A/N: Except for Denzel Phillips and Woodbury's parents, who belong to me, all of these characters are the property of author MatthewVett, used with his permission. The names of some of Michael and Esther's classmates, however, were made up by me.
It was the day the world changed forever. No one that I know of knows the reasons or the method as to how and why it happened, and that includes me. Who knows who could have done it? But although that day shocked me as much as it shocked so many others, ultimately, it was also my day of liberation, of redemption from my years as a stuffy, prudish woman.
But this story begins a few days before that day, not on that day. My name is Noelani Caleb Woodbury, and I'm an anthropology professor at the Kornell University, the youngest professor in the whole school, in fact. On the day this story begins, I was discussing several foreign cultures with my class, and my students seemed genuinely interested in the subject. Well, most of them, anyway. A young boy named Michael seemed to be lost in la-la land. It appeared that the people I was presently discussing, the Ama, were distracting him with their female topless fishers diving underwater and doing much of the work for the men.
I had always suspected that Michael was someone who adored anything that was related to sex and nudity, because I had often caught him with one hand on an erection in his pants. I used to reprimand him for it, but since it kept happening, I finally decided to let it pass as long as he didn't let it interfere with the concentration of the whole class. But there was another reason why I let him do it, and it had to do with avoiding hypocrisy.
The reason my first and middle names are Hawaiian is because I was born and raised in Hawaii, by a Caucasian father and a Hawaiian mother, at least, until I was in my mid-teens. Daddy wanted me to bear his American last name, Woodbury, and mommy wanted me to have Hawaiian names in turn, to be fair to both husband and wife. My mother was a beautiful woman. My God, was she beautiful! In fact, I still think so even though she's older now. Daddy was (and is) quite handsome himself, but mommy wasn't just physically beautiful. She was kind and loving, and free-spirited, too. She preferred to live life the way the Polynesians lived their lives, rather than the civilized modern way of life that developed nations have been doing. So I spent my childhood away from the hustle and bustle of Oahu and the Big Island, and lived in the humid jungles of Kauai, where mommy (and initially, daddy) let me live my life without clothes as often as possible.
It was the best time of my life! I used to play with Hawaiian children in the nude all the time, and mommy and daddy taught me how to respect my body and those of others. But as I got older and began to move through puberty, daddy was of the opinion that I was getting too old for nude recreation, and was also concerned that it might have a negative effect on my growing knowledge of sex. He encouraged me to wear clothes more often, and not just while on my period, and mommy became more and more disappointed in his point-of-view. Eventually, they separated and finally divorced after mommy tried to seclude me with her on the private island of Niihau. Daddy eventually won custody of me, and we moved to Oahu for a couple of years before moving to the mainland to live in the continental United States.
Not that I hold any grudge against daddy for it, but I missed being nude with all my friends, and I still do today, and well, I'm now twenty-five years old and I still haven't seen a grown naked man in my life, apart from a few Hawaiian men and my daddy when I was little, but that was before I hit puberty, so it isn't the same. But I wanted to do something with my life that would make up for losing my childhood culture and my right to bare all, and that's why I became an anthropology professor. Evidently, not all cultures revere or embrace sex and nudity, but I wanted to learn about those that do as much as some of my students do.
In my teaching courses, three cultures particularly stand out in my eyes. The first is that of the ancient black Africans. They lived simple lives, like tribal people usually did in past history, and they were, and are, passionate about their roots. Although I'm not a religious person, I always thought it was unfair of the white man to cut so many of them off from their religion, as well as their language and their history. I have deep sympathy for people like the Nation of Islam and Malcolm X as a result, although my being half-white means that the NOI would never accept my sympathy. It isn't fair for anyone to be cut off from their culture, and I could relate to that because of what my father did with me.
The second culture is that of the Native Americans. They lived simple lives, too, but not too simple. Traditionally, they believed in the Great Spirit ruling over the Earth, and they had a passion for hunting the wild buffalo. When they fought, they usually only did so to protect their families and loved ones. This was especially true of peaceful tribes like the Sioux. They never fought for territory or conquest, like the European settlers are so known for doing. Most importantly to me, though, is that many were willing to live without clothes much of the time, especially in the summertime, or at least with less clothes than the white man.
Thirdly is a culture practiced in the European country of Germany, the FKK, or Free Body Culture. Numerous nations in Europe practice naturism nowadays ever since it was introduced in the early 20th century, like France, Poland, and Germany, and numerous Germans have made it into a way of life. Apparently, they enjoy resting and relaxing in the nude in every park in the country, including Munich's Englischer Garten. Many hard-working Germans go out of their way to rest from their jobs with few or no clothes on in the parks around the country.
Another thing that makes these cultures stand out, though, particularly FKK, is that these people have fewer inhibitions about sex than some other nations have had for a long time. The ancient Africans were more open with each other, the American Indians had no problem having sex openly, and the modern Germans caress and fondle each other in public in ways that often give me a wet crotch. I would hesitate, however, to give myself up to prostitution, which is popular in Germany, because I don't like the idea of selling myself for sex. I like to have my independence and freedom, and I absolutely hate all pimps. But the point is that these cultures have, or had, no difficulties with "taboo" issues like physical love and the unclothed body. The Africans were proud of their natural appearance, the American Indians were also proud, passionate people who had a zest for life, and the German nudists are happy, content, and free to live the lives of their own choice. Have could anyone in their right mind not love cultures like that? I suppose the answer to that is cold, prudish fools who think violent movies are much cooler than steamy ones.
Of course, spending about a decade wearing conservative clothes in a sex-repulsed environment like America has had its effect on me. I didn't know if I could be brave enough to get nude in front of people again, even if I wanted to. It isn't always easy to get back something that you lost in your past.
Still, I am rather attractive for a professor according to some men, though I credit part of that to my youth, and the fact that I exercise regularly. I inherited my father's white skin as well as his relatively tall height, and my long hair is as straight and silky as his short hair is. But I inherited the raven-black color of my hair from my mother, and her brown eyes, too. She always said that women with hair black as night are the most beautiful in any society, and I was proud to have been given such a compliment. My figure is slim and trim, with shapely hips, perky, but not enormous breasts, a flat abdomen, a straight back, and long legs. My hands and feet had such natural beauty that I never needed a manicure or a pedicure. Of course, my clothes are conservative, even for a professor, because my daddy had stressed the importance of formal dress if you were a teacher in a university. I have usually worn thin sweaters or blouses with slacks or a long skirt, and sometimes I wore a sweater over a blouse. My preferred colors for clothes are usually blue, black, and yellow. I also wear rectangular, wire-rimmed glasses, because I'm nearsighted. Curiously, I don't feel too bothered by having to wear them, not so much because they make me look more dignified, as because I'm willing to accept that many people need medical assistance with their sight, and I like to be able to see things that are precious to me.
As I sat at my desk after showing off the slideshow of the Ama and instructing the students to begin their quiet studies, I sneaked a peak at some secret doodles in my little black book: a map of Kauai, a bare male chest and belly, my mother (I was a pretty good artist), and the words, "I (heart) Denzel." My mind wandered again as I thought about my longtime crush.
Denzel Phillips: twenty-seven, African-American, and gorgeous. By coincidence, he looked a little like the younger version of actor Denzel Washington. He was a member of the staff, working as a janitor. Some people thought his lower ranked job was a sign of more American racism, but Denzel was a very gracious man and didn't mind his position of employment in the university at all. His sense of humility had moved me the day I first met him when he got the job. I asked him if he minded having such a job, and if anyone who hired him was discriminating against him. He took brief offense at this, but assured me that this was precisely the job he wanted for the time being, and I apologized profusely. He forgave me faster than I expected, and said he'd be there for me if I ever needed a hand with anything at the school.
But he was more than just a gracious, humble friend to me. His eyes were the same color as mine, dark brown, and his skin was a delicious shade of dark brown, as befitting a black man. He had a stunning smile, even though he didn't smile as often as I would have liked him to, except when around me, which I found gratifying. His hair was naturally short, black, and curly, and his lips were thin, but not too thin. I wondered sometimes if the feeling of affection I had for him was mutual.
As I got lost in my thoughts about my favorite hunk, I almost forgot to end the class and give my class their assignment. I assigned every student to write an essay on one of the cultures we had studied so far. As the students chose their topics, I wasn't surprised at all when Michael chose the Ama. I did find it a little curious, though, when another student, Esther Zhang, a close friend of Michael's whom he'd been eying for a while, selected the same topic.
After hours, I went home and took a seat on the couch. The long day of teaching classes had done nothing to relax me, so before sitting, I got a cold Pepsi out of the refrigerator and opened it. I took a book from the table and looked at the cover. It was an old photo album of my childhood years in Hawaii, and many of the pictures showed my family, friends, and I in the buff. I was suddenly in the mood for a little stimulation of my sex.
I got a towel, stripped out of my encumbering clothes and stopped being Professor Woodbury for a little while. Now, I was Noelani, a child in an adult's body, getting acquainted, as I so often did these days, with that most beautiful of sensations, an orgasm. While still gazing at the pictures from the album, I ran one hand over my breasts and belly and put my fingers in my vagina with the other. I masturbated at an even pace, feeling my sharp nipples against the palms and fingers of my hand, sticking one finger in and out of my belly button, getting high off the increased tightening in my belly.
I began to fantasize about two men, one black and one white, taking advantage of me at once, and the coil in my stomach became stronger and tighter. Oh this was so beautiful…!
"Oh God, yes," I said to myself, "Oh fuck baby, fuck! I'm gonna come real soon!"
And then my orgasm exploded as my body shook up and down with pleasure. The mess of my juices spilled on the towel instead of the couch or floor, fortunately. I put my head back and let out a groan and a moan. God, this felt so good!
But even as I began to recover from my self-sex, I realized that it could never equal real sex with a real, significant other. Sighing, I sat up and said, "Aw, hell. Who am I kidding? Daddy surely did his homework when he repressed my feelings and made me wear clothes all the time. How could I possibly get together with somebody?"
Just then, I heard the doorbell ring. I froze. Oh, shit! I'm naked, and the doorbell just rang! Quick, don't panic, Ms. Woodbury, just put your clothes back on, hide the towel, and answer the door. And do it quick!
I got dressed as quickly as I could, hoping that whoever was at the door didn't see me naked, and slipped the towel under the couch. There was a loud knock.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" I shouted and sprinted to the door. I opened it in time to see Denzel standing there.
"Hi, Professor Woodbury!" he greeted me casually. "Is everything all right? You took some time to get to the door."
Blushing, I said, "Hi, Denzel, how are you doing?" I couldn't help but speak in a high, squeaky voice, almost being caught red-handed in a private sexual act.
Denzel blinked. "Are you all right, Professor?" he asked. "It sounds like you just did something you regretted doing."
"Well, not exactly 'regretted,'" I replied, "I just like to have some privacy sometimes."
"Oh, well, in that case, I'm sorry I interrupted you," said Denzel and he turned to go.
"Don't go," I found myself begging him. All of a sudden, I wanted some company with the hottest man I had ever seen in my house.
He turned again. "Are you sure it's okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's okay," I squealed. Did I always sound this funny around hot men? I always spoke so intelligibly in class with my students.
"Thank you, then, Professor Woodbury," he said kindly, and stepped inside.
"Uh, please don't call me that around here," I managed to say calmly, "We're not at the university right now. Call me Noelani, my first name." That's the kind of person I am, one who panics when something very unexpected happens, and after a few moments gets her presence of mind back and acts intelligently.
"Okay, Noelani," agreed Denzel, "Say, what's this?" he asked as he stepped inside, noticing the photo album, which I had forgotten to close and put away.
I blushed again. "Oh, that's a photo album that shows my childhood in Hawaii," I told him. "I, uh, liked to play around in the buff with my little friends, whom I haven't seen in years."
Denzel looked at the pictures curiously. "You sure looked cute back in those days," he remarked, "But then I guess all children are cute at one time or another, even those with physical or mental defects."
I was about to lose count of how many times I blushed. "Yes," I stammered, "All babies are cute, I've heard that one before."
Denzel looked thoughtful. "Sometimes I wish that I could have had an upbringing like that," he said, to my surprise, "It must be freeing to take off your cares and troubles with your clothes and feel like a free woman."
"Well, I don't do it anymore," I admitted, "When I was halfway through my teens, daddy discouraged me from continuing practicing it, and mommy, who loved the practice, lost custody of me after they divorced, and now we live in the continental states where nudity is mostly discouraged and sex is a quasi-taboo subject."
"Oh, that's too bad, Noelani," said Denzel, "I wonder what it would be like if the whole world could stand around nude and everyone loses their inhibitions about sex and nudity. Now that would really stir up things a great deal."
I almost laughed at the notion. It seemed like the kind of thing that couldn't be done, unless God truly exists and did it by His own command. Who could possibly pull off a stunt like that? "Not in a million years, Denzel, it's too far-fetched!"
Denzel looked at me. I wondered if he thought I was being insensitive or something, and I was afraid I might have hurt him for a moment. But all he said was, "Yeah, well, it's an interesting theory. But you never know. Anything is possible in a world like this, whether God exists or not."
I shook my head. It sounded too weird that such a thing could happen, especially in the near future. There have been no official or confirmed contact with aliens with strange technology, and I do not believe in God the same way that my Christian students do. Denzel must have sensed my doubt, because he put an arm around me and said, "Whether such an occurrence happens or not, Noelani, don't you think that some parts of the world could use an awakening to the goodness of the human body? There's nothing wrong with it, and I think your father was wrong to stop you from living the nude life you lived as a little girl."
Feeling comforted by his concern, I suddenly let out my feelings on the subject, "That's why I'm an anthropology professor, remember? I don't like the way I've been corrupted by a repressed culture that's so anti-nudity, but other countries, from France and Germany, to Canada and Japan, have people who aren't afraid to let it all hang out. Studying foreign cultures helps me deal with my hang-ups, and teaching my lessons to my students makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something."
Denzel nodded. "I wish I knew the same feeling." I looked at him and finally cracked my first smile since he arrived. He smiled back. "Look, I've got to go now," he said, looking at his watch, "Can we just have dinner sometime, you and me? I know a good out-of-the-way place that serves great German food. I think you need to get out and about a little more."
I nodded back. "Sure," I said shyly, "Why not? Sounds like fun."
Denzel gave me a quick hug that went straight to my toes as he walked out. I wished I could get closer to him than that, but I still felt too repressed and afraid to take the next step.
The next couple of days were mostly uneventful at the university. Virtually all of my students did good cultural essays, even easily-distracted Michael, but Esther brought in one of the best. I gave her my personal congratulations on a job well done, and Esther replied that she hoped that her friend Michael had done the same. I told her he did pretty well, and this seemed to make her happy.
As I watched the two kids speak to each other about their results, I felt like I needed something new in my life, to make me feel as good as they felt. I hoped that dinner with Denzel would prove fruitful.
One evening, after a strange day where Michael claimed he had a guest student, his 'pen pal,' visiting the school, some kind of Brazilian woman who didn't like swimsuits, Denzel and I finally went out to dinner at a German restaurant smack in the middle of the western section of town. We discussed life and where it was headed. Denzel told me over a few drinks that the world was too hung up on things that it shouldn't be. Why, he asked, do the major countries have to worry about conquering other lands around the world to claim for their own territory? In spite of his African heritage, Denzel said the European nations fascinated him almost as much as Africa did, what with their unique customs and forward-thinking towards the future. But he also heartily disapproved of the way that in earlier centuries, not only did they enslave his own people and treated them with racism, but instead of mingling with the Native Americans and sharing North America with the indigenous cultures, they conquered the land for themselves and committed the near genocide of the American Indians.
I, in turn, rattled on about how appalled I was with some of the things the world was still practicing. Besides the problem of racism (an interracial woman like me has to know how to love all races), the Arms Race made no sense to me. Since when are the bastard politicians and physicists in each major country trying to find new ways to destroy each other? Paranoia, is what I said. And I abhor all the nuclear weapons of the world, too. I've seen the footage of atomic bomb testings in the desert, as well as that gruesome scene in Terminator 2: Judgment Day, where a hydrogen bomb wipes out a city, a street, and a playground full of innocent children and mothers in Sarah Connor's dream sequence. I agreed with Sarah that those "creative, fucking men" who only created death and destruction have no idea what "creative" really means.
Denzel appeared to be astonished by my rambling, but he actually sympathized with me, because I sympathized with him first. We discussed that if people weren't so obsessed with paranoia and fear of the unknown and would learn to love and enjoy each other, the world would be a much better and more joyful place. In that hour-and-three-quarters that we were at dinner, we realized how much we had in common.
After dinner, Denzel offered me a nightcap, but I insisted that I still wasn't ready for that, and he agreed not to push me into it. We said our goodbyes and went to our respective homes.
Little did either of us know that that was going to change a lot sooner than we ever thought it could.
The next day, after the sun rose for the last time on an unchanged, repressed world, I went to my classroom and greeted my students. Nobody seemed to be overly concerned about anything, and nobody had caused any problems recently, so I was relieved that I could just go with the flow today. I had another culture to discuss with the class, this time, the Hmong, and I intended to do a good job of teaching the boys and girls.
I could tell that some of the students looked like they were half-dozing. I was a little annoyed that they treated me like I was droning on like a robot, but I also felt a little guilty that I didn't have any better way to put on a show for them. I just hoped that they would bear with me and ride out the calm. Yes, the calm before the storm. Because the class went on quite normally until about 10:00 AM. Then, my life changed forever, as well as those of everyone else on Earth, as I would soon learn.
I suddenly heard a thunderous commotion among the students. I turned around and noticed to my disbelief that every one of them was naked! And it didn't look like they had stripped themselves, either. It was as if their clothes had just vanished! I became aware that some of them were staring at me pointedly, and I looked down at myself.
Dear God! I was naked too! All my glory was on display for the class to see! In my usual initial panic, I doubled over, trying desperately to cover myself, but to no avail. My glasses fell off my face and hit the floor. I could feel my long, black hair flying through the air as I stood up straight again. Fidgeting around in a sexier manner than I had intended, I clutched my left breast with one hand while trying to cover my right breast with my arm and using the other hand to hide my crotch. Flushing scarlet, my mouth did quite a workout as I searched in vain for something to say.
Then, after I had a moment to calm down, I remembered my podium, and I quickly rolled it in front of me, keeping my naked body behind it.
It was chaos.
I didn't know where to look. After hiding my body so well, I felt guilty as the students tried to hide their own breasts, vaginas, asses and cocks from sight and had no success. And yet, the child in me couldn't help but be a little curious as to what they looked like. Hannah, a haughty, imperious blonde who considered herself superior to the other kids was flat-chested, seeing as she barely had breasts. Alex, a quiet tomboy who distanced herself from the other students most of the time amazed me. For a tomboy, she sure had enormous breasts. Janey, a Christian girl whom I prided as my kindest and most charitable student had a crotch with no traces of pubic hair on it. But I was more attracted to some of the boys. Richard, a confident football player was quite a hunk, but Hank, a bespeckled computer science major, was more hung than he was.
I was so startled by this change of fortune that I couldn't stop some of the boys from whipping out cell phones and taking pictures of the naked girls, but for some reason, part of me didn't want to. I was looking admirably at them just now, and I hated hypocrisy enough that I had no intention of becoming one myself.
I also saw that Michael was blushing much like me when he covered his own crotch, but Esther didn't seem to be concerned at all, only curious. She walked over to Michael and they whispered between each other. I didn't care what they were saying; I was shaking like a leaf at the shock of what had happened, even as I continued to stay behind my podium.
Another desperate student ran to the windows and opened one to attempt to escape the building, but suddenly he stopped at the almost evident sight before him. "My God! Everyone's naked!" he shouted.
My eyes widened. Was this actually happening? I discreetly rolled my podium to the window beside my desk, keeping my body level with it, and looked through the blinds. The entire campus was naked! Students and visitors, teachers and staff, everybody had lost all their clothes, presumably instantaneously and simultaneously, I thought. Men, women, and kids were scrambling for cover or trying to cover themselves with limbs or material things. To my surprise, though, there were a few couples out there who seemed to think the loss of their clothes was an invitation and were hooking up on the grass.
I was still shocked out of my wits, but my body wasn't trembling as much as it was before, and I wondered why. It dawned on me that the unbelievable had just happened, the thing Denzel had suggested and I had doubted: that maybe, just maybe, the whole Earth was standing nude, like me. But how, and why, if it was true? It didn't make sense. And it was too much of a coincidence that it had happened only a few days after Denzel had suggested it.
I barely noticed Michael and Esther discreetly leaving the classroom, but I let them go, because I was too hung up on my own thoughts. I looked out the window again at the panicking naked people, and then at my awkward students, and I realized that something had just made me go through the same child-like innocence I had gone through in my youth. Slowly, cautiously, I came out from behind my podium. Brushing some hair out of my face, I carefully picked up my glasses. Fortunately, the lenses were plastic and the wire-rims were stronger than they looked, so they were undamaged. I put them back on, briefly wondering why I didn't lose them too.
Remembering Denzel had me wondering. Not knowing how long this would go on, I quietly slipped out of class and shuffled down the hall. I wasn't sure where to go, but it turned out I didn't have to worry about that, because I suddenly bumped into none other than Denzel himself. He was as nude as the rest of us, and he was holding a broom, but he wasn't covering himself with it. Instinctively, I covered my chest and crotch again.
As soon as he saw that it was me, Denzel's eyes dropped to my body. Obviously, I couldn't cover anywhere near everything, so he gazed at my bare arms, flat belly and belly button, and long legs and feet. I, in turn, couldn't help but look down at his chest, which was taut and strong, not to mention his penis, which was big, even when not erect.
"Professor Woodbury!" he said in surprise when he was finished assessing the visible parts of my body, "Come with me! We need to talk, and I know a private place where we can do it."
I nodded. "Okay," I said in my embarrassing squeaky voice again, "Lead the way."
He didn't seem to mind going first, and I got a good look at his backside as we walked. It, too, was quite attractive. I could feel a sense of excitement in my voice box as we walked. Maybe that's why I was talking so funny. Excitement and surprises always made me talk funny. When we finally got to our destination, the janitor's closet, Denzel closed and locked the door and turned on the light. Making no attempt to cover himself, he started to talk.
"It's amazing," he said thoughtfully, "There I was, discussing how there could be a day when something beyond our control could cause us all to walk naked on the Earth the last time I visited your house, and now, a few days later, it's actually happened! And maybe my theory that something intelligent may be responsible could be accurate, as well. It differentiated clothes from other material objects, like something unintelligent might not have done. Look, you're still wearing your glasses and your necklace, and we both still have our watches."
"Yes," I said, "And I didn't believe you when you said it could happen, and here it happens, on the third day after we discuss it. But what could have caused it, anyway?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said Denzel, "Maybe aliens, maybe God, like I suggested. Or maybe some secret organization somewhere in the world is doing this with some unknown purpose in mind."
I thought about what to say next, but my mind was empty of everything, even today's Hmong lesson, at least, everything except one.
"Denzel, you look very handsome," I blurted out, blushing at my choice of words.
Denzel might have been blushing, too. "Thank you, Professor. Why are you so shy, though? I thought you longed for the day when you could throw off your father's shackles and live as a nudist again."
"Actually, I think I've just achieved it," I said uncertainly, "I'm just…shy around handsome guys."
He smiled. "I like that. Being called handsome, that is. But you don't have to be shy around me if you're not so shy around others anymore. Now come on, let me see the rest of you."
I blinked. "Now, right here."
"Yes," said Denzel, "I won't bite, I promise."
I decided that it would be the right thing to do if I let him see me, especially since I could see him quite clearly, so I slowly lowered my arm and hand. He looked on with appreciation as my breasts rose into view, and my crotch became visible in all its glory.
"Wow, you are lovely," he breathed.
"I am?" I asked.
"Yes, your breasts are very big, but not too big, your crotch is cute, and I think your belly looks better when you're not trying to cover your parts that are on top and bottom of it."
I thought my face would be red for the rest of my life. "Interesting choice of words, Mr. Gee-I-Wish-I-Could-See-More-People-Naked-All-Over-The-World. Mr. Nudity-Is-Good-Not-Bad."
"Then I see we do have that in common, Professor Woodbury," he grinned. "So many people naked all at once, I'm already certain that the world is standing completely naked down to the very last man, woman, and child." We could hear the near-mayhem that still echoed around outside. "I wonder when it'll stop."
"I wonder if it'll stop," I said tensely, "Maybe whatever did this annihilated all clothes around the world instead of just making them disappear." But as I said this, I suddenly felt like the world and I had received a blessing instead of a curse. Oh, if nobody wore clothes anymore, there would be more love in the world. No badges, no uniforms, no collars; everybody would treat each other just like anybody else.
As this thought distracted me for a moment, I slipped on a wet spot on the floor and fell on Denzel. We both fell to the floor, but Denzel, being a gentleman, took the brunt of the fall, though neither of us was really hurt, anyway.
We looked into each other's eyes, brown to brown. We were nude, and I was on top. Time stopped for us. We gazed at each other's intimate parts, too. My heart was pounding like crazy. His now erect cock was pressed against my vulva, and my nipples were near his mouth.
He was hungry, I could tell, hungry for me, and I was hungry for him. I rose up and straddled him, giving him a good view of the front of my body. I could tell that he was enjoying every inch of it. I stared fondly at the front of his own body. We caressed each other's skin, his black skin and my white skin, he ran his hands through my soft hair, and we knew what we each wanted, the same thing. I kissed him on the mouth. He kissed me back. Desiring more, I leaned in, took off my glasses, and invited him to taste my nipples before I would prepare to join our privates together…
And then, just like that, it was over. I could feel the pressure of my blouse, sweater jacket, and slacks on my body again and we opened our eyes and separated our faces. I put my glasses back on and looked at my lover. Denzel was once again wearing his short-sleeved shirt and janitor's coveralls. Our clothes were back. We looked at each other in surprise, until I rolled off of Denzel and got to my feet.
I learned something that day. It was much easier, and more logical, to be close with a person without clothes. People who associate with each other without clothes don't have to worry about their cares or social status, and it occurred to me that being in naked contact with Denzel had made our feelings more implicit to each other. I imagined something magical would have happened if our clothes had not returned. I was disappointed that this demonstration or whatever it was ended early, but from then on, I was a believer in miracles.
Denzel checked his watch. "Looks like the whole thing took about half an hour, Professor," he said, "10:00 to 10:30 AM."
"Well, I suppose we should get back to work," I said hesitantly.
"Yeah, I agree," said Denzel, "I wasn't finished cleaning the hallway floor when this happened." He picked up his broom and unlocked the door. "But I hope I'll see you again sometime."
"You can count on it, stud," I said coyly.
But less than an hour later, an announcement came over the P.A. that for the rest of the day and the next day, the university and its lessons were being put on temporary hiatus until someone among the authorities could make something out about this unexpected occurrence. So I packed up my things and went home, while most of the kids went back to their dorms or their own homes.
The first thing I did upon arrival at my house was to turn on the TV and tune in to CNN to see for myself if the entire world truly had stood nude. On the screen, scenes from the 10:00 hour flashed across the screen as some shook-up news anchors discussed what had happened all over the world.
"-riots today in Saudi Arabia-"
"No one knows yet what caused it, but-"
"-ore than five separate organizations have claimed credit for what many are calling the Day the Earth Stood Nude."
"-are calling it an act of God-"
"-reports from Antarctica and other regions of extreme climates indicate that people in environmentally hazardous conditions were not affected, but-"
"What could have caused this?"
The most startling thing about all these reports was that naked men, women, and children were being shown without any sort of censoring. I guess they figured that after so many people saw so much explicit nudity, it would be ridiculous to censor it.
Amazing! It actually did happen. The whole world, from Montreal to New York City, from London to Budapest, from Jerusalem to Tokyo, had been in the nude together, bare, vulnerable, natural, and beautiful. I swore that I would privately celebrate this day as the day when my private inhibitions about nudity and sex were overcome in the most unexpected way possible. Mommy would be so proud. I hoped that daddy would be understanding too, because I still love him, even after what he used to do to repress me.
Two days later, after the temporary hiatus was over, class felt a little awkward for everyone. I could tell, because everyone looked like they felt like me, and I felt a little awkward after hiding so successfully from them while they couldn't hide at all. Nobody could pretend nothing happened, but to my relief, we were mostly able to accept it and move on. I was surprised to find, however, that some of the students, both boys and girls, came to class topless, like Richard and Janey, for example, although most of the girls kept their bras on after the university's president advised everyone in a statement not to jump into being explicitly nude again so soon.
Everyone had a theory about how this event happened. I continued to teach the lessons that were part of my career, but somehow, I felt less passionate about it than before, and I could tell that the rest of the class felt the same. On a sudden rebellious inspiration, I said, "Class, on the, um, Day the Earth Stood Nude, I had an unfair advantage over you when it came to dignity. I was able to hide my whole body behind my podium, while you all were unable to hide behind your desks, books, purses, and bookbags. I am sorry that I got off easy when that happened, and since some of you are brave enough to get partially naked in class, I am going to offer you a little treat, especially you boys." Then I stripped out of my clothes right there in front of them and stood nude, and I was proud of myself.
The class looked on astonished. I hoped they understood why I was doing this. I realized at that moment that there is a difference between being naked and being nude. Both involve having no clothes on, but "naked" implies that the nudity just happened to you, sometimes against your will, while "nude" states that wearing no clothes is your own personal choice that you make. I was "naked" on the Day the Earth Stood Nude, although later into the half hour I didn't mind so much, but right now, I was doubtlessly "nude," and I hoped that my students knew that too, or at least would learn it soon.
"Um, Professor Woodbury," asked Esther, "Don't you think the university president will object to that? Remember that statement he made when we arrived."
I grinned. "Let me worry about the president of the university and my own skin, pun intended!" I laughed at my own joke. "I've waited for a moment when I can freely be naked and unashamed before all the people around me ever since I was fourteen years old, and now I'm taking that opportunity."
Esther looked like she liked the sound of that. "Well, more power to you, Professor Woodbury!" And she, Michael, and the other students stood up and applauded. I quieted them down quickly, because I didn't want to attract too much attention to the classroom, but I also thanked them humbly, and the rest of the day was the most joyous I had spent in a long time. In fact, several more students were inspired to cast off their shirts by my bold action, including Esther and a momentarily hesitant Michael, and Janey, the kindly Christian girl, who said that she had looked into nudism on the internet during the hiatus and learned that God didn't mind at all if some of His children walked the Earth nude, stripped off every article of clothing she still wore and made no attempt to hide her beautiful body this time.
"Thank God and naked Jesus for the human body," she said modestly, and sat at her desk with a radiant smile on her face. "I'd rather face the president's anger than deny the goodness of the nude body, my body."
The students stared at her with appreciation, even those without shirts on. So did I. At least one student already understood the difference between "naked" and "nude" like I did. We were starting to walk on the right path. We had seen the light.
After the classes were over for the day, to my keen interest, Denzel met with me by the doors. "Say, Professor," he said, "How would you like to come to my apartment for a nice private dinner tomorrow night?"
"I would love it," I said. "And please don't call me Professor Woodbury anymore. I like to be called Noelani when on a personal basis. Any special plans in mind?"
"Well, I thought that after dinner, we could watch the movies About Last Night… and She's Gotta Have It on my DVD player, Noelani. Then, maybe, we'll wing it and see what happens." He winked.
"Oh, I'd love to see those movies! Demi Moore and Rob Lowe are so sexy together, and Spike Lee's such a master of filmmaking! They'll be great. See you tomorrow night." As he walked to his car, I wondered what was next. Maybe there was hope for the world after all.
Thank you for reading! Please read and comment, if you'd like. I'm a big fan of MatthewVett's "The Day the Earth Stood Nude," and for some reason, I was attracted to one of his minor characters in that story, Professor Woodbury. I so wanted to have a story that told the "Nude" story from her perspective, and this is my unofficial take on what her side of the event could have been like. I think this is a good story.
I especially invite MatthewVett himself to take a look at this story and assess it from his own point-of-view for me.