The Uniform That Left Me Almost Naked in Front of the Street

It all started with a call from Daniela, my lifelong friend, the one who always gets me into trouble I never end up regretting. I’d worked as a promo girl at a couple of events before, so when she asked if I wanted to make some money on a Saturday at a parade, I didn’t think much of it. What she didn’t tell me, the sly little thing, was what kind of parade it was.

—They pay well and it’s just greeting people and dancing a bit on top of a truck —she promised me over the phone.

—And the clothes? —I asked, because I knew the drill already and knew that the less fabric, the more money.

—They’ll lend you that there. Don’t worry about it.

“Don’t worry about it” is never a good sign coming from her.

On Saturday I arrived at the square at four, just as she’d told me to, with my makeup and hair done carefully. I’d put on a little button-front dress, one of those that are easy to take off, because with these jobs you always end up changing in a hurry in some corner. In my backpack I had some white sneakers and little else. I was calm. Naive me.

Daniela greeted me with a bear hug and, before I could even properly say hello, she put a pair of pasties and a skin-colored thong in my hand.

—This is for you to wear underneath —she said, as if she were handing me the car keys.

—Under what, exactly? —I asked, a nervous smile already taking over my face.

—Just put it on. I’ll be back with the rest.

She took about fifteen minutes. When she came back, she had a robe on, another draped over her arm, and a bag. She handed me the bag with an expression I couldn’t quite read. I opened it and the first thing I saw were wings. Underneath, a mass of white lace, a garter belt, and fishnet stockings. My eyes widened slowly, just like my mouth.

—Daniela… is this the uniform?

—Uh-huh. Cute, right? —she replied, biting her lip to hold back laughter.

—This isn’t a uniform, this is a lingerie set with wings.

—I saw your smile, huh? Don’t act all proper —she said, and burst out laughing, which ended up making me laugh too.

It was a white bra and thong, sexy, adorned with delicate sheer panels and fine lace. The wings, the garter belt, and the fishnets up to mid-thigh completed the look of a coquettish little angel. Any indignation I’d been pretending to have vanished the second I imagined myself wearing it.

—Well —I said, giving in—, more than changing, I’m going to be stripping. I’m more covered now with the dress.

***

She let me change in her friend’s car, parked a few meters away. First I made sure the doors were locked and no one could see in; cautious, I never stop being cautious. I unbuttoned the top part of the dress, put on the pasties (the bra was sheer and I didn’t want any surprises), and over that I put on the white set, which up close was even prettier than it had seemed.

With the dress still around my waist, I slipped on the skin-colored mini thong, the safety one, the kind you wear when you model lingerie and don’t want anything showing more than it should. Then came the white thong, and finally the garter belt and stockings, one leg and then the other, pulling them up carefully so they wouldn’t slip.

When I finished, I stood still for a second, looking down at my knees, feeling my heart race without asking permission. This is more than anything I’ve done before, I thought. And instead of scaring me, that idea lit some strange spark low in my stomach. A mix of nerves, shame, and an excitement I didn’t dare name.

I tied the robe over everything, adjusted the white mask carefully so as not to mess up my hair, put the dress and sneakers in my backpack, and got out of the car. Daniela was waiting outside.

—Leave the backpack in there, the car owner is going to be with us up there —she told me.

I felt a little weird leaving my stuff behind, but we’d always have the robe nearby, so I took a deep breath and left it. At that point, I was already there.

When I came back, two guys came over, also wearing robes and masks, but with little red devil horns on headbands.

—Got it —I said, laughing—. We’re the little angels and they’re the little devils.

Daniela introduced them to me. With the mask on, I could barely make out their faces, which gave them an air of mystery that wasn’t bad at all. Meanwhile, the parade floats were starting to line up. It was almost five and the music was already pounding through the square, amid flags of every color and euphoric people.

—Look, that’s ours —Daniela said, pointing.

It was a trailer with a decorated bed: clouds and flames, heaven and hell. A rail structure at waist height to hold on to, and huge speakers. There were no walls, no curtains, nothing to hide us. I suddenly understood that we were going to be up there, in full view of the whole street, with nothing covering us.

My legs started to shake. And again that adrenaline surged up my back, that nervous little laugh I couldn’t control.

***

Getting up there wasn’t easy; the bed was very high. One of the devils climbed first, another lifted us from below, and the one on top pulled us up. Once all four of us were up there, the guys were the first to take off their robes. And damn, they were in shape, toned, in shiny red briefs, ankle boots, and their horned masks. They looked good, I won’t deny it; maybe I was already predisposed by the situation and noticed it even more.

What calmed me was the mask. Under the anonymity of that face covering I felt capable of things I would never do with my face uncovered. That, and the fact that being up on the moving trailer, nobody would be able to get too close.

Still, I knew this was different from any other time. I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck just thinking that in a matter of seconds I’d be in lingerie in the middle of the street, in front of hundreds of people. The good thing was that the pasties hid what my body was already betraying from sheer excitement.

—All right, Renata —I told myself under my breath—, this is what you came for.

I untied the ribbon at my waist and let the robe fall.

It was the first time in my life I felt the air move over my entire body like that. The coolness on my thighs, on my lower back, on every inch of skin no one normally sees. The warm sun falling over me. And then the whistles started, a few at first, then many. Instinctively I brought my hands forward, as if to cover myself, but it lasted only a second. Then I smiled, waved, and let out that side of me that only appears when I feel watched.

I still had to put on the wings, which were still in the bag. I bent down for them without bending my knees, slowly, aware of every gaze fixed on me. The whistles multiplied. And among the crowd, I caught sight of a couple of women whistling at me too. That was new. It had never happened to me before, and I discovered I liked that too.

I turned to Daniela. She was wearing white lace boyshorts instead of a thong.

—Hey, why did I get the thong and you got the boyshorts? —I complained jokingly.

—Because there was only one —she said, giving me a slap on the ass—. And you look better showing it off. You’ve got more of a ass on you.

—Okay, they’re going to think we’re a couple —I shot back, and we both burst out laughing.

***

The trailer pulled off with the music at full volume. Daniela explained that every now and then we had to throw condoms to the crowd, from a box we were carrying full of them.

—They’re going to think I’m tossing them so they can come for me —I joked.

—I think that’s the point —she laughed.

The first few blocks were calm, with not many people, just the occasional passerby we greeted from above. We passed some women who kept looking at the devils with approving faces, and an older man walking with his son; I waved at the young guy and he waved back, while the older man acted all proper. But I saw his look. That kind of looking drives me crazy.

Three blocks later we reached downtown. And downtown, on a Saturday afternoon, was packed. People out for a stroll stopped to watch the parade, and my heart kicked up again. I bit my lip as I thought: Come on, Renata, give it everything you’ve got.

And that’s what we did. Daniela and I dancing, one on each side of the trailer, pulling out our best moves. The whistles came raining down, some for the guys, since everything on them was visible, and many for us. Then the compliments started, getting bolder and bolder. One I remember well was, “I’d line up in that row,” which, far from bothering me, turned me on even more. I’d never had anything like that yelled at me, and certainly not with so little clothing on.

From the other side they were shouting things at Daniela. To one of us they said she was taking away our seriousness, to the other that she should get down and dance. Every shout was like throwing fuel on something already burning inside me. I never imagined exposing myself like that would make me feel this way.

At one point Daniela called me over to her side. A building with a mirrored façade was coming up.

—Come on, vain girl —she said, laughing.

When I saw our reflection, I couldn’t believe it. We both looked incredible, and I, with that thong and the fishnets up to mid-thigh, looked better than I expected. I bit my lip at myself in the mirror, enjoying how good I felt inside my own skin. That image finally let me go.

From then on I danced without holding back. I leaned in, marked every movement, and saw the effect in men’s faces, especially the older ones, the ones who by the look on their faces hadn’t seen anything like this in a long time. I loved reading their eyes, seeing them bite their lips, seeing some of them blush and look away out of sheer shyness. I blew those men a kiss. Feeling desired like that, by so many people at once, was a drug I didn’t know and didn’t want to let go of anymore.

The deeper we got into the city, the more people joined in. On one of my trips to the condom box I ended up next to Daniela. I bent down to grab a handful and right then she smacked my ass so hard I yelped.

—Look at you, already showing your ass to half the city —she said, laughing.

I stood up rubbing it, but I couldn’t hide my smile.

—If you loved that slap, don’t lie —she insisted, pointing at me—. Look, I even left my handprint on you.

I turned around and, sure enough, there was her handprint. We both bent over laughing while people whistled at us, not knowing what we were laughing about.

***

The route ended around seven, in a little square, just as the sun was starting to go down. I’d been up there almost two hours, in lingerie, putting myself on display for an entire city and, against everything I would have imagined about myself that morning, happier than I’d been in a long time.

They told us to hold on tight, because from there we were heading out along the boulevard straight to another place, where night was only just beginning.

But what happened after we got down from the trailer is another story, and I think I’ll have to tell that one slowly, without a mask to protect me completely. For today I’m staying with the image of my reflection in those mirrors and with the certainty that, under any modest dress, lives a woman who loves being looked at.