Naked at the Roadhouse

His clothes are stolen in the mountains

by G. Lawrence

Stories on Literotica may have multiple categories, but I prefer Exhibitionist & Voyeur as my default category. This story could easily fall into Humor & Satire, for none of it is to be taken seriously. Perhaps nonconsent/reluctance, though that category is rarely whimsical. The events in this story did not happen, and I do not suggest they should happen. It's a fantasy. Please don't post comments saying it's not realistic, or that illegal acts were committed, or that there would be lawsuits. We already know that. There is nudity but no sex. All of the characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

I was new in town without any acquaintances when my old Chrysler needed work. The auto shop a few blocks down the street looked promising, so I checked it out. The owner was Joe Milton, in his late-20's like I was. A knowledgeable mechanic with many clients owning classic cars. Regular visitors to the shop were his best friends Charley and Harry. It seemed they had all gone to high school together.

"Haven't seen you in here before," Joe said, crawling out from under a Thunderbird.

"Jeff Sanders," I introduced, shaking the oily hand. "My office transferred here last month. I'm still getting to know the neighborhood."

"You have an athletic look about you," Joe observed. "Play any sports?"

"I did in college. Not much lately," I answered.

He gave my old car the once over, made suggestions, and offered to make a better inspection when not so overwhelmed with business, which worked for me. We began hanging out at the local bar after hours with Charley and Harry, watching baseball while guzzling pitchers of beer. I was partial to my hometown Tigers. The guys preferred their beloved Rockies.

"Do you do much camping?" Joe asked as the summer grew warmer.

"I've done some," I replied.

"You should come with us," Joe offered. "Harry, Charley, and me. We have a spot near Bear Trap Lake that we use all the time."

"Sounds like fun," I agreed.

The lake was a two-hour drive from the city, going deep into the mountains. We reached a quaint village. There were a few houses and cabins. Mobile homes were popular. We stopped at a country store for beer. A small motel and gas station made up the rest of the town. Then we were back on the road.

"Our campsite is a secret," Charley explained. Like Joe, he was still a bachelor, teaching 5th grade at Laudanum Elementary School. Harry was the office manager for a real estate company with a wife back home.

"How is it secret?" he wanted me to ask.

"The state park is on the north shore of the lake," Charley answered. "We camp on the south shore. Technically, it's private property, but no one cares as long as tourists don't show up."

Eight miles from the village, we came to a yellow chain across the road where it turned from asphalt to dirt. Harry jumped out, released the chain for Joe to drive through, and then put it back. I noticed a large rambling shack a hundred yards off. No, not a shack. Some sort of dive bar out in the middle of nowhere. It was closed so early in the day. We drove ten more miles, bouncing up and down on the bumpy surface.

"Here we are," Joe said, pulling into a tree-lined area. "The lake is another half mile up the trail. It's a nice hike. We usually have a late lunch there but camp back here."

I could see the attraction. The forest was beautiful. Mountains rose in every direction, without evidence of civilization.

They pulled tents and sleeping bags from the back of the SUV and set up a folding picnic table. It would make a suitable campsite.

"Let's get to the lake," Joe said, putting our beer and sandwiches in a backpack.

The trail was a little rough, winding along the edge of a deep ravine. After twenty minutes, a lake came into view. It was quite large, though our portion was more a lagoon. We settled down on a sandy beach. Charley, being very environmental, made sure refuse went into a black trash bag.

"Time to go swimming," Harry announced. And to my surprise, all three stripped off their hiking clothes, preparing to enter the water naked.

"Sorry, Jeff. We're not gay, it's just that we've been skinny-dipping up here since we were in the 6th grade," Charley said. "You don't need to join us if you're shy."

I didn't have a strong desire to take off my clothes, but these were new friends. The only friends I'd made since breaking up with my girlfriend and leaving for a new city. I didn't want them to be uncomfortable around me. Or think I wasn't a good sport. I stripped, piled my shoes, T-shirt, and short pants on a rock, and slowly went down to the water. It was cold but not unpleasant.

Joe was as I had expected, stocky and hairy, with a broad chest and thick waist. Charley was my height, 5'10, and skinny. He looked like a chess player. Harry was 6', evenly proportioned, with wide shoulders. He probably played football in school. I still had the swimmer's physique I'd had in college, though not quite so buff anymore. I didn't measure any dicks, but if I had, I'd likely have won. I'd never had any complaints in that department.

"What do you think of getting back to nature, Jeff?" Charley asked.

"I'm glad this isn't a crowded area. It would be embarrassing," I answered.

"You don't like being naked in public?' Harry asked with a laugh.

"My ex-girlfriend liked nude beaches. I usually kept a towel around me," I replied.

"Was she a looker?" Charley eagerly inquired.

"Anna was great," I said. "Round in all the right places."

"What happened?" Joe asked.

"After we left the Peace Corps, I took a boring office job. I'd had enough excitement for a while. Anna said life with me was dull and looked for greener pastures," I sadly relayed.

"Doesn't the Peace Corps just build huts and plant crops?" Harry said.

"Something like that," I answered without elaborating. For it wasn't what we did, it was where we did it. Not always the friendliest countries.

Harry went back to the beach, taking a 35mm camera from his backpack.

"Don't worry, Jeff. We don't take frontal photographs at the lake, that would be weird. But we do long distance shots. Can you do me a favor?"

"What's that?" I asked, a little nervous.

"See that small island out there? About a hundred yards away?" Harry said. "You look like a good swimmer. Swim out, climb up on the rocks, and raise your arms toward the sun. I'll get a shot of you from behind."

"I don't know. What if someone recognizes me?" I responded.

"No one is going to recognize you at that distance. And if they did, they wouldn't be seeing anything but your butt."

"Come on, Jeff. We've all done it," Charley encouraged.

"Yeah, you should do it," Joe agreed.

They were looking at me with expectation, and I didn't want to let them down. It would only take a few minutes to reach the island at a leisurely pace.

"Okay," I agreed, using lazy strokes through the blue water. It felt good. There was a rocky shelf around the island, causing me to tread cautiously. No diving here.

All three guys were on the beach wearing their hats and shirts, watching. I turned my back to them, raised my arms, and waited for Harry to shout more instructions. And waited. After a minute or two, I wondered what else I should be doing, turning to look. To my dismay, the guys were dressed, hurriedly stuffing everything in their backpacks, and getting ready to leave. Charley ran from the beach first, followed closely by Harry. Joe waved at me, grinning, and disappeared down the trail.

I needed to climb back down to the water carefully because of the rocks and swam as quickly as I could. When I reached the beach, I discovered my clothes were gone. They hadn't left me a stitch to wear. Not even shoes. I ran after them, but being barefoot on the stoney path, I wasn't making good time. They were running in their hiking boots with a good head start, and they knew the trail. I was guessing.

When I reached the campsite, no one was there. The car was gone. The camping gear was gone. My three companions had vanished. I could only hope it was a prank and they'd be back soon, but an hour later, there was still no sign of them. It was late afternoon. Without clothes, or shoes, and no way to make a fire, I needed to get back to the village eighteen miles away before it got cold.

Needless to say, I was quite embarrassed. And angry. And dejected. Thinking back on the last few weeks, I wondered if the guys had been setting me up all along. Was I so desperate for friends that I hadn't noticed?

I'd walked along the dirt road for several miles when a car came up behind me. Out in the open, there was no place to hide. I found a tumbleweed, holding it in front of me. It appeared to be a park ranger vehicle by the markings. A man and woman in khaki uniforms stepped out.

"What do we have here? Naked in public?" the man said. His nametag read Officer Sam Heffington. The woman was Officer Emily Jonas. Both appeared to be in their early 40s.

"I'm sorry, sir. Someone stole my clothes," I replied.

"That's a likely story," Emily said. "We get you city people up here all the time getting your cheap thrills."

"No, really. I came up with three friends to go camping. They tricked me," I insisted.

"Camping? The campgrounds are on the other side of the lake. This is private property, and you are trespassing."

"They said no one would care. They've been coming here for years. Joe, Harry, and Charley."

"Never heard of them," Sam said. "Now drop the bush, put your hands on the back of the car, and spread your legs."

I did as I was told. The woman ran her hands up and down my sides, then down my legs, and grabbed my crotch, squeezing my balls.

"He's clean," she reported. And then she handcuffed my hands behind my back.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked.

"You are under arrest for public indecency and trespassing restricted property," Sam said. "We will now transport you to our substation for booking. If found guilty, your name will be entered on the sex offender watchlist. Do you understand?"

"I haven't done anything sexual to anybody, and the only ones who have seen me naked are my phony friends and the two of you," I protested.

"Don't expect to escape on a technicality," Sam warned.

They put me in the back of the car, strapping me down with the seatbelt. The woman kept looking back, enjoying herself.

"Can I have some clothes? Or a blanket?" I requested.

"The State doesn't give us money for luxuries like that," Emily answered with a grin. "When we get to headquarters, we'll be marching you in like you are. A naked perp-walk. Though we may take you for a loop around the town square first."

"Don't be mean, Emmie," Sam said. "He might be telling the truth."

"I doubt it," Emily disagreed.

"I have an idea. Hey, kid, are you open to an alternative?" Sam offered.

"What would that be, sir?"

"We have a friend who owns a bar. Saul is always shorthanded on Saturday nights," Sam explained. "We could let you off with community service. If you help him and he gives you a good report, we will drop the charges in the morning and not file any reports."

I didn't care for the idea, but having sex offender on my record wasn't a good option.

"That would be fine, sir. Thank you," I agreed.

We passed through the chained barrier at the end of the dirt road and drove another 50 yards to the rambling wooden building I'd seen earlier. It looked like it was a hundred years old, a relic of the wild west. There were three cars parked there now, probably employees. Sam and Emily led me in, still naked and handcuffed. It was a large bar, with a long counter, twenty or more tables, a stage for live entertainment, and a kitchen in the back.

"Saul, we have a question for you," Sam called out.

An older man in his early 60s emerged from his office. Behind him was an attractive brunette about my age. By her puffy red cheeks, I guessed she drank too much. I saw a Hispanic cook in the seedy kitchen and a 50ish waitress sipping a glass of wine near the front door.

"Goodness gracious, what the fuck is this?" Saul said.

"Caught a city fella exposing himself, walking on old Dan Tucker's land like he owned it. Need extra help tonight? We can loan him out on community service," Sam answered.

"Well, let me take a look. He does seem strong enough. No canker sores? Son, ever done any waitering before?" Saul asked.

"A little in college," I replied.

"College boy, huh? No wonder you feel so privileged," Saul remarked. "I guess we could use a hand. Expecting a big crowd tonight. Squirrel hunting season starts tomorrow."

"There is a condition," Emily said, suddenly smacking me on the ass. "He needs to be taught a lesson. So this doesn't happen again. You need to keep him naked."

"What? No, you can't do that," I objected.

"That's the condition of your release," Sam confirmed. "We'll check back from time to time. If the prisoner isn't naked, the community service is voided and we take him in."

"I got no problem with him being naked," Saul said. "My daughter Marissa here don't have a problem, neither. Do ya, honeybird?"

"No, poppa. Ordering him around will be fun," she said with leering green eyes.

"Officers, please don't do this. It's humiliating," I begged.

"Want a ride to headquarters instead?" Sam replied. I shook my head. "Okay, we have an agreement then. Emmie, take off the handcuffs. We're leaving him in Saul's charge."

"Can I get a photo first?" Emily asked, taking out her camera.

"Sure, but make it quick. With squirrel hunting season coming, we might get naked protesters like we did last year," Sam granted.

Emily took pictures of me standing there naked with Saul and Marissa, then had a big laugh before driving off.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Jeff, sir," I answered, rubbing my wrists.

"Want to be kept anonymous? We can call you slave for the evening," Saul offered.

"Jeff will be fine, sir," I responded. I hadn't given my last name, and I had no ID on me for him to check.

"That's fine," Saul said, not pressing it. "Now I want you to clean the kitchen. Mop the floors and scrub the stove good for José. He makes the best chili this side of Cornwater Heights. Then help Tricia tidy up the bar. Sweep the floor, wash down the tables, clean the chairs, and get the trash cans ready. Our rowdy customers are good at spilling beer and throwing food. You'll be doing a lot of mopping tonight. Ever tend bar?"

"Yes, some," I said.

"You can help Tricia with that, too. But she keeps all the tips. You're here to serve your sentence, not take money from the mouths of working people."

I went into the kitchen where José was smiling at his new helper. They soon had me on my hands and knees scrubbing the dirty tile floor while Marissa stood behind me watching. And taking the occasional picture of my ass. As degrading as it was, I knew it was going to get worse. The stove hadn't been cleaned for a while. Maybe years. It took a lot of elbow grease to get the grill shiny, and I was working up a sweat.

"Good work there, son," Saul said. "You just got enough time to get the bar ready before we open. Ya gots to get cleaned up first. Marissa, take care of that for me."

It had gotten dark by now, approaching 7 o'clock. Saul returned to his office. Marissa led me out the kitchen door into a junk strewn yard. Old car parts. Rusty barrels. Rotting plywood. How in the hell did these people pass a health inspection?

"Stand here," Marissa said. "I'll get you cleaned up."

"Here?" I said, not seeing a shower. The next thing I knew, Marissa had turned on a garden hose, spraying me from head to foot. It was fucking cold! I danced around as she laughed uproariously, not relenting until I pressed myself against the side of the building in submission.

"You are so much fun," she said, generously throwing me a towel. "Let me know if you want to stay for the weekend."

We went back inside where I swept the floors, wiped down the oak tables and chairs, and helped Tricia organize the bar. They had an extensive inventory. This tavern may have been in the middle of nowhere, but it seemed they had serious customers when it came to drinking. I was no slouch. Tricia wasn't so mean as the others, letting me have a beer, but she wasn't going to cut me any slack, either. Two people serving such a large crowd was going to be a lot of work.

The door opened at 8 o'clock, half a dozen men entering right away. They were followed by two middle-aged women, but they weren't customers. Their colorful western outfits and cowboy hats looked ready for the stage.

"Jeff, this is Molly Wright and her sister, Isabel," Tricia introduced. "They appear here two or three times a year."

"We're the band," Molly said, reaching to shake my hand. "Are you the entertainment?"

"I fear so," I replied. "And the unpaid help."

"In that case, can you help with our instruments?" Isabel asked.

I followed them out to the parking lot. Their white van had The Wright Sisters painted on the side. We pulled a guitar, a banjo, a keyboard, and their sound system.

"Jeff, let me ask. Are you okay?" Molly whispered as I helped unload. It was a chilly night. Not good for walking back to town without clothes.

"It's a long story," I replied.

"As long as you're good with this, we won't complain," Isabel said, looking me over. "You're pretty to look at. But watch yourself. They get a wild bunch here, not like the county fairs we usually play."

"Most of these rednecks aren't gay, so count yourself lucky there," Molly added. "But their ladies can get handsy."

"Thanks for the warning," I appreciated. On stage, I help them set up and assembled the sound system. I was quick and efficient, setting the speakers to maximum advantage.

"You've done this before," Molly observed.

"My former girlfriend and I were in a band," I recalled. "There were four of us. I sang and played guitar. She played drums. We did a few shows in underdeveloped countries where American music was scarce."

"Maybe you can sing with us?" Isabel offered.

"Naked? On stage before a full house?" I mentioned.

"Okay, we can see how that would be awkward," she agreed with a big smile.

Tricia called for me to start taking orders. With my good memory, I didn't need to write anything down. The patrons were getting a huge kick out of their naked waiter, making rude remarks and slapping my ass. I was resigned to the situation, and having gotten over the initial shock, decided to go with the flow.

Saul wasn't kidding about a full house. Sixty or more customers had arrived in time for the band to begin at 9. One table directly in front of the stage was reserved, but everyone else was finding good seats. A crowded table with four men and two women kept ordering pitchers of beer, being especially obnoxious. I think Marissa was mischievously egging them on, for she circulated among the tables constantly. She knew most of the guests by their first names, and they all knew her. Especially the men. I got the impression that quite a few knew her in the Biblical sense.

Both Tricia and I stayed busy. I did get a little tired of the off-color remarks. Just because I was running around naked in a drunken roadhouse was no reason to be rude. My busiest table finally got the better of me. I went to Tricia and ordered a pitcher of her cheapest beer.

"Hey, naked boy, we need better service here," my primary tormentor yelled. "Maybe it's time for you to get on your knees and do me right."

The crowd laughed, wondering how far I would go. They were about to find out.

"Esteemed sir, your courtesy is to be commended," I replied. "Please allow me to show you my appreciation." And with that, I poured the entire pitcher of beer over his head. The mob screamed with delight. My enemy leaped from his chair, ready for revenge.

And then he thought better of it. Naked as I was, I fell back into a fighting stance. Hands up, legs braced, eyes looking for an angle of attack. My years in the Peace Corps had not been peaceful. I'd had plenty of opportunities to defend my co-workers and villagers under my charge from all sorts of villains. If this asshole wanted a fight, I'd leave him bleeding on the floor.

"Come on, Gus, you were asking for it," his friend said, pulling him back into his chair. Saul came running with a towel. The crowd continued to chuckle, not giving Gus any support. I relaxed and noticed a number of admiring glances. The naked guy was no wimp. And Gus proved a better sort than I expected.

"Joe is right, I was asking for it, kid. Sorry," he said, extending his dripping hand. I returned the gesture.

"May I get another pitcher for you, sir?" I inquired, getting a lot of grins. "This one will be on the house. I promise."

Gus laughed. "Sounds good, kid," he answered.

As I returned to the bar, Saul caught up to me. "You are paying for that beer," he grouched.

"Take it out of my pay," I responded.

The Wright Sisters got ready to play at 9 o'clock. They were warming up on stage when Saul drew me aside. "Our guests for the reserved table are here. I want you to serve them personally."

I thought Tricia should be waiting on special guests but finished serving buffalo wings to four boisterous ladies and went toward the front. It was in the first row below the stage.

What the fuck? I thought. It was Joe, Charley, and Harry! Motherfucker! All three had shit-eating grins as I stopped before them.

"Oh, look who's here," Joe said. "I didn't know you needed a parttime job."

"I like the uniform," Charley said with a smirk.

"How do you keep your junk out of the food?" Harry asked.

"Very funny, sirs. What may I get you?" I replied. "The house special tonight is rat poison."

"My, aren't you the testy one. The naked testy one," Joe said. They took out their phones, snapping off photos. "These will look great on the wall of my shop."

"Care to tell me why you did this?" I asked.

"We love pranks," Joe replied. "Don't we, fellas?"

"That we do," Harry agreed. "Though I don't remember anyone getting into a situation like this."

"This one will be a classic," Charley said, taking a few more pictures. "Jeff, you're going to be an internet legend."

They were having a great time.

"Can I get my clothes back?" I requested.

"We may have lost them," Joe answered. "After all, they were left carelessly on a beach for anyone to find."

"Fine. What are you having tonight?" I asked again.

"Hamburgers for all," Joe answered.

"No, fish and chips for all," Harry disagreed.

"No fish. Buffalo wings look good," Charley insisted. "And let's have a pitcher of Bud."

"No, a pitcher of Coors," Harry demanded.

"Screw them. Two pitchers of Corona," Joe said. "And let's have Jeff pay for them."

"I'm a little short of cash at the moment," I responded, getting tired of their games. Saul came up.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"Your special guests are having trouble making up their minds," I reported.

"Damn it, Joe. I have a business to run. Quit screwing around," Saul said.

"Buffalo wings and a pitcher of Squirrel Nut. Sorry about the delay, Saul," Joe apologized. "It's just that seeing your naked waiter is such a hoot. You should hire him fulltime."

I found it interesting that Saul knew the guys so well. Their presence here did not appear to be an accident.

I went to fetch their order, Saul lingering to talk a little longer. Joe wore a big smile when I came back.

"Hey, Jeff, we think you should give us a song," he announced.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I said.

"We would more than love it. And Saul is onboard. Isn't that right, Saul?"

"A song or two won't hurt," Saul agreed.

"I'd rather not," I protested.

"If we want you to perform, you will perform," Joe said, his tone turning nasty. "Now get up on stage, you naked fuck, and entertain us."

"And spread your ass cheeks," Harry laughed.

"Spread them wide," Charley added.

"Charley, Harry, mind your goddamn manners! There are ladies present," Saul squawked.

With Saul's insisting, I climbed up on stage to speak with the ladies. I actually didn't have much of a problem with it. I had entertained in worse places, and under far worse circumstances.

"I have a request to sing," I hesitantly said. "But I don't want to interfere with your act."

"Are you any good?" Molly asked.

"In my humble opinion, I'm very good," I responded.

"Let's do it, then," Isabel agreed.

The audience was mocking at first, but the ladies and I quickly got on the same page, knocking out Take Me Home Country Road, The Gambler, and I Walk the Line. All terrific country-western songs. The taunting turned to applause. Money was thrown on stage. Tricia was so busy that Marissa had to help her, Saul taking over the bar.

"Jeff, you are fucking good," Molly said, treating me to a beer. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Uganda," I answered.

There was clapping and groans of disappointment when the women took a break. I climbed down from the stage.

"Okay, Joe, I sang like you wanted," I said. "Give me back my clothes, and wallet, and my phone."

"I don't know, Jeff. We worked hard on this prank. And you seem to like being the only one naked in a crowd. Let me offer this. I'll have your clothes for you at the shop on Monday morning. You just need to get a ride home, because it won't be with us."

"You can walk it in five days," Charley suggested, thinking himself clever.

"I hear naked bus rides are popular," Harry said. "Maybe you can raise bus fare by sucking a few cocks?"

The guys got a good chuckle out of that. I realized if I wanted to get my clothes back, I needed leverage. But where? I did have an idea. Trying not to tip my hand, I climbed back on stage.

"Ladies, it's obvious that I don't have many friends here tonight. May I ask where you stand?"

"You're a good sport, Jeff. What do you need?" Isabel said.

"Can you take pictures of me with those three clowns out front?"

The ladies had seen everything from the stage. The mocking. The cruel teasing. I couldn't tell if they were onboard with that, the way the rest of the roadhouse seemed to be.

"Are they the ones who stole your clothes?" Molly inquired.

"Yes. They set me up for all of this," I confirmed.

"Jeff, give us two more songs and you have a deal," Molly said. "And let Saul record us. We'll fuzz out your private parts when we replay it."

"It will be my pleasure," I agreed. I stepped back behind the stage curtains and keyed both of their phones to livestream the video directly to my cloud account.

"My contact information is included," I said, handing the phones back. "Call on me again if you wish. Though I hope to be wearing clothes next time."

"Just as well," Isabel replied with a smile. "Our next gig is the St. Louis County Fair. No nude singers there." With my allies in position, I jumped off the stage.

"Gentlemen, the music is about to resume. May I get you anything?" I requested, holding my arms out wide so everyone in the bar had a good view.

"Another pitcher of beer," Joe ordered.

"Sure thing, Joe. Let me clear some of these plates off the table for you."

That's when I knocked a half glass of beer over into Charley's lap. The schoolteacher jumped up with a howl. I turned him toward the stage, put his hand on my dick, and gave him a big kiss on the lips. Lights flashed as photos were taken. While Charley was still startled, I kissed him again, and then bent over, backing my butt into his crotch so it looked like he was humping me on the table.

When Charley backed away, I rolled into Joe and Harry's laps, my legs stretched out, pulling Harry's arm over so it looked like he was cupping my balls. Joe wiggled free and escaped, allowing me to wrap my legs around Harry, giving him a lap dance. He got a kiss, too, my eager hands running through his hair.

"Let me ride you, stud. You're still the best I ever had," I shouted.

The bar was hooting and hollering at the show, shouting encouragement. Harry finally pushed me off. I headed for Joe, my arms reaching.

"Give me a kiss, lover," I implored. "We can forget the little squabble at the lake. I'm sorry I said your dick was too small."

I grabbed his shirt, making sure "Joe's Auto Shop" was showing to the cameras, and knelt on the floor like I was giving him a blowjob.

"Get off me! Get off me!" Joe yelled, frantically trying to push me back.

"That's not what you said at the lake when you stole my clothes," I replied, holding him with both hands. "Please fuck me again, Joe! Fuck me harder this time!"

Joe jumped up, using his feet to push me off. The entire bar was screaming with delight, enjoying the humiliated looks of my three friends.

"That's enough of that," Saul said, breaking up the fun. "Jeff, get a mop. Clean this mess up."

I looked at Isabel and Molly, who were holding up their phones and nodding with big grins. I doubted the guys realized they had been recorded.

I went for a mop and saw the three heading for the parking lot, subjected to jeers. Some patrons were splashing them with beer. Others were throwing food. My false friends didn't look happy. I followed them out.

"Where are my clothes? And my wallet and phone," I demanded. They jumped in their car and locked the doors. Joe started the engine. I motioned for Charley to roll down the passenger window. "Give me an answer."

"Why should I tell you anything?" Charley replied.

"Because my bandmates recorded everything that just happened," I revealed. "What is your school principal going to think when he sees photos of you humping the naked waiter in a crowded bar? Think you'll still be teaching those fifth-grade kids?"

"You wouldn't do that," Charley said, turning white.

"Hey, Harry, let see what your wife thinks when she sees her husband getting a naked lap dance from a man in front of a screaming mob. That will go over great with her church groups when I post it on their websites."

"Don't you dare!" Harry said.

"I have a question for Joe. What are your macho customers going to think when they see me giving you a blowjob? Being cheered on by sixty drunks. You had quite a smile on your face. It's obvious you were enjoying it."

"I did not," Joe denied.

"That's not how it will read when I tag the photos," I threatened with an evil grin.

"Fine, you win. Your clothes are back at the motel in the village," Joe replied. "You can pick them up at the desk in the morning."

"You better not be lying," I warned.

"Your clothes will be there," Joe grumbled, peeling out of the parking lot while I stepped back, still naked, watching them go. My night had gotten so much better.

I reentered the roadhouse to enthusiastic cheers. None needed to guess about what they had just seen. I raised my arms in victory, getting offers of free drinks. I performed half a dozen more songs with the Wright Sisters, hopping about on stage to their raucous guitar and banjo, and agreed to appear with them at the county fair. Wearing my clothes. We partied all night long, nearly wrecking the place. Saul was frantic, trying to stop the rowdy throng from burning the rambling old bar down. I got the mob to chant "Free drinks!" until Saul relented.

The roadhouse closed at 3 a.m., but it took two more hours to restore order. Saul was not happy with me, but everyone had a great time. I cleaned the tables and mopped the floors.

"What about my community service?" I asked as Saul and Marissa were locking up. There was a glorious sunrise.

"Community service?" Saul said. "Oh, that. Well Jeff, you see, Sam and Emily aren't really Rangers. They can't arrest anybody. They dress up to scare tourists. They've been helping Joe with his pranks for years, though no one has ever fallen for one like you did."

They chuckled. They still had me naked, refusing so much as a towel. The door was bolted.

"That's very funny, Saul. You can pay me now," I said, shocking him.

"Pay you?"

"If this wasn't community service, then you owe me for twelve hours work. And if you didn't know, I'm an investigator for the State Labor Department. If you don't pay me what I'm owed, I'll shut you down."

"The fuck you say?" Saul said. He saw I was serious and took out his wallet. I snatched it away, taking out the cash.

"Oh, good, $800. Not a bad night's work," I said, rolling the bills up.

"That's way too much!" he protested, trying to grab the money back.

"You're right. I owe you for three pitchers of beer that I poured on your customers," I remembered. "Here's $20."

"That's not fair," Saul complained. Though Marissa didn't look upset, offering a sly grin.

"Would you rather I call the health department about your kitchen? Gosh, I wonder what they would say about having a naked man serving your food."

"You're a blackmailing crook," Saul complained, getting in his car.

"Hey, Marissa, how about a date next time I'm in town?" I asked. She gave me a smile.

"You're on, Jeff. Plan on staying the whole weekend."

They drove off, leaving me standing nude in the empty parking lot.

* * * * * *

It took two hours to walk to the village barefoot. I arrived just after 7 o'clock, found my clothes in a box behind the reception desk, and blissfully got dressed. Breakfast across the road at the coffee shop was great. A few of the bar patrons from the night before recognized me. Even my waitress. They congratulated me on my performance and asked when my next show would be. The 10 o'clock bus would get me back to the city in the late afternoon.

Sitting in the booth, I took out my phone, reviewing the footage that Molly and Isabel had taken. It was hilarious, and the images were quite detailed. Joe, in particular, had a wonderfully shocked expression, the logo of his auto shop visible to all. And Charley appeared more than cooperative. He wouldn't keep his teaching job long if those images got out. I was also sure that Harry's wife was going to be very unhappy with him. From what I understood, her church groups were very conservative. I sipped my coffee, took a relaxed breath, and uploaded the videos to the internet, tagging all three guys. It was a wonderful prank.