“Now, to cut to the chase,” I continued, feeling that momentum was on my side, “You’re here because you… you enjoy the sensation of being naked. In front of people.”

She tilted her head as if she was thinking about the answer. I wasn’t sure why: it was the only reason she was here in the first place. But I knew that hearing your most personal secret put into words for the first time was not an easy thing to process.

“Well, I…” Melissa started. I nodded to urge her to continue. “Well, I guess, yes.”

She took a deep breath, as if somehow the admission was a major step forward. Personally, I felt no judgement towards her, neither good nor bad; I’d been studying this and similar subjects for long enough that they had become quite commonplace to me.

“As I said,” I began reassuringly, “There are no judgements being made here. We’re studying people with particular… preferences, that may not be what society views as normal, but you’d be surprised at just how many people share the same…” I was momentarily lost for words. “How many people have desires that are not what others would categories as the everyday.”

Melissa smiled and sat back in her seat. It was as if she’d heard someone way “don’t worry, you’re not alone” for the first time. I thought it worth pressing the point.

“Anyway, whatever people think is normal… it applies to almost nobody.” I managed to deliver the line as an aside and Melissa relaxed again. I was glad I’d said it, and that it was the truth was even better.

“But you’ve never let your preferences take hold of you, to such an extent that you’ve gotten into trouble?”

Melissa shook her head.

“No run-ins with the police? Not even embarrassing situations with friends?”

She shook her head again, but blushed at the same time. I wondered if she were perhaps hiding something, but maybe something that wasn’t all that important: a minor incident in the past that she’d rather not relive, perhaps.

Read the rest of A Study in Exhibitionism, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

“Just a sec,” Lisa said, and she picked up my bundle of clothes and left the room with them. That answered the question of putting them back on without even asking it, I guess.

I heard her go upstairs and then a minute later she reappeared with a rectangular cardboard box.

“Here,” she said, “I’ve got these for you.”

She handed me the box. It looked like a shoebox, and I hoped it had more than shoes inside.

I opened the box: it did only have shoes inside. Gorgeous, strappy stilettos; light cream colour with sparkling insets.

“These are for me?” I asked looking at them.

“Just to borrow,” Lisa said as she made us both a gin and tonic, “Do you like them?”

“They’re gorgeous!” I said. And so much more glamourous than anything I owned.

“Here you go,” Lisa said, handing me my gin and tonic. I took a sip and waited for the alcohol to have some effect: hopefully it would help me to get over the discomfort of sitting around naked.

Lisa put her drink on the table beside her and took one of the shoes out of the box.

“Here,” she said, kneeling in front of me. She lifted my ankle with her hand and slipped the shoe onto my foot. I giggled at the tickling sensation as she fastened the thin leather buckle.

“And the other one,” she said, “I didn’t realise you were so ticklish.” Her eyes sparkled and she grabbed my foot with her hand and I almost spilt my gin and tonic as I wriggled in a fit of giggles.

She pushed the other shoe onto my foot and fastened the buckle carefully and then stood in front of me.

“Gorgeous,” she said, looking down at me. I couldn’t help but smile, but I felt even more naked now I had the stilettos on.

“Can you stand in them?”

I pushed myself up off of the sofa and Lisa held my wrists while I stood, still trying to avoid spilling my drink. She released my wrists and took a step back looking me up and down. I was a half an inch taller than her now.

“You were made for them,” she said with a grin. I took another nervous sip from my glass; it was helping to quell my nerves a little, but I wished Tina would hurry up with some clothes.

I looked at the table again: there were a lot of glasses, and a lot of drinks. Lisa had mentioned something about expecting twenty or thirty people that evening but we were in no danger of running short of alcohol.

My eyes returned to the handcuffs again and Lisa followed my gaze.

“What are they for?” I couldn’t help but ask, feeling emboldened by the first flush of inebriation.

“We just play around with them,” Lisa said, “Let me show you.”

Read the rest of A Very Grown-Up Party, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

“Well,” she said, and Tina handed her a shiny, silver chain, around three or four feet long, “When I said ‘something to wear’, you may have misinterpreted me.” Her hands returned to my neck with the chain and I felt her fumbling. Then we she lowered her hands, the chain was still between her fingers, but I realised that the other end was attached to me. More specifically: it was attached to the collar around my neck. The long chain hung between us and Lisa stepped back, taking up some of the slack. I was still staring at her, my mouth open.

“So, anyway,” she said, watching my reaction carefully, “Something to wear…” She tailed off, waving the chain back and forth, her fingers holding a thin leather loop at the other end. I felt its movement translated through a gentle tugging of my neck from one side to the other.

‘Something to wear’ was not the same as ‘an outfit’. She had never said ‘an outfit’. I felt suddenly angry at her that she had misled me, but I couldn’t really pinpoint where.

“But…” I started to say. But I can’t stand around like this.

Lisa stepped towards me and cut me off, speaking quietly and softly. “Most people are already here,” she said, “So…” She stepped back again: so there was no need for me to embarrassed, she didn’t need to say, because everyone had already seen me like this.

That wasn’t the point, but I couldn’t think straight.

Read the rest of A Very Grown-Up Party, and 11 other ENF stories, in Just ENF

I turned around, and found myself, rarely for someone of my small height, even in my two inch heels, looking straight into the eyes of Natasha.

Natasha was petite, she was blonde, and she was smiling and offering me her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Natasha,” she said, her eyes fixed on me all the time.

“I’m Rupa. Pleased to meet you,” I replied, taking her delicate hand in my own and trying to appear confident as I shook it.

“Oooh, I love your English accent,” Natasha said with a smile. I had heard that plenty of times tonight already and I wondered if Americans were taught to say that at school.

“I love your, er,” I said as I looked her up and down, desperate to pay a compliment in return. “I love your tattoos.” Natasha had a magnificent set of multi-coloured tattoos: on her arms, on her shoulders, on the tops of her feet and her ankles, spiralling up her leg and thigh and across her stomach. Oh yes, now I remember the important part of describing Natasha, and why I was surprised, or even shocked, at meeting her. I’m able to describe Natasha’s tattoos in such detail because Natasha was entirely naked.

“Why, thank you,” she said, looking down at herself. I joined her in staring at the young naked body in front of me and wondered whether I was dreaming. “I’ve been collecting them for years. I started with a few small ones like this.” She twisted around and pointed to an owl tattooed on her shoulder before turning back quickly as I tried to tear my eyes away from the way her tiny breasts wobbled as she spun around. “And this was next,” she said as she twisted her leg outwards and pointed to a small butterfly at the top of her inner thigh, although all I could think of was that I was staring directly at her immaculately shaved vagina. “That one was for an old boyfriend, who wanted something that only he would see.” She shrugged and her breasts wobbled again. “I guess everyone gets to see it now.”

Read the rest of Dressed In Tattoos, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts