[MarvHarvey]

Harv and Dori, Part 1

This story is edited from posts in the GetDare GameShow which was a roleplay thread in 2014. It was a TV game show with an audience and a wide range of dares that a contestant might be called to do. A key part of the thread was reporting on the dares, and this story just happened by accident. Originally in 11 separate postings, the pieces might seem a bit disjointed because they don't always show the games that put Harv into the dares, but that is not important because this is really about how he met Dori.

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Having been away for a few days, I was rushing back to find a seat in the audience. I was late so I didn't go around to the front doors. This was a fateful decision.

As I came in the side door and looked around I saw a stagehand with the name 'Dori' on her name tag. With a clipboard in hand she was busily directing people and activities. Her black jeans and tight black t-shirt, with a deep-V neck, showed that she was a bit heavy to be the athletic type I like, but sort of fairly average to nice looking. I was a bit distracted as I noted to myself that it was her clear energy and competence did make her rather interesting and attractive.

"Is this the right place for the Gameshow?" I asked her.

"Oh yes," she replied quickly, leading me forward between some curtains. "Just go right out there," she added. Still a bit distracted with watching her, I stepped forward.

What! Huh? I was at the side of the stage – looking out at a contestant stripping naked in front of the biggest audience ever! This was not the way to my seat! I turned around but she was right there pushing me forward – and I heard my name being announced as the next contestant. "No! What do I do?" I asked her.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, then back to me with a tiny smirk. "First time? Just go out there to the front of the stage and take off one item of clothing. After each one, take it to the back and fold it on your pile, then go back forward and do the next item. Shoes and socks count as one so it's easy." She gave me a gentle push.

I was so stunned that I did just that. I walked out to the front – right on top of an audience that I could not see in the bright lights. I sat down on the stage and took off my shoes and socks, then got up and walked to the back of the stage carrying them. As I did so I noticed a line of naked contestants standing on the side of the stage, facing the audience. What on earth was I involved in?

I walked back out and for some reason I pulled off my jeans next, letting my long-tailed shirt cover me as I remembered that I was wearing a thong. Walking back I saw the line of naked people on the side – hardly thinking that my long sort-of-lean body was probably going to be there with them soon. Sweat starting running from under my arms and down my ribs.

I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, staring out into the glare. Once it was off I would be practically naked.

Walking to the back with the folded shirt, my bare butt was on display. Anxiety suddenly washed over me – O.M.G! I am sure that the small bulge in my thong must have shrunk with every step. O.M.G!

I turned back to walk to the front. Why wasn't I just standing still and taking my clothes off or why wasn't I just running away? What had Dori said? But the feeling – O.M.G.

As I turned to come out for the last time I could hardly breathe. Some people like doing this? O.M.G. I just came out and slid the tiny thong down my legs and picked it up and turned away. My boy bits were shriveled to nothing with – what is it that I am feeling? I reached the back panting and breathless in a cold sweat.

Dori the stage hand (Stage Manager I was to find out later) was there to guide me over to the line of naked people. "Pick a number then wait here," she said. "Hands behind your back or we'll have to secure them for you." I was too anxious to notice her tiny smirk.

"Huh?" I said. "Number 7?" And then I was standing naked in the naked line with naked people facing a huge crowd. How long would I have to wait – naked?

= = =

The game was almost finished, with contestants stripping quickly and joining the line, but it seemed like a long time standing there naked.

Then the stage crew started rolling out plastic sheets across the stage. Hoses appeared next. Huh??

Then those who had picked each number were called out in order. They were stood on the plastic and facing the audience – each with a stepladder behind them. Guys with big buckets climbed up a few steps behind each and at a signal they dumped the contents over the head of each naked contestant, and we all found out what each number meant – yuck. They all had to stand in their mush and mess and wait for everyone to get their two buckets.

When it got up to #6 those buckets had nice clean water. Those contestants were cheered by the audience. My number 7 was next, and no chance for water.

As I moved to a new spot and a ladder was placed behind me I saw that Dori was bringing the bucket for me. I had a brief look at her face and she looked determined, even grim. I wondered what would be in my bucket and why was she doing one of my buckets instead of the guys? I waited.

Sploosh!!! Eeek!!! A cold wave of liquid and ice and slush cascaded over me. It was cola! Could be worse I thought – but I would smell like coke or at least think I did for days. I stood and waited, wondering why the audience thought these quick dumpings were so much fun.

The contest was almost over, and when the last bucket was dumped. stage hands gave us hoses and sponges. Oh Oh. We had to wash off in front of the crowd! O.M.G. At least the cola was easy – much better than honey or syrup or whatever – and soon I was done. Others would be scrubbing in front of the crowd for a while.

I walked back to where I had piled my clothes. Dori was there with a funny grin on her face. "You can get dressed now," she said as she sat down to watch. "It has been a busy show today and now I can relax," she added.

Embarrassed, I turned away. "Turn and face me!" she said sharply. And somehow I did, as I slowly dressed under her intent stare.

I had an odd tingly feeling as she watched, alone and up close, the little smirk much more visible than before. The tingle rose as I tried to look back at her, finally a chance to see her face – completely plain and even and symmetric jaw and cheekbones, no standout features. Interesting. I dressed more slowly.

My shoes were tied and I looked up. I didn't know what to say. "Uh, bye," was the best I could do.

"Come back anytime," she replied, and her smirk broke into the biggest smile with the warmest eyes I had seen in years.

# # # # # #

When I came up to the front door of the DareGame studio, the attendant stepped forward: "MarvHarvey, you have to go around to the stage door. Dori said you are not allowed in the audience side."

I was puzzled, but I went around to the stage. When I went in, I could see her, standing with her back to the door. It gave me a moment to look at her: almost tall, long black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, baggy t-shirt that I knew would be hanging out from her boobs at the front – probably the v-neck to show the deep cleavage between her boobs, and black jeans snug around her hips but baggy to her shoes. As she turned I saw the big black-framed glasses. Artsy in black, I though to myself.

"What's this about?" I asked her.

"Hi! I put your name on the list for the open-call game. In fact I have put it on the list for all the open-call games. Aren't you ready to have fun?" she added with a smirk.

"What!! Why!! Who do you think you are!!" I demanded.

"I'm the stage manager, and assistant producer, so what I say goes around here. If your name is on the list you participate or get banned." She added: "the host does what I tell him and the producer lets me run this show the way I want." A big shark-eating grin followed.

I stood speechless until she told me to move: "now go out there and do a strip show. Remember to bring each piece of clothing back here, one by one."

I walked out to the front of the stage and heard my name announced to the audience. I slowly took off my shirt. I don't know why I started with it, I just did. It was a long-sleeve t-shirt and came off quickly. I took it to the back and came out to take off my shoes. I looked out into the seats, but the drier my mouth got the less I could see. Next time out it was my pants. Down to my thong, again. As I dropped off my pants at the back, Dori called out: "flirt with the audience." I didn't know what she meant. I slowly put my thumbs into the waist elastic and pushed down – I was naked again.

I could hear laughter in the crowd. My breathing stopped as I realized that I was standing naked and limp in front of all these people. I slowly turned to walk to the back. When I could see the safety of the back in front of me, I drew in some oxygen. For some mad reason I gave my rear end a shake and wiggle as I walked – and the audience cheered.

"Don't go away," said Dori. "Best part is yet to come. Back out to the front, while I bring the clothespins."

I slowly walked back to the front. Clothespins? Did I really want to be part of the show – what if they did ban me? Did I care? But I was there and naked and way past nervous.

Dori came up with a bag of clothespins: "these are for you," she smirked. "Sit on this chair facing the audience, hands on the chair arms and legs spread apart." I obeyed her.

She began placing clothespins: one on each nipple, and they hurt; then she matter-of-factly lifted my sac and put two on the underside , I was scared shitless but they did not hurt so much; then she pinched up some skin along the inside of each thigh, and put three pins on each leg, ouch. "Almost ready,” she said.

Then she tied a piece of string onto each clothespin and backed away. 10 strings led to her hands as she backed away and handed the strings to an unseen person in the audience. The host then announced the door prize winner as being the one to pull the pins off when the time came. I could not breathe. I waited as I heard the announcement of 20 minutes starting now.

The nipples hurt most, and to my great surprise the pins on my bag hurt least. Time moved slowly. And I was naked. Do some people really get aroused doing this? After a while I was able to get my mind off the sharp pinches. I don't know how I did it, but I was in some kind of dreamland.

"Don't fall asleep," Dori said. "You are only getting going, and the climax is yet to come. Open wide." With that, she stuffed my balled-up underwear into my mouth. "We don't want you to scare anyone." But worst was that she had disturbed my dreamland – I was alert again and feeling everything. And I was thinking: how bad would it be if they thought they needed to gag me?

The pins hurt. I sat, naked, and waited.

= = =

I didn't see the signal to the string puller – the winner of the door prize.

I didn't scream, but I don't know what you would call the noise I made. I cannot describe the feeling as the pins were all pulled off, ripped off, at once. My body sprang into the air all at once and I stood gasping in front of the audience. And I was still naked.

All I can say is that they did not hurt as much as I had been fearing after Dori stuffed the underwear in my mouth.

The audience cheered, and Dori led me, in a daze, to the back of the stage. "Why do you do this?" she whispered. "Most of the people who come here get off on this crazy stuff, you just get scared. Really scared."

I had no answer. This was an odd question from the smirking Dori who seemed to take delight in torturing me. I just stood and stared, unable to even start getting dressed.

"Look," she said. "The joint in the next block has a good deal on a burger and they brew their own beer. Meet me there in an hour, after I get this place sorted out."

Stunned, I could only nod – and she smiled again with the biggest smile with the warmest eyes I had ever seen.

= = =

I went down the street and stopped to sit on a bench and gather my thoughts. What was going on?

Dori was sort of . . . no, definitely . . . interesting, but she seemed to take great delight in tormenting me. What did she want? Why was I going along?

I found the burger joint. Inside it was a warm sort of neighbourhood pub, and I found a booth along the wall. Beer sounded good, but I got a glass of water: no bill in case I made a sudden exit.

I had not been waiting more than a few minutes when it happened. A wonderful looking woman swept into the seat across from me. Long wavy black hair surrounded a warm and smiling face, topping a sleeveless white and yellow summer dress which highlighted a lean and balanced form. My jaw dropped.

I was dumbfounded until a familiar smirk replaced the smile. "Dori?" I exclaimed.

She exploded into laughter – that warm laughter I had heard before. "Yes, silly. Were you expecting someone else? Ann Marie Dorothy Jensen at your service!" With that she waved at the waiter and called out: "two reds and two burgers!"

I had to laugh with her – but the questions were written on my face. "But . . . you . . . ?"

"Hey, it's like this. I have to deal with a crazy stage crew and a rotating cast of contestants. And I have to get everyone to do what I say. So I dress like that, kind of tough like I'm a stocky blustery dame, add the fake glasses and ponytail, and act pushy. It works." We laughed together. "I'm not like those beautiful people that everyone wants to be around and can get by on looks, I have to be competent and get things done."

As she spoke I had been nodding, not in agreement but in understanding. She saw my gaze fall to her chest, her perfectly average probably-perky female chest, and busted out laughing again. "And that's the real killer – the cleavage. I have to use every trick in the book to boost my comfy little boobs to look like those monster torpedoes, but they make me look busty and pushy, and all the guys get lost looking into that black crack. It is so funny!"

She got serious, "you are the only straight guy who doesn't get lost in there, heck even the gay guys do sometimes." She looked at me with her big soft brown eyes.

We waited while our beers were served, it was a red ale, made on the premises, and it was pretty good. "Cheers!" we said together.

She was still serious, so I confessed: "I was just too scared to look. You are right about that."

"My friends call me Ann Marie."

"And somehow I liked your little smirk, even if it is nothing like your smile." And from there we were lost. It had become a date.

= = =

After eating, while we were finishing our second beer, she asked if I was going back to the game show. "It's my job, at least for now," she said. "But you seem like you don't fit in there," she added, reaching out to touch my hand.

"Maybe," I responded, "maybe I'll give it up. But it's something to do, and I guess I have a bit of an odd streak in me. I sort of like having that anxious semi-scared feeling. Out of control, not knowing . . . ."

"I can give you all of that you can handle," she smirked, taking both my hands across the table.

I held hers in return, "I would go for anything with you," I blurted. I think I must have had big puppy-dog eyes. We paused together. This was getting serious all of a sudden.

I had to break the silence. "I have one more confession. Later on I thought about using your 'Dori' cleavage in that v-neck t-shirt as a holder for a cold beer. I think one would fit just fine . . . and I bet you'd squeal!" She gasped – and we burst out laughing together again.

"Let's go for a walk," I said. And with that we got up and headed out – holding hands.