to turn toward the camera. But suddenly she felt like she was losing her nerve and tugged the jersey back into place. "Okay, just a few more," the photographer commanded. "Keep your back to the camera but lose the top entirely this time." As she raised the top and pulled it over head, she wondered if the camera was positioned to catch any glance of her sideboob. Daniel's next instructions quickly cleared up any uncertainty about that. "Now turn slowly to me. And as you do I want you to cover your breasts with your arms." Kate did her best to keep her D cups covered, and she was pretty sure she had managed to avoid exposing her nipples. But clearly generous amounts of flesh were exposed above and below her arms, and she thought she could hear several cameras now clicking. "Okay, Kate, now I want you to drop your arms. Try it several times, any way you want to do it. Remember look at the camera." She knew her movements were awkward and her gaze somewhat distracted. This is hard work, she thought to herself. Daniel sensed her discomfort and called a break. "We've got a good start here folks, so let's stop for a bit." He glanced at his watch. "Besides, it's time for dinner. Take an hour and get something to eat." The assistant again appeared out of nowhere and handed Kate a robe, which she gratefully slipped on as Daniel approached. "Sorry," she began, "I'm having a little trouble getting into it I guess." He smiled good naturedly. "Not something you do every day, is it?" "No, hardly," she answered with a chuckle. "Well, I've worked on a lot of shoots like this. And I can get you through it with no trouble. Just follow my directions." Something about his tone annoyed her, but she simply nodded. "I will." "Good, we'll try something different after the break. For now, do you think you can handle food?" "I'll give it a try." He signaled for someone to bring her a drink. "When we resume, I'm going to have you pose in lingerie. Amanda will select some outfits for you and we'll get you more comfortable in front of the camera." "I always thought the trick for overcoming stage fright was to imagine your audience naked, not to get naked yourself," Kate responded with just a note of sarcasm. Daniel smiled blandly. "Everything will be fine," he said and started to step away. "Now if you'll excuse me," he nodded. Kate noticed that he headed directly over to Julie, where the two of them engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. "Probably complaining about me," she muttered, just as the assistant came up with tray holding a sandwich and a drink. "I thought a glass of wine might help," she said with a friendly smile. "I think you're right," Kate replied. She wolfed down the sandwich and then spent the next forty-five minutes with Amanda. After much discussion, they settled on a red bra, panties, and garter belt with black stockings. Kate had resisted the idea of wearing a thong, but the panties that she ended up in were almost as revealing. They were minibriefs, several inches in width, and riding well below her belly button. In the front, the material was solid and served to cover her pussy. But in the back, the fabric was sheer and completely see through. The entire length of her ass crack was clearly visibly, and the bottoms of her round cheeks peeked out below the panties. Kate had large areolas with broad nipples that extended only slightly when stimulated. The demi bra was cut low, revealing almost all of the top half of her breasts. So depending how she stood or moved, the top of the dark pink circles could be seen peeking out from the demi bra. The garter belt was narrow, a couple of inches in width running across her belly button. That left several inches of flesh visible between the belt and the top of the minibriefs, a look that Kate had to admit was sexy. To complete the outfit, they had chosen black lace top stockings and, against Kate's better instincts, a pair of black shoes with four inch heels. "But I'll trip in them," she had tried explaining to Amanda, who just chuckled. "Don't worry, they won't use those pictures. And here's a professional secret. Heels help lift your butt. They make your lower back arch slightly and they tilt your pelvis forward. You've got great curves, so why not accentuate that?" "Okay, I guess," Kate said with a bemused look on her face as she took a few wobbly steps in the heels and checked herself out in the mirror. "I see what you mean. But I don't think I'll be wearing these outside of the studio any time soon." They shared a laugh as Amanda handed her a robe. "Time to get on set," and the two headed out of the dressing room. Most of the crew were still drifting back in from break, so the make-up artist and hair stylist took a few minutes to do a little last minute touch up. Finally Daniel called out, "People, we're ready to go." He signaled someone to start some music, and a low bluesy jazz piece could be heard on the set. "I think this will help with your movements, Kate," he explained. "So why don't we start with you simply walking back and forth on the set, and I'll start snapping some pictures." The journalist slipped out of her dressing gown and began her walk. She found the music was helping, that she moving more naturally and even letting her hips sway a bit as she walked. During the earlier session, there had been a constant level of chatter on the set, but she noticed now that things were quieter. She had the sense that everyone was watching her, and she liked that. Then, without direction from Daniel, she stopped and stood in place with her hips gently undulating as her arms moved up and down her sides. With encouraging words from Daniel, she turned away from the camera, shaking her hips as she felt her ass cheeks shimmy beneath the transparent fabric. She bent forward allowing her ass to stick out even more, then turned sideways so the lens could capture the full size and shape of her breasts. Facing the camera again, she stood fully erect, thrusting her chest forward. The tops of her areolas were now visible above the bra. The pale color of her skin provided a clear contrast to red fabric and the dark pink of the areolas, and she realized that she was nearing the point of no return where she would be providing the world with a close-up view of all of her assets. The thought, she realized, was both arousing and terrifying. In preparation for the shoot, she had closely trimmed the pubic hair on her mound, leaving just the barest layer of fur above her outer lips. She had decided this was the best effect. Since Kate knew that the bet had been for her to get completely naked, she would have to deliver on the full frontal shot. And even though she didn't want to have things looking too hairy down there, she decided that a little bit of covering might keep her from completely exposing her pussy lips to the world at large. She reached down to the sides of her panties and slowly nudged them downward. Just at the point where the dark strands of hair were poking out from the top, Daniel abruptly called a halt. "Lovely idea, Kate," he said in a neutral tone. "But we really should get the garter off first. Let's go back to some walking back and forth and I'll give you some direction." "Great," she thought to herself, "Apparently I don't even know how to expose myself correctly." She was growing annoyed with Daniel and trying hard to keep it from showing on her face. She obligingly followed directions for the next twenty minutes, assuming various poses and removing her garter belt as commanded. But she felt her movements were forced and unnatural, and she could tell that Daniel was displeased. When a brief break was called, Kate slipped on her robe and watched out of the corner of her eye as Julie conferred with the photographer. After a few minutes, they nodded in agreement and informed the team that they were adding some props to the set. "This doesn't seem right for Kate," Daniel explained to the crew. "After all, she's a writer, a journalist. So let's bring in desk and chair and set up a computer and telephone. Let's show her at work." This extended the brief break to a half hour, and it was approaching midnight by the time they resumed. Kate had to admit it did make her feel more in her element, even though she didn't typically lounge around her home office in a skimpy bra and panties. She tried various playful poses at the desk, typing away at the computer and answering the phone. As the shooting continued, Daniel directed her to slide one bra strap off her shoulder, then the other. Positioning her in the chair with her feet up on the desk, he moved the camera closer and had a crew member standing by with a large piece of plastic that could be moved up and down to create a gentle breeze. "Very nice," he said encouragingly as the motion of the air blew strands of her hair across her face. "Now, look at the camera just like it's your lover approaching." The camera snapped several more times. "Reach behind and unhook your bra. That's good," he continued as Kate slid her hand between the chair and her back and reached for the clasp. With only a minimal amount of fumbling, she managed to undo the hooks and felt the bra slide down to reveal the tips of her nipples. She went to grab the two ends of the bra to hold it in place but somehow managed to tug on one side too hard, pulling the cup off of her right breast but leaving the other partially covered. "Hardly a sexy look," she thought while suppressing a smile. "But at least flashing my boobs doesn't seem to have killed me." And with that in mind, she pulled the bra completely off and let it fall to the floor. "Let's do that again, Kate," Daniel asked. So, she put the garment back on and tried again. This time, Daniel had her unsnap it first, then drop the shoulder straps one at a time. It worked better, and she was able to hold her bra in place while the photographer took multiple shots. They then experimented with various ways to remove it -- letting it drop in front of her, covering herself with an arm while she removed it, and finally covering each breast with a hand. They repeated this a dozen times or more, in different positions -- standing, sitting on the desk, and then back to sitting in the chair. Trying to be honest with herself, Kate knew that the first time she removed the bra she had felt a little thrill, a kind of warm sensation racing through her blood. Maybe it was knowing that she had managed to overcome her doubts about the whole photoshoot. In part, it may have been knowing that her breasts were being photographed and would be seen by presumably hundreds of thousands of guys. But the repetition of putting her bra back on and taking it off quickly took the fun and excitement out of things and made it all seem anticlimactic. Giving Daniel the benefit of the doubt, Kate concluded that he was giving her time to get accustomed to being topless before asking her to take off her panties. But it was having the opposite effect. Instead of getting comfortable she was growing more restless and distracted; it was strange for her to realize that she was actually annoyed that she hadn't yet exposed her pussy. And when he finally asked her to stand up and face the camera, she could sense that she was moving mechanically and trying to force a smile as she looked into the camera. If this bet had been intended by Ronnie Simpson to simply make her feel like an untalented girl with big tits, he was coming very close to succeeding. The photographer paused and looked around the studio. "You know, I think that's enough for tonight," Daniel called out. "It's almost two, it's been a long day, and maybe we're starting to run out of steam." Kate was about to object but she knew he was right. And she had to acknowledge that she felt a sense of relief -- she just didn't feel ready to pose completely naked, at least not tonight. And yet she realized, it was too late to back out. Daniel motioned Kate over to talk with him, Julie and Marcus. "That was good work today, Kate," Julie began. "And tomorrow will be even better. "We'll be turning things over to Marcus so he can shoot some sequences specifically designed for video. Daniel will still be here to take the still pictures but Marcus is now in charge." With that, the group disbanded and Kate headed to the wardrobe area to get back into her street clothes. Sportswriter's Dilemma She had just finished dressing when Marcus stepped into the room, taking care to knock first. "I apologize for holding you up. I know it's been a long day, but I just wanted to go over a few details with you," the videographer. "It's not a problem," Kate responded. "I sense this isn't going exactly as you might have hoped. And frankly it's not for me either. But we will have a better day tomorrow, I promise." He paused, while Kate nodded as a way of acknowledging the truth of what he just said. "So, please arrive at noon for wardrobe and makeup and be ready to shoot by 2:00." "And," he continued, "let me know if you have any thoughts on what we can do to capture the real Kate Rossi. I know your writing, and you have passion and intelligence. But we didn't capture that tonight. That's what I hope we can see tomorrow." "He gets it," she thought. "He understands that romping around in lingerie is just not me," and she suddenly felt a wave of energy and confidence surge through her. "That's exactly what I'd like to see to," she said with utter sincerity. "Thank you." "And now," Marcus concluded, "let me make sure you get home safely. Gina will call you a cab." Once again, seemingly out of nowhere, the assistant materialized, already dialing her phone to set up the ride. "I guess you're Gina," Kate said as the assistant completed requesting the cab, and extended her hand to the young woman. "Yep, that's me. "Thanks for calling the cab." "Oh," the young woman replied. "I had already volunteered to give you a ride home with me but Marcus said a cab would be better." She paused, then resumed somewhat awkwardly, "That didn't come out right, did it? I mean I have my car here, to go home in, and I thought that maybe I could give you a lift to your hotel. But no worries, the cab's on its way." Kate wasn't quite sure how to interpret all of this -- was she being propositioned? She had been around women athletes enough not to be surprised by that; even during high school, several of her teammates were open about their interest in other girls and Kate had been hit on more than once. Regardless of how Gina intended it, she found herself flattered by the assistant's attention. "Maybe next time, she replied. "And I do want to say, I was grateful for your help tonight. Whenever I needed something tonight, it seemed like you were always there." Gina blushed and simply responded, "It was my pleasure." **** Kate returned to her hotel room, slipped into the oversized tee shirt that she usually slept it, and turned on her computer. She knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep for hours -- the combination of the brief period of excitement she had felt when appearing topless in front of everyone along with a sense of frustration combined to keep her mind racing. The shoot had not gone the way she had hoped; she had felt awkward and inadequate. She didn't intend to fail, but she hadn't yet figured out how to succeed. So, she turned to what she always did best -- she sat down to write. Her fingers starting pecking at the keyboard, imaging the article she would submit in a couple of days to describe this experience. "Hi, my name is Kate. I'm a diehard fan and I have a big mouth. I live and die with my team, and anyone who will listen to me will get an earful about just how great they are. I made a bet that they were going to win, and that probably doesn't make me any different than a lot of you. But I bet with my mouth and not just my money. I said I'd strip naked if they lost, and now I was going to have to do just that." She continued typing for almost an hour, describing the events that led her to Sports World and the pictorial they were in the process of shooting. But it still didn't help make the photo session feel right. Being a fan is letting people know how you feel -- that you bleed the colors of your team. You're in people's faces about it, and you don't deal with it by posing for hours. It's emotional and immediate, something she was always able to convey that in her writing. So why couldn't she bring that same visceral feeling to paying off her bet? Somewhere around 4:00 in the morning, half asleep at the computer, it hit her. She had been too willing to just turn herself over to the professionals, to let Julie and Daniel tell her what to do. Suddenly she knew exactly what they should do. She picked up her phone and hurriedly texted Marcus, telling him to check his email first thing in the morning. She then took another ten minutes to capture the ideas that were tumbling out of her head, clicked the send button, and turned off the computer. Now, as she crawled into bed, she finally felt ready to sleep. By the time she woke up, she had several messages from both Marcus and Julie. Everybody was on board with her suggestions, and Julie was busy working with the team to nail down the details. It would take some time to arrange everything, so they told her she wouldn't need to get to the studio until 4:00 and that they would be back in touch with more information by 2:00. Kate decided that gave her just enough time to shower, grab something to eat, and do some shopping to replace whatever outfit she wore to the session. "After all," she reflected, "I don't think I'll be able to get these clothes back by the end of the night." ***** When she walked into the studio shortly before 4:00, Kate was projecting an air of confidence and poise that had been completely lacking the night before. The team sensed it immediately, and as Kate headed off to the wardrobe room for make-up and hair, Julie looked over at Marcus and signaled a big "thumbs up." The roles today were reversed, with the videographer directing the session and Daniel standing by to snap some stills. Marcus was going over things with his crew and pointed out to Julie the equipment they had decided to use. Rather than the larger, less portable cameras set up for use in the studio, they would be filming using two hand-held digital cameras. He explained that although they were not much larger than cameras that anyone might use for taking photos at home, the lens and memory capacity made them ideal for shooting video. Small and portable, they could easily be used on location outside the studio without being obtrusive or hard to handle. In fact, that particular model had been used to shoot several movies and numerous TV shows, so the quality of the final product was not in question They began the evening's work with a repeat of Kate in the sports jersey. Although Marcus had shot some video yesterday, he wanted to adjust the lighting and try some angles and close-ups that he hadn't been able to get before. And, he also wanted to capture some of his model's new-found sense of confidence. Tonight, as she looked into the camera lens, Kate felt she could convey that mixture of nervous embarrassment and calculated teasing that had eluded her yesterday. She could feel her excitement growing, and Marcus's camera captured that. The crew then spent some time reassembling the desk and chair on the set that they had used the night before. But this time, the sportswriter posed first in her street clothes, a pair of tight jeans that she had worn that day that nicely accentuated her generous ass, and a simple black tank top scooped just low enough to give a glimpse of cleavage. And over it she had on a plain black blazer, creating a professional yet casual look -- the typical outfit she had worn to work countless times. Unlike yesterday's series of poses, tonight Marcus and Kate had decided together on a very specific scene that the journalist was to act out. As if returning home, she was to enter the set from the left, approach the desk and turn on the computer. Then, removing the blazer and tossing it to the floor, she was to sit in the chair and start typing. Marcus directed her through multiple takes, sometimes having her approach the desk with hesitation and sit down. For other takes, he had her pace around, looking distracted or tired, running her hands through her hair, leaning over the desk, and then gradually easing herself into the chair. It took longer than Kate had thought, and she was surprised that when Marcus finally called for a break, it was almost 10:00. "Okay, that gives us plenty of footage for the first part of the video," the director announced. "Time for the second crew to head out. Gina, you want to show them the way and make sure we're all set?" The assistant had just appeared with some bottled water that she handed to Kate. "Thought you might be thirsty," she said as she grabbed her coat from a rack to the side of the set. She then proceeded to round up the crew of four and headed out of the front door. Turning back, she shouted, "See you there soon. Can't wait!" Marcus came over to talk to Kate. "Gina's arranged everything at the bar. It's just a little place around the corner, couple of TVs and a fair number of regulars. They'll be watching the basketball game tonight." "Perfect," Kate replied, trying not to betray the nervousness she was feeling. Sounds like a typical neighborhood sports bar -- my type of place." "Just what you asked for," he replied with a smile. "Frankly, I think it was a brilliant suggestion to have our heroine pay off her bet at the local bar. We'll be able to set it up as a kind of dream sequence, creating the sense of you falling asleep at the computer and then waking up when it's all over. Such a good way to frame it all -- I've already told Julie that you should have her job," he said with a wink. And now," he continued, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his outstretched palm, "do you feel ready to go?" "Ready as I'll ever be," Kate replied, taking a deep breath. Marcus chuckled softly. "Gina ran over an hour and checked it out. She's says it's a great group there tonight -- pretty crowded because it's a big game but well behaved. Just take it one step at a time, and we'll be there for you the whole way." He smiled, releasing her hand and taking a step back. "You're sensational tonight. Just keep up the good work." "Thanks," she nodded in return. ""Once I'm there and have a beer in front of me, I'll be fine." Or as fine as she would ever be knowing that she had written a script for herself in which she was going to jump up on a bar and strip down to nothing in front of a crowd of total strangers. **** It was about 10:40 when Marcus, Kate, the hair stylist Janice, and Daniel made the two block walk to the Time Out Bar and Grill, the neighborhood sports establishment selected for the rest of the night's shoot. Stepping inside, Kate observed a group of five or six tables immediately inside the doorway. The bar itself ran along the left side of the room, while the right side had a long row of booths. At the back, beyond the bar and booths, there was another large space holding half a dozen bigger tables. From the door, they could see three of the camera crew seated at one of the far tables, while Gina and Tommy, the fourth crew member, were in a booth halfway down the right side. It was a good-sized crowd but not too loud, probably seventy-five people, most of them guys but fifteen or twenty women as well, and almost everyone was watching the game on the television. There were a dozen or so over customers in their fifties, most likely from the immediate neighborhood. Everyone else seemed between twenty-five and thirty -- there for the companionship and the game and not just to drink. It seemed to be, Kate thought approvingly, a group that took their sports seriously. Gina had delivered exactly what she had requested. Marcus led them toward the back of the room, stopping first at the booth to confirm that there'd be a space there for him and handing off the second camera that he had brought with him. "Why don't you wait here," he said to Kate, "while Janice, Daniel and I check with the guys in the back," as he quickly continued to thread his way past the clusters of people at the bar. Kate took off her winter parka and slid into the booth next to Gina. "Do you mind if I leave my coat here for safe keeping. I have a feeling I'm going to need it later, especially if I don't have anything else to wear." "Oh," the assistant replied, "now I'm tempted to misplace it. Wouldn't that be fun?" she said with a devilish grin. Both women were then distracted by some cheers from the bar patrons as the home team sunk a three-point shot. Kate looked up at the television and noticed there were four minutes left in the game. "Jeez," she said, "not much time left. I think I need a beer." Gina reached across the table and pushed Tommy's beer in front of her. "Want to get another one?" she smiled across to him. "We're confiscating this one." Kate took a quick gulp and looked gratefully at the assistant. "Thanks," she said as Gina nodded in reply. "And thanks for everything. This is just what I was hoping for when I described my idea to Marcus." "No big deal" she replied, projecting a kind of "it's all part of the job" attitude. She looked down at some notes she had scribbled on a napkin and quickly went over the major points with Kate. "Okay, we'll have one video camera here and one down the end. Daniel will be floating around with a still camera. You don't have to play to them directly but make sure you're never too far from the video cameras. If you can't see one of them, then just stall for a few seconds." Kate nodded. "Also, I've talked to the bartenders and the bouncers and they're cool with everything. We don't have a permit to shoot and technically what you're going to do may be a misdemeanor," Gina continued with a shrug of the shoulders, "but they're not worried. They're friends with the local cops so there's not going to be a problem. And besides, two of them dropped by earlier so they won't be back again tonight." "Sounds good," the sportswriter nodded. "This may sound like a stupid question, but how exactly do I get up on the bar?" "All set on that too. One of the bouncers will grab a little stool from the back room -- I guess they use it to get glassware down from a high shelf -- and he'll bring it behind the bar at the far end there," she said pointing to the back of the room. "After the game's over and you're ready, just head down there. The owner will make an announcement, and then he'll turn things over to you." "Sounds like you've thought of everything." Just then, another cheer went up from the crowd as the home team scored two more points. "Uh oh," Kate said, "doesn't look like it's going into overtime," as she took another long gulp of her beer. "I better make a quick trip to the ladies room." "In the back left," Gina said with a quick motion of her hand, then suddenly looked at Kate with a real look of concern. "You're okay, right? Not going to back out." "Well, other than the fact that my stomach is doing belly flops and my legs are kind of unsteady, I'm fine. But don't worry, I'm not backing out. In fact, the scary thing is I think I'm really starting to enjoy this." The assistant smiled. "I think we all are," she said with a school-girl giggle. Kate took advantage of her trip to the bathroom to do a visual inspection of the actual bar top. She estimated that it was a little over thirty feet in length. It had a dark wood surface that was a little over two feet deep, which meant she was going to have to be careful that her shoes didn't slip on any wet spots. But she decided that the low heels she had on should be fine, and besides, she wouldn't be wearing them for long. By the time Kate returned, Marcus had joined Tommy and Gina at the booth along with an older man who stood up when she arrived. "This is Len," Marcus said introducing him. "He's the owner." "Looking forward to this, Miss Rossi. I read your stuff all the time, so I had heard about your bet. Figured there was some loophole somewhere but Marcus here says you're really going through with it." "Looks that way, doesn't it," she said glancing around the bar. "And thank you for allowing us to shoot here." "Hey, no problem," he said with a hearty smile. "These guys offered some additional compensation for the use of our space. But I figure once people know that this is where you delivered on your bet, we'll see an increase in business anyway. And besides," he added with a grin, "my regular customers -- I think they're going to enjoy this." "I hope so. I like this place; they seem like good people." "They are," he reassured you. "So, just let me know when you're ready." "We will," Marcus assured him, and Kate nodded. They went over a few more details and then he left. There was less than a minute left in the game. She could feel her nervousness building and she dealt with it the best way she knew how. She started mentally composing the paragraphs for her story that would describe this experience. "So, here I am in a strange bar in an unfamiliar part of the city with close to a hundred people I don't know. And I'm about to pay up on my bet. That's because I decided I not going to pose in lingerie or sexy clothes that I'd never wear in real life just to deliver on Ronnie Simpson's wager. I'm going to settle this on my terms and surrounded by my people. In just a few minutes, I'm going to get up on this bar and strip naked in front of them, and I hope that they love it. And all because of an intercepted pass...oh, and because sometimes I just can't keep my mouth shut." "Damn, that's good," she thought to herself. "Hope I can remember that all tomorrow." Just then, a cheer went up from the crowd -- the game had ended with a victory for the home team. Some folks were gathering up their coats and seemed to ready to head out the door. "Well, it's now or never," Kate whispered to herself. She reached over and squeezed Gina's hand. "I'm ready." The two of them slid out of the booth; Kate worked her way to the back of the room while Gina said something to one of the bartenders who in turn motioned to Len. The owner stood up on a chair at the back of the room, put his fingers in the corners of his mouth and whistled loudly. "Ladies and gents, if I can have your attention." He waited a few seconds as the crowd in the bar started to settle down and then whistled again. "Listen up, please. We have a visitor here tonight from out of town. Some of you may recognize her, but she wants to tell you something now." The bar grew very quiet; the people who had been making their way toward the front door stopped and peered back over the shoulders of others, craning their necks to see who Len was talking about. "Here," he said, leading Kate by the hand, "why don't you get up on the bar so everyone can hear you?" Now things got completely silent. She carefully climbed up on the stool and then stepped onto the bar. She realized the televisions had been turned off, and she could swear she heard her heart pounding as she moved cautiously along the wooden surface toward the center. She looked out across the crowd, realizing that from that height, she could see virtually everyone in the place. "Which, of course," she thought, "means that everyone can see me." "Hi," she began. "My name's Kate. I made a bet on the Super Bowl, and wouldn't you know it, my team lost." (A few people could be heard muttering "aww" but there clearly was not much sympathy expressed by the crowd.) "Anyway, I don't welsh on bets (now a few cheers from the crowd) so I'm here to pay up tonight." At that point, someone in the back of the room called out, "Hey, you're that sports writer, aren't you?" A few others chimed in, "yeah on the radio show." "Yep, that's me," Kate said with a shrug of her shoulders. "You said you'd get naked if your team lost," someone else called out. "I did," Kate said as she felt the excitement growing in the pit of her stomach. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do tonight." Sportswriter's Dilemma At that a huge cheer went up from the crowd. As she looked around, she could see people taking off their coats again and crowding closer to the bar. She also noticed Gina down at the far end of the bar with one of the bouncers, leaning over and pressing a button on some piece of electronic equipment. Immediately music filled the room -- the loud pulsating beat of Lady Marmalade. Kate broke into a huge smile. "That girl thinks of everything," she thought to herself as she started to move down the bar in time to the music. Another cheer went up from the crowd. She knew her shoes were the one thing she wanted to save, so she pointed to Gina as she neared the end of the bar. Swaying in time to the beat, she raised one foot slightly and with the other one, pushed downward against the back of her right shoe. She had on simple black shoes with low heels, nothing fancy, and the first one slipped easily off her foot. Gina reached out to grab it as Kate started to wiggle out of the second shoe. A guy pushed forward and stretched out his hand to help remove it, but Gina expertly blocked him and held onto that shoe as well as the journalist pulled her foot free. She turned and pranced back to the middle of the bar. Now in her bare feet, she was more confident of her footing and started wiggling her butt as she moved along the bar. The adrenaline was definitely flowing, and she stopped in the middle of the bar to face a group of guys who had pushed their way forward. Swaying her hips, she teased them by grabbing the bottom of her black tank top and slowly raising it just enough to reveal the pale white flesh of her belly. She then abruptly lowered it and moved her way further down the bar. "This is fun," she thought to herself as she tried the maneuver again with a different group of guys. But this time she raised the top even higher, giving the crowd just a fleeting glimpse of the bottom of her black bra before pulling the top back down. A small groan went out from the group of guys, and she stuck her tongue out at them. Now turning her back to the crowd, she pulled the top up again, over her bra, and up over her head. Holding onto it, she held it in front of her as she turned to face the cheering crowd. While the tank top had given the crowd only a peak at her cleavage, her low cut bra revealed considerably more. The solid black fabric concealed her large areolas and nipples, but the shape of it exposed the inner curves of her large, generous breasts. She shifted the top first to one side, then the other, allowing quick peeks at her undergarment before finally holding the top aloft with one hand. She twirled it above her head as the crowd hollered its approval, and she then let it fly off into the corner of the room where several guys greedily scrambled for it. Kate decided to make another trip to the end of the bar nearest the door, pausing several times along the way to squat lower and bend forward giving anyone standing in front of her a good look at the tops of her breasts. "I'm totally into this," she thought to herself. Her jeans had a snap and zipper but no belt, and by the time she reached the front end of the bar, she had begun to tease the crowd by running her finger up and down the length of the metal zipper. With each gesture the crowd grew louder. She returned to the middle of the bar where she could see both Daniel and Marcus. Looking directly at their cameras, she put her hands on her hips and arched her back slightly. She then reached across with one hand, unsnapped her jeans, and began slowly pulling the zipper downward. With the zipper lowered, the crowd could now see her smooth black hiphugger panties emerging. They were a blend of nylon and spandex, fitting tight and giving a nice sheen in the lights of the bar. Kate turned away from the audience and, grabbing her jeans with both hands, began to tug them off. She could feel her panties starting to slide down with the jeans and she had to quickly reach back and pull them up, but not before some in crowd caught a glimpse of the top of her ass crack. Then, she continued to work the pants off altogether, pushing them down to her knees, then ankles, and then stepping out of them altogether. She stood facing away from the crowd for another thirty seconds or so. She had full hips and what she had heard described as a bubble butt, large and rounded while still tight and firm. The hiphugger panties worked to accentuate this, just allowing a hint of her generously proportioned bottom to be seen but without being cut too high on the hips. It may not be the thong they had wanted her to wear the previous night, but she was hearing no objections from this group regarding her choice in panties; whistles and catcalls were now being added to the mix of cheers and applause. Turning again to face forward, Kate quickly scanned the crowd. Gina must have put the song on repeat mode because the insistent beat of Lady Marmalade continued somewhere beneath the roar of the bar. She felt her hips and body continue to move to it, as she felt a deeper throbbing as well. "Jesus Christ," she thought, "you are enjoying this way too much," and she reached behind herself and found the clasp of her bra. The audience recognized the motion, and chants of "take it off, take it off" started to grow. Kate paused, and put one hand to her ear as if to say "I can't hear you." The guys in front of her responded enthusiastically, yelling at the top of their voices, "Don't stop, don't stop." With the encouragement from the crowd, Kate reached back again and undid the hook. She could feel the bra starting to fall away from her body, so she quickly reached around and held it in place with one hand and arm as she slipped the straps off of her shoulders. Then, with her arm still covering her chest, she pulled the garment completely away from her body with her other hand. The sportswriter's large breasts were barely covered by her arm, and she knew that even if she was managing to conceal both nipples, practically everything else was now visible. She dangled her bra out in front of her and just over the heads of several of the guys closest to the bar. They made several attempts to grab it, but each time she quickly pulled it back. Finally, she dropped her other arm, completely exposing her large D-cup breasts. The crowd went wild, and she then flung her bra to the far corner of the room. Looking at the expression of the guys in the crowd, Kate had the sense that many of them couldn't quite believe what they were seeing. She could hear bits of conversation over the general din of the crowd -- most of them to the effect of "is she's really doing this?" She wasn't sure she fully believed it either. But there she was, dancing topless on a bar in New York with dozens of strangers cheering her on. And she was loving it. She proceeded to strut up and down the length of the bar several times. She wanted to make sure Marcus and the crew were getting all the shots they needed, but she was also unabashedly enjoying the attention of the crowd. Guys and even most of the women were cheering wildly as she turned and let them get a clear view of her tits. She occasionally placed her arms at her sides and moved them inward, squeezing her breasts together. At one point, she placed her hands across her stomach and then slid them upward to her breasts, as if caressing the large orbs. She could see her nipples, normally almost flat with the surface of her large areolas, now pointing out and somewhat upward. With a wicked grin, she pinched one with her fingers and tugged on it gently. One of the guys directly in front of her immediately dropped to his knees, making the exaggerated motions of someone worshipping a goddess as he yelled out, "we are not worthy!" "And now," she thought to herself as she moved back down the bar, "for the moment of truth." Again turning her back on the crowd, she planted her feet slightly apart and began swaying her hips as she bent forward with her ass thrusting out. She moved her hands to the sides of her panties, hooked her thumbs under the sides and slowly pulled them downward. The bar grew quieter -- not completely silent -- but the cheers and conversations definitely died down. The clear beat of the music continued, but there was a sense that the room was collectively holding its breath as Kate slowly revealed her ass. She straightened up and paused when the panties reached the bottom of her ass cheeks, waiting while the tension in the room built. Two of the bartenders were already getting an unobstructed view of her pussy, and she realized that from that angle her neatly trimmed dark curls weren't doing anything to conceal the outer lips of her pussy. She grinned down at the two, then swiftly tugged the panties the rest of the way off. There was no further teasing of the audience. She turned around confidently, almost triumphantly, and provided a spectacular view to everyone in the bar. Amidst dozens of cell phone flashes, deafening cheers arouse. She held her panties aloft, twirled them around her finger and then tossed them carelessly away. Looking down to the far end of the bar, she saw Marcus giving her a thumbs up, so she knew they had gotten it all on camera. She clenched her hands together over her head like a boxer declaring victory and spun around a couple of times to the absolute delight of the crowd. Then, as the music stopped, she strode down to the far end of the bar and stepped down. Somehow, Gina was there waiting for her with her parka. "Thought you might want this," she said. "I think so," Kate replied. She was feeling flushed and warm but nevertheless was glad to have something covering her as the full sense of what she had just done came rushing over her. "I guess," she said almost breathlessly, "I've made good on my bet." **** No one doubted that she had made good on her bet. She herself reported all of it in an article that appeared several days later (and that did include the paragraph she had mentally dictated to herself in the bar). Julie felt Daniel had gotten enough good still shots from the bar that they went with those pictures for the ten-page spread in Sports World. The only shots used from the first night were a few pictures of Kate in her team jersey. In fact, the one showing just the glimpse of underboob was deemed good enough to use for the cover, an unexpected bonus that increased the fee Kate collected for appearing in the magazine. In the end, it amounted to almost as much as Ronnie had promised to donate if he lost. So Kate decided to endorse her earnings over to charity, feeling that in that sense she had ended up both losing and winning the bet. She did lose some work, however. After her article appeared confirming that she had in fact followed through on the bet, three of her regular sources contacted her to say that they felt her writing was no longer suited to the family-oriented media outlets they represented. Based on some quick calculations, Kate concluded that as much as fifty percent of her income was going to disappear. But within a week, Sports World began to circulate short clips from the video to generate publicity for the forthcoming magazine issue. Several pictures were leaked, and censored shots of her topless on the bar appeared online. She began to get calls for interviews and appearances, and the magazine itself arranged a day of publicity on each coast that involved her sitting in a hotel room while various reporters joined her for brief discussions. About ten days before the magazine was due to hit the newsstands, she received an offer from the leading cable sports network to sign a contract for occasional appearances on their nightly broadcasts. Suddenly, Kate felt her financial problems evaporate; the future had never looked brighter. But the sweetest moment came the day after the release of the magazine. It was understood that she would appear with Ronnie Simpson to bring final closure to their bet. But her new contract didn't allow her to appear on other syndicated shows, so the only option -- should he wish to speak to her -- was to appear as her guest on the nightly sports center show, which he could then choose to replay on his broadcast the next morning. Ronnie choked back his pride, knowing that it would be a boost to his ratings if they could appear together. And there could be no doubt in the industry that a television appearance was far more prestigious that being on a radio show. "How nice of you to dial in, Ronnie," Kate began. The camera was panning back to show her at the sports desk, a somewhat unflattering picture of the caller projected behind her, and text scrolling over the picture that said "On the phone, radio host Ronnie Simpson." "How are you tonight?" she asked politely. "I'm fine," he replied, "but not as fine as you" he said with an attempt at humor that fell completely flat. Kate decided not to respond, and after an awkward pause, he continued. "Well, I was just calling to say that I saw Sports World today, and you definitely made good on our bet." "I appreciate hearing that from you, Ronnie. My dad taught me never to welsh on a bet. And even though my team lost, I have to say things seemed to have turned out well. I had a great time posing for the pictures and I'm so excited to be part of the team here." "Yeah, that's great," he replied, sounding somewhat less than sincere. "And I guess in a way it all happened because of our bet. So, thanks Ronnie, and thanks for calling in." With that, she ended the call and went to a commercial. "Actually, I guess I have something else to be thankful for," she thought to herself with a huge smile as she looked around the television studio. "My big mouth!"