No Need To Imagine Me Nude


“But to those who see you…,” I said, “If you don’t mind me saying, you have an amazing body, and you wear sexy red shoes, bright red lipstick and dark eye make-up and, for most men, the only time they see a naked – sorry, nude – woman who looks like you do is only in pornography.”

Mia waved a finger at me as if she were about to contradict me. “Yes! Exactly! But you are wearing lipstick, are you not? And eye make-up? And dainty high heels too?”

“Well, yes, but I’m… I’m not naked.”

Mia smiled the smile that I was beginning to learn meant that the discussion was going exactly the way she planned it. “And what do you think clothes are for, eh? To keep warm, yes. Maybe in Finland. And in the UK too, no? But in Spain? Spain is so often too hot. No, clothes are not for warmth. We wear clothes to make ourselves look more attractive. I look at you in your trousers and your blouse and I can imagine the curve of your hips and your narrow waist and your soft yet pert breasts with their small pink nipples. Or maybe brown. I have no idea whether you have those things or not, but what my mind does not do is fill in these missing details with sagging and folds of fat. No, it paints a very pretty picture, imagining what you might look like naked.”

She waved her finger at me again before continuing.

“No. Clothes are not for concealing what we are because it’s shameful, but to force the imagination to fill in the gaps, to imagine perfection beneath them. I could put my coat back on, but then it’s just as easy to imagine me naked underneath, isn’t it? And is that not more titillating?”

Read the rest of Interview With An Artist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

I Used To Play Naked Too


Jessica looked back at the photo with fresh eyes, at the low neckline, and the long exposed leg, ending with a delicate foot that she had only just noticed was also bare whilst a pair of small stilettos stood next to the piano. She had never thought of Miss Ashdown as anything but her slightly stuffy teacher. Suddenly she had to readjust to the idea of her as a young woman revelling in taking risks on a public stage.

“I think if I could have played naked I would have done,” Miss Ashdown continued wistfully, not noticing Jessica’s blushes. “I used to practice playing naked, whenever I could. It was just so… free, and raw.” Jessica could feel the intense heat in her cheeks. “You know, so many people love the guitar, because of the way you hold it and close your arms around it, or the cello, because of its sexuality and the power it delivers from right between your legs. But really, there’s sexuality in every instrument, or almost every instrument, and the less that sexuality is given to you by the physical shape of the object, the more it has to come from the musician.”

Miss Ashdown re-focussed her gaze on the reflection of Jessica. “So, yes, I know exactly what’s going on inside that body of yours, and how mixed up it all is, but also just how powerful it all is.” She judged that now was the time for the direct approach. “Tell me, do you masturbate?”

Read the rest of The Pianist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

Now I’m Naked I’m Staying That Way


“Oh, it’s fine, really,” I said, and I actually meant it. I would never have dreamt of a naked office day, especially not with me being the only one naked, but I was having the time of my life and it was barely nine thirty. I continued making my coffee.

“Well, anyway,” he continued, “We don’t want to put you through any more embarrassment. Your clothes are over in the small meeting room. I can’t believe you’ve just… I mean, I can, but I can’t… And you’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged and David’s eyes watched my breasts move up and down. “Don’t think twice about it. Honestly.” I said, smiling reassuring.

He smiled and, before the silence became an embarrassing one, he left the room with his coffee.

A few minutes later I walked back to my desk and sat with my eyes on the door to the small meeting room. My clothes were in there; I could go in, get dressed, and then it would just be something else to laugh off for a week or so. It would be a story that would be told to all the new recruits in future about how they tricked me into walking naked around the office for an hour.

But that would mean playing to their script, wouldn’t it? And I’d already left that behind when I hadn’t shrivelled into the corner at the start of the day. And besides, now I was here, it was fun, and there was more fun to be had.

So, I resolved to make it through the morning without getting my clothes back, or at least to take it an hour at a time. I was determined that I could make this whole thing work in my favour, as long as I was the one who chose how and when it ended.

Read the rest of The Naked Office, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

A Naked Performance Piece


Suddenly Mia stood, threw off the coat and tossed it on the bed. As I expected, she was nude. She sat back down on the chair and crossed one perfectly toned leg over the other.

As I mentioned before, I’m not accustomed to being in the company of a naked woman, and certainly not in the privacy of my hotel room. I felt my face turning red: had I assessed this all wrong? Was Mia reticent to talk about relationships because I was a target for her? Had I given off signals? Was there any more of a signal than stripping to my underwear for lunch?

But Mia stayed sat in the chair. If this was a seduction it was a very passive one.

“I need to show you,” she said. I wondered what I could be shown that I hadn’t already seen.

“Show me what?” I asked.

“The stabilisers,” she said, “You can ride without them.” I began to understand what she might be getting at, and I dreaded the implication.

She stood and walked over to me and put her hands around my waist. My mouth went dry. Have I gone too far to stop this now?

Read the rest of Interview With An Artist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts

A Popular Nude


Sue let go of my hand and Martha released the other one taking my bra with her. She handed it to Kathy, still walking hand-in-hand with Tan behind us, and she pushed it into Martha’s rucksack along with the rest of my clothes.

Sue and Martha had dropped their hands to their sides, but I wasn’t done waving. I had been a cheerleader at school and I moved well to music. And besides, my breasts looked amazing when I held my hands above my head.

I was receiving no end of whistles and cheers from the crowd and I began to skip in circles as we walked along. The four girls around me smiled at each other, and I realised they were probably enjoying the show as much as most of the women at the parade. And the great thing was: this was Pride, and no-one cared, including me.

“Hey, beautiful!” a female voice said from the crowd. It was a slim blonde girl, probably twenty years old and just beginning to feel comfortable with her sexuality. It seemed that the parade was something that emboldened all of us.

I skipped over to the railings where she stood, which is not an easy thing to do in inch-high heels, and put my hands on them and leant towards her.

“Hey back, beautiful,” I said, and I leant towards her and gave her a small kiss on the lips. The metal railing was cold against my midriff, but her kips were soft and warm. I’d never kissed a girl before, and I don’t know what made me do it then. It was something about the permissiveness of the parade, and the anonymity of walking amongst all of these wonderful people. I’d never walk up to a guy in the nude and kiss him, but if I was being a lesbian for the afternoon then it seemed fine to do it to a girl. Weird.

Read the rest of Take Pride, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF