Naked Women In Shorts

by Kara Bryn

  Okay, so we had now established some geek credentials, and she was even confident enough to talk about the colour of my skin without it coming out like some kind of forced political correctness. I was quickly warming to Natasha. Maybe now we'd got a few things out of the way I could come back to the obvious question.

  "So… talking about the grey Hulk," I said, "I have to address the elephant in the room."

  Natasha's head tilted in her cute, quizzical way again.

  "The thing that's really obvious, but nobody wants to talk about?" I prompted her, realising that the phrase didn't mean much to her. Suddenly she smiled, knowing what I was about to ask. But she was going to make me ask it anyway.

  "How come," I continued, "How come you're naked?" I didn't want to offend her by making it sound like it was a bad thing. "I mean, the tattoos are really great, and you look great…" She smiled kindly, but was still going to let me keep digging myself into this hole. "You lost a bet or something?... Or you turned into the Hulk and your clothes didn't fit and then you turned back?..." I tailed off and Natasha laughed.

  "Oh, no," she said, "I live here. With Georgia." She tipped her head in the direction of our party host who I'd been introduced to, and then summarily bored witless earlier.

  "Oh," I said, and was about to add "I see…" but then realised that it didn't explain anything at all.

  "No," Natasha said, "I just… prefer it this way. I used to hang about in the house naked when I was by myself, and then Georgia would come home and find me like it and at first she thought it was weird, and then she got used to it, and then I'd completely forget about it and answer the door to some friends without putting anything on first, and then they'd get used to it too, and now I'm pretty much naked all the time, unless there are a lot of strangers around."

  "Oh," I said, as if I understood, but obviously I didn't really understand at all. Natasha smiled again.

  "Most of the people here I know, and Georgia usually tells other people what to expect. And it's my place so I can do what I like, eh? People don't have to stay."

  I couldn't disagree with that, although I still couldn't really see why that meant being naked. Natasha was so comfortable as she was that I knew she wasn't just doing it as a one-off. I can be pretty self-centred sometimes, but even I couldn't believe it was all a trick to freak out the English girl.

  "But, but," I stuttered, "But don't you feel odd, with everyone staring at you?"

  Natasha smiled. She'd been asked that question dozens of times before, of course.

  "Look around," she said, and I complied, "Do you see many people staring?" I did see a couple of people staring, actually, and a couple of young guys looked away as my eyes met theirs, but it wasn't as if we were the focus of attention in the room by any means. "See? And those guys were looking at you anyway, the Asian bombshell in the tight dress and high heels. They grew tired of looking at me ages ago, but you're an unknown, and their imaginations are running riot trying to imagine how it would feel to put their hands around that tiny waist of yours, and wondering how those big breasts of yours will look without a bra and dress to support them." I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. "What's there to imagine about these tiny things?" Natasha continued, and rubbed her nipples and her small breasts wobbled in response. "No, they've been looking at you the whole time we've been talking."

  I didn't know what to say; I wasn't used to being called an "Asian bombshell", or having someone talk about my figure which, I had to admit, I was rather proud of. I mean, I had tried to dress in something a bit sexy tonight, especially since nobody here apart from Stephanie knew me. It seemed a good opportunity to reinvent myself, although I had distinctly failed on many parts of that plan.

  "It's the shoes that really do it for you." Natasha filled in the silence where I was searching for a way to change the subject. "Those dainty strappy little heels, they're just totally sexy and glam at the same time, and your feet are gorgeous."

  I looked down at my feet and shoes. I did have nice feet, and the thin stilettos did set my legs off nicely.

  "That's why I stay barefoot as well," Natasha continued, "Can you imagine what I'd look like in those heels? The boys would think I was begging for it."

  Natasha had a point. Somehow, she was just naked, or nude, or whatever she might want to call it, but it wasn't like a stripper was nude. She was sexual, but not just sexual. It's hard to explain, but somehow sexuality wasn't what defined her nakedness.

  "But you must get guys chatting you up all the time?" I asked her, and that brought another of those quizzical head tilts. I translated to American in my head and rephrased it. "Hitting on you," I added.

  "Oh, well, sometimes," Natasha answered, "But most of them are too scared. I mean: where do you start? As long as boys don't get into a pack-hunting frame of mind then I'm fine, and, as I said, people here are friends of friends. And besides," she added, "I usually mention my boyfriend Martin over there." A nod of her head indicated a towering figure with a stereotypical American football player build across the room. "And that puts them off the idea pretty quickly." She giggled and it was obvious she quite enjoyed handling the reactions her nudity provoked.

  "And he doesn't mind, everyone seeing you?..." I asked her.

  Natasha shook her head. "Not at all, or at least he says he doesn't, and he knows he has to accept me as I am. And I was fully dressed when we first met too, so it's not like this is a thing he's into or anything weird like that." I couldn't help thinking it was something weird already, but I wasn't sure that I should think that.

  "Hmm, well, there's a lot to think about," I said, and Natasha smiled.

  Soon the conversation drifted back to geek subjects and I'm not quite sure how the time flew by the way it did. People would come over and chat to us, and then one or other would make a geek joke that only the other would understand, and the interloper would get bored and drift off again. I noticed the room was thinning out as the party wound down.

  "You know, I better be going soon," I told Natasha, "I'm still a bit jetlagged and Theresa's got to drive us back to her place. Jeez, I hope she's sobered up."

  Georgia was standing hear us. "Erm, I think you might be out of luck there, sweetie." She had a look of comical concern on her face that told me there was trouble. "Last I saw she could barely stand and her and another girl and a couple of guys were getting into some sports car and said something about going to the beach." I rolled my eyes: this was typical of Theresa. She would have no idea of responsibility to a guest if there were boys around, especially if she was drunk. So how was I meant to get to her place, and how was I meant to get in when I was there?

  "Oh…" I started to say, hoping an idea would follow, "It looks like I'm homeless until she comes back, then."

  "We've got a spare room!" Natasha made a small jump with excitement, bringing her nakedness straight to my attention again. "You can stay here for the night!"

  I looked at Georgia who somehow seemed like she was the one in charge. "Go for it kiddo. Who knows when Theresa will make it back, or who she'll be back with. And maybe it's best you don't go back to her place tonight. For other reasons."

  Ah. I had wondered if Theresa's one night stands were a thing that happened just when she visited London, but it seemed a common occurrence here too.

  "C'mon," Natasha said, taking my hand in hers, "I'll show you where to go."

  We may not have been the centre of attention for any part of the night, but a few heads turned as the naked tattooed girl led the "Asian bombshell in heels" across the room and towards the bedrooms at the back of the house.

  *

  I fell asleep as soon as I'd climbed into bed; the combination of jetlag, the late night and some alcohol had wiped me out. The next morning, I was awake just as suddenly. I had no idea what time it was although light was streaming around the edges of the blinds.

  My clothes were in a crumpled pile by the bed, and my little stilettos with them. I'd remembered saying goodnight
to Natasha, slipping them off and climbing under the duvet. I don't usually sleep naked, but I'd been too tired to worry about it, and I didn't have much choice anyway.

  I rolled over and closed my eyes, but I could tell I wouldn't be falling back asleep. There was a light tap at the door and a moment later it opened a crack and Natasha's smiling face appeared in the gap.

  "You're awake!" she said with a smile. She pushed the door open and skipped over to sit on the side of the bed. She was, of course, still naked. I instinctively held the duvet tight over my chest to cover myself, and then realised just how silly a gesture that was. Natasha saw it and smiled.

  "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

  "Like a log," I replied.

  "Good. Well, if you want to sleep a bit more you're welcome to." I shook my head; it felt a bit thick-headed, but not sleepy. "But there's a shower through there," Natasha indicated a door that must lead to an en-suite, "And I've put a toothbrush and washgear in there for you. And a razor, if you need it. Take your time. And there's a bathrobe on the back of the door too." That was a nice gesture; I didn't want to have to get into my tight dress right after a shower.

  "I'll be around somewhere when you're ready," Natasha continued. "No rush," she emphasised and then turned to leave. I watched her lean, naked, colourfully painted buttocks as she retreated out of the room.

  The surrealism of the whole situation hit me again. I wasn't sure I was going to get used to this any time soon, but I shrugged it off, threw off the duvet and climbed out of bed.

  I was confronted by the reflection of myself in a full-length mirror. I looked at my naked body, wondering if I could see it the way a stranger might, without self-judgement. Everything was different to the way Natasha looked with her white, hairless skin, her colourful tattoos, her tiny breasts and thin figure. I was curved around a tiny waist and with much larger breasts, but I had to admit I was still a pretty good shape, and my brown skin had been looked after well by England's damp climate. Where Natasha appeared to religiously shave every part of herself from the neck down, I had never really gotten into the fashion of pruning "down below", thinking that if nobody's going to see it then what does it matter. I realised that, although I was happy with my body, it was a shape that was more fashionable forty years ago than today.

  I went over to the shower and stepped inside. As I had learnt as soon as I arrived, America really did know how to put together a good, powerful shower, and compared to the mostly weak English ones I had to overcome the sensation of drowning for the first minute, such was the torrent of water I was standing under.

  I looked at shampoo, the shower gel, the moisturising cream and the razor blade on the shelf and, I have to admit, curiosity got the better of me. If I was going to be reinventing myself, why not try something new? I wasn't going to try shaving everything off, as I really didn't think I had the skill with a blade to go near too many sensitive parts, but I had seen enough pictures of "landing strips" or whatever they called them to know that I could probably make a decent enough attempt at that.

  It took longer than I expected, mainly because I was so paranoid about a sharp blade being so close to certain places, but soon I was in possession of my first "shaven haven".

  Once I was finished in the en-suite I stepped back into the bedroom again. A brief glance in the mirror showed that I had done a decent enough job of shaving, not that anyone was going to know, so I took the robe off the hook, tied the cord around myself and went to find Natasha.

  I saw her sitting cross-legged in front of a pair of sliding glass doors that opened onto a large paved area and garden. She was still naked and was sitting motionless in a Lotus position, and I guessed she must be meditating or something similar.

  Barefoot, I tiptoed over to the kitchen area to see if there was some tea or coffee I could fill a mug with, but Natasha heard me moving and turned around.

  "Oh, hi there," she said, "I was just meditating a bit. I like to in the morning, before it gets too hot. Care to join?"

  My body's flexible but I'm not really into meditating outside of a Yoga session, and at the thought of sitting next to naked Natasha in Lotus position without being distract by her pelvis pointed towards the great outdoors I politely declined.

  I found myself some coffee and a bowl of granola and went and sat at on a metal chair looking out at the peaceful garden. As always seemed to be the way this far south, the sky was already a deep blue and as the sun climbed in the sky so did the temperature.

  Some time passed and Natasha stood up and stretched. Despite knowing exactly what was about to happen, it was still a shock when Natasha turned towards me and I couldn't prevent my eyes from looking her gorgeous body up and down as she turned.

  She came and sat at a chair across the table from me. "Well," she said, "It seems that Theresa's hooked up with some guy, and they're chilling out somewhere and she'll be over later. I said you're all fine here, and you can hang out as long as you want to." I smiled and gave a half-nod in thanks. "But I wouldn't hold my breath that we'll see her for most of the day. You know what she's like." I did indeed.

  "But I'm not up to much today," Natasha continued, "Just hanging out here. I've got a few graphic novels to churn through. Here," she said, pushing over a pile of books, "Take a look and see what takes your fancy. But not this one." She grabbed the one from the top titled "Amala's Blade".

  "Oooh, nice," I said, "That's only just out, isn't it."

  "Yeah," she said, "I got a bulk order sent over. Shipping costs a fortune, but it's totally worth it."

  She picked up the book and strode outside and, again, I couldn't help but watch her painted body move as she walked. Natasha settled herself on a sun lounger shaded by a large umbrella. I guess you have to stay out of the sun all the time here with a complexion as pale as Natasha's.

  I realised I loved the fact that she felt she didn't have to stay and talk to me all day; that we both could occupy ourselves in our own heads for a few hours. Turning back to the pile of books, I found one called "Love in Hell". I'd never heard of it but it had a typical scantily clad Japanese girl drawn on the cover and seemed like an easy escape for a few hours.

  I was about to pick it up and join Natasha outside when I heard heavier footsteps behind me. I turned around and realised this must be Martin, Natasha's boyfriend.

  "Hi, I'm Martin," he said as he offered a strong-looking hand for me to shake. Martin towered above me: he was well over six feet, and without shoes I'm not even touching five. I could see how easy it must have been for Natasha to fall for him.

  "Rupa," I said, shaking his enormous hand, "You can call me Rupes. Or Rupa. Or whatever you like." I was a gabbling nervous wreck in front of this god-like figure.

  "Pleased to meet you, Rupa," he said, "Natasha told me you would be around. I'm going to be hanging out here for a while, and I think Georgia has gone out. I heard that Stephanie had gone AWOL, but I'm sure she'll be back eventually."

  I smiled. Yes, she'd be back eventually.

  "Thanks. Natasha's looking after me," I said, "And I've got a good collection of graphic novels here to keep me occupied for the day." I indicated the books on the table.

  "Oh, so you're another one of those," Martin said with a smile. Yes, I'm one of those, I thought. "Well, I'll leave you to it." He went to the kitchen and started making himself some breakfast, and I decided to head outside rather than sit in silence with Martin.

  I took "Love in Hell" and stepped out through the glass doors. The sun already felt strong and I was glad of my dark skin, although even I wasn't going to be sitting in the open for long.

  Natasha was stretched out on a sun-lounger, completely shaded, with one arm behind her head and the graphic novel open on her chest.

  "Come," she said, patting the sun lounger beside her, "This one's in the shade too."

  I walked over and stretched out on the lounger and started to read. Time passed easily and it seemed a completely natural way to spend the day; me in my bathrob
e, and Natasha in her tattoos, reading in silence.

  At some point I paused my reading, and noticed Natasha was staring into the distance, daydreaming.

  "What time do you think it is?" I asked her. She twisted around and peered back into the house where I guessed there must be a clock on the wall.

  "It looks like it's something like two o'clock," she replied.

  I looked around me at the sun-baked paving, and then down at my bathrobe. "I really should get dressed at some point."

  Natasha laughed and shrugged. "I don't see why. I'm not planning to bother." That brought a laugh from me. "And besides, all you've got is that tight dress from last night, and you really don't want to be wearing that in this heat." She had a point there. The thought of an underwired bra pressing into my chest and clingy fabric wrapped around my hips did not appeal one bit. I thought for a second.

  "How do you do it?" I asked her, "How do you feel so comfortable just being naked all the time?"

  She shrugged again. "It's just the way I am. It's what I'm used to now. And it's so warm here all year around, it just feels good, looking out at the heat, but feeling the air moving over me. It doesn't even seem hot." She stretched her arms up above her and her back arched away from the sun lounger. She was a beautiful sight lying there, lithe, supple and completely at ease with herself.

  I had to admit I envied her. Even with just the bathrobe wrapped around me I was feeling too hot, and I've always liked warm weather.

  "You should try it," Natasha said earnestly, "But be warned: you won't want to go back to clothes."

  I felt myself blush; the very idea was something my mind wanted to run from. Natasha's eyes stayed fixed on me and I realised she was serious. Not only that, but I realised I was seriously considering it. Then, for no reason I can put my finger on, my mind just said "what the hell".

  "Okay. Shut your eyes," I told Natasha. She laughed.

  "You English are so funny. You have noticed that I'm naked already, haven't you?"