The Effable Joy of Nudity Pt. 05

I think Tim was a bit startled at how casually we stripped.

The three of us, two carrying our clothing and footwear, followed the professor to a small conference room. Waiting there were the rest of the panel of three. The second woman was nude, naturally, and the man was casually but fully dressed. They showed no sign of self-consciousness that four of the six people present were stark naked. The man on the panel was the Institute's Executive Assistant, a couple of steps in the hierarchy below the Professor. The other woman was younger, a representative of the students on the Institute's advisory board.

Tim and I bided our time in a side room as Lorelei went in for her interrogation. After fifteen minutes she came out smiling. Tim and I hadn't uttered a word as we waited. I went in next, leaving behind my clothes. I was invited to take a seat. I shuddered and barely suppressed an "Ooh!" as my bare backside touched the warm vinyl upholstery, where my predecessor had been sitting. The man smiled, ever so slightly, and the two women seemed to smile as well, in a sympathetic way. I started to cross my legs as I had done when sitting with Tim; and though I now resisted the urge I pressed my knees together. I also avoided placing my folded hands in my lap.

The interview itself was nothing out of the ordinary. I was quizzed about my academic interests and aspirations. Options for my colloquium project were discussed. My personality was probed, in particular my rationale for joining the Summer School. This was important. I had already completed a psychological profile as part of the initial procedures. It was, I'm sure, designed to weed out girls motivated by pure exhibitionism or similar impulses; and I imagine there is a comparable questionnaire for males to cull voyeurs and the like from the list. Professor Reyne did most of the inquiring; the younger woman was there to answer my questions and give advice. The man remained silent, and my impression was that his sole purpose in being there was to emphasize the CM part of CMNF. He certainly seemed unfazed by the nudity; but he was not blasé nor indifferent. He made a brief inspection of my body, over the top of a sheaf of pages he held onto for the entire meeting. In fact, his attitude was confidence-inspiring. It meant that the males at the Institute were neither slavering scopophiliacs nor jaded killjoys.

But on the whole, I was gratified and reassured that my adjudicators saw their role not so much as judges as counsellors. They were more interested in ensuring that I knew exactly what I wanted and was aware of what to expect, than in determining whether I deserved to have my application approved.

As for us being naked for the interview, Professor Reyne explained that nudity was part of our commitment to the ethos of the department and the tenets of genderism. For as long as we were at the Institute clothing would be, for us females, forbidden. So this preliminary disrobing was a sort of orientation exercise. As for Tim, it would be part of his adjustment process, to get him familiar and comfortable with the sight of naked females, both students and staff, straight away, so he could focus on his studies instead of our anatomy.

When we'd finished, the Professor congratulated me on my admission to the Summer School. Exiting the room, I gave a nod of encouragement to Tim as he rose, somewhat unsteadily, to go in. He instinctively straightened the seams on his trousers and brushed down the front of his shirt. I don't think he did it deliberately, but it was a pertinent expression of the difference between us.

The Institute is based in a salmon-pink sandstone building in a secluded locale on the outskirts of the city, though not too far from the university. It is surrounded by carefully manicured lawns and nestled in a grove of trees some distance from the main road. When I went there for the first time, the edifice still had the crisp, clean lustre of new construction.

Of the forty-eight student residents, two-thirds were female. Unlike at Lakeside Hall, in room allocation the sexes were separated. There were two supervising staff resident on-site, the House Master and House Mistress who, being a married couple, were exempted from the single-sex accommodation rule. She was not exempted from the nude rule.

My roommate was Sarah, who was also a postgrad but had been living at the Institute for several months. She was a genuine rocket scientist, researching ion drive spacecraft propulsion. Her boyfriend Rob occupied another room on the same floor. Sarah was in some ways similar to Stephanie -- diminutive and strong-minded. She was taciturn by nature, but when coaxed into conversation she showed a keen intellect and a sharp, rather acerbic wit. We spent eight amiable weeks together.

The routine did not vary except during Christmas week when almost everyone went home for a few days. Otherwise, seminars and classes were held six days a week, with time off for rest and recreation on Sundays and New Year's Day. The curriculum was rigorous but discipline was relaxed. Attendance at any session was non-compulsory; but everyone showed up anyway. It was why we were there, after all. Nor were our personal lives constrained or supervised. We were all consenting adults, after all. The only strictly enforced rule was female nudity.

Before moving in, I believed that being naked all the time would quickly become routine. But I hadn't counted on three factors. The nudity was compulsory, no female was exempt, and the males remained fully clothed. In other words, all women had to be naked and only women were naked. So you never forgot what you were and what you were not. Every moment of every day you were remined of your womanhood. This is why I have always associated the joy of nudity with CMNF.

This was exemplified and personified by the twins Michael and Michelle. They were very much alike in terms of physical appearance and personality. They had even dressed alike, in unisex fashion. Michelle wore her hair short, and as they were both slightly built with finely chiselled features, except for a modest difference in height (she was the taller!) and her feminine curves, when they were clothed it could be difficult to tell them apart. So while I don't know (because I never asked) what prompted it, their transformation at the Institute was remarkable. He started dressing in a very conservative, self-consciously masculine style. They were still very close, to the point where they would echo each other's movements and finish each other's sentences. It was therefore especially weird, like looking into parallel dimensions, to see them, with the same stance and the same facial expression, he sprucely attired in starched trousers and a button-down collared shirt, and she without a stitch on her body.

So without getting too philosophical (again), theirs was possibly the clearest manifestation of CMNF. Here were two individuals in every way and in every sense equal except in gender; and yet that distinction separated them completely. The difference between them was defined, revealed and symbolized by masculinity kept covered and femininity put on public display. Unlike her brother, whose privacy was protected, Michelle's most intimate parts were exposed, as were the responses her body made to being exposed. They maintained the most obvious and emphatic distinction between the sexes, the strict partition of clothed and naked which is, of course, what CMNF is all about.

During my eight weeks I really did discover the joy of being naked all the time. Eating in the dining hall, relaxing in the lounge, studying in the library, and other everyday activities, each becomes a sensual experience, a sexual adventure, an erotic performance, when your anatomy is constantly and completely on display. Every time you sit you brace yourself for a thrill; every time you speak to a guy you feel his gaze exploring you. We had an exercise session every day before breakfast, and the males came to watch our sweaty bodies glisten all over, our breasts jog and jiggle, our buttocks flex and pinch. We shooed them off the first couple of mornings, then challenged them to join us. Few could keep up. I will be kind and say their energy was dissipated by distraction.

Outnumbered two to one, the males no doubt thought they had entered Paradise. This included the gay guys, of whom there were at least two or three. The one-sided nudity was a confirmation of their masculinity because it was an expression of our femininity. And the males all did themselves credit. They were well-dressed and well-behaved. They didn't make a big deal about our nudity because they didn't have to.

And this will be the last lesson I shall foist upon you. It was a good thing the Institute was fairly isolated, because it attracted some negative attention, sensationalist publicity and an unsavoury element. It was not uncommon to see people -- mainly but not entirely males -- lurking beyond the perimeter, gawking, taking photographs and filming, even trying to enter. For the most part they were not so much creepy as inquisitive, but it could be unnerving. And it is a rather sad commentary on human nature that I felt safer inside, where all of us women were naked, than outside entering or leaving. But that is why the CMNF philosophy works. Forget the saying "Familiarity breeds contempt." Rather, familiarity breeds acceptance, and understanding, and decorum.