(Mid 1990s) For many years I worked in the entertainment department of a theme park in Central Florida. It did not pay well at all, but it was great fun. My co-workers were all young adults, like me, all of us just wanting to have fun, while finding ourselves. The nature of our job allowed us to spend more time hanging out on break than actually working. We performed in a twenty-minute show four times a day, and finding ways to entertain ourselves for the hours in between.

Our breakroom was a large trailer where there were usually about a dozen people hanging out most of the day, although who was around rotated, as we worked in shifts. Being young and energetic, we did find fun things to do, very little of it appropriate for work.

One day, I entered the trailer to find my friends gathered around the big table debating the rules of a game they had just devised. In the middle of the table was a small stack of papers (face down), which I was told were photocopies of the girl’s breasts. Apparently, several of the girls had gone into the office of the trailer and put their boobs on the photocopier, and the prints were now to be mixed up and pinned to the bulletin board for everyone to guess which girl belonged to which boobs. This was a bit racier than our usual games, but it was very rare to have anyone important come through our trailer. As it happens, I was in charge of our group most of the time. They knew I would not cause them any trouble. In fact, several people were aggressively trying to convince me to join the game.

I was still married to my first husband and had spent the past few years successfully curtailing my exhibitionist desires. We met during my senior year at the University of Florida. He was an older student who didn’t run in the same circles. He did not know about my lack of inhibition and wild adventures I had in the past few years.

When I left for college, I wanted nothing more than to distance myself from my ‘good girl’ reputation that came with being a preacher’s daughter. I overcorrected, to say the least. After four years of trying almost anything, I had a new reputation, for sure. But when I met my husband, I found his maturity, the way he looked at me, and the way he treated me to be such a refreshing change from all my relationships with men. I kept him in the dark about my time at college and took him home to meet my parents and see the good girl I could be. They loved him, and we married right after I graduated. But it wasn’t long until I started to feel phony. As much as I enjoyed the way he thought of me, I still experienced intense desires contrary to what he knew about his wife. I gradually began to introduce topics and situations with the hope he may harbor some similar thoughts and desires.

One of my first efforts was to wear a special one-piece bathing suit to a pool party with his friends in South Florida. I knew this suit became very see-through when wet. This episode led to our leaving the party early, and a long car ride home while I convinced him that I didn’t know it was so transparent. We were both upset, but for different reasons. He thought my tears were from embarrassment, but it was my disappointment.

I believed it was a mistake for my first effort to involve his friends. So, I tried for something more intimate. We were watching TV one evening in the living room of our apartment. This room had a door to the balcony that also joined the bedroom. I got up and went to the bedroom, got undressed, went out on the balcony and knocked on the door to the living room. He answered the door to find me posed seductively, asking him to make love to me in the moonlight. He freaked out and roughly pulled me inside.

There were a few other times I tested him, but for the most part, I kept secret my more salacious desires. I did still find opportunities to enjoy myself, but when he was not around. I took advantage of time home alone, while driving, and various adventures outdoors. I loved the risk of being seen, but now for my guilt, I mostly tried to avoid other people. I wasn’t perfect, but did my best to be good for him.

I had been married for several years when I walked into the break trailer with my friends and their boob game. Everyone was having such a good time. It was exactly the type of fun I lacked and brought out feelings and attitudes that were so missed. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to play. I went into the office, shut the door, lifted my shirt and bra, and pressed my boobs against the cold glass of the copy machine. I immediately knew I was in trouble. It had been so long since I did anything like this, and it was remarkably gratifying. I knew it would be so much harder now to keep my urges at bay.

I came out of the office and put my paper face down on the stack. They were mixed up, and one girl who didn’t want to play agreed to pin them to the board. I couldn’t see the copies as she posted them, but just as she pinned the last one up, there was quite a commotion. I first thought someone important may have come in and we were in trouble. Everyone was going a little nuts, and I didn’t know why. But as soon as I saw the pictures, I understood. There were six pictures. But one of them was not like the others. Five of the pictures featured a variety of breasts… in a variety of bras. The sixth picture featured someone’s naked boobs. It did not take long for everyone to figure out whose grainy photocopied bare breasts were hanging on the trailer wall. My expression gave me away. I was not so much embarrassed for everyone to see my breasts in this way. That was part of the fun, which I expected going in. But I just felt so stupid.

Everyone was having a very good time at my expense, but the wiser of the group knew to take the pictures down before the wrong person came through the trailer. The copies were thrown away – or so I thought. Turns out, someone made many copies of my boobs, and for weeks after, I would find them everywhere; in my locker, on my windshield, in the refrigerator at work, etc. It was just as funny as it was embarrassing. But it got serious for me when I came home to find one on my kitchen counter – which my husband had put there. I did not tell him about the incident. But someone had used the picture on a party invitation. And, of course, we were invited. My husband did not work at the parks, but there was some overlap in our otherwise separate circles of friends.

At first, I did not know if he knew the picture was of me. But when we discussed the party, he didn’t bring up the invitation, and he wasn’t angry, so I realized I was in the clear – as long as he didn’t go to this party.

To my relief, he wasn’t available the night of the party. So, I went alone. I knew the guy who threw the party and had made the invitation. We worked together regularly. I really gave him a piece of my mind in front of several people that night. It was clear that this embarrassed him. As the party went on, I started to feel bad. I actually was enjoying the attention very much. I was just worried about the situation with my husband, and I wasn't ready for everyone to know. But I kind of apologized for yelling at him. It was when I was leaving the party, walking through his front yard full of cars. He came out onto his porch and called over to me asking if I was okay, and if we were good. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew what to do. I flashed him my boobs.