Emma Page 5

  “Hello, what do you want?” asked a girl at the reception desk, who was wearing no clothes at all that Charlotte could see besides the petite glasses on her nose.

  “I’m Charlotte. It’s my first day here.”

  “Charlotte,” sniffed the receptionist looking at a list which she held up in front of her pert breasts whose nipples stood out. “The new girl. Another naturist, I suppose?”

  Charlotte nodded. Although the receptionist was unclothed she didn’t appear very sympathetic to naturism.

  “You’ll be wanting to know where to leave your clothes then,” the receptionist continued. She stood up and Charlotte could see that she was not totally naked but wore some very brief shorts and knee‑high boots. She was taken to a room marked Private where there were coats on hooks and some lockers.

  “This is your locker,” the receptionist said pointing at one which was open. “You’ll have to provide your own padlock, I’m afraid. And you must wear clothes if you leave the premises.”

  Charlotte felt hopeless as she stood in front of the locker. “Don’t you want to take your clothes off, then?” wondered the receptionist. Charlotte smiled pleadingly, but received no sympathetic gesture. A little embarrassed, Charlotte removed her jacket and pulled off the dress to reveal the naked body underneath. The receptionist sniffed again, but made no comment.

  “Right, I’ll take you to Bernard who’ll show you your desk,” said the receptionist referring to the supervisor Charlotte had met before.

  The rest of the day was spent meeting other members of staff and learning about her duties. Most of the staff were men and almost all of these were nudists. The main embarrassment Charlotte felt as she met all these new men was of avoiding eye‑contact with their penises. She studiously looked up at their faces and reminded herself that, as a lesbian, men should be the same to her clothed or unclothed.

  There were three other women besides Charlotte working in the office. There was Peggy, the receptionist, who was adamant that she wasn’t a naturist but was nonetheless usually topless and, Charlotte was told, would frequently wear nothing at all in warm weather. There was Mildred, a late middle‑aged woman who had the cracked skin of years of sunbathing and droopy breasts that flopped over her tight, lined, brown belly. There was one woman about Charlotte’s age, Clarissa, who was plump with a round pair of breasts crowned with nipples the size of Charlotte’s fist.

  Charlotte’s desk faced towards a male colleague, Desmond, who although a committed naturist almost always wore an open shirt so he could have access to a pen at all times. He was also rather shy and had great difficulty at looking at Charlotte’s face, let alone anywhere else on her body. She looked out on to the street and was pleased to see that there were no vantage points where anyone could spy on the office. Charlotte had no intention of being the subject of anyone’s voyeurism.

  Bernard spelt out the rules pertaining to dress which was to wear clothes outside of the office and to respect the views of any member of the public who didn’t actively express a willingness to be interviewed by a naked Civil Servant. A white overcoat of standard issue was provided in all interview rooms so staff could be dressed in these circumstances, but as Bernard assured her, very few people would come to this branch without expecting to meet some naturist staff.

  When 5 o’clock came, Charlotte joined the others by their lockers as they got dressed to go home. Bernard stayed at his desk, as did Desmond who Charlotte later discovered was very shy of being seen putting his clothes back on. Clarissa’s locker was right next to Charlotte’s and she smiled at Charlotte as she put on just a leather jacket over her otherwise naked body and pulled on some leather knee‑high boots.

  “You going home by yourself, love?” she asked.

  “Yes,” admitted Charlotte doing up her own jacket which more convincingly hid her smaller beasts than did Clarissa’s from which her breasts were clearly trying to escape.

  “My boyfriend’s picking me up,” Clarissa said, “but perhaps another night we can go out for a drink after work.”

  “That would be very nice,” Charlotte admitted, who still felt very much a stranger amongst her colleagues. She was sure Clarissa wasn’t a lesbian herself, but that was all for the best. It was Emma who she loved.

  Her day had been mostly desk‑bound, though she knew that her job would soon involve meeting the public, of which all she’d seen all day were the people in the streets when she’d gone out for her lunch‑break. She felt sure then, as she felt now leaving the office, that everyone could see her nakedness under her clothes.

  There she goes, she imagined them thinking, when the lift stopped on her floor and she joined the other office staff and executives already in the lift. You can see she’s got no clothes on underneath. She’s a filthy nudist. She spends all day indulging in the perverse pleasure of nudity. And what’s more she’s a lesbian. She loves other women. She’s a disgusting, perverted, naked dyke.

  And, Charlotte reminded herself with a wince, a lesbian who can’t even have sex with the woman she loves above all else. A woman for whom she’d sacrifice everything. But a woman who nonetheless denies that she’s at all gay while forever making love to Harriett. And not just Harriett, but any friend Harriett brings home with her. Last night it was Molly. A girl who probably couldn’t even spell her own name. Will it be Molly tonight? Or some other girl?

  Her bitter thoughts followed her and distracted her from the selfconsciousness of her hidden nakedness as she travelled home on the underground train, with bodies of men and women squeezed right up against her, supporting herself only by the strap. As she hurried up the stairs to the surface, she absentmindedly let her breasts fall out of her coat, but she hurriedly replaced them, sure that everyone had now decided that she was the worst kind of slut.

  It wasn’t Molly Emma was making love to when Charlotte came in. In fact, Emma and Harriett weren’t making love at all, but seemed to just be talking to a girl that was with them. This girl was quite short ‑ less than five feet high ‑ and built on a corresponding slender model, with breasts barely showing as more than discoloured bumps on her breast. Her skin was very pale, and at first Charlotte was convinced that this girl was just a school‑girl who Harriett had persuaded to strip off. In fact when the girl turned round and smiled at Charlotte with a sparkle of teeth and deep dark eyes, it was clear she was actually an oriental woman, probably in her mid‑twenties.

  Emma jumped up and ran up to Charlotte. She grasped Charlotte round the shoulders before she had the chance to take her coat off.

  “How was your first day at work?” she asked. “It wasn’t too frightful was it?”

  “No, no. It was alright. Perfectly alright.”

  “They were kind to you, were they?” Emma wondered, a look of real concern as she noticed the bitterness that had set into Charlotte’s face.

  “Oh yes, they were very nice. I’m just not, you know, just not used to being nude all day.”

  “How peculiar,” laughed Emma, who was rarely anything but. She showered Charlotte’s face with dry little kisses. “Now can you be a darling and help us.”

  “Of course,” volunteered Charlotte with no idea what Emma, Harriett and the oriental girl wanted.

  “Meet Susan,” said Emma, showing her guest. “She has a problem about making love.”

  “Yes,” explained Susan, who had a slightly foreign enunciation to her immaculate English. “All my life I only ever make love when I am being watched. That is why I work in sex television, because it is the only way I can have a happy love life. And I want to make love to both Emma and Harriett…”

  “…And both of us want to make love to her,” agreed Emma squeezing Charlotte. “Don’t we, Harriett?”

  Harriett was holding Susan’s shoulders. She gently kissed Susan full on the mouth to signal assent.

  “So please, Charlotte,” pleaded Emma, “Can you watch Susan with us? But don’t touch.”

  And so Charlotte’s first evening after a
day at her new job was spent watching the three girls make love together. Emma seemed particularly enthusiastic. More enthusiastic in her passionate love with Susan than Emma had ever seen her with Harriett. Her cries of passion were louder and fuller than she’d ever heard before. Is it Susan who makes her so passionate? wondered Charlotte. But she couldn’t be sure as Harriett seemed to be giving her great pleasure too as she nibbled Emma’s clitoris with her teeth, while Susan, in turn, squeezed her vagina tightly against her own. Or was it because I’m watching? Perhaps, Charlotte thought, my presence gives Emma just a bit more pleasure. Perhaps she gets sadistic pleasure out of my discomfort. Or maybe, and Charlotte was sure this was the real truth, she thinks I get pleasure from seeing her get pleasure.

  However, it was not Emma, but Susan who seemed most aware of Charlotte’s presence. Frequently and from whatever absurd angle it was, with pubic hair in her mouth or a tongue in her ear or her fingers firmly up Emma’s cunt or even when Harriett forced one of her dildos as far up Susan’s anus as it could go, Susan’s broad smile and sparkling gaze seemed directed not at her lovers but rather at Charlotte. In fact, Charlotte had never been looked at in such an unambiguously sexual way before. At one stage, Susan disengaged herself from her two lovers, who continued making love with each other regardless and suddenly squeezed Charlotte to her tiny breasts and kissed her passionately on the face, eyes and mouth. And then, just when Charlotte became fully appreciative of this act of passion, she pushed herself back off to rejoin the love‑making with what seemed re‑invigorated passion and lust.

  The three girls made love for what seemed forever to Charlotte, who envied them all. Afterwards though, Susan’s conversation was held not with Emma and Harriett, whom she’d enjoyed so passionately, but with Charlotte. She felt that Susan was blatantly flirting with her, particular as she so often held Charlotte’s hands in her own delicate hands and traced her fingers gently over their back. In fact, she barely seemed interested in Emma and Harriett now, who retreated after a while to watch some of the videos that Emma was still investigating for her television station.

  Charlotte soon became aware that Susan’s flirting, although meant sincerely, was not intended as an invitation to sex, (which she discussed coolly and dispassionately), but as an expression of affection. As Susan left, putting on a very tight silver jump-suit, she gave Charlotte a long embrace, hugging her and kissing her on the cheeks. “I must see you again,” Susan insisted.

  “You must come and visit and watch me making love to my boyfriend. He is so passionate. And,” she added, “we can only make love when we have visitors watching. Please say yes, so I can make love to him. He’ll love it when such a beautiful girl as you is watching.”

  Charlotte nodded, and said she would. But in truth, she felt very weary of all this second‑hand love. When would someone make love to her? And would that person ever be Emma?

  Chapter VII

  “Are you doing anything this evening?” Clarissa asked Charlotte as the two colleagues prepared to return home after a full day at work. Clarissa was pulling on a dress which like all her clothes looked awkward over her full round breasts and buttocks. Charlotte, who had more of a sense of style still found it strange becoming accustomed to wearing fewer clothes than she used to. She buttoned up the black silk blouse which was all she was currently wearing. As it was a warm day, she also had a pair of loose shorts, which she found more comfortable when not wearing knickers.

  “No, I’ve got nothing planned,” admitted Charlotte, who in fact rather dreaded going home. Who would Emma and Harriett be making love with tonight? she wondered.

  “In that case, I’ll take you to the Haworth,” announced Clarissa. “It’s a naturist wine bar near here. We can have a drink and a chat.”

  “Ooh, that’d be a nice idea,” Charlotte admitted. It certainly meant she’d be absolved of acting as a voyeur this evening. “Does it cost anything to go in?”

  “Of course not,” Clarissa assured her. “But you must take your clothes off.”

  After working all day with no clothes, this seemed quite natural to Charlotte. In fact, the sight of a man or woman wearing clothes now seemed almost odd to her. Clarissa led Charlotte down a few quiet back streets in the town centre to a fairly anonymous street, near a delicatessen and a shop selling apparently nothing but lamp‑shades, where there was the sign The Haworth just above a staircase which led down below street level. Nothing of the wine bar was visible from the street, and in fact it didn’t really seem very inviting. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place where Charlotte would normally choose to go.

  Charlotte followed Clarissa down the steps to a more inviting place than she expected. It was well‑lit with subtly attractive decor and the people inside were indeed wearing no clothes. The large black gentleman at the door was also naked (or at least what was visible over the counter). “We’ll have to leave our clothes here,” Clarissa announced. The two girls undressed and handed their clothes to the gentleman. Charlotte was about to retrieve her handbag, but Clarissa signalled that it wasn’t necessary: “You buy everything on tab here,” she explained.

  There weren’t many people in the bar. There was a group of four men in the corner drinking beers and looking well at ease in their nudity. They glanced at Charlotte and Clarissa as they entered, but in a fairly neutral fashion. A man and woman were chatting in the corner and held their hands together over the table. They had eyes only for each other. Clarissa went to the bar to be greeted by a bar‑girl wearing only a welcoming smile.

  “The same as always, Clarissa?” the bar‑girl asked.

  “Yes, of course, Emily,” Clarissa answered. “And what are you having, Charlotte?”

  “Oh, an orange juice I think,” she answered.

  “Nothing stronger?” wondered Clarissa quizzically, but this was what Emily poured into a glass which shone an orange triangle onto her apple‑shaped breasts. She then made a note on a piece of paper of the purchases.

  The girls chose a table which seemed unnecessarily hidden for such a relatively quiet place. While they chatted about work and colleagues, Charlotte gazed about the room examining the other customers as they entered. Clarissa did much the same, but in a decidedly predatory manner.

  Charlotte was soon tempted to have a glass of wine, which seemed to go straight through her, so she soon had to go to the toilet. It was a very clean toilet, but nonetheless bizarre in that there were no doors in the cubicles. No need for modesty here, reflected Charlotte, as she brushed through her long hair with her hands.

  When Charlotte got back, she found that they were no longer unaccompanied, as Clarissa was talking animatedly with a young man who was seated on a stool by their table. “Oh hello, Charlotte,” smiled Clarissa, as she sat down. “Meet … um …”

  “Edwin,” announced the young man, smiling broadly at Charlotte. “I work in Electricity. Are you in the Civil Service as well?” Charlotte nodded. “In the same section?” She nodded again. “It must be wonderful not having to wear clothes all day. Electricity would never countenance it. But I guess, the Civil Service have got to provide some benefits to counter the lousy pay.”

  Edwin sat with the two girls for the rest of the evening which seemed to go on interminably. Edwin ordered a bottle of wine, which the three shared between them, with Clarissa drinking the most. Gradually Clarissa became more intimate with Edwin, and it didn’t surprise Charlotte too much to see her stroking Edwin’s penis. “Don’t do that!” he laughed, but he neither removed her hand nor resisted it the swelling of his penis from the attention. The conversation remained more mundane and by concentrating on that, Charlotte just about succeeded in ignoring Clarissa’s blatant teasing.

  It was gone eleven when Clarissa announced it was time to go home. “Do the both of you want to come back for some coffee?” she asked. Charlotte was feeling slightly tipsy and assented as she thought a coffee might do her some good. Edwin didn’t hesitate at all.

  Clarissa’s flat was onl
y five minutes walk from the bar. The three of them got dressed, and settled their bill with the black gentleman at reception. Edwin put on a business suit, which seemed very peculiar after having so long worn nothing over his bronzed naked body. Clarissa’s flat was up a couple of flights of stairs, and had a no‑clothes policy like the bar, as Clarissa announced pushing open her front door, The three of them removed their clothes again and left them in the hall‑way, before entering the flat proper.

  Clarissa didn’t live alone in the flat. Her boyfriend was sitting in front of the television and briefly greeted them as they entered. Charlotte sat in the living room while Edwin and Clarissa prepared the coffee. It seemed to take ages to arrive, and Clarissa’s boyfriend seemed far more interested in the television than on chat.

  It was the city’s only naturist station, Nude Horizon, and like all naturist stations there were strictly no clothes, but also none of the explicit sex associated with Emma’s station, Harlot TV. Like Harlot, however, it religiously pursued its preferred subject matter and was often just as dull about it. There was probably less sex on Nude Horizon than on most other television stations and most intimacy was of a fairly chaste kind. There were soap operas and documentaries, quiz shows and films just like on any other station: all totally unexceptional but for the nudity. Although Charlotte wasn’t a great fan of sex television she preferred it to this.

  Nude Horizon was showing a general interest program which was actually discussing Harlot TV. What a strange coincidence, thought Charlotte, glancing at Clarissa’s boyfriend and wondering if she should say anything about her loose connection with the station. She decided against it. He might not approve. The program was discussing the fourth X awarded to Harlot TV and the more sexually explicit programs it was now considered responsible enough to show.