As a kid my mum had always insisted on the need of having impeccable underwear. Nice, clean and in good conditions. Honestly, as a kid or a teenager, no one pays much attention to those sort of things. As I grew up I started asking about the reasoning behind this need, to which she used to answer: You never know if you have an emergency and end up at the doctor. You always have to look proper. Oh my God! What a drama. The argentinian touch in my life. Fair enough though, it makes sense. She might be right.
Years later, in a different country and far from the drama, I learned the actual reason. One random night a friend invited me over to a concert at a pub to watch her friends’ band. After several change of plans during the night we ended up having beers and watching youtube videos at one of her friend’s house. Later on playing “I’ve never…” and to close down the night: Strip Poker.
When we started I made up my mind that I was gonna end up loosing this game. We’d all end up naked, drunk and exchanging body fluids in a some sort of orgy, just like in the films. Though, if I was lucky enough, I’d be able to finish unharmed. I followed up the rules step y step, as explained and exposed all of my doubts publicly as evidence of my vague, almost lacking knowledge on the poker subject. Although I was pretty clear I wasn’t going to be able to save myself from exhibiting my body, most of all because I was under a considerable disadvantage against the rest of the players, as they were all wearing shoes, socks and two pieces of clothes. I, instead, had abandoned my shoes before making myself comfortable on the sofa long before the game started, and all I was wearing was a summer dress.
The shyest, fearful of being intimately exposed in public, quickly lost their clothes, as usually happens. I can proudly say I stayed dressed for a long while, probably an hour or more, and enjoyed watching everyone else take of their clothes. The only other girl in the room was worried about her worn down underwear, revealing her granny panties would’ve meant a disgrace in her life. I, as happens everyday, had forgotten what underwear I was wearing that night. I was calm, enjoying the game and focused on learning the basic poker hand rankings: one pair, two pair, three of a kind, straight, flush, full house. Without being able to learn the whole hand ranking, with my first mistake, my summer dress was on the floor.
Far from all the sensuality that these games are infused with on films, with fit toned bodies and handsome men, all the surrounding bodies ended up revealed: her granny panties exposed and her naked tits, and me, proud to show my beautiful underwear and following my mum’s silly -today not so silly- need.
That day I met a man that made me feel comfortably naked.