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Eternal April

By Senor Wenceslaus

A beach vacation sounded nice--that’s how this whole thing started. They would all enter the contest—surely some of them would move on. Then they would all go to Brazil for the finals. Maybe one of them might even win. And it was a lark as well…it would be fun to read news stories naked on a low profile Internet show.

The evening broadcasting class was canceled on Wednesday and Linda had gotten keys to the studio somehow. No one spoke Portuguese but Maureen remembered more of her high school Spanish than anyone else and made up some phonetic cue cards with a translated script based on stories from a recent newspaper. Of course they all wanted to audition, so they would all have a chance to move on in the contest and even a chance to win, but they can only shoot one audition at a time and it fell to Jane to be the first contestant.

Jane was nervous of course, but excited as well and determined to carry on--to be sophisticated and confident like her friends. She selected her wardrobe with nervous care and agonized over her selection of underwear. She didn’t want to look too pedestrian, too tacky, too outrageous or too slutty in her choices. In the end, she chose to wear a white satin underwire and matching cropped bikini. As she rushed to help her friends break into the campus studio she rationalized that the fabric of her undergarments would look sophisticated, the color would look clean, and the cut would be daring. Nothing about her reasoning calmed her jitters, though.

Jane’s friends had spread out along the wall next to the studio door. Linda was just working the keys as Jane arrived. They entered the studio and turned on the lights without a word. Julie and Linda started working the camera while Maureen started setting up the script cards. After only a minute, everything seemed to be set up and the other girls turned expectantly towards Jane.

As Jane stepped nervously in front of the camera, she wondered briefly why it was pointing to the classroom instead of the studio wall, but then Julie quickly did a hand countdown from three and pointed directly at the script cards and Jane realized that she had to start reading and undressing. Part of her realized that she shouldn’t rush the show but most of her desperately wanted to finish and run to a bathroom. As Jane pulled off her sweater and stumbled over the phonetic script, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Maureen and Linda were suppressing giggles. Of course this was an exciting project, but the distraction wasn’t helpful.

Jane realized that she had selected a skirt that was too tight at the same time that she came across a particularly convoluted portion of the script. She struggled through the script and with a final shove pushed the skirt from her bottom, taking her panties halfway down her ample ass as well. Jane dropped the skirt and nervously fixed her panties, all the while feeling foolish because her whole point was to take off all of her clothes for an international audience. Of course she shouldn’t be embarrassed that part of her bottom was exposed for a moment to an empty classroom, but there it was. Jane was just glad that the girls had finished their fits of giggles.

Jane realized that she was almost out of script and it was time to unhook her bra and expose her breasts to the camera. She gamely continued the horrible jibber jabber of the script and fumbled a bit as she tried and tried to undo her bra. Finally with perhaps a bit too much relief she unhooked her bra and threw it off of her so that it fell to the floor. Jane stood in front of her friends and the camera stripped to her panties, which no longer seemed to be in any way sophisticated to her. Jane’s friends were now completely engrossed in their tasks and wearing masks of sheer professionalism. Jane saw that she was on the last card of the script when she realized that she had never planned on how to gracefully remove her panties and make her bottom-revealing exit—an element that her friends agreed was key to a successful audition.

Desperately Jane bent over and shoved her panties down her thighs as she stumbled over the last of the script. She had no idea what to do with her hands, since covering her horrifying nudity wasn’t an option. She stood naked in front of her friends, finished the script, gave what must have been a weak smile and turned to show the camera her naked, ample bottom and walk elegantly out of the studio. She stopped short, however, when she saw that the classroom was filling up with students. Jane was too stunned to scream, or do anything but stand naked as the camera continued to roll behind her and her friends quietly packed up.

Jane saw the quiet classroom, full of frozen, shocked students, and she saw a brightly-lit image of her own naked body, very large, very bright, very naked, repeated like a terrifying hall of mirrors throughout the classroom. Jane turned and ran after her friends who had had completed their packing and were exiting the studio. Jane stopped for a moment and turned to collect her clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. Jane turned again, awkwardly, and ran, naked and keening, out of the studio. Behind her the classroom finally echoed with very raucous and repeated audible signs of life that were so shamefully missing during Jane’s vulgar display.

Jane ran out of the studio and expected to see her friends there, ready to hand her some clothes. Instead she saw her friends, running in the distance, cackling refrains of “April fool, April fool!” Maureen was struggling to keep the cue cards in a neat stack as she ran. Linda was waving Janes’ sweater like a victory flag. Jane saw the sinking sun’s light glint off the tape that Mindy was waving madly.

Jane stood naked and forlorn in the damp spring twilight. “You mean class wasn’t cancelled?” she heard herself ask, inanely. She heard voices in the distance and stepped into harsh foliage to hide until full dark, when she planned to make a dash back to the dorms.

* * * * *

Jane finished the school year in a haze. She imagined that she was invisible, and approached no one, asked no questions in class, turned in assignments routinely, studied and ate alone.

In June, she finished her finals, quietly packed, collected her diploma and left town for several job interviews. She had given up wondering how many people saw her tape, and why her friends betrayed her. In an abstract way she could see that it might be fun to set up a fake temporary reality for someone else to play in, or to use as a prison. But she could never see why her college friends had done what they had done.

In time, after she had accepted a job, transferred for a promotion, and moved again to accept another job, Jane was settled into a comfortable routine and had, she thought, forgotten about her college friends. One Wednesday evening, after Jane found that a promotion that she was working towards went instead to a younger, prettier girl, Jane found herself being gently guided back to her apartment complex by her grandmotherly landlady. She had, she realized, been screaming in the rain—for hours, perhaps, as she had lost track of her day. Jane cried quietly over the hot tea that Mrs. Greavy had prepared for her, and, in the afghan that Mrs. Greavy gently wrapped around her shoulders, laid herself down on the couch for a nap. Jane called in sick the next day and decided to get help.

* * * * *

Jane was surprised to be accepted immediately as a patient and was also surprised that, once in Dr. Slattery’s office, it seemed entirely normal to be in therapy. Dr. Slattery’s pretty receptionist was pleasant and immediately recognized Jane’s company’s insurance plan. Other people went to therapy, of course—made it a part of their routines and their days thanks in part to helpful receptionists around the globe, but still. Here she was. It seemed that she should feel more strange in such a place.

Jane was also surprised to find that Dr. Slattery had, in fewer than perhaps two questions, determined that the video shoot was a turning point in Jane’s life and had also extracted all of its salient and humiliating details from Jane with plenty of time to spare in their first session together. Dr. Colleen Slattery, it seemed, could kick the crap out of anyone in a round of twenty questions.

The session clock must have sped up, however, and Jane was afraid that she would have too little help to take home with her. She realized that she had allotted herself perhaps four visits with a therapist, and desperately wanted to get on with a life in which she needed no assistance.

“So in summary,” Dr. Slattery said, bringing Jane out of her clock-watching stupor, “It seems that your concern is that your friends saw you naked. Had your friends not seen you naked before this?”

“Well, I don’t know…” Jane found that her verbal skills had regressed somewhat in the past week. “Had your friends not seen themselves naked, every day, as they prepare to bathe? Do you imagine that your friends are unaware that everyone is naked beneath their clothes?” Jane knew that Dr. Slattery wasn’t really speaking of Jane’s friends. Dr. Slattery was speaking of Jane, who shouldn’t be so uptight about her nudity. But that didn’t stop Jane from realizing something else altogether—Dr. Slattery was much prettier without her clothes on.

Jane let the session wrap up, thanked Dr. Slattery, and remembered to smile and wave at the receptionist as she left. The pretty pretty receptionist—Jane wondered and had a good idea of what type of panties she wore…

* * * * *

Jane mused some of the details of her session as she headed for her car. “Look at you,” Dr. Slattery had said. “You are a very successful and attractive woman. In many ways, you are everything that your college friends were not and might never be—you are in the TV industry, doing more than broadcasting a defunct news program for a sliver of the market. You’ve risen above even their wildest aspirations!”

This was something of an exaggeration. Jane’s Marketing degree did indeed lead her to the broadcast sector, and as such gave her access to significant production and marketing resources. The company that she worked for was indeed very large. But their cable interests, where she specifically worked, were pitiable. National, yes—but calling the collection of cable channels that she marketed “bottom feeders” would be generous. Nonetheless, Jane was determined to get a great deal done at work tomorrow. She realized that she had two overlapping deadlines—her upcoming ten year college reunion—and April Fool’s Day.

* * * * *

Jane was hard at work early the next day, poring over her company’s marketing research databases and her college’s websites. Several of her old friends had stayed active in college organizations and the campus career board, so that she had fairly current addresses for almost all of them when Debbie came in to her office.

“Oh, Jane—I’m so glad you’re here.” Debbie said in a too-chipper, almost sing-song voice. Jane was sure that she must have behaved poorly the afternoon that she found out about not getting the promotion. Taking a sick day immediately afterwards probably looked like sulking. Debbie, being the girl that received the promotion, showed poor form in bringing this up. Jane looked sharply at Debbie, and hoped that Debbie would make her interruption brief so that Jane could get back to work. Jane didn’t particularly want the promotion, but she liked to be complemented. And, Jane realized, she had only had her work in her life for the past—almost ten years, now.

Debbie was a few years out of college and still kept her blonde hair at coed length. She was in jeans today—apparently for her office move. Two men in work shirts pulled their cart of office furniture to a halt as they waited for Debbie to finish her conversation with Jane. They, too, feigned patience.

“Jane, I need last week’s sports and news figures correlated for the western states. Can you get that to me as soon as possible?”

Jane smiled neatly. There was no way that Debbie had any immediate use for such a mundane correlation. In any case, the query could be run by any intern. Dawdling in this request would give Debbie cause to correct Jane, possibly in a meeting. Rushing the insulting errand would be a sign of weakness. “Of course, Debbie. I’ll get that to you as soon as possible.”

Debbie smiled back and nearly flounced out of the room. Jane evenly watched Debbie’s faded jeans fight to contain her youthful and shapely ass as she happily directed the annoyed workmen to her new office. Jane smiled understandingly at the workmen as they struggled to bring the cart back up to speed and then around the corner.

Jane turned to her computer. She had in fact come to the office very early this morning, and had already broken out and activated several discontinued pieces of software. Her company managed all types of media—most types only represented by low-end examples such as the crap cable channels in Jane’s division. One of the divisions was a satellite channel that broadcast the overhead music heard in many office buildings. This kept costs down, for example, in other divisions that kept staff in offices. “Productivity media,” the division was called. At one point, one of the vice presidents was considering a productivity media push into more public spaces—malls and the like. He wanted new features developed to make the product more appealing to potential customers. The soundboard algorithms were tweaked to allow the maximum number of channels for each type of hardware that might play the music. This allowed for a higher degree of music clarity, and…subliminal commands that could be broadcast to shoppers. The tweaking algorithms were given a simplified interface for ease of application through any system. The only problem was trying to broach the topic of such a sales feature. You couldn’t let the subliminals option become public knowledge—the outcry would be instant and tremendous. And the point of sales media is that you brag about every feature of your product, imaginary or otherwise. In the end, the new algorithms were never applied, and productivity media languished outside of the retail sector. The vice president moved on to other projects and then to another company, and everyone forgot about the user-friendly algorithm interface. Even Jane had forgotten about it. After all, who would have the nerve to use subliminals in a public place? But Jane was feeling quite nervy, now. And since she had gotten the productivity media’s passwords for last year’s Christmas party, all it took was coming in early to reset the algorithms so that subliminals were enabled.

Jane’s original subliminal directives were designed to give her extra leeway in the office, to make any of her database forays seem legitimate or forgivable, and to make her more popular. She opened the text-to-speech interface and added additional directives:

--Debbie White only wears jeans to work.

--Debbie White is stupid.

--Debbie White is a tramp.

She was about to close the interface, and then added one more command. She backspaced over it, and then added:

--Debbie White needs to obey Jane Somerall.

Jane saved the additional directives and happily went back to work looking up old classmates.

* * * * *

Over the next few days, Jane was gratified to see that Debbie came to work in less-than-businesslike attire. Debbie rarely left her office, her orders were always phrased as requests and occasionally scoffed at, and she kept quiet in meetings, and sat as much as possible below the table’s edge.

Jane had moved on to other targets, however. Her company used some of her office complex as a news studio, and Jane wanted to send subliminals across the network. She walked the halls free of any actual work agenda due to her pretend, but elevated status. If status is given by people, she realized, it doesn’t need to come from job titles. She felt like, and was like, one of the really cool kids in high school who never has to go to class or do homework, and who always gets his way.

As she explored the studio spaces and control rooms, she had unpleasant flashbacks to her recording session in college. She was easily able to put it out of her mind, however, due to the glad receptions she got whenever she walked into a room. Thanks to her directives, Jane was everyone’s favorite co-worker and confidante. She had recently added directives that made everyone happy to tell her inappropriate secrets. She was becoming a storehouse of gossip, but all of the gossip was first-person and true. Jane was more popular than she had ever been in her life, but slightly less so with most of the female news readers. Jane realized that these beautiful women had each spent their lives being the center of attention and only rarely offered affection to anyone but themselves. This was their prerogative, of course, and not unfair—but Jane found it annoying just the same. She decided to take them down a few pegs. She made sure that they routinely left their dressing room doors ajar as they changed for their shows.

And she started arranging special assignments for them—like the hypnosis show, where she had Sue Wong strip while describing the clinical uses of hypnosis, and then ask the expert who had hypnotized her if anyone could be hypnotized into doing something he did not want to. The expert then made her realize that she was undressed. Poor Sue stayed on camera without covering herself while the expert explained that no one could be made to do something against their nature, but that someone whose career was in broadcasting may, for example, have an exhibitionistic streak and truly want to be exposed on television.

Then, one of Jane’s favorites, was the Wardrobe Malfunction Spectacular—

which began with Lara Hampton’s clothes flying off. Lara, cringing, stayed undressed as she introduced segments of TV history showing other women suddenly exposed to a large audience—both live and broadcast.

Jane convinced executives that there was a respectable share for this sort of programming. If they put it on late at night, and ran numerous “warnings” (i.e. ads) so that sensitive viewers would avoid the shows, then there really wouldn’t be any legal issues since the shows were all on cable and the audience could easily avoid it if they wanted to. Jane made sure that snooty Velma Ryder still hosted The Financial Hour, but that she stripped during the first five minutes of the broadcast and stayed naked for the remaining fifty-five minutes. As these new shows were being implemented, some of the newsgirls confided in Jane, as they were programmed to do, that they were unhappy exposing themselves this way. Jane comforted the girls as best she could, and let them know that they could always go back to college or learn a skill if being pretty, popular and well-paid in broadcasting wasn’t good enough for them.

Jane used subliminals both to prepare for her reunion and to protect her networks’ interests—she broadcast subliminals that said that women should be naked on TV. She also broadcast subliminals naming her old classmates specifically as tramps who deserved to be undressed. The new shows were making a ratings splash and were big news as well. Jane was offered a transfer and promotion to the creative end of the company. She hadn’t really been looking for a promotion, but decided that she really couldn’t turn it down. She visited her old office to pack a few things, and wondered, briefly, if she would spend as little time in her new office as she had in her old one.

Jane saw a few bookmarks in her browser that she wanted to save and realized that if she wanted the reunion to go well, she had to take a personal hand in its planning. She visited her college’s website and filled out the required forms to start the reunion committee. While she was online, she looked up some of her company’s hotels, and chose one with an audio system that was compatible with the upgraded soundboard technology. She started a series of subliminals in the hotel’s system that would make sure that the hotel staff was motivated to help her in every way. Then she used her employee discount to block a series of rooms and the hall for the first weekend in April.

The few trinkets Jane took from the office made her realize how unimportant her job had been to her. She was not sad to leave it behind, but she was sad that she had spent so much time in a place that meant nothing to her.

Debbie White joined Jane as she waited for the elevator. Jane shouldn’t have cared, but the sight of Debbie somehow made her angry. “Debbie, why are you still in jeans? Surely you finished moving into your office weeks ago,” Jane asked. Debbie’s face flushed, and she bowed her head and avoided eye contact with Jane. Her smile was miserable and ashamed. Jane continued. “Debbie, are you gaining weight, or are you just so trampy that you won’t buy jeans that fit? Your jeans are so tight that you can hardly pull them down when you have to pee. I imagine that you have to pee right now, Debbie. Pee for me!” Jane was almost ranting, and pointing vulgarly at Debbie’s crotch. Debbie, cornered, found that she had no choice and started wetting her jeans for Jane. She let out a moan as her hot urine soaked through both legs of her jeans and turned them instantly into a badge of shame. Flustered, Debbie ran down the hall. She stopped near the Ladies’ room, almost went in, then scampered to her office and quickly shut the door.

Jane was watching her departure when the elevator dinged. She turned to the elevator’s passengers. “Sorry—forgot something…” she said absently as she walked towards Debbie’s office.

Jane knocked once and barged in. Debbie had pulled down her jeans and was wiping her bare thighs with tissue. Jane closed the office door and pulled out her cell phone. “Hold still, Debbie,” Jane said as she took shot after shot of Debbie’s humiliation. “That’s good. Now come here, and let me help you out of those things.” ”But—I—“ Debbie stammered as she helplessly waddled her wet jeans towards Jane. Jane tugged at Debbie’s top and pulled it over her head. She tossed it towards the trash can next to the desk, and missed. Jane briefly studied Debbie’s bare breasts. “No bra? Bad girl.” Jane grabbed Debbie’s shoulder and neatly turned her around to smack her bare bottom. “Now, let me help you get those tight jeans off,” Jane said, as she pushed Debbie on to her desk, and photographed her while pulling off her jeans. “Almost,” she said, as her camera clicked loudly. “There we go!” Jane said triumphantly, as she pulled Debbie’s wet and clinging jeans off and left her completely naked on her own desk. “Let me get these rinsed off. Then we can hang them to dry. In the meantime, why don’t you come over here and stand in the corner? Jane took Debbie by the arm and half-dragged her to the corner of her office, near the window, and gently pushed her face into the corner. Jane patted Debbie on her bottom. “There we go. I’ll be right back.” Jane left Debbie’s door ajar as Debbie stood naked in her own office, and took her time thoroughly rinsing out the jeans so that they were dripping wet when she brought them back.

“What a sight you are, Debbie.” Jane said as she stretched the dripping jeans between two chairs. Then she snapped a few more pictures of Debbie standing naked, and took some close-ups of her bare bottom. She scrolled through her selection, and found one to show Debbie.

“That’s you, dear,” she said, as she held the phone for Debbie to see. “I hope that you put this time standing in the corner to good use, and give careful consideration to what a silly little tramp you are.” Jane patted Debbie’s bare bottom and closed the office door as she left. She figured that it would be dark before the jeans were dry, and that Debbie’s blinds were open, but if she held very still her office lights would turn off and stay off. And she certainly had plenty to think about while she waited.

* * * * *

Debbie arrived Friday afternoon to help set up the reception hall for her reunion. She thought about not setting up a poster for a made-for-cable movie that she was co-producing until the hotel’s subliminals had a chance to work on the guests. But she wanted to see genuine responses to the movie, and put it up first thing, along with a sign-up sheet for anyone who wanted to be an extra. The movie was to be called “Blouse Vampires from Venus,” and Jane intended to sign many specific extras for the finale that was portrayed on the poster. Hotel staff rushed to prepare the room to her specifications. As the afternoon wore on, guests trickled in, found their nametags and started going over old times.

“Are you Jane Somerall?” Jane looked up to see a trim young man, perhaps her age. He was slightly balding and wore a sport coat, but no tie. Serious. Earnest. Kind. She had no idea of who he was.

“Why hello, um, Bill,” she said. Thank goodness everyone was wearing their nametags.

“Wow, I saw your name on that movie poster, I think that it’s really great that you’re producing movies, and that you can produce a movie like that after…well…I got your audition tape from the Internet. The subtitled version. It’s kind of funny—at one point you almost say ‘Me so horny’ but I guess you muffed the script. I think that everyone must have seen it. You really look great. I mean now. I mean, you looked great then, too...Uhh…I’ve got to go. I’m just sorry that I never saw you on campus back in the day. It was like you vanished. Good luck with the new movie!”

Poor Bill slunk away, fearful, perhaps, of the rage showing in Jane’s face. But Bill was long forgotten before he finished his introduction, and the rage was not directed at him…

Jane was angrier than she was fearful or queasy during the dinner and presentations. But she only showed a pleasant, good-natured smile.

After dinner, somewhat tired, Jane headed for her room. On her way to the elevator, she saw her old classmate Maureen, finishing what could not have been her first glass of wine for the evening. The skirt on Maureen’s dress was peculiarly askew. The hotel’s subliminals would not have played long enough to affect Maureen as reliably as Jane would have wanted, but the national broadcasts had been playing for weeks. Jane took a bet that Maureen’s viewing habits included some of Jane’s miserable cable channels.

“Why Maureen, I can hardly make out any panty lines on you at all! Is it possible that you came to your reunion all dressed up but without panties like some common tramp?” “Mmmm…” Maureen said as she polished off her wine. She was not insulted by the vulgar question and was behaving so familiarly with Jane that she might as well have still lived down the hall. “Scott just asked me the same question and I wasn’t sure, so I checked.” Maureen lifted her skirt over her waist and turned around to check her bottom for panties.

“Yep, that’s what I thought,” she said, and bent over to display her bottom. “No panties!” “Maureen, if you are going to dress so carelessly, you might as well not dress at all,” Jane said.

Maureen shrugged, and reached behind her to undo her dress’ zipper. “How have you been, Jane?” Maureen asked as she pulled her dress from her shoulders. “Doing fine, like my job…you?”

Maureen dropped her dress to step out of it. “Got married, settled down, the same story as all of my parents’ friends…” Maureen dropped her dress on the back of the lobby’s couch and stood somewhat unsteadily.

“Well, Maureen, you look terrific. How about if you don’t get dressed for the rest of the weekend? A pretty girl like you should be on display.” Maureen agreed drunkenly. “Say isn’t that Jim Bailey over by the bar?” Maureen bent to pick up her glass. “I don’t know, but that’s just where I’m heading next.” Maureen drunkenly made her way to the bar dressed only in underwear.

* * * * *

All of Jane’s guests had signed in last night, as she had hoped and planned. That meant that they had been subjected to subliminals overnight. Jane dressed in neat but casual clothes and put on her “Nurse” nametag and hat. She had generated many subliminals about some of the graduates being dirty and all of them needing to be examined as soon as the nurse was available.

Jane walked briskly into the reception area where a breakfast buffet was laid out. She scanned the room quickly, waved friendly hellos back when prompted, and almost missed Linda, who had changed her hair and gained some weight.

“Linda Miller?” Jane asked as she walked up behind her. Linda turned as from the plate that she was filling. Her face flashed nervously with recognition, and then she saw the hat and badge.

“Jane?” she asked. “You’re the nurse?”

“Yes I am, Linda. As you know some of our coeds are very dirty girls, and I need to inspect them all as soon as possible. You’re late for your appointment, so I had to come looking for you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I had…” Linda started.

“It’s not a problem. We can make up the time if we do the appointment here. Please put down your plate and take off your clothes.”

Linda hesitated for a moment, but then resignedly put down her plate. She untucked her polo shirt and started to pull it over her head, stopped, undid her slacks and started to push them down, and stopped again. She was so embarrassed that she could not continue to undress and stood briefly with her clothes undone but still on. Conversations continued but dwindled around the reception hall as most eyes in the room were on Linda, who finally pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a large and well-filled white bra.

While Linda’s arms were still over her head, Jane said, “Let me help,” and pulled down her pants. Linda quickly let out a yelp and pulled her shirt off of her head so that she could see. Her arms were still stuck over her head, held by her shirt. Her panties were large and gleaming white against her tan. She seemed to be stunned, and stood awkwardly in her underwear.

Linda grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “There we go,” she said as she undid Linda’s bra. “There we go,” she said again, as she spun Linda around to face her again, and pulled Linda’s bra off, and up her arms with her shirt, exposing her large breasts to the reception hall air and to the view of her classmates. “There we go,” she said yet again, to Linda’s horror, as she pulled down Linda’s panties and then pulled her panties and slacks off of her legs, lifting one leg off the floor at a time. Linda was completely naked in front of her old classmates. Every inch of her skin was exposed to the reception hall air.

“Let’s have a look at you,” Jane said as she pulled Linda closer to her and grabbed one of her breasts. “Hmmm...” she said. She held the breast by the nipple, and lifted it away from Linda’s belly to see the underside.

Jane dropped the breast, grabbed Linda’s shoulder and rudely spun her around, so that Linda saw the people who had recently seen her naked bottom—which Jane immediately smacked. Linda jumped and yelped. “Be still,” Jane commanded. A few suppressed titters rose from the reception hall audience, and Jane smacked Linda’s ass harder, and studied the handprint that formed there in red. Two tables over, Maureen, in a fresh bra, made a whispered comment to her seatmate.

“Turn around, Linda,” Jane said. Linda nervously complied, while covering her nakedness as best she could with her arms. “Stop touching yourself!” I don’t want you to touch yourself again!” Linda, humiliated, spread her arms out a bit from her body so that she was completely on display to her old classmates. “You’ve got a skin condition, Linda. You’re chafing. This is a thing that happens sometimes to...rounder, heavier women such as yourself. I’ve got some lotion to help treat it, but in the meantime, you can’t wear clothes for the rest of the weekend. Now, I don’t have time to apply the lotion so…Brian, is it?” “Hmmm?” Brian replied. His nametag did indeed say “Brian,” and he was now completely familiar with Linda’s condition, but he apparently did not expect to be involved with the conversation. “Brian, I’ll send the lotion to your room. Linda, you’ll need two treatments a day, and then come to me at the end of the weekend for an evaluation. Brian, she needs the lotion all over her body, and an extra dose spanked into her bottom. Oh, and Linda—sitting is bad for you. You’ll need to stay on your feet for the weekend.” This was a lot to absorb, but Linda seemed to have the gist of it as she walked back to her plate, and then looked for a place to stand, naked, while she ate her breakfast.

* * * * *

The rest of the reunion was a happy blur. Jane did get Maureen, Linda and Julie signed on as extras for “Blouse Vampires,” and managed to meet Julie’s husband, as she hoped to, so that she could settle her score with Julie as well.

Jane was gratified to get a photo in her mail less than two weeks later. Julie and her husband had made their journey home a road trip through scenic mountains, and Julie, to her dismay, was undressing and exposing herself on a daily basis, only finding out about it when her dear husband brought her to her senses. Poor Julie. At least she has a husband to help her through this. Maureen has a husband to help, as well, but Julie is on her own. Jane hoped, for Julie’s sake, that Julie was nice to Brian. Since the audition tape made it to the Internet, Jane’s only other priority, her only available course of action, was to gain horrifying revenge on all the remaining women in the world who think that they’re so special because they weren’t tricked into undressing for a video camera. So, they think that they’re special do they? Well, they’ve certainly got another think coming…As Dr. Slattery, the great therapist and philosopher had said, “Everyone is naked beneath their clothes.” And Jane had a cable show for each and every one of them.

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