Naked Lecture

byAraw©

I look at the mirror, pleased by what I see. I am a nerd, of course, all computer scientists are. But I am a damn good-looking nerd!

I began studying computer science in 2009, and very quickly a fellow student told me about bitcoin. Economically, the idea was naive in my opinion, but the math and cryptography fascinated me. Soon after, I was writing a bitcoin mining program running on the graphics card of my gaming computer. That would change my life and my carrier. Soon, other similar programs appeared, but mine was always slightly faster, and I made GPU programming my specialty. I still regarded bitcoins as a bit naive, who would use that kind of tokens for anything? Who would pay actual money for a bitcoin? But slowly the price began rising, and since I did not believe in them, I began selling my bitcoins to finance my computers and my studies. But for some reason I cannot explain, I always kept half the bitcoins I mined. Then the rest of the world discovered bitcoin...

Last year I finally graduated. So I am a nerd. But a beautiful, stinking rich nerd with a PhD. And today I present my work at the annual meeting of the Society of Industrial and Applied Mathematics. Life is good!

I have been advised again and again that women in science should dress conservatively, and assume an almost masculine look. I have never heeded that advise. I like the feminine look. Not the slutty look, I know exactly where the limits are, I look professional but no-one will be in doubt that I am a woman. And if the men look at me instead of their laptops when I present - well then they will probably also listen to my presentation. I look one last time in the mirror, then I leave my hotel room.

I have no reason to be nervous. I have spoken in public before, it has always gone well, and I am prepared as never before. But somehow my stomach does not agree. I look at my breakfast again, and leave most of my omelet behind. Then I go to find the lecture hall.

The SIAM meeting is huge, with many parallel sessions. Nevertheless, I quickly find the right lecture hall, and enter it five minutes to nine. I look for a seat in the back, then I change my mind, and find a seat on the fourth row, just next to Irene from M.I.T. I am an invited lecturer now, no need to hide in the back, these people are my peers and my place is among them!

At nine o'clock sharp the chairman rises to welcome us.

"Welcome to the second day of the SIAM meeting, and to this special John C. Slate session on 'Accelerated Computation and GPU Numerics'. This session would not have been possible without a generous sponsorship from Slate Industries, and it is my honor to start by giving the word to Mr. John Slate himself."

I am slightly surprised that the owner of one of the largest corporations in North America has the time and inclination to show up at a conference like this. Mr. Slate rises, and begins talking about the importance of mathematics for industry and for the economy. Fortunately, he knows the value of brevity, and soon it is time for the first lecture.

Professor Antonio Marino from Texas is first on the floor. I know his work, of course, it is central to the field. I had also heard that he is not a good speaker, but I had never suspected that he would be this boring. Soon, I find myself looking at the conference program. Irene will be speaking soon, as number four. Then I see it. Every second speaker today is female. I smile, if you ask a mathematician to ensure gender balance, this is what you get!

The second speaker is Freya Swensson, a young assistant professor from Minneapolis. I have never heard of her before, but the lecture is excellent, and I see some uses in my own work. After her talk, I ask her about related applications, and she immediately see my point, but explain why it would not work. There are two more questions from the audience, and then to everybody's surprise the chairman give the word to Mr. Slate.

"Thank you for your presentation, professor Swensson. On June 16 we will be arranging a workshop at the Slate Industries main R&D facility. I would like to invite you to give your presentation there. We will pay all your expenses, and also a honorarium of twenty thousand dollars for your participation. The only condition is that you give your presentation while being completely naked."

The smile disappears from Freya's face as quickly as it had appeared.

"You disgusting chauvinist swine! Go fuck yourself!" she shouts, and stomps off towards her seat.

Just as she passes the first rows she turns back towards the podium. "Mr. chairman! How can you allow this kind of comments at a scientific meeting?"

The chairman rises, and looks like he would like to be anywhere else right now.

"Hmm, well, ... the only condition on the Slate sponsorship was that Mr. Slate could ask a question or give a comment after each talk, even if politically incorrect. I am unfortunately bound by that agreement, although I do not like it. But do feel free to turn him down. And do so with whatever language you see fit, I will certainly not enforce academic decorum after such comments."

Then the third speaker takes the floor, and delivers another excellent presentation. He is followed by Irene. Irene is always a good speaker, but I am slightly disappointed that there is nothing in her presentation I did not hear when she visited our university half a year ago. I wonder if Slate will give her the same offer as Freya. After all, Irene is not exactly young, she must be close to retirement.

After a few normal questions, Mr. Slate rises and gives her the same proposition he gave Freya. Irene completely ignores him, and returns to her seat with dignity.

One more talk by a guy, then professor Lena Poole from Chicago presents her work. She is a good-looking woman in her late thirties, and when Slate offers her to present her work naked in exchange for twenty grand, she smiles back at him.

"I do not understand this fascination of the naked body. After all, we all have one when we take off our clothes, that is nothing to be ashamed of. Mine is not as young as it used to be, but that is also completely natural. So yes, why not? If you are willing to pay me a ridiculous amount of money to see it, that is perfectly fine with me."

The lecture hall is completely silent as she returns to her seat.

Then an elderly male professor gives another boring presentation; followed by Kalindi Chakrasindri, a Ph.D. student from New Mexico of obvious Indian descent. Kalindri is a small, beautiful woman with long very dark hair and a beautiful face. She is obviously nervous as she gives her presentation, but she does well. She answers a few questions from the audience, and then looks worried as Mr. Slate gives her the by now usual offer. For perhaps thirty seconds she just stares at him. Then she nods silently, and returns to her seat.

It is time for lunch. I take the opportunity to ask Irene a question about her work, and we end up eating together while discussing pretty technical questions. But eventually she asks me if I am going to accept Mr. Slate's offer.

I laugh. "No way! I don't need the money, and I don't want to do something like that. Why would I? Unless... No." A strange idea appears in the back of my mind. I push it away, this is not a path I want to take. Suddenly I notice that Irene has been talking to me, and I have not been listening. I apologize, and we get back to our technical discussion.

The second talk after lunch is another young Ph.D student from New Mexico, from the same group as Kalindi. When Slate makes his improper suggestion, she answers him with a language that would make a sailor flinch. The chairman certainly flinches, but true to his promise he does not reprimand her.

The fourth talk is also a young Ph.D. student from Washington State University, Mary Johnson. When Slate has made is proposition, she looks sternly at him.

"Do you realize that this country is full of unfortunate women who have to not only strip naked but actually have sex with random disgusting men for far less money than you are offering me just to take off my clothes? It would be disrespectful for all these poor women and their struggles if I were to decline. So yes, I will come."

As she returns to her seat, Irene leans toward me and whispers "Did that argument make sense?"

"I am not really sure," I answer. Then I concentrate. There is one guy going to speak now, then it is my turn. The silly idea from lunch keeps nagging for my attention, I have to make up my mind soon.

Finally, it is my turn. I go on the stage, and present my work, completely focused and without giving Mr. Slate any thought. I can see that the audience is paying attention, and I hear from their questions that they understood my main points. Then Mr. Slate brings me back to reality.

"So, Diana Westerling, I guess you know my proposition by now. Will you be willing to attend my workshop on June 16? We will pay all your expenses and a honorarium of twenty thousand good US dollars. You will present the work you just presented, but do it stark naked."

I smile politely at him. "Twenty thousand dollars. That is two bitcoins. I do not need that money, but there are some who do. Our rights online are being eroded by censorship and surveillance. Our democratic states know more about us than the old communist dictatorships could ever hope to learn. Those who fight that development need resources. If you will pay the twenty thousand dollars to the American Civil Liberties Union then I will come and entertain at your little strip-workshop."

Mr. Slate looks unhappy. "I will gladly give the money to almost any charity of your choice. But honestly, I dislike the ACLU. Can we agree on another similar charity."

"No," I answer. "I have no need to do this. If you pay the ACLU, I will come. If you don't, I won't."

He does not answer, so I pocket my laser pointer, and walks back toward my seat.

"Ms. Westerling, we have a deal".

I turn back toward him. "See you in June, then!"

Four more people present, two of them women. They both decline Mr. Slate's proposition with various amount of foul language.

FIVE WEEKS LATER:

The taxi deposit me in front of the Slate Industries Research Facility. My flight was delayed by more than an hour, but I am still on time. I enter the building and walk towards the reception, when a middle-aged woman approach me.

"Dr. Westerling, I presume. I am Heather Wednesday, personal assistant to Mr. Slate. Please follow me."

We enter the elevator, and are taken to the seventh floor. In a small meeting room I meet the three other women, to my surprise they have all shown up. I had decided to go ahead even if I were the only one, but I am very relieved to see them. Lena seems completely relaxed and at ease, Mary is clearly nervous, but seems reasonably OK. Kalindi looks unhappy and ill at ease.

Then Ms. Wednesday briefs us. The meeting is in the main auditorium, there will be more than a hundred developers and researchers from the facility present, around eighty percent male. We will be sitting on the front row next to Mr. Slate, who will act as chairman. Before our presentation, we will go behind a screen next to the scene where we will strip. Then we enter the scene. There is no podium for our laptop, as that would obscure the view, instead our presentation is pre-loaded on a computer and a small screen on the floor allows us to see our own slides while facing the audience.

Ms Wednesday continues her explanation, "After the presentation, you go back behind the screen to get dressed, while the next speaker comes forward. Then you return to your seat."

Lena whispers "I may skip that part"

I look at her. "You will not go back to the seat?"

"No, you fool," She smiles to me. "I may skip the getting dressed part."

I look at her with wonder, but before I can say anything Ms. Wednesday interrupts us.

"Please draw a number from this pot."

Kalindri draws number three, then I draw one, Lena draws two and Mary four. That settles the order of our presentations. Then it is time.

We enter the auditorium through a small side door. The audience applauds us as soon as they see us. Then we sit down at the reserved seats at the end of the first row. Mr. Slate is already seated next to us, I find myself between Lena and him. A few moments later, he rises.

"Welcome to this special workshop. Welcome to all of you in the audience, and a particular welcome to these four very talented and very brave women who are going to present their research today."

As instructed, I discretely leaves my chair and goes behind the screen. I quickly remove my clothes. My heart is hammering in my chest. I look down, to my surprise my nipples are erect and I feel a tingle in my pussy. I trimmed my bush yesterday, it looks fine. I wonder why I am doing this, but it is clearly to late to bail out now. Then Mr. Slate finishes his introduction.

"Let me welcome the first speaker on the stage, Dr. Diana Westerling."

I step out onto the stage. More than a hundred people are looking at me. It takes all my strength of will not to cover up with my hands, but doing so would be too humiliating to contemplate. Instead, I walk almost to the front edge of the scene, and look out at the crowd.

"Thank..." My mouth dries out, and I try again. "Thank you, sir, for the introduction and for the opportunity to speak here." I force a smile at the audience.

The first slide is already on the screen. "The topic of my talk is..." I stand still as a statue during the first two minutes of my talk. I have never felt so ill at ease in front of an audience. I have never before felt horny while giving a presentation, but now shame and horniness are competing. I stutter a bit.

Around the third slide I feel my guts easing up a little. I begin walking back and forth on the scene, as I usually do. I point at the screen, sometimes with my laser pointer, sometimes with my arm. I know I must be giving them quite a show, moving around on the scene, but I cannot help it. I am gradually slipping into my usual presenter role. At some point I realize that I am even smiling. Then my presentation is over, and I discover that I am again just a naked woman standing on a scene facing an audience. They all applaud.

I take a deep breath, then I look out over the audience. Mr. Slate gets up. "Are there any questions?"

At first nobody reacts. Then a young man on the fifth floor raises his hand. "On the fifth slide, you showed us that ..." I am pleased that at least one guy paid attention to what I said. I instinctively take a few steps in his direction as I begin answering. Then I am overwhelmed by a feeling of being vulnerable and naked. I take a deep breath, and force myself to walk all the way to the very edge of the stage, so I stand facing him. Then I answer his question.

Two more technical questions are asked, one of them by a woman. In each case, I walk to the edge of the scene and face the person asking.

Finally, a young guy asks, "Do you feel horny being naked in front of us all?"

Mr. Slate interrupts before I can answer, "Since there do not appear to be any more scientific questions let us thank the speaker again." The audience applauds again. Then I take a few steps toward the screen beside the scene. Lena is standing naked, ready to go out. She gives me a thumbs up.

I remember her words from before about not getting dressed. My father always says that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing properly. Why not? In stead of going back to my clothes I return to my seat, naked. Mr. Slate looks at me with surprise, and stumble over the words as he presents Lena. Lena is smiling, I think she enjoys the exhibitionism.

Lena's presentation is perfect, she truly does not seem to be bothered by being naked. At the end of her presentation, she answers a few questions, then Mr. Slates ends the questions, and calls Kalindri on the stage. Lena returns to her seat next to mine as naked as she was born.

I look at Kalindri. I am not lesbian, not even bi, but I can certainly see that she is unusually beautiful. She is small, with firm breasts. Her skin is dark brown, her hair is long and black, it almost reaches down to her butt. Her bush is dark and curly, I think she has trimmed it ever so slightly. But she is nervous, and I am sure that if her skin was not so dark she would be blushing.

She stutters as she gives her presentation. Several times she is searching for the words. But she continues unabatedly, and once she reaches her conclusions a smile breaks out on her face. Only a single person asks her a question, but she seems more at ease answering it than at any time during her presentation. Then she leaves the scene, and goes behind the screen.

Mary appears. It is like seeing a video of my own talk. For the first two minutes she stands stiff as a plank, and stutters slightly as a student giving her first presentation. But then she thaws, and the last part of the talk is as good as it was at the SIAM meeting.

Halfway during Mary's talk, Kalindri is returning to her seat. She is now smiling a huge, radiant smile, and as she is sits down she gives Lena and me a high-five. "I did it!" she whispers, with obvious pride.

Finally, Mary finishes and returns to the screen to get dressed. Mr. Slate goes back on the scene, and thanks us all for our contribution. Then he starts talking about nothing in particular, clearly he is stalling, waiting for something. I realize it must be Mary, for as soon as she reappears (now very decently dressed) Mr. Slate smiles.

"Now I would like to invite you all to a small reception in the lounge, in the honor of these four exceptional and brave women." With that announcement, he leaves the scene.

"So, Ladies," he says, "Thanks again, I enjoyed it. I hope you will be willing to come for the reception."

He continues talking while the audience leaves the auditorium. Finally, he looks at Lena and me. "I assume you two want to get dressed before the reception." I look at Lena. None of us say a word, we just smile. When Slate, Kalindri and Mary start walking toward the exit, we follow them, leaving our clothes behind.

At the reception there is a long table with a buffet with snacks and the like, and of course wine and beer. Most people are chatting while waiting for the food, but as we enter the room the chatter dies out, and all eyes are on Lena and me. We pretend not to notice, and join one of the queues. Immediately, the people around us interrupt their conversations and start talking with us. Some try to keep their eyes on our faces, but fail. Others don't even try but stare unashamedly at our tits and pussies. We quickly reach the food, and I put a few things on a plate, while keeping an eye out for Lena. This is fun, but a bit intimidating and I do not want to get separated from her.

It takes surprisingly long, maybe five minutes or so, before somebody dares to touch me. I feel a hand placed on my butt. Without interrupting the conversation, I reach back with my left and and remove it. I do not mind being groped a bit, but I am afraid what will happen if I encourage it. A few minutes later, while I am talking to two guys and a gal, I am interrupted by a young guy.

"May I?" he asks, and reached out and gropes my left breast.

I look at him sternly. "No you may not!"

He pulls his hand back, and looks a bit scared.

"But you are welcome to look," I say and smile. Then I turn to face him, and spread my legs slightly. He looks like he is about to come in his trousers.

I continue talking with the people around me. Four or five times a hand is placed on my butt or on a breast, each time I reach out and remove it, without saying anything. I see that Lena does the same. Then we look at each other, and seem to agree. We find Ms. Wednesday, and ask her to take us to our clothes. We get dressed, leave the building and share a taxi to the airport.

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byAraw© 0 comments/ 13816 views/ 18 favorites

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