Brandie's Rugby Match

The Kiwi's All Blacks were in country playing a test match. The British fans had mixed emotions. While it was great to see fantastic rugby, it wasn't so great to see their own players scoreless.

"At least the beer is warm," Brandie joked to her boyfriend. He didn't hear her; he was yelling to the referee about a forward pass. Brandie wondered how he could tell from the stands while the referee as just yards away from the play. No matter, anything to get his blood pumping was a good thing she hoped.

Then the Brit's wing made a showing. It looked to be a clean run, but the Maori wing not only caught the Scottish import, but this huge freight train Polynesian seemed to destroy the only hope of a seeing a touch for the Brits. As the Maori returned with ball in hand, several backs from the British team clung hopeless in their attempts to slow the locomotive. Another try for the All Blacks. The Maori touch in goal all the way to the touch line simply to make the point after more sporting.

On the kickoff, the Brits couldn't believe their luck, the All Blacks knock forward. The set play ran as beautiful as any scrummage in practice. The wing was clear again, but this time he eluded the Maori's tackle, but the delay caused a maul. Naturally, the maul became a ruck. The British scrumhalf seemed to be the only person with an idea where the ball was. After he pulled the ball from the tangled feet, he was met with a thunderous herd of black jerseys. It was to a mistake he wasn't about to make again.

The British fans were in an uproar. "Off sides!" shouted Brandie's beau using his beer hand to point the infraction to the referee a furlong away from them. When the referee ignored the crowd's lack of understanding, the fans were screaming louder. Unfortunately for Brandie, she was showered upon by pints of warm beer. The rowdy fans had meant for the beer to reach the referee but drunks cannot aim or throw well. Brandie was soak. Brandie's scream was about the only time her boyfriend had heard her the entire match. As he turned his own warm beer leaped from its mug onto Brandie's head.

Brandie was none too happy, "Perfect. Not only the hooligans but my own boyfriend."

Her boyfriend was the sensitive type, "Christ Brandie, you look awful. You should find somewhere to clean-up."

Brandie left her boyfriend wondering if she would bother to return.

The ladies restroom was packed. The waiting line was long extending into the hallway. The beer was drying into a sticky mess. Brandie decided not to wait in this line. She eyed the men's room, but she couldn't imagine boldly walking in on some strange man. She continued to walk around the stadium looking for a less crowded place.

Down the stair well, Brandie had little idea where she was. She had made so many turns, so many doors, she only kept walking certain there was a place for her to clean-up.

The next door had a sign, "Shower Room. No Public Admittance."

Brandie thought for a minute. No public meant no crowd of ladies with small bladders. Showers meant she could get the sticky ale off of herself, along with its foul odor. She opened the door, surprised it was unlocked.

Brandie called out, "Hello? Anyone in here?" No response. She stepped inside. "Hello? Hello?" she repeated. Still no answer. Brandie scanned the room. She was definitely in the locker room to one of the teams. With the test match still under way, she thought, no one would be inside. If she hurried, no one would ever know.

The mirror above the sink reflected not the beautiful Brandie she knew, but a street urchin in need of a hot shower. As she removed her beer laiden dress, she felt the sticky material peel from her sticky skin. The thought of wearing this dress after cleaning was not pleasant. On an impulse, Brandie filled the sink with water and plunged the soiled dress into the water. The water yellowed as the beer mixed. After several rinsings, the water remained clear. Brandie hung the wet, but clean, dress up to dry.

Now, it was time for Brandie to clean herself. Her brassiere was clinging to her breasts from the beer and wash water. She peeled it away only to realize she was topless in a men's locker room. Instinctively, she cover herself. Laughing at how silly she was being. No one was around. Her panties followed her sandals in a small pile.

Alone and quite nude, Brandie felt uneasy, but she ventured into the showers. One large room with several shower heads. She selected the far corner and turned opposing showers on full force, finding just the right temperature mix. The water felt wonderful. Finally ridding herself of the beer, the stickiness, the odor. The soap and shampoo dispensers were handy. She was surprised to find them fragrant and pleasingly. She was soon lost in the lather, rinse, repeat cycle. As long as she smelled the beer, she continued to wash her body and her hair.

Brandie lost track of the time. She felt a little naughtiness being in the men's shower, especially naughty being naked. She laughed realized it would be quite silly to be clothed in a shower. But the naughtiness was getting to her almost as much as the lathering of her trimmed pubic hair. Yes, Brandie was lost in the moment.

Was it the showers? Or was it her moans? Or both? Regardless, Brandie had not heard the team's return. Her dream snapped from her mind when she saw six very large men watching her. Six very large naked men watching her. She attempted to cover herself seeing no exit except through the men. Unfortunately, several more large, naked men were now gathering behind the original half dozen.

Brandie tried to scream, but words failed her. It sounded more of a moan than a cry for help. Perhaps it was both. The men certainly reacted this way. As they approached her, Brandie backed to the corner not saying a word. She wasn't as frightened of them, as she was frightened of herself. Afterall, all these muscular men were lusting after her, and she to them.

One by one, two by two, even three at once, Brandie responded to each of their wants, and the men wanted Brandie. Not a word spoken. Not that Brandie could talk with all her orifices filled. The line of men seemed endless. Brandie did not want it to stop. She was delighted with the attention. She was delighted with herself. Slowly the men left the showers, Brandie felt a need to clean herself again. She fell back to the original moments, lost in time under the shower.

By the time she finished, the locker room was empty. Did she dream this? The soreness she felt told her otherwise. Her smile confirmed the events.

Brandie realized with the match over, she needed to hurry and fnd her boyfriend for the ride home. She looked about for her dress, yet it was no where to be found. Not even her undergarments or sandals. Her purse was gone as well. The locker room was bare except a few wet paper towels. Nothing.

Brandie was in a panic. She looked in every locker for something to wear. Anything to wear. Still nothing.

She sat down to list her options. Only two came to mind: remain nude in the locker room until an official found her or remain nude dashing through the parking lot looking for her boyfriend. Neither seemed appealing at the moment. Without another plan, Brandie realized both options meant being nude; both options meant being seen by strangers; both options probably meant getting caught by the authorities. Only one option had a chance, albeit a very small chance, to allude the authorities. She decided to make a run for it.

At the locker room door, Brandie held the knob for a long time convincing herself there were no other options. She opened the door and not seeing a soul about the hallway, Brandie leapt out the locker room and closed the door. Then she realized she chose the wrong option. The authorities would not have found her. Perhaps a cleaning crew. As she turned back, she discovered the door was now locked. Option one was forever gone. Option two was the only one left.

Padding down cement hallways in bare feet, wet bare feet, seemed even worse than being nude to Brandie. Well, that was her thought trying to convince herself this wasn't so terrible. Her own arguments vanished the moment she was spotted by some rugger fans still in the stadium. She bolted pass them. They simply cheered.

"Drunks," she thought running at top speed. She knew this pace wasn't going to last. Around every bend were more crowds of people. More cheers. More eyes seeing her. Even her escape down the stairs was met with more people. She was lost, alone, and nude. Now, Brandie was exhausted as well.

Out of survival, Brandie stopped for a drink from the water fountain. She realized she made yet another mistake by bending at the waist and not the knees. The hoots and hollers from the crowd only got louder as she sipped the cool water.

She was quickly off again. Soon the daylight emerged ahead of her. She knew outside meant the parking lot and finding her boyfriend and a ride home and back into clothes.

A nude beautiful woman can clear a path through a large crowd. Everyone wants a better look and making access means a close-up look. Brandie was delighted as the sea of people parted before her. The shouts meant little by this time. She only wanted out of the stadium.

In the daylight muted by a thin fog, Brandie saw she was on the wrong side of the stadium. Everyone was staring at her. With no time for modesty, she bolted along the pathway. Scores of people walking towards her saw everything. The people she raced past saw Brandie's backside. All were smiling and cheering. Brandie gained strength from them. Soon she was where her boyfriend had left his mini. But no mini was in sight. Brandie whirled around to ensure she was in the right spot. She was. He wasn't.

The rails were a kilometer from the stadium. Why she decided to run to them, she didn't know. It seemed like the only way home. Cars were honking as Brandie raced along the streets. Slowly, Brandie slowed. Before reaching the rail, Brandie was exhausted. She had to stop and catch her breath. At the street corner, she was on display from all sides, and everyone stopped to admire the beautiful nude lady breathing hard.

After her breathing ease a little, Brandie realized her display, but trying to cover herself only drew more attention to her. She quickly made her way to the rails.

No one said a word as Brandie stood crossed armed waiting for the train. A few had cameras and started to snap. Brandie released her breasts to cover her face. The embarrassment would be worse having people recognize her latter, or so she thought.

She was the first on the train, as the crowd lingered to watch the naked woman climb onboard. She sat alone, but many sat around staring at her. At least the photographers were not on her car. The conductor only laughed as he past her collecting fares from the other passengers. He knew it was impossible for a nude lady to have coin in non-existent pockets.

Each stop brought new faces, new smiles. They each brought more embarrassment to Brandie, but she had locked her fate in this option. So far, the embarrassment was bearable. At Brandie's stop, on the platform, she realized a more embarrassing situation loomed. Everyone from her neighborhood would recognize her. Everyone would see her. She was too far into this option to turn around now. Off Brandie dashed towards her flat.

Brandie's home life would never be the same. She found the exhibitionist streak within herself. She enjoyed the admiration of the on-lookers. The attention made her want to show more - even taking tea and cake every afternoon at the neighbor's patio without a stitch of clothing. Everyone was delighted. Her former boyfriend had heard the stories of a beautiful woman streaking after the match, even a Page 3 blurry photo didn't make him realize what he lost.

Brandie mused, "All for want of clean clothes, I find being without clothes more my want."