Donna said, "I'm not any more overdressed than you are."

"That's a fact, but some of those guys think I'm overdressed too. They try and relieve me of some of it."

"What's their idea of a well-dressed waitress?" Donna asked.

"Stand up," Betty said. "Start taking it off, honey. I'll tell you when you're dressed just right."

Donna was puzzled, but she reached behind her and drew the zipper down to her ass. She held the dress by the hem and drew it up over her waist, up over her bra, up over her shoulders and off.

Betty sat, looking at her, her face blank.

Donna reached behind her and unhooked her bra. When she drew the straps forward, the cups slipped off her tits, making them jiggle slightly.

Betty smiled but said nothing.

Donna shrugged and slipped her hands into the waistband of her brief panties, peeled them down on her legs, let them fall and stepped out of them.

Betty continued smiling.

When Donna started to unsnap one of her garters, Betty held her hand up.

"Leave them on," she said, "but you're still overdressed."

"This is all I have left."

"I'll show you."

Betty stood, reached behind her, drew the ripper of her dress down with one fluid motion, and peeled the tight garment up and off. She opened the hook on her low-cut bra and shrugged out of it, letting her brown-nippled tits sag slightly. Then she bent and slipped her panties to the floor, stepped out of them and stood before Donna, her feet planted wide.

Her cunt was as bare as a young girl's.

"I had all my cunthair removed when I was still a teenager. Whether you do it that way or shave it off, that's what those guys like, a slick cunt."

"How do they know if it's slick or not?"

"Believe me, honey, they'll know. There's guys that can sneak a feel when you least expect it.