Black Tie Affair

[Pantzlurkington]

"Now, hand over your tuxedo!"
 
Maybe I should have seen this coming. After all, my girlfriend, Mel, had been dropping hints.
 
Mel had just started a new job at a successful all-woman public relations company, Buxfield PR. She loved the work, but there was something about the owner, Esme Buxfield.
 
"She has some interesting ideas about men," Mel had told me. "For instance, there's an unofficial motto around the office: women wear the pants around here. And men don't!"
 
"Huh," I said. "Probably just meant in fun. Since no men currently work there."
 
Mel shrugged. "Maybe," she said. "She also gets this weird, appraising sort of look whenever she actually talks to men. Like she's mentally undressing them or something."
 
"Isn't that what all women do?" I joked.
 
"Well, okay, sure, sometimes," Mel had to agree. "But I just have this feeling..."
 
"A feeling?"
 
"If you meet her one day, you'll see," was all Mel said.
 
That day wasn't long in coming. When Mel asked me to be her "plus one" at the company's annual gala, I was happy to say yes. The dress code seemed standard for this sort of thing: evening wear for women, black tie for men. And I had the perfect classy tuxedo to wear.
 
The gala was held in one of the grand downtown hotels. Esme Buxfield herself was greeting everyone as they arrived.
 
"Mel, so nice to see you!" she said as she took in Mel's shimmery dark red dress. "You look lovely." Then she looked over at me coolly. "But your date is very over-dressed! Attire for men is black tie."
 
"But... that means a tuxedo, doesn't it?" I said. Ms Buxfield gave me a pitying, almost condescending look.   
 
"Oh, you silly boy," she said. "At this party, black tie means black tie. There's nothing that says any other clothing is allowed."
 
"I... what?!" I stammered. "Huh?..." echoed Mel. Her hand, holding my elbow loosely, suddenly tightened.
 
"You heard me," Esme Buxfield said. "Attire for men tonight is black tie. Period. If you want in, that tuxedo comes off!"
 
I was stunned. Was she seriously expecting me to strip, right there? Then I caught a glimpse of the grand ballroom inside. The room was full of women in beautiful evening gowns. And every man in the room was stark naked!
 
Esme Buxfield was serious.
 
"Okay now wait a minute..." I began, while Esme Buxfield stared at me with an imperious look. Behind her, two women staffing the entry way smirked.
 
"Esme, this is a little unexpected..." Mel said. Her boss rolled her eyes.
 
"Come now, you're holding up the line," she said. "As you can see, your co-workers are all following the dress code, without all this fuss." Then she looked directly at me.
 
"Now, hand over your tuxedo!"
 
I tried desperately to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind. Finally, Mel leaned in close to me and whispered, "please just do this, for me. I really want to make a good impression with my boss. Please."
 
What can I say? I did it. For my girlfriend.
 
As Esme Buxfield watched, I slipped off my jacket, stepped out of my shoes, unbuttoned and slid out of my shirt. Then I undid my pants, dropped them to my ankles and stepped out of them. I very much regretted wearing little boxer briefs with pastel colored hearts that evening.
 
A young lady attendant appeared at my side, eagerly taking each item of my clothing as I removed it and handed it over, while she grinned at my silly undies. The ladies staffing the entry way were practically applauding the show.
 
"Keep going," Buxfield said, looking immensely pleased with herself. I slipped off my black socks, then finally, after a last couple seconds of delay, slid my heart-print boxer briefs off. The attendant girl took all my clothes with a big smile and disappeared into a cloak room. There I was, in the middle of the hotel's ballroom entrance, barefoot and completely naked except for my black bow tie. Well, at least it was a real bow tie, not a clip on.
 
Mel unobtrusively slid the gala's invitation card into my hand, which I used to strategically cover my private parts. Of course, my bare butt was exposed to the whole world, and there was no hiding the fact that I had practically nothing on.
 
"Enjoy the party," Esme Buxfield said, looking at me with a smirk. "And extra points for wearing a real bow tie."
 
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" I thought as we strode in, Mel's arm in mine, extremely aware I was literally stark naked in a ballroom full of elegantly dressed women. I couldn't believe I'd actually taken all my clothes off. It felt like every pair of eyes in the place were fixed on me, or more specifically on my private parts. I'd never felt more vulnerable. 
 
Around me, women in beautiful flowing dresses mingled with embarrassed-looking naked men, who tried to hide behind their dates' flowing gowns or hover behind tall bar tables. Even the servers carrying trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres were naked!
 
Several of Mel's lady co-workers came up to us, each of whom made a show of checking out my body, lingering at my groin, giggling and smirking as they shook my hand. I very much wanted to disappear, right there.
 
"It's so nice to meet Mel's boyfriend," said a co-worker in an elegant dark blue dress, looking me up and down slowly. Far too slowly. "Here, have a drink." She offered me a champagne glass. I took it with a weak smile and one hand, the other holding the flimsy invitation card over my privates, desperately wishing she'd stop staring.
 
A completely naked male server approached, looking like he wanted to disappear, and holding a tray of crab-claws.
 
"Oh yum!" Mel's co-worker said. She held her own drink in front of me, and said, "would you hold this for me?"
 
Of course, she was expecting me to use my other hand to take her drink. The hand that was holding my dignity-protecting invitation card! Thankfully Mel stepped in for the save.
 
"I'll take that for you," she said, taking her co-worker's drink. She looked at me and rolled her eyes. "You just keep that free hand right where it is, hon," she said as I blushed a deep red.
 
Another of Mel's co-workers put her hand on my bare shoulder, using me to keep her balance as she pulled off a stiletto heel. Smiling at me, she said, "don't mind me sweetie. Just adjusting a stocking." She winked, let her toes tickle my leg as she slipped her shoe back on, and playfully dug her nails into my shoulder. Was she seriously trying to get me hard, right in front of my girlfriend?! I bit my lip and did my best to think of something non-sexy.
 
The ladies, surrounded by naked, sheepish men, were clearly having a great time, continually checking us all out and introducing their mortified dates to each other. I could almost feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at my bare butt. I even felt a hand or two give me a surreptitious little brush.
 
Finally, we sat down for a dinner. At least I could partially cover myself with the table cloth. But there was more awkwardness ahead.
 
"I'm so glad to see you all here tonight," Esme Buxfield announced, as she rose from the head table. "And in the case of our male guests, to see so much of you." This got a laugh from the women, while the men sat at various tables, looking pained.
 
"Of course," she continued, "we all know our unofficial motto: women wear the pants around here. And men don't!" The women all applauded at this. I was tempted to slide under the table and hide for the rest of the evening.
 
"Well tonight we got a nice taste of that," Esme Buxfield continued. "Isn't it fun? Hopefully we've inspired you to extend that motto to your own homes." Several women smiled at that, or looked thoughtful. The naked men shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
 
"In the meantime, we've taken all the fancy tuxedos you men 'donated' this evening, and given them away, to a worthy charity!"
 
An audible gasp erupted throughout the room. What?! This was not part of the deal. Spending the evening naked amidst a whole bunch of women at a private event was one thing. But going home naked too? It was going to be one very awkward uber ride. 
 
As if reading my mind, Esme Buxfield announced, "Don't worry, no one will be going home naked. In return for your generous tuxedo donations, we have cute new outfits for each of you." Behind her, two assistants held up frilly little maid uniforms, in black and pink.
 
There was another gasp. But this time several of the women laughed, and then cheered.
 
At another table, a man stood up. "Now hold on a minute!" he declared. That was all he got out.
 
"Aw, don't you look all cute, naked and dangling away down there!" Esme Buxfield said. Several women laughed, and the man, blushing and embarrassed, abruptly sat down.
 
"Any other silly objections?" Buxfield said to the room. If there were, the men were too intimidated to speak up. Forcing us all to be naked did have its advantages, at least for Ms Buxfield's plan! She'd definitely read the room – I'd never felt so helpless. My clothes were gone! But what choice did I have? Accept a humiliating outfit, or go home naked.
 
I looked over at Mel, who stifled a little giggle. "I'm sorry babe," she said. "I honestly didn't know this was going to happen. But you have to admit, it is a little funny."
 
Later, as we filed out of the ballroom for the night, I took a pink maid outfit from one of the girls staffing the event. It was short and full of ruffles, but as I slipped it on over my head and Mel zipped me up the back, it actually fit! There was even a pair of black ballet flats to wear with it.
 
If our uber driver had an opinion about an elegantly dressed woman and a grown man in a pink mini-skirt maid outfit sharing a ride, he kept it to himself. As soon as we got back to our apartment, I turned to Mel.
 
"Okay, now I get it," I said. "Your boss has some weird ideas. Now unzip me and get me out of this thing!"
 
As Mell unzipped my silly little maid dress, she couldn't resist: "You have to admit babe, they did get your size right. Why don't we hold on to this? As a, um, souvenir!"
 
I could only hope that's all it would be.

[Pantzlurkington]

I posted a pic for this story on my DeviantArt page:
https://www.deviantart.com/pantzlurking ... -999900596