The No-Dress Code

A Fun at Work Collection

by P.A. Choi

Copyright 2020 P.A. Choi

Cover design by P.A. Choi.

Table of Contents

The Naked Job Interview

Nice Butt, Naked Butt: A Fun at Work Story

The Naked Job Interview 2

Candy's Boobs: Another Fun at Work Story

And Then My Boss Took Off her Clothes! A Fun at Work Story

The Naked Job Interview 3: Job Fair

About P.A. Choi

The Naked Job Interview

Shawna was just a bit nervous—okay, plenty nervous—as she entered the High Score bar where there had been posted a "Help Wanted" sign and which had posted a more detailed ad on Craigslist that had caught her attention: "Fresh bartenders and servers wanted for unconventional dining experience. Must be confident and immodest." Now what on Earth could that mean? Shawna figured this was going to be some type of Hooters situation, which was tacky, but she would at least consider first. She could put on a short skirt if that was the look. She didn't have big boobs, though. But then again, the ad didn't say they were required.

She tried to remember why "High Score" seemed familiar to her as she pushed through the doors and entered a very shaded interior, and she instantly was afraid, as if she had just stepped into a seedy biker's bar. She definitely didn't want to work at a place like that. But as her eyes adjusted, she saw it was only just opening, and not all the lights were on, and a girl her age and stature was wiping down the bar, a good sign, and a young man stepped from around a corner and greeted her.

"Welcome to High Score, is this a single-player's game or will others be joining you?"

"I, uh—what? I'm here for a job interview."

"Oh!"—he set aside the menu. "Right this way, you want Pat."

And with that, she followed the awkward young man through the slowly-lightening interior of the bar, and she started to remember something about this place in the news some time ago. It wasn't some sort of scandal, but it was controversial, but she didn't pay too much attention to it. Wait. She did remember. There was some kind of video game tournament, except everybody was—

"Right through here," the young man said, and held his hand out into a doorway that led to a much more well-lit back office area. More rather, it seemed to be a type of gaming area, with a large table that seemed to be intended for role-playing games and other smaller tables surrounding it, and several doors surrounding those on the drab walls, and one door was open, and Shawna heard a chair scrape as someone stood. Then a very friendly-looking older man stepped out and extended his hand.

"Shawna? Hi, I'm Pat."

She took his hand. It was damp and sweaty, like any old man's.

"I'll leave you to it, Pat," the young man said, and disappeared back into the restaurant.

"Thanks for coming by," Pat said, releasing the muggy handshake and motioning towards his office. Shawna followed him inside and stood before a meager-looking metal chair, which sat in front of a messy desk full of papers, which Pat took a seat behind.

"Have a seat," Pat said. "And get comfortable. So you're interested in a server position?'

"That's right, sir," Shawna said, and took a seat on the chair, which was as wobbly as it looked, despite being made of metal. It was a thin construction of bolted-together scraps of aluminum.

"Do you have any experience serving?"

She did. "I do. I waited tables for a year at Ruby Tuesday."

"Very good. That's just fine." Now Pat coughed and shifted in his chair. He leaned forward onto his desk as if he were about to get down to serious business. "Now this job is a little different than Ruby Tuesday, I will tell you. Are you familiar with our business?"

"Yes. I actually just remembered as I walked in," Shawna admitted. "You hosted the Naked Smash tournament."

"That's right," Pat said, nodding. "And since then, business has been booming, and I've decided to make this place a clothing-optional bar. For the staff, though, it's less optional, as it is..."

"Required?" Shawna said with a gulp. Maybe there were things she wasn't willing to do.

"I prefer 'nudist.'" Pat said. "There's 'nudist,' and there's clothing-optional. Clothing-optional gives people the opportunity to wear what they want if they're not comfortable nude, but it also presents the problems of leaving an avenue for the barriers that obstruct what it means to be a nudist to remain up. Now our guests might not all feel comfortable taking everything off, and a good many might just come to gawk, but for our employees... I want to set a tone, you see. I think that is very important."

Shawna just nodded. She didn't quite know what to say. This was not the type of job interview she was expecting.

"So, at this juncture, I would have to ask..."

She waited, expecting the ultimatum, but no the dare that was about to follow, as he proceeded to say:

"If you could please take your clothes off now."

Shawna was shocked silent. Do what?

"Um.. e-excuse me?"

Pat put up his hand to reassure her.

"Nothing wrong meant by that, I assure you. But my entire staff—including me-is going to be nude. I want to make sure that anybody applying is comfortable being nude around others. It will help weed out people who can't bring themselves to do it."

Shawna sat there, staring directly at Pat, and through him. She did not expect this. Maybe this is my queue to go, she thought. Dressing up in a tight shirt and skirt was one thing, but nude? She wasn't exactly ready to be practically a stripper.

"I understand this is a little forward," Pat said. "But it's important. I didn't mention it in our ad because, well, I didn't want to attract the wrong crowd."

Something about this reassured Shawna and kept her from standing up and leaving, and she was intending to do. In her hesitation, Pat stood up instead.

"I can go ahead and step out while you undress, if you like," he said. Again this reassured Shawna, and she shocked even herself that she remained seated, as if she intended to go through with this whole interview as it was intended. She needed the money, afterall. Not that she couldn't just apply at any other restaurant, but she found herself nodding, and—

"Okay," she said. Pat smiled and stepped around from his desk.

"Very good," he said. "I'll be back in a minute." Without looking back, with a brisk and business-like manner, he walked through the doorway and closed the door behind him softly, and then Shawna was alone in the little cramped office with the biggest decision she had to make in her life, or so it felt.

Her heart was rattling in her ribcage like a little gerbil. Was she really going to do this? Did she really need the money that badly? Everything about this setup screamed exploitation, to the layman, but everything in Pat's demeanor and communication said otherwise. She had two choices: go through with what was asked of her, or stand up and go to the door. She stood, and with shaking hands, pulled up her blouse.

She hardly knew what she was doing as the garment left her head and her hair spilled down over her shoulders. She dropped the shirt to the side and kicked off her loafers next, then took down her jeans, not daring enough yet to undo her bra and be exposed in this abnormal setting. As she shimmied her pants down, she felt ridiculous in her underwear, and fearful. But she had nothing to fear, she knew, and she reached her hands behind her back to begin what would be a monumental transformation, as the clip opened and the bra fell and her breasts were permitted to see the light of some other place than her bedroom or bathroom. One garment left, and she became a naked girl, as the panties slid down her legs and she kicked them aside, and she stood in the middle of the room as naked as the day she was born, the cold fluorescent lights harshly illuminating every inch of her, and her self-consciousness focusing on every little part of her, especially her lightly-trimmed pubic area, a shaggy little narrow triangle seen by no one except her, until now. Then the door opened. She was as shocked to see what she saw as much as she was by the sudden intrusion, for Pat himself was now totally naked.

"Figured this would help even things out between us," he said as he crossed through the room and made to return to his position behind the desk, and in those brief moments Shawna saw the whole of him, from his round, heaving belly to his flippity-floppity penis, quite small in its non-erect state, quite undramatic for the first penis she had ever seen in person. Then he took a seat behind the desk and he was hidden. The door remained open.

"Now, I must ask," Pat said, not missing a beat, undisturbed and unhindered by Shawna’s' own nudity as she stood before him. "Have you ever had an experience with nudism?"

"N-no. I haven’t," Shawna admitted truthfully, as she stood there before him. It took her a few moments, and with no goading on Pat's part, for her to return to her seat as he questioned her. At once she felt less on display, but even sitting there, he could see more of her than she could of him; her prim pubis was right there between her pinned-together legs, for him to stare at, though he seemed to look at her as a whole, instead of lustfully focusing on specific parts, as she was, mentally.

"That's fine," Pat said, addressing the question that she had already forgotten was asked. "I don't expect everybody to have had the opportunity for it, especially younger people."

It was amazing how carefree and nonchalant Pat was; he was obviously no stranger to nudism. It took Shawna, however, quite a bit to adjust, to slow down her heart beating around inside her, to take a breath.

"So I will ask," Pat continued. "How good are you at dealing with customers? And will that be any different without your clothes?"

It took Shawna a second to answer him. "I did pretty good at Ruby Tuesday. Customers always liked me. I don't think I can recall having an unhappy guest." As she spoke she wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, which squished her breasts together a little, but as she finished talking she let her arms fall away and detected no change in Pat's demeanor.

"Let's say you have two customers at a table—let's say two guys—who are a little, let's say rude, to you. I'll just say it: they are coming on to you, talking sexual to you, or God forbid, trying to lay a hand on you. What do you do?"

Shawna was taken aback. The imagined scenario was a horror scene; she had already imagined it the second she took off her clothes, and it was not something she wanted to experience. Despite Pat's comforting tone, however, it looked like this would indeed be a situation that would happen. What did one expect? It was a bar, and a bar frequented by young gamers. She thought about it, and thought about the different levels of inappropriateness that these imaginary guests may take.

"Well," she said. "I would of course be polite, and I would tell them to please refrain from inappropriate behavior. With a smile, of course. If it came to touching, I would gently move their hand away and say 'please don't do that.' And if they didn't stop, why I guess I would leave the table immediately and notify you."

"Quite well," Pat said with a nod. "And I will reassure you, behavior like that definitely won't be encouraged. If anybody comes here to gawk and grope, they get thrown out, no question."

Shawna nodded herself; this Pat seemed to have a good clear head.

"Now people are going to stare. You are going to have guests go ga-ga over seeing you. It will be up to you to decide if it breaches appropriate behavior. Now I will also assure you, I am not just hiring pretty girls for guests to gawk at. There will be male servers as well. There will be thin servers, there will be fat servers, the only thing that matters is your work ethic. I think that will set a tone here as well, and hopefully you won't have too many guests like the ones I just made up."

Shawna continued nodding. It seemed that she was more and more comfortable with the idea of working here, of being naked, and even being naked in front of this man right now. She no longer squirmed in her seat, and though her hands were folded in her hap, she wasn't consciously trying to cover herself. The only discomfort was the sticky leather seat to the metal chair, and the hardness of it making her butt sore. Didn't nudists lay down towels everywhere they sat? Maybe Pat wasn't that attentive of a nudist. How many other naked butts had sat on this seat, she wondered.

"Well I think I'm pretty satisfied with saying I'm willing to give you the job," Pat continued as she sat there, thinking. The sudden statement made her heart leap, both with the general excitement of knowing one 'got the job,' and with the realization that she indeed was going to be serving food to masses of people completely naked. "We fully transition into a nude bar at the beginning of the next month. Would you be able to start then?"

Shawna grinned, nodded enthusiastically, and happily and nakedly replied: "yes!"

"Great," Pat said. "Do you have a schedule preference?"

They ironed out her workweek, Pat laying a calendar out on his desk and Shawna standing and walking over to look at it closely, standing closely over him, feeling odd but not inappropriate, yet still feeling a weird thrill, her body so close to his, her boobs hovering right over his head, and once again, he did not seem phased in the slightest; he didn't even look up.

She chose Wednesdays through Sundays from six to closing, and then Pat stood and shook her hand. The sudden revelation of all his nudity again took Shawna by surprise for a moment, but just like Pat, she didn't miss a beat as she extended her hand and accepted his shake, and her eyes ashamedly did dart down and notice his belly jiggle with the movement of his hand, and his penis, too, which she noted also looked a tad longer than when he had entered the room. So he is aroused by me! she thought. He does enjoy looking at me! But it was a guilty thought, and her eyes went back up so fast—they had only traveled down for a split-second—that Pat didn't seem to notice, or care, though she had the sudden fear that that split-second look would cancel her employment, outing her as someone not fit for social nudity. But they finished the shake and Pat walked around from his desk to show her out. Shawna collected her clothes from beside the metal chair and then, to her own surprise, found herself slipping her feet into her shoes and tucking the rest under her arm.

Pat chuckled, and waited as she walked up and passed him, exiting into the larger room without her clothes. After all, Pat was out here nude, and she was expected to work in the nude, so she might as well get used to it. Pat walked with her past the game tables to the entry to the main floor, and it was there that he said his farewells.

"Well thanks for stopping by," he said. "See you next month."

"Thank you," Shawna said, turning to him, and he had a warm smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes, as if he was wondering if she really was going to walk out onto the main floor in the nude, and that's exactly what she did. She turned from him and pushed through the doors, and entered the dim light of the restaurant.

The doors clicked shut behind her and Pat was no longer there. She was now alone, and completely naked. She walked past empty tables, nobody coming to show her out yet, nobody yet to see her. She got closer and closer to the front, where the natural light from outside filled the air, and she passed one lone table with a young couple glancing at a menu and then darting their eyes up at her as she walked by. She smiled and waved. Then she saw the host boy.

"Have a good d—oh." His eyes were large, his body frozen in mid-gesture, and Shawna smiled at him with a dainty wave of her hand. "Thanks," she said. "I'll see you again when I start work."

He fixated her as she walked past the podium, getting a view now of her departing butt. Perhaps he was not accustomed to the bar's upcoming change of uniform quite yet. Perhaps he was not even working when the Naked Smash tournament was hosted. Perhaps he was not part of the all-nude lineup. But if he was, he certainly was going to be seeing her like this quite more often.

As she disappeared out the door, the girl from the bar stepped up to the boy, gazing through the plate-glass at Shawna's sun-glowed body. "Are we supposed to let her leave like that?" she asked.

Shawna walked to her car and could not believe how incredible it felt for the sun to warm her body completely, all over. It made her feel alive. So this is what nudists live for, she thought. It wasn't until she settled into her car that she questioned just what the hell she was doing. She looked around the parking lot; there was nobody around to see. Perhaps she was just taken by the pure joy and comfort of being naked, she thought. She couldn't drive home like this, though, so she settled for pulling on her t-shirt, and she started the car and backed out of her spot and left the plaza bottomless, the fabric seat of her car a little itchy but more comfortable than the leather seat in Pat's office. She drove home like that, and covertly slid on her jeans behind her open door when she got out at home. Her daring exit from the restaurant gave her motivation to show up for the first day already nude, walking from her car to the entrance like an exhibitionist for all the people gathered outside, and her first reprimand at her new job was to keep the nudity contained to inside the restaurant. Putting on her clothes at the end of her shift was always a disappointment.

Nice Butt, Naked Butt: A Fun at Work Story

Paul was getting coffee in the break room one morning when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Deb, and as always, he noticed that ass. Prominent, round, wrapped snugly in a pair of thin slacks, there was no way to not notice that ass.

Deb turned around and smiled at Paul. "Morning Paul."

"Morning Deb."

Deb always gave Paul a little tremble in the heart. She was very pretty.

Then she turned and walked away, and there was that ass, rocking in those slacks, making the fabric ruffle over those flexing cheeks.

Indeed, Deb knew she had a nice ass. She liked walking with a little extra bounce, feeling her rear shake, feeling the fabric brushing against her cheeks, knowing that all the guys were looking. She felt like a model instead of a data analyst. Maybe she had missed her calling.

As Deb walked by, Kendra kept her head pointed at her computer screen, but was secretly watching the enchanting motion of Deb's ass. She was not a lesbian, but she couldn't help but admire a nice ass, and Deb's daring state of dress, and she also couldn't help but have a sting of jealousy…

*****

It was later in the evening, in the bathroom, when Kendra heard the shower in the locker area running, that she came up with an idea.

Steam was coming out of the shower stall, and sitting on the benches outside of it were Kendra's clothes, all piled up and ready for the taking. There were her office clothes, laid neatly on the bench so as to not wrinkle, and there were her gym clothes, black nylon shorts and a pink tank bundled up on top of a towel. Kendra gathered them, along with the towel, as quietly as she could and left the bathroom.

Now all she had to do was wait. And not get caught with Kendra's clothes. The bathroom was located right by the break room, and thankfully, nobody was there, so Kendra walked over to the large rubber trashcan and dropped the whole bundle in. Then she reached down and rummaged it to the bottom, covering it with coffee grounds and half-eaten donuts. She laughed evilly, and stared into the trash can like a witch over her pot, until Paul came in to get his evening coffee.

"Evening, Kendra. What's so funny?"

Kendra regained her composure and carried on the laugh a little longer like she just remembered a good joke.

"Say, what does a pirate with a steering wheel in his pants say? 'Aaaar! It's driving me nuts!'"

Paul stared at her blankly, then made for the coffee pot nearby.

"You're weird," he said, and poured his evening caffeine.

"You're boring," Kendra said, and was about to walk away, before she remembered that she should wash her hands. So she strolled over to the sink to do so while Paul turned and started back from where he came, with a steaming paper cup in his hands and a hum in his throat. He was just past the bathroom door when a voice echoed from within: "Motherfucker!"

He froze in his step, and Kendra hurriedly dried her hands with a dishtowel, stepping away from the sink to witness the show. She didn't know it would be this good.

As Paul was slowly turning around, the bathroom door opened, much to Kendra's surprise, and much to Paul's surprise, out stepped Deb, nude and dripping wet, glimmering like a Playboy model lathered up with oil, droplets falling from her voluminous breasts, which she turned towards Kendra, apparently not noticing Paul. Kendra got an eyeful, from Deb's enviable bosom to her thick but neatly-trimmed bush (she was surprised she didn't shave).

"Did you take my clothes, you shit?" she directed towards Kendra, but she could not answer, partly because of the shock, but partly because she was looking at Paul's reactions behind Deb, as he finally looked on the full glory of that ass. His coffee hand trembled, and his mouth slowly opened.

"This ass is greater than the most breathtaking mountains, the most majestic glaciers, more pleasing than the sound of the most celebrated music, or expertly-cooked meals, more cherished than a first-born child and more mysterious than the moon."

Deb wheeled around at the sound of his voice as if to confront him, though the first thing she said was "oh shit." And Kendra got her look at that ass, and so glorious it was that it made her speechless. The droplets of shower water traced the wide curvature like sweat on a peach; the crevice of her two cheeks meeting was shaded like the detailed pencil work of an artist's efforts, and it altogether seemed to resist all forces of gravity, though she could tell just by looking at it, that it was as soft to the touch as a pillow. All that jiggling and jostling behind immodest coverings had this magnificent formation as its source. Kendra felt all her effort was vindicated, for there was an ass the world had to see. And meanwhile, all the world was displayed before Paul's shocked eyes. He dropped his coffee and it splashed all over the floor.

"I this... God?" he asked.

"You're gonna meet God if you look a second longer!" she growled. Then she wheeled back to Kendra and took several steps closer.

"Now I know it was you, twathead. My keys and phone were in my pants. What'd you do with them?"

"How'd you know it was me?" Kendra asked, leaning away from Deb as she loomed over her (or mostly, her breasts did).

"You're the only weirdo here who would do something like that," Deb said with eyes narrowed. "Now what'd you do with 'em?"

Coming through the side door, humming a pleasant tune, came the cleaning lady, pushing her rattling cart. She didn't look at them as she wheeled behind Kendra, stopped her cart, and then hoisted the plastic trash bin up with no effort at all, dumping it into the open plastic bag inside her cart. She sat the bin down with a thud and then turned her cart towards the women.

"Excuse me," she said, squeezing past them and not addressing Deb’s nudity at all. "Oops, we got a spill." She then pulled out several sheets of paper towels and began sopping up the coffee at Paul's frozen feet.

"Tell me, you shit."

"They're gone," Kendra said. "All gone." She tried to bite back her grin.

"What did you do with them?"

The cleaning lady made her way deeper into the office, and in her place, Mr. Mackevoy, the boss, came around the corner. "Now what's all this hub-bub? Is—my god."

He froze next to Paul, gazing at the wonders. "This has to be the most dazzling ass I—"

Kendra wheeled around, and Mr. Mackevoy's eyes grew. He made a sign of the cross.

"Mr. Mackevoy,” she said, making a vain attempt to cover herself, a blush forming on her face. “My clothes have been stolen and I need them back!"

Mr. Mackevoy was, however, indisposed for the moment, for the feeble covering of her massive chest with her forearm, and the failure of her palm to cover the all of her dark, wide landing strip, proved to make her more alluring, mysterious and mystifying. And sexy. It seemed all men were moved by Deb’s ass, but petrified by her full-frontal profile. Kendra found herself looking down again while Deb's back was turned.

"Is everybody here a fool?!" Deb shouted, turning to Kendra. Mr. Mackevoy shook his head as if to dislodge something, and then looked down again.

"Oh yes, that's where I was," he said, and canted his head like he was looking at an interesting painting. 

"I'm going to have to get somebody to drive me home," Deb complained to Kendra. "So I guess I have to walk back there naked, and it's all your fault!"

Oh, I know, Kendra said inwardly, and fought back that smile again. Deb marched huffily past her, her big chest shaking, and that ass working as she headed towards the side door, where she could cut through the back warehouse to her area.

"Yes! I do believe I've decided!" Mr. Mackevoy suddenly called out, and Deb turned around once more, and once more he froze up. He stuttered, wiped his brow, and said: "Y-yes, I do believe, I will declare you 'greatest employee ass of the year!' Do you mind having a picture up?"

Kendra looked at him with a "really?" face and opened her mouth to say something negative, but stopped, and appeared to contemplate it. She was known for her ego. Then, behind her, three guys from the creative shop filed in and stopped like a derailed train.

"Whoa," the lead one said. "I said whoa." He was quickly pushed to the side by his coworkers behind him. Kendra smirked and let them have their gander, and then she turned to face them, watching their expressions expand.

"Say boys, would one of you be willing to clock out for a bit to drive me home? I'm missing my keys and phone, along with a few other things."

"I will!" the guy in the rear said, raising his hand.

"No, I have less to do," the one closest to her said, coming very close, almost enough to embrace her.

"Let's all ride together!" the third one said.

"Two can come along," Kendra said. "One to keep the other in check. Three would make me feel too outnumbered."

The shoving match began between the three of them as the sound of a camera shutter clicked, and Mr. Mackevoy lowered his phone and said, "yes, this will do. I'm going to go get it printed now, see you all later. Get back to work, Paul." Mr. Mackevoy turned and walked back into the office, leaving Paul standing frozen where he was, and Kendra standing with her arms folded dissatisfyingly over her chest. This was not quite the embarrassment she was hoping to give Kendra. But at least she gave her the inconvenience of having to replace her phone and building key. She watched as Deb sauntered through the kitchen towards the back door, with her entourage following her—all three of them, still—and she smirked at Kendra as she walked past unashamedly.

"Get back to work, Kendra," she said, and left through the back door, followed by the men. Kendra saw them through the large windows as Deb stopped and waited for one of the guys to lead the way to his car, though none of them seemed like they wanted to leave their position behind her. Finally they were walking again, and there went that ass,  gloriously exposed to the waning sunlight, as if Deb had no care about being nude in public.

*****

The next day, many were shocked to see hanging, on the wall in the break room, a large framed photograph of that ass, with a plaque underneath that read "Greatest Employee Ass of the Year." It did not call it with a name, and though only a handful of people saw it in person, everybody knew whose it was. When Deb came in, dressed just as provocatively in the rear as she had the previous day, people clapped her on the shoulder and gave her winning smiles and said their congrats, and Deb blushed and continued walking to her desk, swaying that ass and making the thin fabric tease over her undulating glutes.

When Kendra came in, she stood scowling at the celebrated picture, framed like someone's face, from the small of the back to the start of the thigh, filled mostly with those plump, planetoid cheeks. Hmmmph, she thought. Some punishment she gave her. HR nightmare aside, it looked like Deb would be getting a lot of positive recognition for literally showing her ass. Well, she would show her.

Minutes later, Kendra was in the bathroom, standing by the benches where she had stolen Deb's clothes, and went about taking off her own. It made her heart beat fast, even though she was in the privacy of the bathroom. What if someone walked in? She was not used to being seen naked, and she never made use of the showers that the company provided for people who liked to work out on their lunch break or freshen up before a dinner party. She never showered back in high school gym class, either. But now, she peeled off her blouse, and before taking down her slacks, she unclipped her bra, which she really didn't need because she was so small up there, but it was what one was supposed to wear. She felt weird taking down her pants, and then her underwear, and she gathered them all up and walked over to a locker and stashed them in there so nobody (i.e., Deb) would see them and get the idea to snatch them. Just walking from one end of the bathroom to the other was weird enough; to walk five feet naked was not something she was used to. Then she walked over to the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She was no Deb, but she thought she was cute. Her tits were small and pointed, and her frame was straight and boring compared to Deb's hourglass, her body squat and short compared to the diva’s dominance. Her pubic hairs were thin and whispy and almost translucent, though she could not see them over the sink. What mattered though, for this stunt, was that ass, and she took a few steps back and turned around, looking over her shoulder at her own that ass.

It wasn't much of an ass, but it was pleasantly heart-shaped and small. Kendra quite liked it, actually. It fit her, and it was arguably more aesthetic than a budunk-a-dunk butt, even though those seemed to be the ones that win all the praise. Still, she felt confident enough to turn back around, assess her almost featureless front, and turn to walk out of the bathroom. Her next stop was Mr. Mackevoy's office.

Everybody looked up in their cubicles as Kendra walked past.

"Wow, Kendra, new look today, huh?"

"Holy crap, Kendra."

"This is not appropriate!"

Kendra just smiled and nodded at each spectator as she walked past at hip-level of their desks, knowing every single person was looking at her, and hoping that they were checking out her ass as she walked past. A young male trainee sitting behind his mentor for the day nudged him. "Boy, I sure picked the right place to work."

Mr. Mackevoy was sitting at his desk, staring at a stack of papers, when a chipper voice alerted his attention.

"Hi Mr. Mackevoy!"

He looked up, and there was Kendra, the young upstart, leaning against the frame of his door, facing out with her butt facing in. Her naked butt. She was all naked.

"Kendra... wow. What's this about?"

Kendra pouted a bit, her thin lips pursing out. "Don't you like it?" she said, and she wiggled her small bottom at him.

"It's nice, but, if you're hoping to topple Deb's position, you'll have to wait until next year."

Her hip straightened, and she gave up her flaunting. She pushed away from the door frame and faced him.

"I didn't know this was a structured thing," she said.

Mr. Mackevoy briefly passed his eyes up her body and made a faint dismissive sound in the back of his throat. "It is now," he said, hardly phased. "I want to do things around here that will improve company morale. And if you want to walk around and show off a bit during the year to campaign for greatest ass, well, feel free. I think everybody should be allowed to."

Kendra nodded, then turned her fanny towards him again.

"Give me your opinion, though. Do you think I could win?"

Mackevoy stroked his chin.

"Well, it is nice. It's a different type of ass... I'd say it could possibly win 'cutest ass,' at least."

Kendra turned to face him again, nodding and appearing thoughtful.

"Cutest ass..." she repeated. Then: "Say, how come you aren't hypnotized like you were when you saw Kendra all naked?"

Her boss leaned back in his chair and didn't appear to have to think much about his next answer.

"Well like I said, you're much different than Kendra. Your countenance is cute, don't get me wrong, but not in a way that hypnotizes me. Honestly it makes me think of giving my daughter a bath when she was five."

All the enthusiasm seemed to leak out of Kendra's face which, despite being young, looked absolutely droopy, and she bowed her head a little.

"I see," she said. "Well thanks, Mr. Mackevoy."

"No problem, Kendra. And chin up. I'm sure you'll win it."

"Uh-huh." And she turned around and plodded out of his office, making no efforts to accentuate or draw attention to that ass. But it remained cute.

And so it happened that, despite many complaints to HR, the "Greatest Ass" competition was taken up enthusiastically by most of the employees, and many came to work looking forward to seeing someone new parading around nude and showing off, in particular, those asses. In interest of equality, men joined in, too, as there were many women in the office who in secret whispered and giggled and admired the square ass of Chris Hammerman, the copy guy, or the almost feminine ass of prettyboy Stephen Frankfurt, a shy guy who nevertheless decided to bare all one day, with blushes and another type of blood flow. Indeed, it was thought that the guys parading around was lewder in a way than the girls, and it was the particular male organ—okay, we shall say it, HR isn't nearby: the penis—that made some uncomfortable, and some too excited, especially when the penises themselves got excited, which they occasionally did. Mr. Mackevoy always insisted that it improved morale.

And, on the fated day a year later, Kendra excitedly entered the break room, eager to see who's ass was on the wall, and was let down when she saw, framed there, Chris Hammerman's muscular behind. And Kendra had the last laugh, because next to it, printed out on inkjet paper and crookedly taped up, was a candid picture of Kendra as she walked through the office nude, taken from behind, with a meme-font caption that read: "Best Pampers Commercial Ass."

Kendra gritted her teeth and swore to think of a way to get back at Deb that didn't result in a year-long morale-boosting competition.

The Naked Job Interview 2

Sasha was going over work schedules in her office when Tammy peeked her head in.

"Sash, your job interview guy is here."

Sasha slid the paper away and leaned back in her chair. "Send him on in," she said. She folded her arms and crossed her legs. She had to admit, she always liked this part.

Tammy disappeared and a few minutes later, a skinny good-ol' boy type came shuffling in, wearing a checkered flannel shirt and scruff on his face.

"You must be Henry," Sasha said, standing up and extending her arm over the desk. “I'm Sasha."

"M-morning, ma'am," the young man said, reaching out and extending his hand to gently take hers. His eyes flicked briefly down and then back up again, for Sasha's standing up revealed the high cut of her slim white dress, and the slightest peek at the tops of her thighs. She smiled as they simultaneously released the handshake and she sat back down. She must be very intimidating to him in this outfit, she thought. He didn't know anything yet.

"Have a seat, please," Sasha said. The young man plopped right down in the leather chair in front of her desk. "Now I understand you're interested in the dishwasher position?"

"Yes ma'am," the man said, and licked his lips nervously.

"Have you had any experience?"

"Yes, I washed dishes at Dave's diner for two years."

"Any reason you left there?"

"Well, uh..."

"Why have you chosen our establishment?" she asked next, as this question was more important than whatever drama he had with Dave's diner, a trashy little joint. This place had the opportunity to transform somebody, and Sasha was most interested in this man's intentions, and how he would grow.

"Well, uh... I saw the ad."

Sasha smiled and nodded, which seemed to make the man only more nervous. "Very good," she said. She re-adjusted herself in her seat, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk, which just so happened to open up a view of her cleavage to him, and the poor man was visibly tense.

"Now you know that this isn't the usual type of place one might seek to wash dishes at," Sasha continued. "The atmosphere will be a little... different."

The man named Henry nodded his head vigorously. "Oh of course, ma'am, I understand that."

"So I will ask: was it the nature of the place that drew you in?"

At this, Henry shuffled in his chair a little bit, obviously debating on whether or not to answer honestly.

"Well, yeah, a little bit, I suppose. Seems interesting... but mostly I saw the ad."

Sasha smiled, and now she stood up. The young man's eyes got large, perhaps half at seeing Sasha's fine figure looming over him, and half because he feared he just blew it. But he hadn't blown it. Yet.

"Now this is the part of the interview where I'm going to be a little unorthodox, but bear with me."

Without saying anything else, and with a little increase to her heart rate—for this part always did make her a little nervous—Sasha grabbed at the waist of her dress and pulled, pulled it up her hips so that as it rose, it revealed she was wearing nothing underneath, indeed, her bare vulva, and its crown of dense black hair, stared back at the bewildered man, and she missed his reaction for a second as she pulled the dress up past her face, freeing her bra-less breasts, which popped loose one at a time—pop, pop—and she cleared the garment past her head and shook out her hair. She smiled at his absolute shocked expression, and she tossed the dress aside. She leaned forward and placed her palms on the desk, her hairy kooch looking at him from her edge of the the desk-surface, her breasts looming over him, her face intimidating (it must have been intimidating, because the man leaned back, and he avoided looking her in the eye, or perhaps that was because he was too busy being distracted by everything else). She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she knew she held the power right now. She looked at him until he had the bravery to match her gaze.

"Now you understand that coming into work, even though you will be working in the back, you will be working with nude women."

The man quickly nodded.

"You will be walking by them every day as you come in. You will see them when you step away from the wash area. They often will be walking around without putting their clothes back on; they do that. I want to assure that is something you would be comfortable with."

More nodding. "Oh yes ma'am. Perfectly comfortable."

Sasha smiled, a smile that cut deep, and she leaned away from the desk and stood up straight, watching his head pivot with her, and she returned to her chair, slowly lowering herself onto the leather, feeling its grip against her bare butt, and she crossed her legs, a sight he could not see behind the desk, but she rested her hands on her knee, not folding her arms and covering up her pert breasts, which were second eyes, apparently, as Henry's eyes went up and down, up and down.

"Now," Sasha continued. "Let's get comfortable. Or at least see if we can. Of course, most men wouldn't 'have a problem' in this environment. Who's kidding? I want to ascertain: are you comfortable?"

The man was probably going to have a broken neck by the end of the interview, with how much he was energetically nodding.

"You don't seem comfortable," Sasha said, noting the man's tenseness. "But that's to be expected. This is indeed without warning. Comfort can come with time. But more importantly, will you behave?"

Now the man looked at her confused. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't get words out. She let him work his brain. "Of course," the words finally escaped. "Of course I would behave. I'm here to do a job."

"Very good," Sasha said. "I just want to be assured. You see, when a man sees a potential job at an establishment such as this, he could potentially apply for the wrong reasons. Understandable reasons, of course, but wrong reasons, if it creates problems. I see men come in with the sole purpose of being around pretty women, and they forget their duties, or worse, harass the women."

Now the man's head was shaking in the opposite direction. "Oh no, ma'am, I wouldn't do that." Sasha smiled.

"Now I know it would be challenging," she said. "It's not like this a situation where a woman might be inappropriately approached in a non-sexual situation, like say, a nudist resort. As you  know, and I will assure you, this place... is absolutely sexual."

With that, she stood up, admitting Henry to the full view of her body and her bush again, and to his abject terror, she walked around from behind the desk. She sat herself on the corner, her knees closed together and pointing to the side, her hands folded primly in that naked lap, and she looked down at him, a mere two feet away. He was helpless before her, and could shrink in his chair no more, doomed to look up at her diamond-shaped breasts, the pride of youthfulness and health in Sasha, a pride that she only displayed in these unorthodox interviews, as much as she was goaded by her staff to share them with the whole clientèle. But she was self-conscious, and she didn't like crowds. But here, one-on-one in a private room, she had the power, and it was so that everybody, male or female, who worked with her, had seen her gloriously nude.

"I want it to be clear," Sasha said, sitting calmly and authoritatively. "These women are here for one thing: to look sexy. To arouse your appetites. They are here to tempt men, to hypnotize them into giving up their money. They are lewd, they are sexy, and they know it, and fully flaunt it, and they will flaunt it at you, just for the fun of it. Are you willing to work in an environment like that? To be in a setting where you are having everything thrown at you, but you can't catch it?"

His eyes fought so hard to meet her, it was really admirable. "Yes ma'am, I am," he said. "A job's a job." And of course, as his eyes took in all that was before him, he must have been surely thinking that some jobs had their perks. He was close enough to touch her; she practically was on top of him. But then she did something that made his whole body lock up, and she could feel his petrification through the soles of her feet, because she was stroking his thigh with her foot.

"You sure?" she said, tracing her toes up his thigh until they came agonizingly close to the source of his agony. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

The man's breathing was ragged now. "Y-yes. Of course. Um, are the girls who work here going to be touching me like this?"

Sasha laughed and quickly retracted her foot. "No, probably not. But it's possible, too." As she pulled in her foot, she un-crossed her legs and sat squarely on the desk with her hands on her knees, her thighs slightly parted to that dark, hairy canyon which was right at Henry's eye level, one raised hand away from him being able to touch it. "Tell me," she continued. "Do you find me attractive?"

Henry twisted his facial expression, as if trying to ascertain whether this was a trick question or not. He didn't think too long, honesty apparently his decided best option.

"Well yeah, sure," he said. "You are very pretty."

"Pretty, or hot?" Sasha said, widening the spread of her legs, moving her hands behind her and leaning back. "What specific words are entering your mind right now? Sexy? Naughty? How about a verb? Do you want to fuck me?”

A trickle of sweat was now running down Henry's brow, and he wiped it, his eyes rolling around in his sockets. "I... whoo."

Sasha's heart rate was picking up again, and it wasn't from nervousness. It was from excitement. In a second, she would be glistening down there for him. She loved seeing her interviewees squirm. Now there was an aspect of this practice that could end up dangerous, she realized. Tempting men the way she was when they came into her office, alone. With the wrong interviewee, anything could happen. But she was prepared for that. For one, she ran and did squats on the regular, and had deceptively strong legs, and could break any man's nose in one kick. Outside that, Tammy was right outside, and their security was always ready, and they had been vetted in the same process.

"Nothing is entering your mind?" Sasha continued to prod the man, relaxing her posture more and more, leaning back so her tits pointed upwards, and her spread legs were absolutely beyond accidental.

"None, none whatsoever," Henry said. "I can't think."

Sasha laughed, snapped her legs shut, but raised one of them and rested a heel on Henry's shoulder.

"That's not surprising," she said. "What would you be able to think? Many men don't. They act. They either immediately pounce upon what they see in front of them, or they freeze up. Inaction isn't necessarily an indication of a good moral character, but..." She massaged his shoulder with her foot, wrapping her arch around it. "It's a start."

Henry just sat there, gazing up at her while she worked on his shoulder, seeming more and more pleased with his situation.

"Like I said, ma'am, I'm just here to do a job, and I'll do it no matter what. If it means I'm doing it with pretty ladies all around me most of the time, well that sounds like a plus to me."

Sasha lowered her foot and sat up. She was perched on the desk in front of him like a careless naked fairy on a tree branch, her feet dangling just above the floor.

"What about release?" she asked him. "Isn't there a need for it?"

"Um..."

"Would you be able to go on without relieving the pressure? Tell me... are you erect right now?"

"I... goddamn."

Sasha smiled, but on the inside. On the outside, her face was serious, letting him know she was asking a hard-pressing question here.

"I, uh..." Henry continued. "Well yeah, of course."

"'Yeah,' you need release, or 'yeah' you're hard?"

Henry sighed, but Sasha detected a faint smile on his face. She kept hers stoic.

"Well I mean yeah, I'm hard. But I'm sure that would go away when I'm focusing on my job."

"Naturally. So you don't feel the need to get off right now in order to concentrate?"

"I mean, as nice as that would be..."

Sasha raised an eyebrow at him.

"...I don't need it," he concluded.

Now Sasha let her smile come through. She slipped off the desk and stood before him now, leaning back against the wood furniture. She casually crossed her arms. Her legs crossed at the ankles as well, forming her nether area into a dark, aesthetic "V," but she had no sexual body language in her anymore; she was just acting naturally.

"Very good," Sasha said. "So do you have any other questions about the job?"

"Nah..." Henry said. "Well, what's the pay?"

"Minimum wage," Sasha said. "What type of hours do you prefer? We need someone in third shift."

"I can do that," Henry said. "Does this mean I have the job?"

Sasha smiled. "I think so," she said. "Here, why don't you come with me and I'll show you around?" She pushed away from the desk and motioned her arm to the door.

"Like that?" Henry asked, amazed.

"Sure. This is a strip club, afterall. Come on."

Sasha headed for the door and Henry stood, still amazed that she would carry her nudity outside the boundaries of the private office, and seeing for the first time her naked butt, as enticing as the rest of her as it moved and swayed. Sasha opened the door and turned back to look at him.

"Follow me," she said with a smile. Gladly, Henry no doubt thought.

They left the office, stepping into a brightly-lit backroom blinding with fluorescents, where Sasha took on a more pale pallor. She led them to another door, and they both stepped into the main floor of Jennifer's Gentleman Club, a high-class strip club, albeit currently empty. Checkered rows of tables sat in the half-light like Terracotta soldiers, facing an empty stage, with red curtains behind it. There was no pole; the owner wasn't fond of that exotic dancer cliché. Though performers would often come out with a prop—a chair; or sometimes a couch would be carried out—so they could do their set. The whole atmosphere was one of undistilled eroticism, but of class and taste. It was a balance that was crucial to the image of the place. As such, they were very selective with their dancers, the owner favoring the traditional idea of what was attractive, which of course drew some criticism from some crowds, when they got wind of it. But the owner would only shrug; he wanted the place to be his vision, what he found hot. To hell what others thought. Considering their loyal clientèle and increasing business, they would not hurt from the owner's vision. As an added surety, though, similar scrutiny was put on all staff, not just the dancers. The owner wanted to assure he was hiring upstanding citizens who would never carry the baggage of past or future scandals. The method of determining a prospective employee had been the dancers' idea, though. And they egged on Sasha to go along with it, since she had considered at one point being a dancer. She was happy to practice in this way.

"You don't have to walk behind me," Sasha said over her shoulder at Henry as they passed the empty tables, seeing Henry's eyes dart up immediately.

"Oh, sorry," he said, and came up to her side, and Sasha smiled beside herself as they walked together to the serving area, with the food window where plates would be set currently empty, but carrying the sound of voices through it. Sasha stepped ahead of Henry one more time, briefly, and opened the door for him.

The light in the kitchen was even harsher than the light in the backroom, and the place was filled with the sound of banging pans and running water and the chatter of the cooks. Sasha stepped past Henry and led him deeper into the kitchen, until they both had a view of the employees on the other side of the metal counter. They all turned and smiled at Sasha.

"Hey Sasha. New recruit time?"

"Yes," she said, smiling casually back at them, as if she weren't standing before them naked. They only saw her like this when they were hiring, but they never batted an eye when she donned (or discarded) the dress code. "Meet Henry. He's going to be our dishwasher."

Henry stepped up beside Sasha—very close—and sheepishly waved. "Hey," he said. The cooks behind the counter—two burly-looking guys, one skinny and tall guy, and a short girl—all smiled and waved.

"Come this way," Sasha said. "I'll show you the equipment."

Sasha turned back towards where they entered and led Henry around a corner, where a large conveyor belt washer and drying racks were.

"We go through a lot of plates. Ever use one of these?" Sasha asked.

"No ma'am," Henry said, standing very close to Sasha in this closed, humid, wet place, and Sasha turned to face him, knowing beads of moisture were developing on her breasts—she could feel them trickle between them—and knowing that all it would take is one small trip and she would press those soft things into this man's chest and suddenly things would go from unusual to completely awkward and potentially inappropriate. What was going through his mind right now? she wondered.

"Well we can train you," Sasha said. "It's not hard, you just rinse off plates and load 'em up and push them through. We'll show you how to control the belt. Your first day can be a training day." I hate to say, she thought, but you won't have a pretty naked girl training you.

Then Sasha turned from the machine and led Henry out of the kitchen, and he eagerly followed. They stepped back into the darker main area, and Sasha began talking.

"Well, that should be about it. We'll see you tomorrow. Show up a little early, say around six, and we'll get you star—"

"Hey Sasha, new recruit, eh?"

It was some of the dancers, coming in through the side door to get ready for the early shift. Believe it or not, but Jennifer's Gentleman Club enjoyed an early-afternoon crowd of loyal customers; old retirees and self-employed men who fit in a little nude dancing into their daily schedules.

"Hi girls. Henry, this is Katie and Vika, girls, this is Henry, our new dishwasher."

Henry bowed his head at the two young women, Katie a petite blonde and Vika a captivating, tall, auburn-haired, broad-shouldered Russian girl. They both wore normal clothes—jeans and jackets—but Henry seemed as nervous with them as he was with Sasha, perhaps because they were remarkably pretty, and perhaps because even though Sasha was standing next to him with nothing on, he was imagining ahead to these girls performing nude on stage.

"Nice to meet you," Julie said, and Vika smiled and nodded. "Say, Sasha, we got a while before we open up. Are you gonna give him an honorary performance?"

"Oh no, I couldn't," Sasha said, putting up her hand.

"Aw, come on, might as well welcome him in with a complimentary show!"

Henry was looking back and forth between the clothed girls and his naked interviewer, obviously confused. Sasha looked at him and shrugged. Didn't the interview itself already count as a show of sorts? Getting naked was one thing, but dancing was another, and Sasha rarely danced in front of people. It was something she always practiced in private. But the girls here always liked to push her.

"Alright," Sasha said. "Henry, have a seat anywhere you like. Are you a morning drinker?"

"Um..."

"Don't worry, it's not a trick question. We'll make you anything you want, on the house."

"Do you have Scotch?"

"Sure do," Sasha said, placing her hands on her nude hips.

"I'll take your house Scotch on the rocks, if you could."

"Sure thing. Go have a seat and we'll get things ready. Girls, you wanna help with the music?"

"Of course!" Julie said. "Come on, Vika."

The two women disappeared behind a back door and Sasha watched Henry bump around the empty tables, trying to find a suitable place to sit and glancing back at her as she stood and watched. Then she smiled to herself and made her way to the bar, shaking her head at what she allowed her employees to push her into doing. It was just a dance, but somehow that was more embarrassing than what she’d been doing. And she wondered if it sent the wrong message to Henry after all the questioning she just put him through. But whatever, she thought. It was all in good fun.

She went behind the bar and pulled out a glass and searched for a bottle of Scotch, feeling funny to be standing behind the bar nude, something that the owner had actually thought of: having nude bartenders. But that idea remained only an idea for now, for they all thought it might distract from the dancers, who were the main draw, and whose job it was to be naked. Sasha did remember hearing about a bar where the servers were naked, but it wasn't just women, and it wasn't sexual. Even the customers were naked. She thought it might be interesting to visit that place sometime, though she couldn't remember the name of it. This town was interesting, with its unconventional business ideas. She thought she even remembered a nudist beer brewery, as well. With all these strange venues, a gentleman's club seemed a little old-hat, and perhaps traditional to a fault, but it had its uniqueness about it. Afterall, how many places had the managers take off their clothes to interview job applicants, or get up on stage to do an erotic dance for them if they got the job? Not many, Sasha thought, as she poured the whiskey over some ice and readied her nerves to practice her dance moves.

Henry was waiting patiently at a table smack-dab in the middle of the room and looked towards Sasha blankly as she sashayed up, holding his drink.

"Here you go," she told him. "Hang tight, and I'll be right up." And then she turned and walked towards the back room where Julie and Vika disappeared, leaving Henry with the sight of her departing backside. How much more alluring could a dance be than this, having a nude woman serve you a drink? But Sasha knew there was a lot of power in dance. Even if there was no striptease aspect to it. Indeed, Henry had seen her for twenty minutes up close, nude, so there was no point in putting anything back on for her little performance. Which wouldn't be too far from what the actual dances were like during normal operating hours. There were aspects of striptease, for sure, the girls often coming on stage in a lacy robe that already did little to hide anything, or a sheet, as if they had just rolled out of bed, or sometimes elaborate but hardly modest costumes, often themed around indigenous dress from around the world, or fantasy-themed getups, always focusing on accentuating the body, never part of an extra thing to be teasingly taken off. That was the owner's idea: present and celebrate the natural eroticism of the body, do away with the usual slow discarding of tacky swimsuits or hooker uniforms. Some of the girls came on stage nude right from the start, as Sasha was about to do, for afterall, there was power in dance.

In back, the lights were low, just like the front, the main illumination coming from the light bulbs around the mirrors of the dressing tables. There was nobody in the room, and Sasha passed through it to yet another door, where she found both girls sitting at a sound booth. Julie was pointing at the controls and explaining something to Vika when Sasha entered, and Julie looked up at her, beaming.

"Alright, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. What's the music selection?"

"Something spicy. Unless you have a specific type of act you want to do."

"No, spicy's fine. Let's do this."

Julie patted Vika's shoulder and made sure she understood the sound system, and then she disappeared back through the dressing room door, calling back "good luck!"

Sasha walked up the little steps to the curtain that led out to the stage, while Vika tapped a few buttons and a sexy beat started up. That was her cue, so Sasha parted the curtains and walked out onto the stage.

Henry was waiting there, sipping his drink, hardly surprised to see Sasha marching nude before him. The song picked up, and it was Sister Machine Gun's "Burn," dripping with sensuality, so Sasha got into character, stepping each foot crossed in front of the other, so that her hips swayed as she stepped up to the edge of the stage and posed.

I look at you and I see your fire, and I'm thinkin' 'bout desire, oh I'm thinking 'bout desire…

Sasha marched from left to right, strutting and showing off the slope of her butt in side-profile, while she watched Henry out of the corner of her eye, his head following her path. When she reached the end of the stage, she turned and walked the other way, trying to pick up a beat in her step and affect the building up of a dance, but she felt nervous, silly, like a little girl dancing in front of the mirror. As she marched to the other side of the stage, she saw Julie come out from the dressing room door and walk over to sit next to Henry, and she said something to him that Sasha could not hear and then beamed up at her, as if she was being encouraging.

You're like a burning flame, and I'll never be the same, no I'll never be the same…

Sasha stopped in the middle of the stage and started to slowly gyrate her hips, showing off that hypnotizing triangle of hair that she knew was enticing to half the population of men who still cared for a little bit of gardening down there, and Henry's locked-on gaze seemed to argue for this statistic. She let herself sink to the floor as she worked her midsection, as if she were spinning a hula-hoop in slow motion, feeling the sensuality in the song touch her soul so that when she abruptly stood up and turned from the stage to march towards the back, as if leaving, and putting an extra shake in her ass, she felt purely erotic. As she turned and marched back to the front of the stage, she could see Henry was grinning along with Julie.

Sasha had no props to work with, no chair, and no couch, so she sat herself on the edge of the stage and began crossing and uncrossing her legs, giving brief, teasing glimpses of the intimate spot between her legs that Henry had seen close-up only a short while ago. And while she was doing this, Tammy entered the room from the front, with another young man in tow, trailing behind her and freezing at the erotic sight before him. Tammy stopped, too, and Sasha's heart stopped, not expecting another stranger to be seeing her. But she continued her performance, pulling up her legs and rolling over so that she was splayed out on the stage floor, raising a leg, then lowering, then turning over so that she was on her stomach, effecting a Lolita-like pose, the rise of her butt making a desirous landscape, and then she pulled herself into a kneeling position, drawing her palms over her abdomen, up to her breasts, as the song came to a close. And then a brief silence took over the stage.

"Sasha, this is the other person who was going to interview today. For the cook position."

She was frozen there in her kneeling position, like a waif pleading for clothes, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than ever. Though her thighs were pressed together with her knees on the ground, they did little to hide the wedge of her pubic hair, and the rest of her that was presented as if she were the model for some Victorian painting, her hands currently resting on the stage floor. Henry had turned his eyes to see the newcomer, but Julie was still grinning, watching her manager do her job. Then the next song started up, another sexy beat.

Sasha got to her feet and waved a signaling hand at Julie, and she stood and hurried to the back to tell Vika to shut the music off.

"Well," Sasha said to Tammy and the new guy, raising her voice over the thrumming bass. "Come on back then and we'll get started."

She jumped down off the stage and landed with a bounce in her chest, and walked assuredly past Henry, patting him on the shoulder.

"See you tomorrow," she said, and she continued walking towards the back room, waving the other young man along, but he was frozen in place. And then the music cut off, and Sasha continued walking to her office, figuring how to readjust her interview procedure now that she had started it completely naked.

Candy's Boobs: Another Fun at Work Story

Bob nearly spit out his coffee when Candy came into the open office area. It was an open office, so nobody missed the daring and racy attire she had on today: a thin black shirt, very gothic-looking, of very thin material, and with another very important feature: a very large boob window (for she had a very large chest), framing, not subtly in the slightest, an entrancing canyon o f desire that no man could shy his eyes away from. But many did try; nobody wanted a sexual harassment claim on their heads. What was Candy thinking? She walked through the office with a smile on her face, greeting people as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hi Bob," she said to Bob as she reached her seat next to him, looking him straight in the eye as if daring him to look below her neck.

"Hey Candy," he said. There were her eyes, dark and sparkling, and there were her tits, full and heavy in the meager hold of her top. It almost looked like they would fall out at the slightest interference. And then, as if by the magic of mental suggestion, Candy bent down to put her keys in her file drawer and the thing that Bob so briefly imagined happened for real. With a heave and a pop, like dough escaping its air-tight can, Candy's boob window opened wide and the fabric slipped off the graceful globes of her breasts, and as she apparently did not wear a bra, her full glory was fully revealed, capped by the wide bumpy fields of her areolas. Candy laughed at her own misfortune and tried to pull up and adjust her top, but the fabric had torn, and the more she tugged at it, the wider the tear became, until she pretty much was completely topless. So she slipped the destroyed garment off her shoulders and it hung down at her waist as she stood tall and proud with her pride displayed before her like the globes of Atlas, Seemingly not bothered by her accidental nudity, she acted like someone who merely spilled their lunch on themselves and thought it was funny, while Bob, very much affected, was in shock.

Then the heavy footsteps of Travis, the personnel manager, entered the now stone-silent work area.

"It looks like we have inappropriate attire, what did I tell you folks? No sleeveless blouses, please. Now if you would, Candy, I'm going to need you to—"

Candy turned to face Travis and showed him just the extent of inappropriateness she had gone to. The usually stoic manager dropped all his stoicism at the sight of Candy so shamelessly displayed, and her meaty bosom might as well had been tractor beams for the eyes, and then Travis opened his mouth, and as always, when he did, everybody stopped and listened.

"These tits are more majestic than the most burning sunset, the most mountainous vistas, more overwhelming than the endless ocean or the expanse of the night sky, the depth of time, more pleasing than any work of art on this earth, more enlightening than any work of literature penned by the greatest philosophers, and perhaps the inciting objects of the most clear and poignant moment of my entire life."

Indeed, everybody was struck still by Travis's impassioned speech, even Candy, standing there, not expecting such high praise of her careless exposure. And everybody in the room seemed to reflect on what their manager had to say, and reflected on Candy's mountains and tried to see in them what Travis had seen.

As they contemplated, Travis spun away from the topless employee and shouted: "I now declare all dress code restrictions lifted!" All of his employees lifted their gaze from the arresting sight of Candy's breasts to look directly at their boss, and his face was serious. "All of them," he asserted, and he crisply walked out of the room, the soles of his shoes tapping until the only thing left to demand attention was the twin hypnotizing cylindrical domes of Candy's chest. But their spell seemed to have been broken, for in a second, the room broke into an eruption of so much debaucherous undress that Bob did not know where to look next. On one side, he saw other guys taking down their pants right away, and on the other side, blouses opened to reveal female breasts of different shapes and sizes than Candy's. Candy, meanwhile, shimmied out of her slacks, leaving a black thong in their place, which was also quickly discarded, leaving in its place a shaggy black triangle, meaty thighs, and altogether, a fully-nude Candy, now more captivating than ever. She looked at him briefly as she kicked away her pants and shoes, and grinned.

"Like what you see?" she asked.

Bob had no response for her. He could only gaze on his coworker who he may have once or twice imagined nude, and now he didn't have to.

Apparently not that interested in conversation, Candy turned from him, her breasts' mountainous profile quite impressive, and she grabbed her coffee mug and left the room to go fill it, leaving a row of undressing people in her wake, with Bob the only once with fabric still on his body. How quickly, he thought, people were willing to get naked when they were given permission to. Even Sue, the 300-pound old lady who sat at the far end of his row, was struggling out of her constraints, which surprised him. It seemed everybody truly desired to be naked. And their desires were made possible thanks to Candy's boobs. Who would have thought?

Well, Bob though. Might as well get coffee, too. He decided he would see how far the rampant nudity went.

It went far. Every row he passed was a colorful mix of skin tones. Every single person was naked. Well, one person wasn't, besides him. Hunched over her keyboard, with the most displeased look on her face Bob had ever seen, was the mousy lady Susanna, a quiet and odd woman around fifty years old, very religious, and very valiant in her efforts to ignore what was suddenly transpiring around her. Bob had to chuckle, but then, he was just as shocked—and as clothed—as her. But not entirely displeased. He eagerly walked towards the kitchen, looking forward to what he might see there.

Nearly every attractive girl from the office had congregated into the little kitchen, which was almost shoulder-to-shoulder with unblemished skin, pert butts turning this way and that, and a tanline or two. And in the middle of all that floated Candy's boobs, turning with her, facing all her sisters in arms like a leader of a pack. They all were chatting excitedly, hardly believing the abolishment of the dress code, and complimenting each other on their bodies. But when Bob entered, they all turned, a dozen full-frontal profiles facing him, from the tall and slender Sarah, with her long hair spilling on either side of her small, upward-pointing breasts and framing them, to the short Chinese girl, Chen, who was almost as hefty in the chest as Candy, with dark areolas and a darker bush, untamed and wild. And all went silent.

"I uh, was just coming to get some coffee."

"What are you still doing with clothes on?" a skinny blonde asked.

"Well it's not required to take our clothes off..."

"Yeah, but you might as well."

"Maybe in a bit. First, coffee."

Bob went for the pot, not trying to ignore the dozen or more beautiful naked bodies sharing this space with him (for how could he ignore them?), but wanting to do what he outwardly came for and get out, for this many naked girls all trying to pressure him was intimidating.

When he got back to his desk, he was sure he didn't want to take his clothes off, at least not yet, because after that overwhelming sight, he had a very strong erection!

But a quick, cursory glance over his area found several naked and unabashed boners.

The chair behind him swiveled around. He didn't see it, but heard its squeak.

"How come you're not naked, Bob?"

Bob turned around just long enough to see Tim sitting there, his prominent penis waving like a flag, and he turned back around.

"Jesus, man."

"What? It's allowed."

"Yeah, I just don't wanna see that, though."

"Gonna see a lot more of it, might as well get used to it."

"Yeah, but I don't think we're allowed to just... wave our dicks around like that!"

Tim chuckled. "Well, it's gonna happen. Besides, there's plenty of other things looked worth looking at."

As promised, Candy came prowling back, her chest thrust proudly out as she returned to her seat. No chance of his erection going away now, Bob thought, for he would not be able to keep himself from looking—every minute, every five seconds—at the wide slope and jutting aroused nipples of his aisle mate. Not that she would mind, apparently. And the mere sight of her breasts again, the completely uninhibited view, made his pants feel restricting, so Bob stood up and decided that if his lesser self needed to grow, it would be given the room to.

Candy glanced at him passively as he undid his belt, and turned the corner of her mouth up as the pants went down—and the boxers quickly, too—and his dick flipped up between the front tails of his shirt, which he removed with less zest than the rest. And then he too was nude. Insatiable arousal was all it took. And now that he had achieved nudity, he didn't know what to do; he just stood there with his dick waving at Candy, like a dousing rod wanting to find solace between the softness of her boobs. Indeed, that's what he wanted to do. He wanted to plunge his shaft into that canyon and feel their pillowy embrace. The more he looked at her boobs, the more he imagined this scenario, until he could practically see it, see the shiny top of his cock popping up from between its burrow like a gopher, ready to burst up onto Candy's collarbone and give her a heavy pearl necklace.

"You okay there?" she asked him. Bob snapped out of it.

"Oh, yeah..." he said, and bent down to pick up his clothes, not sure where to stash them, and his erection was getting in the way. Candy could only laugh.

He piled them on top of the file cabinet of the vacant spot next to him, and lowered himself down into his seat, not sure if he should be sitting something down between his skin and the chair, and feeling strange to feel the itch of the fabric on his scrotum. Candy, no longer concerned with his phase of sexual fantasy, turned back to her computer and resumed her day like it was any normal day. And indeed, everybody around them was dutifully back at their screens, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. It seemed that they were supremely comfortable without the bother of their restrictive work clothes. But how could they concentrate? Bob wondered, and he knew: not all of them were sitting next to Candy's boobs. He could not bring himself to focus with those globes of desire at the edges of his vision. But he tried, oh, he tried... and he saw, as he woke up his computer, that he had an endless line of unread e-mails. And so, he resumed his work.

Most of the e-mails were in fact correspondence related to the lifting of the dress code. There was an official statement from Travis, and back-and-forth banter between co-workers, and non-HR-endorsed comments on like: "Did you see her? Did you see him?" So this is what everybody was concentrating on.

And then there was a blaring sound that took everybody out of their bubble of attention and which was instantly recognizable to everybody: the fire alarm. It blared and filled the whole room, and the lights mounted on the wall flashed. Shit.

At once, everybody was up, all looking at each other, wondering what to do. Some picked up their clothes, but others were already filing out the back. Candy stood, let out a breath—which made her chest heave and drop—and she marched out with the rest, leaving only a few confused people left, and they quickly fell in line. Bob was following with them, in a daze. Of course somebody would do something funny like pull the fire alarm on this particularly special morning.

The line of naked bodies traveled out through the kitchen: cute butt, cute butt, fat ass, hairy ass, celluloid ass, incredibly perfect heart-shaped ass (oh my God, Bob thought at sight of that). Already the back door was open and the workers were spilling into the light. Bob could hardly believe it. Were they really going to do this? He had only gotten used to the idea of getting naked in front of co-workers; he didn't sign up for stepping outside. But rules were rules. Candy, at the front of the line, seemed very pleased. He could see the grin on her face—noticed after noticing the shape of her boobs from the side and under the fluorescent lights, very pale-looking here, with her nipples bright red. Then she was out in the sunlight, to let her breasts be painted a more natural shade.

Quickly, Bob was drawn closer and closer to the door, as his feet moved for him, and he felt helpless, being drawn out into the sun like a vampire out of its den, to its death. To his humiliation. But really, there was no further embarrassment to be had; everybody was already nude, he was already nude in front of them, and a great many of them could use a tan.

The sunlight was blinding, and Bob squinted his eyes as he trotted down the concrete steps in his bare feet. His erection was totally gone now, and he felt a little self-conscious, because he was a grower, not a shower.

As his eyes adjusted, he raised his head and followed the line of nudity out into the parking lot, seeing the skinny blonde girl, the tall and thin Sarah, and many others of their troupe, and he knew that the people behind him were looking at him too, but he shuffled along. As everybody lined up and turned around, they saw that the fire alarm was no joke. A thin ribbon of smoke was rising from the top of the building. There were gasps, and all the naked people exchanged glances. None of them had any phones!

Then Travis came marching around from the other side of the building, walking with purpose. He glanced at the smoke and at all his naked employees with equal concern. Everybody waited with nervousness.

"I already called the fire department," he said as he marched up. "They're gonna get an eyeful when they get here. What were you all thinking?"

"An emergency's an emergency, Travis," Tim said, standing so casually, not bothering to cover himself up. Travis scowled at him. Then he passed his eyes along the row of people, stopping suddenly at Candy, who stood with her chest prominent, buoyant, beyond ignoring.

"These tits are beyond compare, beyond anything in my imagination nor in my—"

"Oh, can it, Travis," someone in the crowd said. Travis cast an annoyed look into the line of naked people.

Then the sirens arose; down the bend and into the little campus came rip-roaring a fire truck, which pulled into the parking area, and as it came to a stop, firemen spilled out of it and began connecting their hose to the hydrant nearby. Right away a few of them stopped and stared at the naked procession before them. What in the hell? A very handsome fireman tipped his cap and cast his gaze towards Candy, and her magnificent boobs, while the rest of his crew busied themselves with the actual work at hand.

"I must say," he said. "You've about made my day."

Candy batted her eyelashes and turned her head away from him, suppressing her smile.

"Paul, get over here, we have a fire to put out."

Paul just tipped his cap again.

"Paul!"

When Candy turned her eyes to the firefighter once more, that locked him in. He was going nowhere. His teammates abandoned him, and were putting out the fire on their own. But that's when Paul apparently had an idea. He looked down the line at the other naked people. "Man, you guys are just having a good old time, huh?" There were several nods, and several embarrassed attempts to avoid eye contact. It seems that some of the employees realized the extent of their nudity and were no longer comfortable with it. Thinking he would add to their fun, Paul turned around and marched over to the fire hydrant.

"What is he doing?"

"Paul, what are you doing?"

Paul was unscrewing the end of the hose from the hydrant. Water instantly sprayed in a fan, and as he dropped the hose, it gushed out onto the pavement.

"Enjoy!" Paul said, spreading his hands out at the catastrophe he had created, and some of the naked workers stepped forward, eager to get cool in the hot summer day they were now burning up in.

"What in the hell are you all doing?" Travis shouted as his employees skipped through the water like happy children, stomping and splashing and scooping water up onto their faces. Candy found her way into the crowd and stood as someone cupped their hands around the gushing hydrant and sent a sputtering arc of water towards her breasts. Droplets ricocheted off like sparks off a welder, and a rainbow materialized in the mist above, and Paul the firefighter was transfixed, as was everybody else, while the fire increased in magnitude.

*****

A week later, a meeting was held in a rented office space, consisting of the higher-ups and high-level managers, including Travis, who was the centerpiece of the meeting.

"We just want to ascertain how things got out of control so quickly," an old gentleman with a turkey neck said. "And, just as important, why was everybody naked?"

"We understand you allowed a certain, um, 'dress code,' or lack thereof."

"Would you say that the fire was a result of allowing employees to take off their clothes in the workplace?"

Travis was silent. He had no excuses, and no explanation. He in fact had no good reason in his mind to explain why he allowed his office to become a nudist office. He wasn't thinking with a clear head then. But he couldn't fully blame himself for the office burning down. That was the fireman's fault. Or rather, it was purely to blame on Candy's boobs, truly a powerful force.

The rest of the company didn't seem to have the same concerns over whether or not it was realistic to expect be able to concentrate on work when everybody in the room was nude, for despite the antics that occurred that day, people were sitting down and working, and enjoying the sudden comfort and freedom of working clothes-free, as Bob had observed. It was the main takeaway from that day, as evidenced by the fact that, in their new temporary office, everybody came in and hung their clothes on their chairs. And only occasionally, when confronted with them without having seen them for a few minutes, someone always ended up frozen in a trance by the magic of Candy's boobs.

And Then My Boss Took Off her Clothes! A Fun at Work Story

"Carey, can you come into my office when you get a second?

Carey looked up from his computer monitor with surprise. And fear. It was never a good thing to get called into Monica's office. He also looked up at her in aroused awe, as she stood over him in a practically skin-tight blue dress that barely came down to her knees, and which outlined very explicitly the full shape of her upward-pointing breasts and her prominent rear end. Carey had a slight fear that maybe his lustful eyes were not as covert as he had thought they were all this time, and that that was why he was in trouble.

"S-sure Monica, I'll be there in a minute," he said, and she smiled that kind of demeaning smile she had and walked off down the cubicle aisle, butt and dress swaying, and several heads turning as she went by.

*****

As if he already wasn't nervous enough! Carey crossed paths with another young man on his way to Monica's office, and he looked shook up as he met eyes with Carey only briefly, and then quickly looked down again and shuffled on his way.

Oh God, Carey thought. What if people are getting laid off? That was very well possible, perhaps more possible than his fear of getting in trouble for ogling someone's undeniably work-inappropriate attire. Now he really was worried. He didn't know which situation he feared more, but it seemed this one got his heart pounding more. A sexual harassment claim was nothing to sneeze at, either. It was probably a bad thing that he was apparently less scared of that.

Her door was open, and she was sitting calmly, perhaps deceptively calm, looking down at some papers.

"Hi Monica, I'm ready."

"Oh, hi. Come on in. And shut the door."

Gulp. Carey did as she said, feeling his hands tremble as he touched the doorknob. He took his seat, watching her as she pushed away whatever paper she was looking at (a sexual harassment claim?). She leaned back in her chair. He noted that her dress seemed off-kilter, a little wrinkled at the shoulders, and that plunging low neckline was crooked. She must have been really shouting at the last guy.

"The reason I've called you in," she started, and he braced himself. "Is because I've noticed... well, that you've been staring."

Carey blinked. Then it registered. So it is a sexual harassment claim. Shit. Now he suddenly was afraid.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"You should be."

"No, I meant..."

"Every time I walk by your desk, your head snaps up. And I can tell that your eyes are pretty much directly on my body."

Gulp. Again.

"Several of the other employees here as well. I feel it's become quite a problem, and I wanted to address that today."

"I'm really sorry, Monica, I had no idea. I really wasn't awa—"

She put up her hand. "That's okay," she said. "What I want to address is: am I really so distracting?"

Shit, was this a trick question? As he thought this, he failed to reply to her.

She stood up, and Carey leaned back. "Now I understand that my work attire might be considered by some to be... untraditional. inappropriate, specifically. But we work in a modern office. I would assume that concerns like these just don’t exist here, but apparently I'm wrong."

Carey was hearing her story, but he was too focused on the intimidating elevation that her jutting tits were at in comparison to his head. They were looming over him, struggling to break free of the constraints of her tight dress, it seemed. But Monica didn't seem like she noticed his embattled attention.

"I think it's important that people are able to concentrate on work no matter what their co-workers are wearing, don't you?"

"Why yes ma'am, yes indeed." Did he just call her ma'am? He never did that.

"I understand that what I'm wearing could be considered... revealing. But I've trusted that men today could look at that and not bat an eye. So tell me, Carey, am I distracting?"

Dammit, back around to the trick question. Think, Carey, think. "Um, well..." He was trying to come up with the right words, but he had to admit, he was a little bit distracted.

"Obviously you are," she said. "I suppose it's only natural. And yet not every man in this office stops what he's doing when I walk by, and I don't think it's because they are not attracted to me, so there must be another reason why only a certain few lose all their faculties when a woman walks by dressed as I am. And I want to help that."

Carey's brain was turning. What was she getting at? Maybe he actually wasn't in trouble. Why was she still standing, though? That was driving him nuts. But then she started slipping the wide straps of the dress off of her shoulders. Oh my god! It bears repeating: she was slipping the straps off of her shoulders.

The words escaped him—literally, escaping his mouth without making their intended sound: "What are you doing?" "Wait, stop," and "Oh hell yeah" among the intended exclamations. The straps glided off her shoulders and the dress was pulled down, the low neckline receding like a melting glacier over two pale, mountainous forms, constricted by no bra. Indeed, before Carey's eyes, they popped loose from their constraints, twin moons so full, with a red sunspot at their poles. And yet the dress continued to fall; it seemed Monica didn't wear anything under her clothes! She leaned forward, taking the blue garment down to her feet, her face disappearing behind her desk, and then she stood up, revealing all below, thick thighs framing a thin-line black trail that led to a little outie vagina, with a strip of roast beef peeking out. That line may as well have been a flashing arrow, for Carey's eyes traveled down and stayed there.

"Yep, distracted," Monica said. Carey snapped his eyes back up to her. She was in the process of folding her arms across her chest, and her breasts nuzzled there in her own embrace.

"Monica, what does this—"

"I just want you to get a look, since you've been clamoring for it. And to get used to it. You act like you've never seen a naked woman before."

Carey felt his eyebrows crease. Of course he had! He had had sex with Tina from accounting, and Kayla the intern, and—

Monica unfolded her arms—releasing her boobs with a pendulous shifting of weight—and she sat down.

"So, Carey, tell me about work. How's everything going?"

"I, uh... excuse me?"

Monica put one bare foot up on her desk and folded her hands in her lap. "Let's just chat," she said. "To get you used to seeing me like this. How's work? Are you busy? Is there anything that can be improved in the workflow?"

"Uh, no, things are going pretty smoothly," Carey said, alternating his eyes between her face and the unbelievably bare (literally, he could not believe it) breasts squished underneath her arms as she sat with her hands still folded. It was in this way that she was mostly covered up; her pussy was below the desk, and her hands folded over it, the ridges of her palms probably being tickled by her landing strip, and her nipples hidden behind her forearms as if the latter were a racy pair of suspenders meant to barely hide that taboo (only for women!) body part. It was so that she affected a model in a magazine, one of those athletes or movie stars who do a nude shoot but strategically cover particular bits up in the interest of what modern Western society deemed "decent." It didn't help. It only drove Carey more crazy. "Yeah... work's fine," he concluded.

"What are you working on right now?" she asked.

Shit, a concrete question. What was he working on again?

"Oh yeah, I was making a report for this year's ads."

"Oh yeah?" she said with a laugh. "Did you forget?"

"For the moment, I did."

She removed her hands from her lap and leaned forward and folded them on the desk, swinging her breasts forward so that a glimpse of pink nipple was seen and then hidden again as they tapped the edge of the tabletop. "Are you spending too much time on it?"

"Oh no, it's fine. It's just a little tedious. I have to step away from it every block or so so I can look at it again with fresh eyes and catch errors." Oh no, was this some roundabout scheme to get him to admit that he was slacking off at work? Taking off her clothes seemed like a very unnecessary way to come to that trap.

"Are you saying you might need help with it?" she asked instead.

"No, I got it. I've been doing the reports for the past three years."

"Good. You are a valuable employee."

Whew.

"So do you feel that there's anything that could be done to improve your workflow?" she asked. Carey thought for a minute, lifting his eyes to the ceiling and unknowingly taking them away from the sight of her. "Besides letting employees take off their clothes," she added, which narrowed down Carey's suggestions.

"No, I don't know of anything that could be done," Carey said. "Things are honestly running pretty smoothly." He returned his gaze to Monica but was strangely unaffected now. It was just as if he were talking to anyone else. He found it a bit strange, but he rolled with it.

"Well that's good," Monica said, leaning back in her chair again, adjusting her arms so that this time there was no hiding the full glory of her breasts, but Carey was still unaffected. "So, how'd everything else going?"

"What else?"

"Your life. Life at home. Whatever you do for fun. How's it going?"

Carey leaned back in his chair for a moment, not expecting to answer a question such as that. "Alright, I guess. Pretty quiet. Can't complain."

"See any shows lately?"

"Well, me and my buds did go to a Jethro Tull concert at Jimmy's Old Bar last week."

"Oh cool, I love them!" Monica beamed, seemingly unaware that she was beaming while naked, a little tremble in her body as she reacted to him, echoing all up her torso to her breasts, which Carey of course did note, but just as before, in an unaffected state.

And so she prodded him with petty small talk for the next few minutes, asking him about shows he was watching and so forth, and Carey played along, not sure where this game was going, but the more and more he talked, the less and less he found himself transfixed by her body. Until she moved, that was. She stood up, revealing that lower half that had been hidden behind the desk for the past few minutes, and it was as if he had almost forgotten about it, and much to his alarm, she walked around the desk and was standing next to his chair, facing him. If he didn't raise his head to meet her eyes, he would be looking eye-to-eye instead with her vulva.

"Well, that's about all I have. Nice chat, Carey. You may go now."

She extended her arm to the door, obviously signaling for him to leave, but Carey was trapped in a momentary daze. She was so close to him, he could reach out his hand and embrace her if he wanted, and he would have a sexual harassment claim on him then.

"Oh dear, are we distracted again?" Monica said, lowering her arm and placing her hands on her hips, framing that naked lower half. Carey snapped out of it and stood up, coming properly face-to-face with her, and standing so close that they could embrace in a hug, and he was monetarily distracted as he imagined the pillowy push of her bosom on his chest.

"No no, I'm fine," Carey said. "Thanks for setting me straight, Monica, I'm sorry for my behavior."

Monica was eyeing him as if to make sure. There was a note of familiarity on her face, as if she had gone through this before with the other guys.

"Alright," she said. "Well if you're good." Instead of opening the door for him, she walked around her desk again, and Carey saw, for the first time, her butt (Wow! he thought, what an ass!), and instead of putting her dress back on, Monica sat back down in her chair.

"You're the last person I'm seeing today," Monica said. "And I'm kind of comfortable, so I think I'm going to stay this way. Close the door on your way out, please."

"O-okay," Carey said, and nodded. Once again, he was going along with it. He wasn't entirely sure if maybe, perhaps, Monica was going through a momentary bit of insanity. But it wasn't like she was stepping outside of her office like this and walking around nude. So he bowed his head and backed away from his nude boss, as she resumed looking at the papers she had been sifting through before he came in. With one last look, he left her there, just as she was when he came in, except for the lack of clothes. Then he turned and opened the door, and as he quickly stepped out and shut it again, he got one last-last look, and then the surreal encounter was shut off from the present and it may as well have been one of those "naked at work" dreams.

*****

There were knowing looks from a few of his other male co-workers when he got back to his area. They all knew; they all had seen the same thing. None of them had to say anything to each other. Nor should they, for a secret was a secret. But others apparently not privy to Monica's private meetings seemed awfully curious as to what happened, for it was never a good thing to be called into Monica's office, or so they said.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Carey was standing outside that very office with two other guys, Bob and Tom, who had apparently not been part of those intimate encounters.

"I swear dude, I'm not lying," Carey pressed. "She's naked in there—right this second!"

"Nah dude, that doesn't sound likely," Bob, the shorter of the two guys said.

"Come on, man, why would Carey lie? You see his face? That's the face of a man who just saw his boss naked!"

"But why would she just do that?"

"Do you see what she wears outside of her office?"

"So what are we supposed to do with this information?" Bob kept pressing. "Imagine her in there?"

Just as he said that, the doorknob rattled, and the three men jumped and turned their backs from the door, pretending to be looking over the nearby cubicle wall at the small work area outside the office door.

The striking blue in their peripherals and a displeasured clearing of the throat from Monica made them turn, but they acted as if they weren't even aware she was in her office.

"Pardon me, men. Everything alright?"

"Just fine, we were just talking about the new parking area."

"It's nice, isn't it?" Monica replied, and adjusted the straps on her dress, as if she had just put it on and was getting comfortable in it all over again. "Well, good day, gentlemen, don't forget to get back to work.”

"Of course!" Tom said, and craned his neck to get a load of her ass as she walked away, captivating clothed or unclothed.

"See, she wasn't naked," Bob said.

"Well duh, she's not gonna step out of her office like that," Tom replied.

"Man, you really buy that bullshit story, huh?"

"Hell yeah, if I had a private office, I'd get naked in it too!"

Bob did not seem convinced, but it did not matter, for Carey knew it was true.

*****

Two days later there was a town hall meeting announced for the lunch period, which made everybody groan. Most people liked to escape during that precious hour when they could do whatever they wanted, as long as they were close enough to work. Plus, a town hall meeting was never good; they were bound to get some bad news, and everybody carried themselves towards the back work area with dreaded spirits, moods that no pile of muffins could cure.

Everybody pulled up chairs and sat huddled around cubicle spaces or sitting on top of file cabinets or end tables, while the people who normally sat and worked in that area remained on their computers, and other people stood against the wall. At the head of the room, the CEO, along with other head staff, stood with a projector screen where the employees would get their usual boring PowerPoint presentation while he droned on about the state of the company. Monica was there, standing nearby with her hands folded in front of her, looking somewhat nervous, and dressed somewhat more conservatively but no less provocatively in the grand scheme of things, with a slim jet-black dress that showed no cleavage but still accentuated the full figure of her breasts.

Carey sat on one of the chairs against the wall, near the back entrance to the room, easily placed so he could sneak out. He always had a good strategy. Where he sat, hardly anybody would even notice him through the sea of faces, and likewise, he could barely see the front of the room. He had to crane his neck out to even be able to glimpse—between the people who were standing in front of him—the projector screen, the CEO, and Monica.

"Okay people, let's get settled and we can get started," the CEO's voice came, in-and-out through the faulty microphone he held. People shuffled in their seats or on their feet and the chatter slowly died down. Carey leaned back against the wall and prepared for what would probably be a snooze-fest of a meeting.

"Now we have a lot to go over today, most of it good," the CEO went on. "But first, I'd like to let Monica from HR speak, because she has some important things she wants to cover."

Monica stepped up and before the CEO handed her the microphone, he held it up to his mouth again.

"I will say that there may be some reaction among you, and I would like to let you know that I have approved of her presentation." Then he handed her the mic.

Approve of her presentation? Carey thought. What the hell did that mean? He was starting to become interested in this meeting. Was she...

"Hi everybody. I hope you've been having a good week."

Grunts of semi-agreement among the crowd.

"I know we've been really pushing it this past few months, which is great. There are some snags here and there, and there's one I'd like to address today."

Carey leaned forward in his seat, trying to get a good view between the people standing in front of him.

"I've spoken with several of you a few weeks ago about what I feel is an inability fo focus with distractions. I feel the individual meetings were a good start, but I do not feel that they were fully successful. I feel today might be a good opportunity to offer a little bit of practice."

She held out the mic to the CEO and he took it, and then she proceeded to do exactly what Carey thought she was going to do, but could hardly imagine ten minutes ago: reaching behind herself, she unzipped the long back of her dress. To collective gasps, the garment fell forward off her body, and just like before, she was bare underneath. She leaned forward briefly to peel the dress all the way off and lay it at her feet, kicking off her shoes in the process, and when she stood up, she was fully nude to the whole entire room. The CEO stood by, seemingly unaffected. Now the gasps had churned up into a full chatter. Monica took the microphone again.

"Now I understand I have a reputation in the office for being 'racy.' Well how's this?"

Shocked silence.

"I know I could as easily just 'dress more conservatively,' wear baggier clothes, but I can't help how noticeable my butt is, which is why I've decided I'm going to do this entire town hall meeting without any clothes, just as I naturally am. Maybe by the end of this, you will all be less distracted."

Nobody in the room seemed distracted for the moment. They were, in fact, laser-focused.

A hand went up.

"Yes?" Monica said, pointing to a young man in a loose, sloppy button-up shirt.

"Are you going to keep your clothes off all the time after this?"

There were rumblings of agreement, and a few laughs.

"Well no, I think that would defeat the point. This is just an exercise."

"If she were going to be naked, everybody ought to be able to be naked," another male voice said, out of turn. There were rumblings of agreement with that, but a few grumbles intermixed in the crowd. "I don't want to see everybody naked," Carey heard a guy near him murmur to a friend.

The CEO stepped in and leaned into Monica's mic, bringing himself tantalizingly close to her nude body. "I don't think we're ready to go through the red tape of allowing employees to work in the nude," he said. He leaned quickly away from Monica and looked surprised when there were grumbles of displeasure.

A thin young woman eagerly raised her hand and waved it in the air, and started speaking immediately when the CEO looked at her.

"If we're supposed to get used to other peoples' bodies, wouldn't it be a good idea for everybody to be naked, and not just her?"

"Well..." the CEO said. Monica smiled and folded her arms in front of her while the debate started to rage on. Then, to everybody's shock, the girl who had just spoke peeled off her shirt, threw it down, and just as quickly took off her pants. The people sitting near her scooted back, either to get their distance from her or to get a wider view. She was small-statured, with small-statured little breasts that came out to a point, and had practically no ass compared to Monica, but that didn't stop Carey from standing to get a better view for himself, seeing the slight outline of that butt, and trying to see what she looked like on the front-side, but he could not see as she faced the CEO and her naked HR person.

"If she's naked, I'm naked!" the girl shouted. The CEO put up his hands as if to ease her back into her seat.

"Alright, alright," he said. "Looks like we have a new item in our town hall today that needs discussing. Now I am willing to put it up for a vote. If you all are in agreement to do that later."

Many hands went up. The girl did sit back down, with her arms defiantly folded in front of her. She fell out of view as the hands came up and others stood to get a look at her.

"Okay," the CEO continued. "We'll send out a poll to your e-mails later. Now if we could move on."

He turned to the projector screen as a PowerPoint slide came up with two simple bullets, and fought to arrange his words as he spoke them, pausing on every syllable, for he too was distracted by Monica, standing just a few feet away from him, still nude. But he sallied forth. As he tried to continue the town hall as planned, though, people began to stand up and speak.

"Isn't this kind of an attention grab?" another woman asked. "Why does all this have to be focused on her?”

The CEO turned from his PowerPoint slide and was looking more and more uncomfortable.

"I feel like this is some sort of psy-op," an older man said.

Already, there were some people sneaking out of the meeting, people apparently offended by having to look at unabashed nudity in their normal mundane company meeting. Others with amused looks, shaking their heads, probably trying to escape before the room erupted into a train wreck of arguing. Carey was beginning to feel like he belonged to the latter group.

As if predicting his thoughts, Bob and Tom stopped where he was sitting and jerked their thumbs.

"Hey man, wanna get out of here? We're going to the bar."

Carey passed his eyes towards the front of the room, where the CEO was again raising his hands, and Monica was stifling a laugh, her hands lifted and not covering anything. As much as he hated to leave that sight, he had to admit he could use a drink.

"Sure," he said. "Let's go."

*****

The "open" sign on Ken's Old Bar was always a welcome sight on a weekday afternoon. The place usually didn't open until four p.m., but some days the old coot owner decided to open up early, and those days were blessings for employees that liked to tie one on in the middle of the day. Carey and the others stepped into the low light and the smoke-layer already forming above their heads as one lone customer sat at the bar and watched the news over a beer.

"Heya fellas," the old bartender said. "Same as usual?"

"You know it," Carey said, as the three of them slid into their seats at the bar.

"Man, that was some crazy shit," Bob said. "I guess you weren't lying, Carey."

"Of course he wasn't lying," Tom said. "Do you think Carey lies?"

"Not anymore."

"Man, did you see Stephanie, too? Wished I would have gotten a picture of that."

"We won't need to take pictures if they get to come to work naked all the time."

"Whoa, what are you guys talking about?" the bartender asked as he slid over their usual: a Scotch on the rocks for Carey, vodka tonic for Tom, and a lager for Bob.

"Our HR lady, she just took off her clothes in the middle of a company meeting," Bob openly explained to the bartender. "And some other girl went and did the same."

"I need to work where you guys do," the bartender said. "So why did you leave?"

"Eh, it was getting awkward," Bob said. "A lot of arguing. We figured we'd dip out until the dust settles."

"I would have stayed," the bartender said. "Sounds wild."

Carey just savored his drink, and savored coming into work the next day with every attractive girl taking off their clothes when they came through the door. Would something like that really happen?

As he tipped back his glass, the door chime rattled, and he was afraid to look up, in case whoever just walked in was somebody coming to look for them. Apparently they were, for the bartender froze in place. "Holy moly," he said.

Carey and the others finally turned, and there was Monica, standing in the doorframe, her hands moving to her hips as she took on an admonishing stance, all the more eroticized, for she was still completely nude.

"You three..." she said, "...need to get back to work.”

The Naked Job Interview 3: Job Fair

It was 10:00 a.m. and Mr. Barr circled the large convention hall and surveyed all the young hopefuls that had entered. There were hundreds of them, all young and bright-eyed (Well, some of them. More than a few looked bleary-eyed and downright unengaged. That was about to change, he thought). He noted that there were many attractive young ladies as well, something that he was sad he was not going to be around for, but he was a married man and he didn't need discomforting images swirling around in his head. He didn't quite agree with the outline of today's plan. It was the idea of the younger staff. Something hip and trendy. We'll see if it works, he thought, and he walked past fold-out tables where prospective employers sat and waited, playing on their phones, and he came to the front of the room to address Sadie Smith.

"Well, Sadie, I trust you have anything in control?" he asked the youngish, late-thirties woman, her deep dark skin contrasting in her pressed light grey business coat. He didn't even know why she bothered dressing up for this event.

"Sure thing, Mr. Barr. Are you out?"

"Yes, I believe I'm going to go get some brunch while the whole thing proceeds. Do let me know, in detail, how everything goes."

"In detail, sir?"

"Well..."

He frowned, but Sadie had a small smirk.

"Either way, I'm off," Mr. Barr said, and shuffled his way towards the double doors, his sport coat's buttons struggling with his massive frame. Several young hopefuls stood by the door and they all moved aside. None of them had the courtesy to look him in the eye or wish him a good day. Kids these days, he thought, and he waddled out the door, glancing once at the shortest girl in that group, a very pretty Asian girl in a black business coat and skirt. Her eyes were wide and her nervous expression almost childlike as she looked at the assembled room of job applicants and their would-be employers seated all around the room. He tried not to imagine much more than that, and he was gone.

Hyojin, the young woman, was indeed nervous. In fact, she didn't know what would be worse, a giant event like this or a direct one-on-one interview in a closed room. She had never experienced either before, but something about being in a room with hundreds of other people as hopeful for a job as her made her feel like a Thanksgiving turkey hoping to get the presidential pardon, or a cat vying to get to the Heavenside Layer. Maybe she should stop thinking so morbidly, she considered.

She looked over the room, noting that there were a lot of other young Korean college graduates just like her. Understandable, since they all probably graduated from the same area, and the area was known for its huge Korean sub-community. But she had never seen any of these girls before, and they made her feel nervous. They felt like competition.

The doors behind her opened and another young woman, a blonde white girl, came in; a late arrival. She was not dressed as sharply as Hyojin; her blouse was wrinkled, but it was unbuttoned just one or two buttons too many. "Wow," the girl said to nobody in particular. She stopped beside Hyojin and didn't immediately look at her. Finally Hyojin looked at her, and the blonde girl only then responded, as if following a queue.

"I'm at the right place, right?" she asked.

"Job fair?"

"Okay, I'm at the right place."

"Wasn't expecting so many people."

"I know, right?"

"I'm Hyojin, by the way," and the Korean girl stuck out her hand. Might as well be professional. She was going to have to get used to it if she was going to enter the workforce soon.

"Tiffany," the blonde girl replied, and shook her hand limply. "Are you in design too?"

"Yeah, I think all these people are here for design jobs."

A tall young caramel-skinned man passed by, casting eyes at both girls, his face neutral as Hyojin looked at him, but it lit up when Tiffany turned and smiled back in his direction.

"Think they're gonna start this thing soon?" the man said. "I got a lunch to go to after this."

"I don't know, I'm going to guess these things take a long time," Hyojin said.

"Alright, people, we are about ready to start!" came a loud, commanding voice.

"I'm Aarush, by the way," the man continued.

"Shh."

The commanding voice came from a sharply dressed black lady who had been standing at the side of the room the whole time. She looked no older than thirty. Hyojin wondered if she'd be in her spot in ten years: commanding a room full of new recruits.

"Hello everyone, my name is Sadie. Now if you'll all give me your attention for a bit, I'll outline how things are going to go. You were given a packet in your e-mails with the list of companies hiring today. You'll see their signs by their tables, so when you find the one you're interested in, line up. That's all simple."

"I didn't read it, did you?" Aarush asked Tiffany.

"Nope!"

Hyojin tried hard to concentrate. She wasn't sure she liked these two.

"Now the next part is going to be... well, a little unusual," Sadie said. She stepped forward and looked everybody over, pausing with all the suspense of a planned script, though in truth she was working up the courage to say her next part. "I'm going to ask every one of you to remove your clothes."

There was a wave of murmurs traveling through the room, and shocked, disbelieving faces, Hyojin among them. Did she seriously say what she thought she just said? Sadie just looked at everybody, as if her request needed no explanation.

"W-what?" Tiffany stammered under her breath, and Aarush looked at her and then back at Sadie, not sure whether to be amused or pissed off.

"Excuse me," a high female voice came from somewhere in the crowd. "Did you just tell us to take our clothes off?"

"I did," Sadie said. "You didn't hear me wrong." She sighed and folded her hands in front of her. They were a little shaky, but she took another step forward and resumed speaking with the command and authority she started with. "This is a new experiment that our firm is trying out... under the belief that without the barrier of clothing, without the signs of class or income, without the fake display of professionalism that is, in my opinion, ass-kissing, employers will be able to see deep down to your true self, and really, truly, get a sense of your character. Now I know this sounds extremely vulnerable. It is, in many ways despite your soul being bared. Some of you will not be ready for this. And that is okay. If you are not comfortable with the request, you may now leave. But if you are willing to give this a chance, I will ask that you take off your clothes. All of them. That includes your undergarments. I'm sorry if some of you paid for dry-cleaning, but it's not needed today. You may fold and lay your clothes on the rows of tables in the back of the room."

A deep, shocked silence overtook the room, and Sadie remained where she was, with her arms folded, waiting to see what these young hopefuls would do.

"Dude, is she serious?" Aarush said, and his eyes darted towards Tiffany to see if she was going to get undressed or if she was going to hightail it. A few people in the room already were heading for the door, but only a few. Everybody else was too shocked to move, or perhaps seriously debating on getting naked. Hyojin was of the former. her mouth was nearly on the floor, and her heart was fluttering worse than it had been since she'd entered the building. Was she really about to take off her clothes in front of everybody, including guys? Including this horndog to her right? She had never been naked in front of anybody except her parents, and that was when she was a kid!

There were already a few people slowly unbuttoning their shirts, hesitant, as if they were not sure if this was a test of some sort and that they would be told to stop. But they weren't told to stop. Then Sadie spoke again.

"To show a little solidarity, and to show we really mean it, I'll get the ball rolling for everybody." And with that, she slid off her grey sport coat and sat it on a nearby table, and then went about unbuttoning her shirt before everybody, her neckline widening and revealing more and more of her dark chest, and the dark grey of her bra, which soon came off, as if to really show she meant business, instead of saving it for after she took off her slacks. She was surrounded by shocked faces, looking on at her very shapely breasts, and then Sadie kicked off her shoes and dropped her pants, pulled down her panties, and picked up the items to put next to her coat. She folded her arms in front of her again, half-covering her crotch, but only half, the dark hairs there intermixing with her dark skin, and she looked at the crowd patiently, as everybody surrounding her stared in shock. Her nakedness sped up the undressing of others, and before Hyojin's eyes, her peers revealed all, one-by-one-by-one. A scrawny guy revealed his pale, bony chest and then became almost childlike as he dropped his pants and revealed even paler skin. A nervous girl was trembling and looking to either side as the others next to her got naked. A large number of the many other Korean girls gravitated towards each other and then joyfully started tossing off their clothes, as if suddenly freed, laughing as they took off more and more until they were pale and naked as cherubs. And then, next to Hyojin and Tiffany, Aarush was taking off his shirt, revealing a dark, chiseled torso, and Tiffany was definitely receptive to that.

"Might as well do it," he said. Hyojin looked to him, wide-eyed, then back at the room full of people, who were almost all naked now, Sadie in the center of it all, watching with what seemed like relief, a relaxed smile now on her face.

Hyojin felt as if she was in a daze. Was she dreaming? This was definitely the type of thing that would happen in a dream, though she herself had never dreamt of being naked in front of others. She looked to the side again. Aarush was taking down his pants, and now he stood proudly next to the two girls, his cock long and loose, a rather aesthetic puff of tangly pubic hair at its base. Tiffany was staring, and the young man grinned at her as he bent down and collected his clothes. Then, with no further hesitation, Tiffany began freeing up those remaining buttons on her blouse, looking at Aarush as she did.

Hyojin looked around the room again. Soon she would be the only one clothed. Strangely, that felt more dreadful than being naked in front of everybody. So without any further thinking, she took off her coat.

She had been running through her head the things she was going to say to the interviewers. She had had it all sorted out. But now, as she unbuttoned her shirt and opened it to the room, all that planning went out the window. When she pulled down her skirt is when the trembling started. As she slid the fabric over her hips, she felt as if all eyes were on her, though a quick look around the room showed that they were not. Beside her, Tiffany was suddenly naked, pink flesh from head to toe, and she was talking and laughing with Aarush, who's dick had risen a measure. He didn't even look at Hyojin; his eyes were transfixed by the nude delights before him. And so, standing there in her bra and panties, she got it over with, sliding the straps of her bra off her shoulders and freeing her breasts from the cups so she could turn it around and unclip it. With each article removed, she felt more born into this new reality, and when the last piece fell, she was as nude as everybody else, and she imagined she could feel the eyes zeroing in on the ends of her nipples, or on the crisp triangle of hair that now felt the coolness of the air, but nobody was staring. Not at her, anyway. Plenty of eyes did appear wide-eyed, scanning the room, taking in all these shocking sights, peers as never seen, cute girls as never imagined, guys with nothing left to hide, overweight people with no shame left. Hyojin was still.

"Gonna stick it out, huh?" Aarush said, and Hyojin turned to look at him and Tiffany. They both looked so perfectly comfortable, casually nude, as if this were a quaint dinner party. The boy's eyes did pass over her, but quickly, and Hyojin fought the urge to hug herself. In fact, she didn't know what to do with her hands, and let them fumble in front of her bush, feeling the hairs tickle her fingertips.

"Alright everybody, line up," Sadie said, and the room full of naked people came into hesitant motion. Shoulders—and other things—began bumping into each other as the naked interviewees wandered about the room, as if they were suddenly lost on their way to their chosen companies. Hyojin took a first, hesitant step into this sea of naked motion, bringing herself into close-quarters with everybody else. Behind her, Aarush and Tiffany walked side-by-side like a couple until they split and went their separate ways.

Aarush was the most animated and confident naked person in the whole group, walking with his chest out and pacing ahead of Hyojin, which gave her the opportunity to look down at his tight, flexing butt and then look away in guilt as she blindly wandered through the minefield of things one shouldn't stare at.

Some of the young hopefuls were surprised and distressed to discover their interviewers were clothed. But Aarush, settling down at a table in front of a snappily-dressed pair, a stern woman in her thirties with librarian glasses and a bored-looking middle-aged man, was all smiles and bravado, none of which was rewarded by the two business people. They asked him curt questions, and the woman would brush her hair from her eyes. The man would scratch his temple and then ask Aarush about his studies. Neither of them looked at him hardly, nor did they seem impressed when Aarush spoke of his scholarships. Several droll questions later, when he stood, it was almost as if he made it a point to stand with his penis hanging right at eye-level with the woman, but she didn't seem to notice. He left dejected and a little disappointed about the job prospects as well.

Tiffany, meanwhile, had a similar situation. She had one lone interviewer, a handsome man with salt and pepper at his temples, professional to the core, his tweed suit in stark contrast to Tiffany's completely naked body as she settled down into the chair across the low table between them and crossed her legs. The man was very direct, asking about her knowledge in various computer programs, and her portfolio of work, and Tiffany, as she had done all through college, tried to lay on the charm. She sat with her hands teasing the hairs in her lap, her arms squeezing her breasts together, not hidden, but displayed for the man, but he was not impressed. The more questions he asked her, the less it seemed that she had anything to offer him, and with each trick she tried—uncrossing and then recrossing her legs slowly, leaving them wide open for a moment, moving her torso in ways that made her breasts sway, jiggle, and bounce—nothing had an effect, and by the end of the interview, she was no longer smiling.

Through the roomful of now-seated naked people, Hyojin wandered to find the company she was interested in. She noted how strange it was to see, newborn-like, stripped down to their most vulnerable state, interviewees sitting across from clothed and stern-looking interviewers. But at some tables, the representatives were naked as well. It seemed to be a difference of approach, depending on the company. Hyojin hoped hers would be as chill as the ones that had chosen to get naked as well. Something didn't seem right about remaining clothed and setting yourself apart from your prospective hire. And Hyojin much preferred the idea of sitting across from somebody on her level if she was going to be baring all to them. It would make her a lot more comfortable, and at the moment she was a bundle of nerves as she seemed to be the center of attention, wandered through the room. And then she saw it: the placard that read "Small World Agency," the one she had researched and chosen as her main company to apply to, and lucky enough, the two people seated at the table were nude!

It was a man and a woman, both quite young, in their thirties. The woman was a very pretty Asian person, not Korean, and the man was chubby and sported a beard and black-rimmed glasses, and both of them bore smiles.

"Hello," the man said quite warmly as Hyojin wandered up to their table. They looked at her directly in the eye, and did not stare at her body, though she held her folder in front of her, covering herself partially as she tried not to stare in envy at the woman's quite perfectly round and symmetrical breasts.

"Hello, I'm Hyojin."

"Have a seat," the woman said. "Let's chat."

Hyojin smiled and nodded and lowered herself onto the fabric-lined chair, feeling it itch on her bare butt (gee, shouldn't they have put towels down or something? she wondered errantly; someone else's bare butt had just been on this seat minutes ago).

The interviewees helped distract her from those thoughts. The young man introduced himself as Steven and the woman as Karen, and they spoke with her in friendly tones and asked her about her art experience. All of her planned speech went out the window. In fact, she could not remember a single word she had planned on saying. Something corny, a long speech highlighting her as a potential star employee. So Hyojin just spoke naturally, taking her portfolio from her bare lap and opening it on the desk, talking about projects she had worked on during college, and Steven and Karen seemed interested, and their earnestness helped make her forget about the feeling of the A/C wafting down on her bare shoulders, or the way her breasts moved freely in front of their eyes without the constraints of a bra or the modesty of a shirt. She could hardly believe it, but she was comfortable this way, perhaps more comfortable than if she had come to the interview in her pajamas. It made her suddenly think that it might be nice to try sleeping in the nude. That was another distracted thought; her mind had wandered. But Steven and Karen reeled her back in with a surprise:

"Well I think you'd be a very strong candidate," Steven said. "We're going to show your resume to our manager and you may be getting a call very soon."

"Oh! Oh great!"

"Thank you for stopping by today," Karen said, and extended her hand, a breast touching the edge of the table. Hyojin took it (the hand!) and half-stood, looming her own chest before both interviewers.

"Thank you very much," she told them, and then shook Steven's hand, and then she backed away from the table.

"Have a great rest of the day," Karen told her, and Hyojin smiled and walked off, her chest out and proud.

She felt she had no need to visit any of the other tables, though she slowly walked around, watching people chatting. Some smiling representatives smiled her way, even the clothed ones. One especially forward and eager man in a blazer and no tie even beckoned toward her, but she kept walking and made her way to the front of the room. She did not see the girl Tiffany or Aarush anywhere, so she kept walking, heading for the doors, until a voice called from behind her.

"Um, ma'am? Ma'am?"

Hyojin turned around to see the woman Sadie approaching her. She was leaning forward as if she was concerned.

"You'll have to put your clothes back on before you leave," Sadie said. "We didn't get clearance for outside of this room." She smiled a little.

"Oh," Hyojin said. "I forgot." And she honestly had.

*****

The naked job fair was proven to be a full success. Though not every interviewer participated in the disrobing, having a mix of both clothed and un-clothed employers provided interesting contrasts that seemed to prove the theory of the boundaries created by clothing. And Sadie was pleased to report to Mr. Barr that all participants had an engaging and positive experience. The old man was relieved to hear that there were no incidents or complaints, though he dreaded bad publicity from the small percentage of people who did walk out. None ever came, though. And Sadie was surprised to hear later from the hiring managers of several of the companies that their new employees were actually a little disappointed that they were not reporting to their first day of work in the nude. So this prompted the development of—in at least half of the companies that participated in the job fair—a "no dress" code, a workplace culture that may grow and become more and more accepted as we train the workforce of the future.

If you don’t get proper HR approval, you could get into Naked Trouble! Read on for more adventures!

About P.A. Choi

P.A. Choi has had a long, proud career of writing erotica for seven years, where he has mainly pursued his favorite themes of exhibitionism, public nudity, and the fine line between naturism and eroticism.

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