Fun with Nerdy Girls 50 (Patreon)

The moment Irene walked into the room, she let out a shocked gasp, her gaze firmly locked onto my midsection, her beautiful eyes widening to the limit as she caught the impressive show I was providing. 

Which was a welcome reaction, as it gave me the opportunity to get a view of her costume as well, equally fascinated, just hiding it better than her. 

Seeing the tight yet beautiful body underneath was not a shock at this point — as after Carrie, Sarah, Naomi, and Ida, that particular reveal was rather predictable — but a pleasant surprise, like enjoying yet another show of my favorite director. 

The excellence might not come as a shock, but that hardly made the show any less of a masterpiece. 

After that little mental journey, I focused on her costume, only to realize why she was struggling not to wear it in front of me. The costume was sufficiently similar to mine to reveal they came as a set, but one more extra piece. 

The cape was the same just shorter, but unlike mine, which was dancing freely, she hugged the edges and pulled it to herself desperately in an attempt to conceal her body, but the cape was not big enough to do so, giving me a glimpse of what was underneath.

And what was underneath was certainly an amazing sight, a loincloth that was similar to mine — but shorter and more elegant — that made my mouth water, as well as a top that was similar to a saucy bikini, with an equal coverage area. 

The only thing that was lacking was stability. A bikini top would stay in place despite the movement, but her top looked unstable enough to move at the slightest touch. 

Even without a movement that would trigger such a fortunate event, the cleavage was rather impressive, enough to reveal the full potential of her breasts — which was not enough to compete with Carrie, but probably enough to let Naomi taste defeat. 

I let the silence stretch as she examined my body while doing her best to hide hers — which was flatly unfair — for a while before I started walking toward her. Her eyes widened as I did so, the movement challenging the loincloth even more, only requiring a small accident to trigger.

I didn’t bother to disguise where my eyes pointed once I stood in front of her. “So, that’s the costume,” I said with a casual tone that contrasted greatly with the seriousness of my gaze. “I don’t remember seeing anything like this on TV,” I added, before letting humor inject my tone. “And I’m sure I would have remembered if I saw it, even a glimpse. It’s rather memorable.” 

“It’s not on TV,” she whispered. 

“Oh, is it a book?” I asked, mostly to make her speak. 

“Technically, yes,” she whispered, yet as she said so, her gaze dipped down, even more, this time looking at the floor, avoiding my body, which was an interesting reaction. Somehow, she felt more ashamed of it than her current state of dressing. 

“Technically, what an interesting word,” I commented, prompting her to explain more without explicitly forcing her to do so. 

“It’s still being written,” she admitted with a whisper, which also implied that she was a part of the process. 

“Being written by you, I presume,” I said as I looked at her, and she nodded. 

“And who are these characters supposed to be,” I asked. 

“T-they are the main characters,” she said. I said nothing, just letting my gaze drift down to point at our clothes. Her embarrassment intensified as I met her gaze once more, but she was quick to explain. “There’s a reason why they are dressed like this,” she added hurriedly. “It’s from the middle of the first book, where they are captured and forced to fight as gladiators in an arena. They are forced to dress like this to add to the entertainment of the viewers.” 

“Makes sense,” I said, my words taking the sudden edge from her posture. Though, her sudden over-explanation suggested she was feeling overly conscious about her work. I decided to distract her from that part. “After all, I’m very entertained,” I added. 

And just like that, the edge was back, but in a much more different, self-aware form. Her eyes widened, but before she could say anything, I grabbed her arm and led her toward the center of the room. 

“It’s time to listen to the boss once more,” I suggested, pointing at the side of the room, where Ida was standing, still in her chainmail bikini. And more importantly…

Holding her camera. 

She had clearly used the little moment I spent talking with Irene effectively enough to fix her clothing, erasing most of the signs of our recent encounter. 

Except for her very noticeable tenseness, which was a natural side effect of Irene’s last-second arrival, leaving her just at the edge of an orgasm. 

“Yes, that’s enough wasted time, stop holding your cape and let it fall behind you properly,” Irene said, her voice even sharper than usual, implying that she was blaming Irene for her struggle. 

It was not fair, as I was the one to initiate the event, and she was the one who asked me to continue despite knowing Irene might return at any moment, without even bothering to close the door. 

Yet, while it might not be completely fair, the fun indirect struggles between Carrie and Sarah, as well as the more direct ones between Naomi and Sarah taught me that not intervening in their little struggles had amazing potential. 

And, considering Irene was wearing little more than nothing while Ida held a camera, it didn’t take a genius to guess where things could evolve. 

Especially when Irene obediently followed me to the center of the room. 

“Let’s start with something simple, one that would show that two heroes are fighting against a lot of enemies. Stand back to back, and lean against each other,” Ida ordered. 

I turned my back to her, though I didn’t feel her presence against me. “Hurry up,” Ida ordered, her voice sharp, though it wasn’t impatience that fueled that sharpness but vindictiveness. 

Busy with her concerns, Irene failed to notice that particular concern. “A moment, just fixing my cape,” she said, and a second later, I felt her presence pressing against my back, smooth enough to know that she followed Ida’s order and was facing the other way as well. 

We maintained the pose — discounting the countless adjustments Ida requested, her tone slowly taking her usual abrasiveness while she worked — for a while before the next big order arrived. “Now, Irene, hug him from behind, like you’re relying on his defense,” she said before looking at me. 

“And you, pick a sword and stand in front of her,” she ordered, and when I looked at her blankly, she pointed to a certain part of the wall behind the racks of clothes. 

Only after she had mentioned that I noticed it was not a wall, but another layer of wardrobe. I pushed the clothes to the side and opened the latch, only to meet with enough wardrobe space to fit all of my clothes,  filled with a great range of weapons, axes, swords, maces, knives, even some ninja stars…

Certainly had an impressive catalog. 

“Wow,” I said, impressed even as I looked at the weapons, their glint enough to show they were made of metal, though their edges were clearly not sharpened. I carefully dragged a finger along the length, making sure they were not dangerous. 

“A-actually, the main character uses an axe while he’s in the arena,” Irene corrected. 

Ida said nothing, showing she had accepted her correction — which was only fair considering it was supposed to be a scene from Irene’s book. I picked the largest axe from the wardrobe without the slightest hesitation. If I were fully clothed, I might have hesitated to pick it, not to give a wrong impression. 

Luckily, with the loincloth I was wearing, no one would doubt whether I was compensating for something. 

“Not bad,” I said as I raised, finding the weapon lighter than I expected, especially when I held the handle with both hands like it was clearly supposed to be designed. “Do I look good,” I asked Irene as I swung the axe. 

Irene said nothing, and for a moment, I thought that I did something wrong by trying to use a  weapon in the room, even a blunted one, but then I noticed her gaze dipping down, reminding me what I was wearing. 

“Yes, I can see why they are forcing gladiators to dress like this,” I said with a chuckle to fix my loincloth, fixing it. 

“I - I’m sorry,” Irene gasped in shock. “I didn’t mean to stare.” 

“No worries,” I said as I walked back toward her. “Think of it as payback for the show I got when I just arrived.” 

That statement hardly helped her to calm down after her show, but Ida chose that moment to intervene. “That’s enough wasting time. Pose, now,” she ordered. I stood in front of Irene, and she hugged behind. 

“It’s not working,” Ida commented. “Get rid of the cloak.” 

“B-both of us,” Irene stammered, clearly not feeling comfortable with the idea of losing more of her clothing. 

“No, just Chad,” Ida explained. “It’s blocking the view.” 

I dropped it, which was hardly a chore, especially when Irene hugged me from behind once more. Ida followed it with a great number of corrections, which had the potential to be extremely annoying under different conditions. 

But, I had to admit, it was hardly a chore when I could feel the presence of a sexy redhead pressing against me…