The Joy of Nudity CMNF-style Pt. 04

It's always intrigued me that science fiction heroines never seem fazed venturing boldly into the harsh realm of outer space dressed for the beach. Anyway, for our induction we squeezed into our little figure-huggers to join Jasmiran, our fellow recruit, he of the fully clothed gender.

The motto of the JpS was so uninspiring that I don't remember it. I suggested, based on our colleagues' keen appraisal of Bree's and my uniforms, "Let no heavenly body remain unexplored." But I didn't mind the attention, However, I discovered an egregious double standard.

It's a nasty stereotype that science buffs don't have girl- or boyfriends. Most JpS members did, and Bree and I brought along our guys. (I was still with Nathan.) To my indignation, they were installed as honorary members. The girlfriends were not, and Bree and I had to earn the privileges bestowed automatically on our menfolk. Obviously we didn't have the right stuff (between the legs, that is).

Now I'm not really complaining, because nobody took the JpS seriously; and anyway I didn't stay long. Once a third girl joined and Bree had company, I resigned. (So did Nathan, to his credit, even though we were already drifting apart.) But the Society gets a mention here because the presence of female members didn't stop the Jetpackers hiring a pair of strippers for their end-of-year celebration. Lorelei and Vanessa were not seasoned professionals, just university students earning spare cash. There was nothing too raunchy; and I was actually amused that they wore (and took off) cut-down (more cut-down!) versions of the Trekette uniform.

Bree and I were magnanimous, to the extent that we were persuaded to perform an impromptu "space ballet" with the strippers. I was my usual clumsy clodhopper self, but the two girls very skilfully guided me through the moves, and it was fun. Then Lorelei peeled the top of my costume down to my waist. I was facing Bree, who was exposed by Vanessa. So we joined in an embrace that preserved some decorum. It was also nice to be hugging a topless girl. She was the more embarrassed because her nipples were hard while mine remained soft. We locked eyes and giggled, and I felt her body relax. We swayed and boobed to the music but did not disconnect until it stopped.

As the show ended I quickly covered my chest again. Vanessa and Lorelei circulated for the next half-hour or so, stark naked and completely at ease, as Amanda had been. I envied such carefree confidence.

Indeed, strippers were involved in another episode, and Amanda as well, peripherally involved. She dragged me along to a birthday celebration at a nightclub's ladies-only cabaret. There were four male "exotic dancers" strutting about the stage. They were hearty beefcake, and to the wild cheers and whistles of the crowd they stripped down to buckskin loincloths. Every so often two of the men would make a foray into the audience and grab a woman. When they came towards our group, poor Liz the birthday girl was thrust forward.

The men gyrated about her, gradually stripping her until she was stark naked, as she danced with them. Since we were all half-tipsy, Liz was laughing and loving every minute of it. But here's the thing. The strippers were never completely naked. Maybe it was in their contract; maybe there are laws against full-frontal male nudity. But that didn't stop the women they dragged onto the stage from being fully divested. (I hastily add that any who showed resistance were left alone. Only one did.) Fair enough, it was a totally female crowd, except for the four men. Nevertheless, that's what struck me, the idea that the women, paying members of the audience, ended up completely naked while the males who danced with and for them kept a vestige of their modesty intact.

So a nightclub routine with male strippers was still CMNF, or at least PCMCNF — partially clothed male, completely nude female.

Thus, I shall finish this chapter with one of my favourite quotations.

"Lady Stutfield: 'Ah! The world was made for men and not for women.'

Mrs Allonby: 'Oh, don't say that, Lady Stutfield. We have a much better time than they have. There are far more things forbidden to us than are forbidden to them.'" (Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance" )