ENF: Embarrassed Nude Female

by C. M. Noe-Flores

  No. They were too busy chatting, quite loudly for a museum. Good for me. I watched them exit the exhibit, freeing me from my vegetative state. Up on my feet, I brushed off as much flour as I could.

  Okay, it was time to get out of there. I held in my breath and made a decision. Confidence. Confidence would get me out of this. I walked out onto the main path and started towards the staircase.

  It was working. I passed people and they looked at me. I just gave them a smile and a wave and kept moving. They were buying it. And why not? I was wearing the exact same outfit as they had seen in the caveman exhibit. I must be part of a special show at the museum, or maybe the host of the cave paintings exhibit.

  As long as I stayed out of sight of the museum employees, especially Mr. DeSoto, I’d be fine. I reached the stairs and bolted down towards the first floor. Some people were hanging out in the stairwell chatting. I blurred by them. Wait, were they? I turned my head back as I passed through the door. It was the college kids who laughed at the naked mannequin just a minute earlier. They were looking right at me as the doors shut between us.

  I hoped my nervous smile would incite them to take pity rather than sound any alarms. The shut chrome door revealed my reflection. I looked ridiculous. My seasalty hair was the only cavemanly thing about me. There were still a couple splotches of paint here and there. Most the flour was gone but not all. Oh, and the cavewoman bottoms didn’t exactly cover all of my ass. So much for thinking my plan was working. Nobody would think a museum worker was walking around with half their crack exposed. If the college students didn’t say anything, any of the dozen or so people I passed on the floor above might. For all I knew there was a search for me going on right now. I felt panic and relief simultaneously. My journey was almost up. I couldn’t go much longer without being caught.

  I turned around to face the fashion exhibit. This year it was Elizabethan styles. Oh no. These dresses had corsets and ruffles and cloaks and this weird circular folded paper thingy that was sure to make me look like that sludge spitting dinosaur from Jurassic Park. But if I could only get one of them on, maybe I could get out the front doors. I stepped up to the closest mannequin, and started disassembling it. It was like a giant shoe with really long shoelaces tied into a knot. I ripped the neck cone of shame off completely. There was no way I’d walk out of here inconspicuously, but I’d try my best.

  I almost didn’t notice an elderly woman heading my direction. She was looking at the dresses closer to her as she walked. I didn’t see any hiding spots so I crouched down thinking I might be able to hide behind these poofy dresses. Inspiration hit me. I could hide under these poofy dresses.

  I lifted the mannequin’s dress and crawled in. The mannequin had no legs. Instead, a metal pole went from a metal plate on the ground to the mannequin hips. A little bit of wireframe shot out around the hip to help shape the dress.

  The elderly lady’s footsteps were close. Her shadow blocked out the light coming from under my dress. I was in such a weird position, my neck against the floor and my ass half in the air. I was pretty sure my bottoms were rubbed almost completely off. If the elderly woman lifted the dress she’d get quite the view. My heart was erratic.

  And then she was off to the next exhibit. I took no time to relax. The next person or couple or group or class could be right around the corner. There was no sexiness cramped up under that dress. I was tired of this museum. It was a cage compared to the freedom I had felt the night before.

  I slid the dress off the top of the mannequin, some fabric tearing on the wireframe. The leopard print fell to the floor as I pulled the dress over my body. The corset was as tight as I’d imagined and I hadn’t even tightened it. The dress still had a few inches to come down. I held my breath, but that just made my chest expand, so I let it out and just yanked down, over and over. I heard tearing but oh well. I didn’t feel any gaping holes and that was good enough for mel. I left the exhibit and entered the main gala.

  The museum was a lot more crowded now than when I first left the cafe, but that was a good thing. For once, I needed a crowd. They could cover me, draw less suspicion to me. I tried to hang around the biggest group I could find. They started looking at me, making faces. That’s right, I’m a museum worker again, and maybe this time I could’ve pulled it off except for the tears in my dress and untied laces.

  “Hello friends, may you enjoy the beauty of the Elizabethan times in the room just beyond thar doorway there.” I cringed inside at my atrocious playacting. Screw this. I lifted my dress up a foot so I could move quicker and hurried for the door.

  The security guard’s head followed me out, a quizzical expression on his face suitable for a cartoon character. I committed to my role, “Just going for a quick smoke break. Be right back.”

  The glass doors gave way to the warm breeze and boardwalk smell I had grown so accustomed to.

  5 The Street

  Free at last. The corset dug into my chest. Finally free. I could hardly breath. Freedom. I walked along the crowded street attracting more looks than I had during my entire bare adventure. It was strange. The eyes were a restriction, enforcing my current apparel, my compliance with their social system, whereas the nude gaze would’ve been shock and awe, of envy, jealousy at my brazen, my bold break from their rules, my glory, my freedom.

  There was something hard digging into my stomach. I reached into a small pocket and found an antique gold watch inside. Up ahead, a man was pulling a cart full of paints along the sidewalk. I did a double take. It was the clown from last night, the one I had stolen from and seen out the museum window this morning. He had finally changed out of his clown outfit, just plain old citizen face painter today. I tossed the watch in the back of his cart as I passed.

  “Stop!” someone called from behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw the guard from the museum running towards me. What was the worst that could happen? I was a stranded woman in the nude, so I snuck in at night, stole an outfit once the museum opened and crept out. Wouldn’t they understand if I explained myself? Wouldn’t they? No, I convinced myself they wouldn’t understand and ran off down Canal Street.

  I wasn’t the fastest runner and the 16th century dress wasn’t doing me any favors. The guard was closing the distance between us fast. He caught up while I was crossing a Canal Street bridge. He grabbed the cuff on my left shoulder, spinning me around. The dress tore, my legs hit the short stone ledge and I fell into the canal. Now this couldn’t have been intentional. My unconscious self wouldn’t put me in that kind of danger would it?

  My body plunged and to my shock, kept sinking. It was the dress, heavy with layers of fabric and wireframe. The corset was now the least of my breathing problems. I tugged in all directions and the old dress tore away like paper towel, thanks partially to the tears created when I first forced it on. Oh and I should thank the guard for the big rip he made while trying to stop my downfall. The dress was off, I was naked again, submerged at the bottom of the canal. My lungs burned as I kicked off the bottom and shot towards the surface. I wasn’t going to make it. I was. I wasn’t. The sun hit my face. Thunderous was the sound of my gasp for breath.

  I looked up at the sides of the concrete canal walls but didn’t see the guard. The buildings were different too, and they were moving. No, I was moving. The current had taken me a block or two. Every couple of years a drunk drowns himself in this canal. There were certain parts where the current was notorious for holding people under. It was best I get the hell out of there. Up ahead I saw metal rungs sticking out of the concrete, a ladder. I sidestroked to the wall and prepared for impact.

  The current slammed me into the metal bars. It took all my remaining strength to hold onto them as the current tugged my body away. My grip was slipping. I raised my knee and managed to get a foot on a bar. That was the turning point. I pulled my slick body out of the water, held onto the rungs and relaxed against the side of the canal.

  A nap would’ve been nice. But it wa
s still morning, my body was tired but not my mind. Besides, somebody would see me there eventually. That guard was probably gathering a search crew for me right now. Falling in the canal was big town news. I had to get out of there.

  Ten rungs up, I peeked my head over the embankment. Fortunately, I wasn’t in a crowded portion of the canal. Unfortunately, I was coming up in the sketchier streets. I considered for a second jumping back into the river and trying to come back up further down. If I timed it just right, I could come up not too far from my house even. If my lungs had hands they would’ve slapped me in the face and shouted Did you forget we almost just drowned you damn idiot!

  I climbed out of the canal and crouched, still dripping wet. Ahead of me were a few small buildings, a pawn shop, liquor store, gas station and Dollar Discount store. Behind me, on the other side of the river was a four story apartment complex. Only a matter of time before someone looked out their bedroom window. It wasn’t every day a naked woman climbed out of the canal. I ventured forward to take cover in the nearby alleys.

  Around the corner of a gas station I found a nice shadowy spot, next to a dumpster. I could do without the smell but I wasn’t exactly picky. I was out of sight of any windows and just wanted to sit down, lean my head against the wall and take that nap. Yesterday I would have thought that disgusting, but today I didn’t care.

  Oops. I knocked over a red can. A gas can. Gas spilled out onto the floor until I picked the can up. At least I couldn’t smell the trash anymore. There was a pickup truck parked on the other side of the dumpster, with a motorcycle and two more gas cans in the back. A toilet flushed. It came from a door right next to me, the gas station restroom. This guy had to go so bad he couldn’t even properly cap his last gas can. Another sound came from the restroom, one that made it clear he wasn’t done yet despite that first flush. It looked like this wasn’t the best spot for me to rest.

  Footsteps. And voices. Kids’ voices. “I’m on Kyle’s team.”

  “Nah man, you two aren’t allowed on the same team. Remember last week?”

  “Fine.”

  “I call pitcher!”

  Oh god, the voices were getting closer. All my muscles tightened simultaneously. This was really bad. They were going to walk right by me. No flour could save me now.

  Across the alley, a door opened and a heavyset biker walked out looking at a couple of magazines. He passed me, leaning flat against the shadowy corner of the dumpster, without even looking up from his magazines. The door was open. This was my chance.

  I threw a rock over my head, over the dumpster and over the heads of the nearby kids. At least I hoped it went over their heads. “Hey, who threw this?” I heard one said. But by the time they turned back towards the dumpster, I had made it into the store, closing the door behind me.

  Long rubber shafts, dirty magazines and tubes of lube. I was stark naked in a sex shop.

  6 The Store

  I was standing next to the checkout counter, empty save for a box of matches with an American flag on it. The door handle behind me rustled; incoming customers. I scrambled into the center of the room and dove behind a rack of videos and magazines as the door opened.

  From between shelves I watched as a thirtyish couple made their way towards the videos. I started moving around my shelf, keeping it between myself and the couple. They had greasy skin and hair and reeked of cigarettes. They were just a few feet away from me, a flimsy rack of paper and compact discs between us. If one of them crouched down to grab something from a low shelf, I’d be caught. Imagine going to sex shop and finding a naked woman hiding amidst the shelves. I tried my best to stay silent.

  It wasn’t too long before they moved on, now interested in a table stocked with different scented lubes. Sorry bud, I doubt they have cigarette scent. On the bottom shelf of the racks in front of me, a magazine was sticking out in the back. I pulled it out and dropped it immediately in disgust. The magazine was titled Jailbait and it featured girls who looked way too young to be in these sort of publications. I fanned through some of the magazines on the bottom shelf. There were loads of similar titles there.

  Footsteps thumped from the other side of the store. “Wait till you see this. You aint seen nothing like this.” I had heard that voice before. They were coming my way. I turned to bolt out the door I came through, but the greasy couple was right in my path. There was another door across the room. It looked like a closet, my only hope.

  I stayed low and waddled to the door. Over the past day, my stealth skills had improved dramatically if I do say so myself. The smoky smelling couple saw nothing as I entered the closet and shut the door as quietly as I could. I turned around and gasped. It wasn’t a closet. Along the wall was a rack with shelves and on each shelf was a row of silicone asses. Some included the legs and backs of women, some were full body. They were dolls, sex dolls. Most of them were bent over or on their backs with their legs spread. It must’ve been the ultimate masturbatory sex toy.

  A hand thumped the door behind me. The familiar voice was still talking to his patron, “This is the VIP area, where I house my most valued products. Before we go in I just want to ask you some questions, because like I said, we cater to all types, fetishes, whatever gets you going.”

  Oh jeez, they were about to come in. I looked at the rows of women. Some were stacked on top of each other. If I got under a few, I could probably blend in. No, I didn’t look like silicone, it would never work. Would it? The door handle started to turn. I had to do something quick.

  They came in and I almost cursed at the source of the voice. It was the Creep from the bus. Did he own the place? Of course he did. He would. When I saw who he was speaking to, I was stunned. It was Shades, his sunburn had settled into a solid red. I bet the Creep told him all about this place yesterday at the beach and personally invited him over for a tour.

  Shades walked up to the ass of a doll. His nervous smile revealed his slight discomfort here. He felt the doll’s skin. He did a couple awkward air humps in jest.

  The Creep pretended to laugh. “Now they average at about five k per but it’ll be a little more for the younger models.”

  Shades shook his head, “I told you already I’m not into that.” He looked down the row of asses until his eyes landed on one in particular. “Wow, this one looks more realistic than the others. Can I touch it?”

  “Yes. That’s um...our newest line. Orjasmin 3. We only have the one right now. It’s a demo.”

  “The skin texture is amazingly real,” Shades said, bending down to get a better look. “That’s the most convincing rubber pussy I’ve ever seen, not that I’ve seen many. It feels just right too.” His fingers went inside. “That wetness, wow.”

  “Er yeah, state of the line self-lubrication. You know what, I’m gonna show you this model behind the counter. I know you said you weren’t interested but a lot of men aren’t until they see it. Once they see it they go wild for it,” the Creep said, reaching behind the counter and pulling up a full body doll of what was clearly an underaged girl.

  I bit my lip to prevent myself from shaking in rage. Next to me was a cardboard box labeled ‘junk’. I fixated my eyes on it. Shades didn’t notice. He said, “No that’s alright. I’m sure I don’t want that.”

  “What? But I saw you eyeing that magazine in the other room.”

  “I didn’t know what I was looking at. It only caught my eye because it was on the floor. I’m serious, I’m not into that. It’s not right.” Shades turned to face the Creep, shaking his head. “The girls in the magazine, they weren’t really underage right? They’re just young looking eighteen year olds?”

  The Creep took a long time to formulate his response. “Well, you don’t want me to ruin the illusion now do you?”

  That was it. I reached into the junk box and pulled out a broken glass dildo. Perfect. I jumped down from my shelf and connected the glass with the Creep’s skull. He bent over the counter in pain and I began to smack his sorry sack of a body with my poin
ty glass weapon. I swear I tried not to stab him and just bruise him up a bit. He was yelling out all sorts of excuses. “No no, stop, you don’t understand, I’m in debt from the dolls. I’m not into kiddie porn but it sells for the most profit. I’m just trying to get out of debt…” He finally shut up, falling to the floor. Unconscious? Maybe. I didn’t care.

  Leaping off the shelf had caused a minor avalanche of silicone genitals from the higher shelves which successfully buried Shades. He needed help getting out but I wasn’t in the mood. His eyes followed me out of the room.

  Outside the sex shop, I ran back to my shadowy corner by the dumpster. Shades must’ve managed to get himself out, because he ran out of the store a few moments later looking around, probably for me. I kept the dumpster between us. He eventually gave up and started for the street. The gasoline tank was still by the dumpster next to me. That man was having one hell of a bathroom break. That’s when I noticed the motorcycle in the back of his truck, it was the American flag speedo guy’s bike. Was that his truck? Was he the guy in the bathroom right now? The thought of his American flag speedo at his ankles reminded me of the American flag matches on the checkout counter of the sex shop, giving me an idea. I had a sudden mood change and the smile to prove it.

  7 The Concert

  Orange light licked the skin on my arms, my thighs, my stomach, my breasts, my neck and my stolid face. I watched the blaze from the rooftop of an apartment complex down the street. I stood up straight, arms at my side, palms open, revealing myself to anyone who might look up my direction. But I was sure everyone was looking at the ball of plastic obsessions engorged in flame.