My only regret on our short walk to the restaurant, and it is a tiny regret, is that, with my arm around her waist, I was too close to Chris to watch her walk. The restaurant that Lisseton recommended, Mahiano, was barely two blocks from the Inanna, separated from the beach and the calm lagoon by a wide boardwalk and a line of palm trees. The boardwalk seemed to be popular with couples and groups taking an evening stroll.
As we waited by the restaurant entry for the hostess to return from seating another couple, Chris slowly swayed her hips, in a way that said maybe the ribbon on her clit was making her squirm just a little more than she had expected. I surreptitiously tweaked her swollen clit with a fingertip. She gasped and her knees buckled for an instant before she recovered and stood up very straight and still.
“That close?” I teased.
“Oh, yeah.” She slowly started rocking her hips again and she said softly, “Mmmmm. That was nice.”
I had, by that point in the day, stopped being surprised when I saw another completely naked woman. Five or six walked past down the boardwalk in the couple of minutes while we waited. I was surprised by the young hostess. She wore precisely nothing. No shoes, no jewelry, no makeup that I could discern. And she was not only naked, but completely hairless. No hair on her head or her pussy. No eyebrows. Nothing. Her total exposure seemed extreme even for Nuda Veritas.
The hostess was also the least friendly person we’d met since our arrival in the island. Not rude, but slightly dismissive.
“Two for dinner?” was all she said, looking Chris up and down, wrinkling her nose.
“Two,” Chris replied. “Could we sit over there?” She pointed to a table by the open side of the restaurant, nearest the boardwalk and beach.
“Okay.” She took two menus from a stack and picked up a small towel from another before turning to lead us across the room. I don’t think she even looked at us again.
From behind she was all pale pink skin, from the crown of her shaved head to the soles of her bare feet. The effect was striking, but made bit of a horror movie impression on me: just not quite right. The bare hostess set the menus on our table, then pulled out a chair for Chris and laid the towel on the seat with a flourish. She spoke not another word.
Our travel agent, Leslie, had told me that I’d get tired of looking at naked women when all the women were naked. Maybe, eventually, but not yet. Even with the qualms I felt, the view of the hairless hostess as she turned away was enough to keep my erection twitching. In the absence of both hair and clothing, I looked more at the features of the girl that remained. Slightly moist slit between pink lips and pale thighs just above the table. A cute little “inny” navel. Brown nipples and areoIae on small, high tits above a pale smooth belly. Slim neck, and a thin mouth, pert nose and dark brown eyes in an impassive face. I sat facing the entry, so I could glance from Chris’s smiling face, bare breasts and ribboned nipples to the hostess’s cute young butt as she padded back to her station.
Life was good.
I’d take so much time looking that I hadn’t even picked up the menu when our waitress stepped up from behind me. She looked like she had been caught in a glitter storm. From the top of her light brown hair, cut in a short page-boy, down to a pair of sparkling red “fuck-me” pumps, she was covered in speckles of red and silver glitter. She wore a large collection of silver bangles on each wrist had an order pad in a black pouch slung on a belt at her hip.
For the second time in half an hour one of the locals addressed Chris in a dialect that I assumed was Veritan. Smiling, she said something that included the word “hanshivo,” which I knew meant roughly “foreigner.”
Chris shook her head, asking, “What did you say?”
The waitress blushed all the way down to her sparkly nipples.
“Oh, I am SO sorry” she said, with a slight Southern American accent. “I thought you were….”
“A native,” Chris interrupted. “You’re not the only one.”
“I was making a joke. I asked what a beautiful island woman like you was doing with this hanshivo. I am SO sorry.”
Chris chuckled. I shook my head and looked down at the table, smiling. “Am I really that bad?”
“No. No. I…I….” Our nude waitress flapped her arms, bangles clinking musically around her wrists, looking for words.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I think it’s funny. ”
“I just. I mean you look so much like….I was surprised I hadn’t seen you before….”
“Honestly. It’s fine,” Chris reassured her, reaching out to touch her hand. “Just get us a drink and you can tell us why you thought I was a native islander when you get back.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s start over. I’m Susie. I’ll get you some drinks while you look over the menu.”
Susie was clearly upset with herself as she stalked to the bar to place our drink orders. It probably would have been clear had she been clothed, but it’s even harder for a naked girl to hide her emotional state when every clench, twitch, tic and blush is completely out in the open, even through a fine coating of glitter.
I turned slightly to watch her talking to the t-shirted male bartender. He started laughing. Susie must have told him what had happened. He squeezed her hand, then tweaked on of her nipples with his fingers before passing her our drinks. She didn’t slap him, so I figured either they were a couple or the nipple tweak was normal between co-workers here.
“Do you have to track every cute fanny that walks away from you, Steve?”
“And every pussy and pair of tits that walks toward me.” I chuckled and turned to face Chris, so I couldn’t follow Susie coming back from the bar. “I’m still getting used it. I can’t imagine that you’re totally comfortable naked in a restaurant.”
“More so than I expected, except for this thing wrapped around my clit. I did it to my self, but I’m just short of cumming all the time. I could stay naked, though. Being naked like this makes me horny even without the ribbons. I like to be horny.”
“It makes me happy to hear that. And I do like the effect of the ribbons. They look great, and they do wonders for your attitude.”
Chris gently kicked my shin under the table.
Susie set two mojitos on the table. “Do you want an explanation or do you want to order first?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to order,” I replied.
“Take your time with your orders”
“Chris?” I asked.
“I just wonder why everybody thinks I’m native here.”
Well, just about everything,” Susie began. “Nobody’d think I was born here. Too pale, too skinny. I could go on. But you? There’s your coloring; the deep tan and dark hair for starters. You’re nice and round, and definitely in a good way. The way you carry yourself, like you’ve been naked all your life. I can’t pull that off myself.
“I saw you point at this table, right next to the boardwalk. Hanshivo women usually sort of shrink, like I did for the first few months, and they definitely don’t ask for a table up front in full public view from the promenade.” She nodded toward the steady flow of naked women and clothed men strolling on the boardwalk.
“I don’t mind being seen,” Chris responded, “and I like to watch people.”
“That would have done it, but there’s the ribbons on your nipples; I’ve seen it before, but only on a few of the Greek women, on special occasions.”
“I am Greek,” said Chris.
“But not a Nuda Veritas Greek.”
“They are…,” she paused, “different.”
“There’s one more ribbon,” Chris teased, pointing down.
“There is? There? Can I see?”
“Sure.” Chris turned sideways in her chair, leaned back and spread her thighs wide.
Susie leaned forward, then crouched down with knees spread to each side of Chris’s feet to get a better view. “Too cool. You’re sure you aren’t from here?”
“How does it feel?”
“Hot. Like if you touch me I’ll cum.”
I saw Susie’s index finger spring up and forward, like she couldn’t resist a temptation.
“Don’t.” Chris’s thighs swung together. She chuckled. “I’m savoring the feeling. Does it look okay?”
“Yeah, great. Good job on the make-up. Too sexy. It’s not turning purple or anything. How does it stay on?”
“I don’t know. I just wrapped it. It would probably slide right off with a little tug. I’ve been told I have a big clit. That probably helps.”
“Mine’s tiny. You could probably have yours pierced if you wanted. Not me.
Do you have any idea how strange it is to sit in a restaurant with two naked women who don’t even know each other while they discuss the size of their clits?
The hairless hostess seated two men in shorts and polo shirts and a petite blonde in a string of black pearls and matching earrings at a table between us and the bar.
Susie said, “Gotta go, let’s chat some more,” and bounced off to the other table, clearly in a better mood. She knew, at least, that we weren’t going to complain to her boss.
We sipped our mojitos, ordered dinner, and ate wonderful fish and calamari caught, Susie said, just outside the lagoon.
Chris and I ordered another round of mojitos and watched the promenade down what was probably Nuda Veritas’ favorite strolling route. It was the usual mix of strollers you’d expect in a resort town anywhere. Guys in shorts and polos or Hawaiian shirts. Mostly adult couples, from fairly young to quite old; mostly a man with a woman, occasionally tow women. Some groups of guys, some groups of girls. A few singles on the prowl. A few families with kids; I thought these must all be local.
Two things differentiated the passersby from anywhere else: Of course, all the females were naked. All of them, even the wrinkly old ones with their walkers. I saw burn scars and rope scars from surgical incisions and missing breasts from mastectomies. What I didn’t see was a single woman who didn’t take care of her body. Some were heavy, though none were really obese. Some were, in my opinion, way too thin, but none showed that they had just let go. There’s a lot to be said for muscle tone.
Then Chris pointed out the “Fat Guy,” as she said. I’d have said the “Really Fat Guy.” He looked to be in his forties, with a gut that hung out and down past the hem of his green flowered shirt. He stood just out of the main flow of walkers near a skinny younger guy and a naked twenty-something woman who seemed to be looking for a bush to jump behind. Fat Guy’s mouth hung open like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The young guy was looking, but trying not to be seen looking. He was too cool to be seen looking.
“Eewww,” I said. “I didn’t need to see that. The three of them must be here on business. Fat Guy’s the boss. Middle management. Small project. Big company.”
“He angled to get the assignment, for obvious reasons. The young guy’s the hot shot techie that’ll actually do all the work,” Chris continued. She took a sip of her drink. “And the girl?”
“Either Fat Guy has the hots for her and got her here just to see her naked,” I speculated.
“Or she pissed somebody off but she’s too good to fire and they sent her here to give her a bad time.”
“Maybe. How about: She’s the hot shot that’ll get the job done and the young guy’s the real boss’s nephew?”
“That I can buy,” I agreed. They don’t seem like a good team for a company trying to do business here.”
“No. I’ve got it! Fat Guy owns a little company, the young guy is HIS nephew, and I’m right about the girl.” Chris slapped the table, she was so happy with her conclusion.
“Exactly. There’s no real business, just a chance to ogle all of you and get the pretty geek girl naked with a tax deduction.”
“Disgusting,” said Chris with a sly grin.
“Just a bit. My motives for this vacation weren’t very different.”
Chris’s shrug made her tits bounce. Her red swollen nipples wrapped in green ribbon were simply amazing, kind of like brake lights.
“I knew you’d like it, but maybe not this much.”
Susie gave us time to finish most of our third round of mojitos before asking if we wanted desserts.
“Only if I can eat it off her,” was my flippant response, pointing to Chris. “Or maybe you?”
“No dessert, thanks,” Chris refused, looked at me with a small scowl and kicked me again under the table. “You’ve been great, Susie; the place is great. We’ll be back.”
“I work again on Tuesday night. No Wednesday morning classes.”
“Maybe Tuesday, then.”
“I’ll be right back with your check.”
Before she could turn to go, I put my credit card on the table.
“Just go ahead and run the charge,” I said, “but before you go, can you tell me. I’ve been wondering. The way you’re, well, not ‘dressed,’ but you know what I mean….”
“…and the hostess. She’s shaved everything?”
“We’re both students at Blanke Schande College. All the girls, students anyway, have to be naked at school, even at the campuses in California. You passed the N V campus on the way in from the airport. We’re both part time here at the restaurant. She’s only been at Mahiano for a couple weeks. I don’t know if she’s going to work out; she’s sort of brusque with the customers.
“Anyway. You know they don’t let us wear anything on campus. Make-up’s okay, but no jewelry or anything. I like to dress up at work. Glitter, heels, the bangles. Maybe I’m a show-off, but it’s fun.”
“You look lovely.” I smiled and nodded. “What about her?”
“You’ve heard of “Absolute” nudists?
Chris nodded. I said “Aren’t there a few groups in Oregon?”
“That’s right, and some others, where it’s more or less legal. All females on Nuda Veritas are absolutes, always naked. We have to be; it’s the law. There are all sorts of extremists, though.
She’s a ‘Skin,’ at least that’s what most of us at the College call them. They take the female nudity thing really to heart. They show their devotion to the cause by going totally bare. No make-up, no jewelry, no hair, nothing, ever, not even sheets on their beds. ‘Skins’ like her don’t think girls like me take things seriously enough. I think they want all of us to shave our heads. I’ve been stark naked for four months and she thinks I’m not serious. Jeez.”
“If a few college students don’t take things to an extreme, who will?” I said with a smile.
“Guess so, but I figure Blanke Schande is like a training program. Like they think if I can be naked for four years of school, I’m ready for anything. Nuda Veritas is real life, at least for the people who live here and for me when I’m off-campus. Life needs a little variety.”
“We think a lot alike,” Chris encouraged.
“Thanks,” Susie responded with a big smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Susie’s spike-heeled pumps made her firm ass swivel deliciously on her way the the card station at the end of the bar.
“How does she walk in those?” I asked Chris. “Those spikes must be at least five inches high.”
“It does take a little practice; I’ve got a couple pairs that tall. She’s young and she’s barefoot most of the time, so her feet get a chance to rest,” Chris explained, “She wears those for a reason. You’ve certainly notice what they do for her calves and her walk.”
“I have,” I admitted.
Susie returned quickly with my card and the tab to sign.
“There’s no tip line,” I commented, trying to look up as Susie’s face. My eyes still got stuck on her sparkling boobs.
“No tips. Tips aren’t allowed.”
“Nowhere in N V. I get a decent wage and a percentage of the checks. I make more than I would with tips back in the States.
Susie leaned over the table. “If you don’t mind,” she said, with a slight hesitation, “are you going to need a local tour guide while you’re here?”
“A native, a…fallesteron?” Chris asked. “That would be great!”
Susie smiled. “Yes. A friend of mine, Cassandra. She grew up on one of the out islands, Kypros. I met her here, a year ago, on the beach. She’s one of OUR Greeks. I think you’ll like her. She knows simply everything about Nuda Veritas.”
“Here. Here’s her card.” Susie handed Chris a card out of the pouch at her hip. “She drives a pedicab,” she continued, nodding toward me.
“He’ll like that.”
“I’m sure he will. Thanks, Susie. Good night.”
©2010 Ethan Gray