The Square

Angela trudged through the streets, looking right and left every so often to check if anyone was approaching her. When she heard a voice, or the sound of a car coming, she crouched behind a trashcan, or in the shadow of an alcove. The sun had set hours ago, so she could hide in streets with few streetlamps. This was an upmarket part of town—the patrons at the strip club had all been wearing suits, after all—so she didn’t have to worry about encountering vagrants. She hoped.

There were few people in the side streets she walked down, and she managed to avoid most of them. There was one guy who she’d almost walked into, but he appeared to be high and was too absorbed in his own mind to react to her nudity. Maybe he even thought it was part of his trip.

But she was getting closer to a popular area of town named The Square, a block of bars and nightclubs. That would be full of people on a Saturday night. Indeed, Angela could hear the faint sounds of music and revelry.

And then she heard the sound of a police siren, mingled with the engine of a car, rapidly approaching. Angela turned and put an arm in front of her face to shield her eyes from the car’s headlights. This was it, time to get arrested for public indecency. She closed her eyes and imagined the warm coat they would envelop her in before slamming her body against the hood of the car.

The siren cut out and the car came to a stop. Both doors opened and two male cops got out: a young, nervous one from the driver’s side and an old one with a gray moustache and a bemused expression.

“Good evening, ma’am,” said the young cop, eyes fixed on a spot above Angela’s head. “Nudity is prohibited in public settings. I am required by law to prevent you from causing further disturbances. Please do not resist arrest.”

The cop then pulled off his coat and started walking towards Angela, holding it open in both hands. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she thought she might kiss him. Finally, clothes! She was only too ready to stop causing further disturbances. Why didn’t she do this earlier?

“Hold on a second there Larry,” said the older cop, ambling over to his partner’s side. “I tried to hint at this in the car, but you can be real thick sometimes, you know?” And then, turning to Angela, “Evening miss.”

Larry stopped in his tracks. The coat remained separated from Angela’s body by several feet.

“What do you mean, Bob?” asked Larry. “Was there something else I was supposed to say to her?”

“It’s bigger than that, son. You haven’t been keeping up to date with your precedents.”

“Precedents?” By now, Larry was holding the coat loosely, in one hand, letting it trail on the ground.

Bob grunted in disapproval. “Sunshine Valley versus PD. Three months ago. An important precedent for this very case.”

Larry scratched his head. “The one with the nudist resort?”

“The very same. Judge ruled in favor of them, against us. Relevant upshot: public nudity isn’t actually illegal.”

“Really? Wow.”

Bob glanced back at Angela apologetically. “Sorry about all this ma’am. My partner’s still pretty green. And might I just say, you’re looking lovely tonight.” Then, to Larry, softly, “Look, if she’s just walking around, we can’t do anything about it. She’d need to be assaulting someone or engaged in a public sex act for us to take her in, so put that coat back on.”

The sight of Larry pulling his coat back on was heart-breaking. Angela glanced at her fingers, then down at her pussy. Was this what she had to do to get clothes? Pleasure herself in front of two cops? She lowered her shaking hand.

“Big fines for that sort of thing. A few grand usually.”

Angela’s hand jerked back up and she rubbed the back of her neck nonchalantly.

Larry had put his coat back on and he and Bob were climbing back into their car. “Have a nice night, ma’am. Apologies for the mix-up,” Larry said.

The cop car sped off, leaving Angela alone once more. So public nudity was legal, except for in a strip club. That made a whole lot of sense.

Angela looked at her hand again. She was disgusted at herself for what she’d almost done. Would she have actually gone through with it? A vision flashed through her mind of Larry slamming her against the hood of the cop car and cuffing her hands behind her back, juices still dripping from her fingers and pussy. No! That wasn’t her. She was a temporarily naked girl, not a porn actress.

The sound of music from the Square was quite loud now. Angela didn’t know this part of town well, but figured she couldn’t be more than block from the place. She pulled the bills out of the hair-tie on her ankle and counted them up. It would be just enough for a drink. Public nudity was legal, the nudists had shown it. She very much wanted to stop being a nudist, but everything she’d tried so far had failed.

“You win,” whispered Angela, looking up at the sky. “You hear me, universe? You win! I give up! No clothes for Angela, she has to stay naked! Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll do it!”

Angela sniffed, wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes, and then started off in the direction of the music. She strode with her arms at her sides and her eyes forward, a woman on a mission. A mission to get a fucking drink, because she sure could use one.

The Square was bustling with happy people in various levels of intoxication. Most of them noticed Angela as she walked past, but apart from a few wolf-whistles and some applause, no-one reacted to her with anything other than their eyes. Well, there also were a few camera clicks and flashes, which she tried not to think about, keeping up her purposeful stride.

After a long day of running and hiding, of watching out for other people and avoiding anywhere crowded, of increasingly desperate attempts to find something, anything to wear… this wasn’t actually so bad. Sure, Angela felt herself redden at the particularly enthusiastic wolf-whistles, but nothing bad was happening. A few women she passed scolded their boyfriends, and one even had her hand clapped over his eyes, but they seemed more mad with their men for looking than with her for being there. Some women even shouted cries of support.

Angela felt a hand lightly touch her forearm. She turned to see a smiling woman. “Excuse me. I just wanted to say that I love what you’re doing here! You’re beautiful. I wish I had your confidence. Could I get a picture?”

The woman was so sweet and kind that Angela could hardly say no. She nodded, making the woman smile even broader. “Beth!” she shouted. “Come take a photo!”

A second woman, Beth, appeared with her phone. The first woman put an arm around Angela’s back and pulled her to her side. She smiled for the camera. “Say body positivity!” shouted Beth. The phone camera flashed.

“Thank you so much!” said the woman, after Beth had taken a few photos. “Enjoy the rest of your evening!”

Angela waved goodbye and continued purposefully to her destination, which was the closest bar she could find. Before she reached it, two young guys came running up to her. They looked about college age and were visibly sweating. Finally, Angela thought, someone more embarrassed than her. She raised an eyebrow at them.

“A-are you an alien?” asked the taller one, his eyes bouncing around rapidly.

“What?”

“C-cuz your ass is out of this world!” said the other, shorter one.

The line hung in the air for an awkward second. Then Angela felt a little bad for the boys. They were really squirming! “Aw, thank you,” she said, smiling at each in turn, “that’s sweet. Would you like a picture?”

The looks on the boys’ faces indicated their eternal gratitude. She posed for a picture with each, twisting her neck to get her face and much-praised rear into the shots. Both boys had hover hands, of course.

After saying goodbye to the college boys, Angela reached the bar she was headed for. There was a line in front, so she dutifully took her place at the back, behind a couple who studiously ignored her.

Seconds later, one of the bouncers approached her. “You can go through, ma’am.”

Well, that was one benefit of being naked. Angela thanked the bouncer and walked with him past the long line of people waiting to be let in.

Music was pumping inside the place, which appeared to be one of those bars that turns into a club later at night. The dance floor was packed with writhing, grinding bodies. Angela wasn’t quite ready to do that naked, so she went to the bar at the far end of the place, where the music was a tiny bit quieter, and sat down on a bar stool. A barman with long hair and a beard materialized before her to ask what she would have. If he had any reaction to her nudity, he didn’t show it.

She looked up at the cocktail menu on a board behind the barman’s head. One stood out, and it was in her price range. “One Naked Lady, please,”

The barman smiled, shouting to a colleague, “A Naked Lady for the naked lady!”

As she waited for her drink, men started approaching her.

“Nice tits. Wanna fuck?” slurred a very drunk man in a baseball cap. Angela made a disgusted face and waved him away.

“That outfit looks great on you,” said a somewhat less drunk man, and Angela smiled slightly. “It would look even better on my bedroom floor… wait, shit. Fuck. Uh, my bed? It would look good… ah forget it.”

The next man pulled his shirt off in front of her, revealing massive pectorals and washboard abs. He said nothing, just flexed and winked. Angela ignored him. Vanity was so unattractive in a man.

Her drink arrived, and she handed the barman the rest of the money from her ankle. The drink was good, refreshing. The alcohol warmed her up, but she had to remember to pace herself. Her stomach growled, and for the first time she realised how hungry she was. Every other feeling she’d had that day had been overwhelmed by an overriding feeling of embarrassment, exposure, fear and shame at her nudity. Now, between resignation to her fate and the effects of alcohol, she had dialled that horrible feeling down, and was beginning to notice others. She was hungry and tired, but this cocktail was good, really good. She’d sip it slowly, and then figure out how to get home.

Angela glanced around, noticing a few other patrons nursing drinks further down the bar, and some groups of people huddled at booths. Everyone seemed to be taking surreptitious glances at her, but looked away when she tried to meet their eyes. Groups of men were clearly psyching each other up to go talk to her. She saw one get up to approach but then think better of it and sit back down. Who knew nudity could be so intimidating?

Groups of women were side-eyeing her, whispering to each other and adjusting their outfits. She saw women pulling at their tops to increase their cleavage and rolling up their skirts to show more leg. One woman had a nipple pop out, which she was quick to cover. Angela smirked, tweaking one of her own nipples. Tonight, she had them all beat. Even the most extreme cleavage had nothing on her bare breasts.

“Good evening, madam,” said a voice behind her head. She turned to face a well-built man with strong features and a head of thick brown hair. He was dressed in dark chinos and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and the top button undone to show a glimpse of the hair on his muscular chest. He held her gaze with his soulful green eyes, and then spoke, “I could look into your eyes forever. Would you like to dance?”

Angela giggled, finished her drink, and held out a hand for him to take. They proceeded not to the dance floor, but to an empty spot right there, between the bar and the booths, and the man clicked his fingers and started moving to the beat, eyes still locked on Angela’s own. She followed suit, putting out her arms and slowly swaying her body. This time, she was just dancing, no thought to displaying her body for a horny strip club crowd. But she smiled when her partner would momentarily allow his gaze to fall.

The two of them boogied, facing each other, but not touching. Then he took her hands and pulled her past him, arms over head, switching sides. He was a good dancer, knowing just how to lead.

The music slowed, and the man pulled Angela close. “I’m Donato,” he said in her ear, with just a hint of accent. “Angela,” she replied.

“Thank you for this dance, Angela.” He stepped and swayed to the slow music, gently nudging her where he wanted her to go. Her boobs pressed against the fabric of his shirt, but he maintained a small distance between their lower bodies, even as he stepped into the space between her feet. His arm was warm against her back. Angela rested her head on his shoulder.

The dance continued for a long time, but to Angela, it felt like no time at all. She was warm, safe, protected, in the arms of Donato. He was slow and gentle, showing admirable restraint, but Angela could tell that he wanted her badly. How could any man resist the allure of a naked girl in his arms?

Finally, Donato released her, stepping back with only one of her hands held in one of his own, extending his arm the full way. Then he reeled her in and tipped her back. They stood for an instant, her bent back in his arms, him bent forward, their faces close. Then he kissed her.

Cheers and applause went up from the booths and the bar. Donato held the kiss so long that Angela was gasping for air once it ended. Gasping, but happy. So deliriously happy! Nothing like this had ever happened when she visited bars with her clothes on! Donato brought her back up and let go of her. He was smiling too, a faraway look in his eyes.

He took out his phone and asked for Angela’s number. She gave it happily, syllables tripping over her lips.

“I must go,” he said to her, putting his phone away. “Thank you, Angela, for an enchanting dance.” He kissed her again, briefly this time, and then hurried off.

Angela floated back to the bar and slumped down on a stool, a goofy smile plastered on her face. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and thought of Donato.

But then a woman’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. “It’s you! I can’t believe it!” The voice was familiar, but difficult to place.

Angela looked at her interlocutor. A slight older woman, blonde hair, blue eyes. Aquiline nose. Dressed in a short, strapless black dress. It was the woman from the hair salon!