Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. >The Town Nudist by QuietCustom -Sir? Sir, I think I -(TM)ve found something, sir. - The mayor looked up from his desk. It was Imogen, the latest in a long line of dwindling interns. She stood attentively by the door frame, a crisp manila envelope held in her hands. He sighed, -Come in, - and pinched the bridge of his nose. With a free hand he cleared away the mountain of paperwork. Imogen moved with a purposeful stride toward the metal folding chair arranged opposite his own more illustrious hardback. She was a professional young woman with short, feathered hair that always seemed to naturally obscure one of her eyes. She was cute, he -(TM)d overheard the other interns pine over coffee, if a bit boyish and solemn, but sharp-eyed and dutiful to the whims of local government. She placed the envelope before him. -And this is? - -Your re-election ticket, sir. Something to win the hearts and minds of the voting public. - The mayor clicked his tongue and flicked it open. Inside were a series of photocopies of newspaper clippings. They hearkened back to the founding of the town some hundred years ago, back when it was a company town. A specific article had been circled in yellow, alarmingly titled TOWN NUDIST LIFTS SPIRITS. Below sat a space where a photo might have been, though it seemed someone had seen fit to cut it out prior to archival. -Heh, - the mayor chuckled grimly. He turned the copy over and saw several more beneath; all clippings praising this illusive local nudist. Imogen sat perfectly still, hands together in her lap. She was looking at him expectantly. -While I can appreciate a healthy respect for your hometown -(TM)s history, - he said, his brow involuntarily furrowing, -I -(TM)m not sure I see the relevance to our voters. - -Well that -(TM)s just it, sir. We make it relevant. Put it on the ballot: the mayor will bring back the position of Town Nudist. - -...The position? - The mayor looked again at the old reports. At first blush he -(TM)d presumed some local troublemaker, albeit perhaps an attractive one. -Position, - he repeated, searching the text. -Right, sir. The position. - Imogen shut her eyes, as was her habit when preparing to recite information. -With respect to the then-increasingly disagreeable temperament of the working population, the company, in conjunction with the local governing body, saw fit to designate a Town Nudist, a government position with pay, protection under law, and assorted duties. The position involved going about town in a state of perpetual, casual undress, such that any who saw them might appreciate the sight, and be temporarily relieved of their worries and burdens. - She opened her eyes. -Document E, - she gestured toward one of the papers near the back of the collection, helpfully labeled by post-it note. The mayor flipped to the back, and was greeted by a contract stipulating the nature of the position, the introduction of which Imogen had recounted word for word. With it was another bit of bookkeeping, -Document F, - in which pay, accommodations, restrictions, protections, and further obligations were elucidated thoroughly in clinical detail. The mayor looked up from Imogen -(TM)s report. -This can -(TM)t be real. - -Respectfully, sir, I -(TM)ve spent the last two weeks consulting the records office. Every piece of evidence is in your hands. - -I see... - The mayor frowned. -It -(TM)s the perfect antidote to your struggling campaign, sir. Posting a position like this would appeal to a large cross-section of voters. It -(TM)s a tradition, something unique to our town, but forward-thinking and empowering, befitting modern society. - -I fail to see how this is empowering. - -It -(TM)s a paid and protected political position, one of the first in this region available to women. - Imogen squared her shoulders. -It may seem ceremonial, but it carried real authority. They presided over every council meeting and event. - -But surely the, uh, male contingent would be a source of disruption. - Imogen shook her head. -If you -(TM)d refer to Document D, you -(TM)ll see the town men were perfectly respectful. There was a shared understanding the position benefited them and, wishing not to jeopardize its status as a fixture of the government, they proved quite capable of policing themselves. - The room fell silent. The mayor scrutinized each paper in turn. Imogen sat at attention. Her mouth was a short, perfectly straight line. The mayor rifled through his coat pocket and pulled out his smartphone. He spent a few moments converting some numbers. -And how should we pay for all this? - The wages listed, while modest, still seemed rather generous (considering the lion -(TM)s share of the work was simply existing in the nude). -I -(TM)d thought about it, sir, and figured the tourism department could subsidize them. I imagine the news of a local nudist would attract more than a few visitors. We could even, - she snapped her fingers and pointed in the air, -Commercialize it. Calendars and photo sets, recordings, T-shirts. I ran the numbers, sir, and I -(TM)m sure it would pay for itself. It might even make the town money. - -Seems you -(TM)ve put a lot of thought into this, - the mayor said, and something troubled him. He couldn -(TM)t put his finger on it, but it troubled him all the same. But when he shuffled the papers together and looked over them, and saw he held Imogen -(TM)s rapt attention, something churned with him. Here was a serious, driven young woman invested in maintaining the town where she grew up. How many of her peers had signed on, done nothing, and quit whenever anything even remotely inconvenient was expected of them? So few people seemed genuinely drawn to the ebb and flow of small town governance. He supposed he should be thankful for her tireless support. And then he thought, really, what did they risk? Either someone would emerge who -(TM)d accept the position, or nobody would and he -(TM)d get points for trying. If it was taken poorly he could play it as a joke, but if it saw acceptance he was suddenly a visionary. In any case, re-election seemed as distant as the moon. After these past few years, why not go out with a bang. -Very well," he said. -We -(TM)ll add it to the ballot. It -(TM)s a bit spur of the moment so I don -(TM)t imagine we -(TM)ll hear much in the way of candidate nominations, but allowing write-ins should suffice for now. - Imogen nodded, -Right away sir, - and rose. It was only after she -(TM)d left the mayor remembered what he -(TM)d wanted to ask: why discontinue such a popular position, burying its relevance to the annals of history? He sighed, looked over his shoulder, and opened the lowest drawer. There, hid snugly, wrapped in black cloth, was a bottle of whisky and a few shot glasses. No matter. He -(TM)d ask her next time. He -(TM)d probably remember. [ * * * ] Election Day arrived with unexpected vigor. Voter turn-out was at an all-time high. Of the seven-something-thousand who were eligible to vote, a whopping 80% performed their patriotic duty. The mayor would -(TM)ve been speechless if his speeches weren -(TM)t pre-written. When the votes had been tallied, recorded, and delivered, he -(TM)d won re-election by a landslide margin. -My fellow citizens, - he read from the podium, -I am pleased once again to receive your support. This isn -(TM)t my own administration; it -(TM)s ours. Thank you for giving me four more years. - Those in attendance applauded and cheered. Imogen sat with the other interns, eyes shut, a knowing smile on her lips. She looked proud of the role she -(TM)d played in securing his victory. -And with that, - the mayor said, -It falls to me to announce the newest inclusion to our government. - Here the cheers became deafening, and he was suddenly aware of how disproportionately men were represented in the crowd. He held the microphone away and looked to his aides. -We did get a winner, yes? - -I mean, someone got the most write-ins. Only 3% by volume, but it -(TM)s more than anyone else. - -That -(TM)ll do. - He gestured for the results, and returned his attention to the microphone, saying, -It is my privilege and honor to welcome to the stage, if she -(TM)ll accept, the new Town Nudist..." He looked at the name. His expression faltered. It was Imogen. Imogen -(TM)s eyes snapped open. There was a murmur among the crowd, many of whom had no idea who this Imogen was, but here on the stage, her fellow interns knew. -Wait, Imogen? - -You? - A drop of sweat appeared on the normally cool and collected Imogen -(TM)s brow. Her soft smile trembled, twisting nervously. -Excuse me? - The mayor looked back at her, seemingly confused. -That -(TM)s right, - he said, -Imogen...that is, if she accepts. - It was true, she had an out. The position was voluntary, after all. She could decline. And she would, of course, her fellow interns knew. Imogen was a sensible girl, and respectable, who -(TM)d never agree to four straight years of public nudity. Shaking, Imogen stumbled to her feet. She approached the podium. The mayor stepped aside. The crowd, recognizing her, or at least assuming she was the candidate, roared with applause. Imogen shut her eyes. -My fellow...citizens. - She swallowed. -When I...first took civics, my professor told me...he told me that nothing in our nation is more...more important...than the will of the people. - The other interns stared at her and one another. She couldn -(TM)t be about to do what they were thinking. -And if this is the will of the people, - she continued, eyes still closed, her fingers clutching at the sides of the podium, -Then I...I humbly accept...the position of Town Nudist. - The crowd cheered and whooped and hollered. Some of the interns and other staff contributed. -Forthwith, - she said, at last opening her eyes, -I accept my newfound responsibilities, and surrender my clothing...for the next...for the next... - She loosened her tie and the collar of her dress shirt. -For the next f-four years! - The crowd broke into sustained applause. Setting the microphone down, Imogen pulled loose her tie and draped it on the podium. Twitching, fidgeting under the stage lights, her fingers reached for the top shirt buttons. One by one she pressed them through, slowly revealing the pale skin beneath. Upon reaching the bottom, she took both sides and slid off her shirt, revealing slender shoulders and a body to match. Her underwear hid modest but pleasing curves, and soon her pants joined her shirt on the floor. Reaching behind, she unhooked her bra, which fell off the stage and into the crowd. At last she wriggled free of her plain, black panties, and stood naked and exposed before the whole hall. Cameras were flashing, as they had the whole time, while hundreds were recording the event on their phones. The cameraman from the local news swung in close for a full body shot. Imogen trembled. She bit her lower lip. She was naked, buck naked, for an audience of hundreds, no, thousands, maybe millions soon. She was already on the news, and knew better than to assume those pictures would stay private. For the next four years, the entire town would have front row seats to spectate her feminine form, her every nook and cranny on continuous display; her lithe, elfin body, her firm, modest breasts. Her intimates below were smooth and neatly landscaped. The instinct to cover them was strong. Imogen shivered. She could feel them drinking in the sight of her lewd, nude body, every distant flash a high-definition snapshot of this moment to last forever. She'd been on television before, giving quick interviews, speaking out on some policy or decision. Now she was naked, live and uncensored, broadcast to homes across the country. A ticklish yearning churned between her legs, her nipples stiffening in response to her predicament. She caught sight of herself in a nearby screen. They billed her as IMOGEN, LOCAL NUDIST. She stood at attention, arms at her side, and offered those assembled a jaunty salute and a nervous smile, her short hair again obscuring one eye. It was an image which, in only a few months time, would find itself emblazoned on shirts, mugs, posters, and calendars. -T-Town Nudist, r-reporting for duty! - [ * * * ] It was several hours before the inauguration meeting wound to a close. Imogen must have shaken hands with and posed for photos with nearly everyone in attendance. She stepped lightly into her apartment, the door closing behind her. Her place she kept as one might expect - neat and tidy, mostly, save for the boxes. Most were already taped up and ready for long-term storage. The few that weren -(TM)t betrayed their contents: carefully folded bundles of clothes. She took a deep breath, shuddered, and wrapped her arms around her body, savoring the sensation of what had just happened. -Naked, - she repeated, the word itself sending shivers down her spine. She did a little twirl. She would be completely naked for the next four years. She collapsed on the sofa, shuddering with delight, her toes curling in anticipation. Already her mind was reeling with options, the thrill of the act having long-since displaced her initial nervousness. And she had been nervous. After all, Imogen was a professional, a sharp-dressed teamster. Responsible, respectable. She -(TM)d never do something so base as expose her lithe, delectable body. She was above the thrill of streaking naked through the streets, the vulnerable rush of being seen in the nude. She just wasn't that kind of girl. But the people had spoken. The people whose thoughts she -(TM)d seeded with her own, at least. And who was she to deny the people what they wanted? Her hands were tried. Literally, if she was lucky. "And for four years!" She squirmed, fighting her own infectious smile. If only she'd said forever. And a paid position too! Her hands came together, fingers clasped, her slender arms framing her breasts between them. "Four long years of unflinching public nudity." The needs of the many were generous indeed. As for her, she needed a shower. She rose from the sofa and stretched, arms behind her head, back arched. She sauntered over to the shower, passing her personal computer. In contrast to the rest of her apartment, the computer station was a pile of papers and materials. Against the better judgment of her peers, she -(TM)d elected to take work home. Her desktop was a similarly disorganized jumble of photoshop edits she -(TM)d been too busy to close all this time. A lone folder lay apart from the rest, a newspaper clipping poking out from within. LOCAL FLORIST LIFTS SPIRITS, it said in a font that had proven difficult to find.