Naked Life Project - Vita Goes Nude Pt. 02

Naked Life project - towards being naked permanently

Part 2 - Going live and public

Section 5. TAKING THE SHOW ON THE ROAD

The brightness of the outside world stuns us! Like deer caught in the headlights, we face the press and freeze. The press is clearly ready for us, however, and immediately start snapping away. It takes me a moment to adjust, but then I grab the opportunity and assume a few classic poses: the pouting pin-up girl, the crowd-waving starlet, the wide-eyed girl-next-door, that protects her boobs and sex with her arms and hands etc. Unpremeditated action! I surprise myself. My nerves went solo. But I stop myself after thirty seconds or so, whence I regain control of myself. And just become my confident self, smiling naturally at the cameras. Confident and excited.

I look at Eric. He is working to remove his right hand from his crotch. Gaining control of himself too. I see his cock twitch, but it stiffens by a trifle only. I notice the relief on his face. The request has been: no interviews, only pictures, and there is the one TV-channel. We stand there for five minutes, while the Prof effectively recites the content of the press release about the why-what -and-how of the Naked Life programme and concludes by saying, 'That will be all, ladies and gentlemen of the press. Thank you. You'll find all I have said in the write-up. If you need anything else, call my office later this afternoon.' The last few photos are taken and they disperse.

We are on our own. Free to go. The Prof hugs us and waves us goodbye.

It is lunchtime and I propose to Eric to take lunch together on this first day. We are on our own but hardly alone. There is still of mob of students and some staff staring at us. The attraction of the day! Perhaps of the year. A few hisses and gasps and whispers.

We start walking our way through this small crowd. A girl takes me by the arm and tells me, 'Wow! Cool! Mad! What is this all about?' I reply, 'Join us for lunch and we'll tell you.'

'So, you are going to stay like this?' and she look us over from head to toe. 'Yes, we will. For a year! It's for research.'

She and the others that eavesdrop gasp and laugh... The girl looks at a friend so as to invite her to come along too. As a foursome we walk the ten minutes to the cafeteria, our naked pair in the middle and the two girls on the outside. I am aware of the bouncing of my breasts. We have a small mob following us.

One of the girls asks Eric beside me how he is doing - in a respectful way, mind you. He stutters through the first thing he says since we left the building. He says he feels super-conscious of himself, nervous, very uptight. He doesn't yet dare to look around and survey the realms, afraid everyone will laugh at him. The other girl, the one that is flanking him, asks him the obvious: is he not afraid to get erect? The question of the day! His right hand reacts instinctively by shooting down to cover his crotch and his head by glowing beet red. The girl smiles at him.

'It's alright, you know. It would only be natural. And you are not a bad-looking guy.'

He casts a furtive look at her face and manages a fleeting smile. He then scrapes his throat and mutters, 'I am embarrassed, you know... I am not used to girls... girls looking at me... Thanks for your encouragement.' He pauses. 'But... You know... I am more scared of guys' reactions... Guys thinking I am right loser.'

She says she understands, that one's own gender can be the cruellest. 'I think that maybe it helps if you just imagine that you are an actor doing this as a job. You sort of are, aren't you? That way, I think that your soul is protected - all that jazz doesn't affect you, because you are playing a role. Just straighten your back and hold your head up high.'

Casting her another furtive look he replies, 'That is a great idea and I will keep this in mind. Thank you.' He is growing by the minute, you know. And I don't mean the obvious.

So, look at me now! Here I am, living my dream. How do I feel? Do I really feel in my element, as if I have reached my destiny? In truth my feelings are mostly mundane. Perhaps I was expecting too much! But I am quietly excited, shall we say. Yes, I like the breezes around my body, especially where the wind doesn't normally reach. It is a nice and warm day. I like the slight bounce of my breasts. I like the feeling of freedom. I certainly like the eyes on me, by the hundreds - the eyes that see the fun of it, the eyes of puzzlement, of amazement, those of condemnation ("What the fuck!"); I like the catcalls ("Go, guys!"), laugh at the few snarls and insults ("Slut! Whore!")... And I like the wolf-whistles. I had thought I'd be hyper-aware, that I would drip from excitement, but by and large I just feel free and easy, and not burdened by the negatives.

By and large people keep their distance. (Apparently, they are not familiar with the 'Naked at School' series, or else they would order us around! LOL!) We pass a member of Campus Police, who starts, takes a step, but then realises... and waves at us. So, the police have indeed been briefed. Good to know.

I haven't yet been confronted by someone I know. There has to be a first one: a classmate. She approaches me.

'Hey... Vita, is that you? What the fuck! You're naked! I have heard of your nude parties - yes, people talk about it - but this...? Dead naked in public, out in the open... In front of everybody... Are you crazy? Or should I say: the guts you have!? Not sure! Will we see you in class this way?'

It is true that I experience a flash of embarrassment, before I regroup and reply that she will see me in class this way. All year.

'All year! I can't believe that. Well, you must explain all about it, but now I have to run. Good luck to you. The guys in the class will have a field day. Rather, field year. Haha!'

She will get used to me. They will get used to me. Will I get used to me?

Section 6. LUNCH

Our little group creates a storm in the university cafeteria. Before we enter the cafeteria proper, we check the notice board and see a fair size poster that publicises the Naked Life project, the participants (us - yes, by name - no, our phone numbers are missing!) and what it is we do and why, the do's and don't's for people who meet us - you, reader, know all about it, but not our fellow students. Just by standing there, we drew a lot of attention to ourselves and the poster. There is a buzz around us, literally. Most buzzers keep their distance, but there are mouths blabbering and fingers pseudo-discretely pointing at us, or in an obvious way, as if we are things. Okay...!

The buzz continues when our foursome enters the cafeteria itself where we progress to the counter and help ourselves. We find a free table in the middle of the space and take a - cold! - seat. Barely have we got seated or a group of three jocks comes up and asks me to go, stand on our table and show myself. To Eric, 'Not you, man.' Their request is against the rules, without a doubt. I could call the Campus Police hotline, but decide to do the opposite: obey the order.

Why do I obey? For kicks, or in fact to embarrass those that wish to embarrass me? I am not sure of my motives, because I react instantly, before any conscious thought crystallises. I realise only after the fact that my action could be seen as sexual, hence against the rules I have to respect on my part. As it is, I step on my chair in a flash and then onto the tabletop, legs apart, hands behind my head and slowly turn around full circle and full circle again. The Prof will be delighted. Because busy brainwaves buzz around in my head. Or am I too atypical for the data to be any good? Not my problem, is it?

When I get back down and sit down again, one of the jocks says, 'Thanks. You're a sport. We didn't think you would do it.' And surveying the cafeteria he shouts, 'Give her a big hand... What's your name?' 'It is Vita.' 'Give Vita a hand, people!' And a roar bursts out! I get up again and take a bow in four directions. The jocks refer to me again, 'And why are you here, naked like this? You are so hot!'

'It is a long story. Eric and I are guinea pigs in a research programme. It's called Naked Life. On the notice board you can read all about it.'

'Great! You passed the test, so we are on your side. If you need anything... Protection... Service... Sorry! But just get in touch. You too, Eric. Well, not the service, but we know girls... However, to be eligible for our support you also have to get up on the table now and show yourself, naturally.'

You'll guess it: Eric is not comfortable with the request. I look him in the eyes and nod in encouragement, radiating a subliminal message: do it... fight fire with fire... rise up against the challenge... become eligible... He considers the tabletop, takes a deep breath and then climbs up on it. The cafeteria audience roars in approval. He blushes but squeezes out the shyest of smiles. He has reached another milestone and can now progress further. He too turns around his axis once, twice... to continued applause. In the meantime, I'm astonished to find that my hand has found its way to my crotch, is ruffling my pubic hair and is about to plunge in and do the dirty business. Oh, can't do that here! I thought Eric's boners was the threat, but here am I almost committing a crime myself.

Throughout lunch both women and men come to our table. Some just look at Eric and myself, curious, disdainful, admiring, some ask a few questions about the Naked Life programme, sceptical, open-minded, with open or closed questions. It is hard to finish our meals, in effect, but eventually we do.

An awkward moment is when Sarah comes up to us. She is a good friend of mine, but one of the few that insists on seeing me in a dressed state when she visits. 'Vita, I have just read about you and the programme. I can't believe you are doing this.'

'I know, Sarah. But I am and I love it.'

'Well, I have to say, I feel uncomfortable even standing here by you.'

'Sarah, I kind of understand. But the reason why you feel uncomfortable is exactly the reason why we feel this programme is helpful, or even necessary. So, why don't you come up to my house tonight and save your message until you visit me?'

'Because you are my friend and I need to tell you, don't I? I am not okay with this, right here, in the moment. It is not right for a woman to be seen like that, sex and breasts exposed. It is cheap. Intimacy should be intimate. Certainly not in public!'

'I understand where you are coming from and respect your opinion. But I am contracted to be so. I signed a contract, you know.

'Hey, as to tonight, I am inviting a few friends over to celebrate. I was hoping you'd join the rest of us? I'd really like you to be there. You will get used to seeing me.'

'Oh... Do I have to? I guess I do. Sorry... I am just uncomfortable.'

'I appreciate your honesty. Sarah, tonight we'll be among friends. So, there, intimacy will not be compromised. And think of it this way: my brain's response to your rejection is worth capturing. And you'll really get used to me. We'll talk about it. We will value your thoughtful rigour and your opinion on whether the project could really help society and women or not. And hopefully we'll be fine.'

'If you say so... Okay, I don't like it but I will come. Bye for now.'

Section 7. CLASS

When Eric and I walk to class - Political Science - eyes follow us along all the way. We are still a novelty. Obviously! I make attempts at meeting the gazes of the onlookers. My brain will react to these gazes. Remember: I do everything to help the research. (Is there another possible reason? LOL!)

I like the looks, but begin to become saturated. Bored is not the word. But people are so predictable! Many gazes are directed to my chest and to our genitalia. Will this ever stop? Wonder how my brainwaves are affected, what the Prof will make of them...

Political science class is uneventful, after our teacher, a woman, and our class mates have done their looking. Eric and I having sat down will have helped, and having moved our genitalia out of the way with just my chest left to attract the attention away from what the teacher has to say. I confess that I have some trouble concentrating myself. It will be the adrenalin. And the recurring thought, 'I AM NAKED IN PUBLIC FOR ONE YEAR, NON-STOP.' I signed up for it, but isn't it crazy? I have said it before, but for me public nudity isn't just a liberation from societal norms and customs - it never stops being sexual. Mind that I am speaking for myself. So, my concentration falters not only because of the adrenalin but also because I am turned on. I keep my hand in check.

In the break between classes, I text my best friends to invite them over tonight. I include the link to Prof. XXX's press release, to which a picture has been added of us as we exit the institute's door. Sarah is accounted for. I get positive replies from all of the remaining three within minutes.

The only class I have this afternoon is a workshop in which we discuss legal cases in which psychological assessments have weighed in heavily. Our group is twelve and we have all prepared a case. When I enter the room, it appears that most women and men haven't heard about the programme and my part in it. I have said in the beginning that my psychologist friends have had a harder time than average accepting my home nudity. Their argument has centred on their feeling that I am damaged, perhaps misused, and therefore behave like that. I have denied it, and I wasn't misused and am not damaged, so no one repeats feeling this way anymore, but I sense not everyone is convinced.

The chairpersonship rotates among us and the leader of the day asks me to say a few words. 'So as to clear the air. No discussion, please guys, in the interest of time.'

As you know, I have practised during the last several hours and feel I am able to present a compelling case for the project. I stand up while I talk and, again, obviously, I feel several eyes eating me up. My breasts as well as my sex are above the table, mind you. I get some positive muttering, one or two sceptical gazes. Oh, well. They'll get used to me. And, before we forget, I reiterate that my brainwaves in response to the muttering and the gazes will provide good data.

The chairwoman is fairly successful in keeping the order and we all manage to get our case studies across, including me.

I am quite tired when I walk home, again the centre of some muted agitation. I don't look back, don't smile and mind my own business. I have to swing by my local convenience store for some crisps, hors d'oeuvres and a few bottles of wine. I am expecting my four best friends, including the reluctant Sarah.

Section 8 - HAVING MY GIRLFRIENDS OVER

As I have explained at the start of this narrative, I am fortunate enough to live alone. This was convenient when I started it out as a home-nudist. On the other hand, after the exhilaration and the intensity of the day, I felt a bit lonely and down when I come home to an empty house. A bit like a musician or actor coming home after an exhilarating performance. To others, Eric maybe, the opposite may be true: a feeling of relief of finally being spared the looks, the endless, never-ending bombardment of looks. I am not lonely and down because I miss the attention per se, however. No, I am saturated and need to recharge my batteries.

I solve the immediate problem of what to do by first doing a ten-minute mindfulness meditation and then eating a salad. Only then I allow my hand to do what it has been wanting to do for hours: to masturbate. Sure, I experienced some deep orgasms at the hand of Prof.XXX, but I am insatiable. I have felt the need to masturbate about a dozen times since those of this morning, but I was never alone. So, there I go. It is easy to find my inspiration. I merely have to recall one of the handfuls of situations and occasions when I felt like it during the day. I settle on the obvious: when my system was being calibrated in the lab, when James and especially the Prof. stimulated me and my system. The fact that it brought me my first 'public' orgasm fulfilled one of my exhibitionist dreams. Which made my highs most satisfying, and presently makes this one stellar too. Say no more!

I then lay the table with snacks and drinks for my friends and relax by lying down until they arrive, in half an hour or so.

A bit about Sarah-the-unbeliever. She is a good friend. Not my best friend, but a good friend. She is in my course and we have attended classes together from day 1. What I enjoy about her is her knowledge of and insights into current affairs, politics, society, the female condition in society etc. She is 'head' as opposed to 'heart.' But there is a place for that. I have other friends when I need advice about matters of the heart or need a shoulder to cry on. She was distressed the first time she was confronted with my nudity, after I had become a home-nudist a few months into my uni career. I had not warned her. I made a point of not preparing my friends and acquaintances, because a) I did not want to deter nor have people's anticipations grow, b) I positively wanted them to experience the shock of seeing me, such as it would be, and c) I wanted to experience my reactions to theirs. Well, Sarah would have been deterred from coming! As it was she was shocked and rejected me vehemently!

'Shame on you! You should have warned me and I wouldn't have come too! Look at you! I mean, you have a nice body but I don't need to see it. That is for you and your lover! Please cover up right now! It is distracting.'

She is the only friend that still outright rejects me showing my natural state. And consequently, she never attended my nude social gatherings. So, when she wants to see me, she calls ahead and only comes when the coast is clear, i.e. I have made the sacrifice and got dressed for her.

I told you she was distressed again this afternoon when I bumped into her and invited her for tonight. Her eyes were as big as saucers when she found out that my new job requires me to stay naked for a full year and when she saw me nude in the wild. She agreed to come, however.

At half eight Alicia and Cleo arrive. They're used to seeing me nude and have been accepting, what's more: enthusiastic. I tell them that I will do the explaining when the others are there. They sit down and I serve them tea and biscuits. Ten minutes later Marge arrives, soon followed by Sarah. The full complement.

So, the explaining. I talk to them about what the score is, that I will be naked for a year, and so will this guy called Eric, what the research goals are, how the City Council and hence the Police are in on it, how the initiation went, how my head was shaved and that I am wearing a temporary wig, that a permanent wig will be made from my own hair, and how the calibration went, complete with the sexual stimulation.

Of course, Sarah cries out, 'You came in front of everybody? I would die... Literally!' There is muttering, 'Well, you wouldn't die...perhaps you'll live instead...' etc.

Naturally, everybody wants to see my bald head. I make inhibiting gestures with my hands. Then say that in the name of research I will first let them experience me as I am. To that end, I stand up and show myself, turning around, bending left, and right, and backward and forward. The girls, including Sarah, attest to having looked me over well before, but not blatantly. This time there is no stealth involved. This time they have been invited... no, urged to look at me.

'I am surprised to admit,' says Marge, 'but I feel embarrassment... As if I am intruding...'