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LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
23/08/2019
Intro:Heidi deals with the consequences of her exposure and faces a new challenge.Read parts 1&2 to make sense!
Chapter Five : Aftermath 2
I awoke in bed, feeling as if I had been kicked in the head. I had terrific pains in both forearms and pulled them from under the covers to discover a four inch purple bruise had risen on each. I remembered thrashing at the wall earlier. Bill was sitting on the end of the bed. He pushed a cup of herb tea into my hands. “Drink! It should be cool enough, I’ve been sitting, watching you sleep for ten minutes.”
“Wassa time?”
“Just after nine”
“In the morning?”
“No, still Thursday evening”
“My head hurts!”
“I’ll get you a Tylenol”
Bill returned with the tablet which I gulped down with my tea. He thrust my cell phone at me.
“Here, You need to call in sick, you’ll have fires to fight tomorrow!”
“Has it started?”
“Yeah, call first, I’ll show you after.”
I made the call to work and left a voicemail on the automated service. My throat was so raw from crying and screaming, that for once in my life I didn’t have to do my fake ‘I’m sick’ voice. I claimed a 24 hour virus and said I should be in Monday. “What about you?“ I asked Bill.
“I already booked another work from home.”
He approached the bed with the laptop and set it open on my legs. The send to all email had already generated over fifty replies. I had no more tears left. I contemplated what I had done. I had sent naked and explicit, degrading pictures and videos of myself to everyone in my address book : My Parents, my family, my friends, my Line Manager at work and at least two work colleagues that were in it. The link would also have been sent to my entire High School and College reunion lists. What had I done? I was fucked. I couldn’t see how I was ever going to recover from this.
I started to read the emails. Nearly all the first wave were from concerned friends and followed a general pattern. ‘Oh my God what happened? I think you got hacked! Are you being blackmailed? Is it revenge porn? Who is doing this to you?’ There were a couple that would have made me laugh under other circumstances :
One from a dude I once went on a date with - “Er I don’t know if you meant to send me this? but you should know I’m married now” One from a sweet girl I went to high school with - “How did they manage to superimpose your head on all those and make it so realistic?” (What? On close to 800 pictures and an hour and a half of HD video) Bless her, if only everyone had her faith in me I’d be in the clear.
I started to reply to some individually, just apologising for any offence I had caused, and saying further explanations would follow, but by now the second wave had started to hit, and my inbox was in danger of filling completely. Most of these second wave replies appeared to be people off the reunion lists, and fell into two categories : Those who found the situation hilarious, (which I might have done, if it were happening to someone else) and the creepy pervs (I know this might seem hypocritical, as my actions probably qualified me to be patron saint of creepy pervs.)
The ‘aint it hilarious’ one that stood out most, was the wag who sent my old high school yearbook picture with its original caption of ‘girl most likely to work in a public library’ pasted next to the one of me in the crab position, and the legend : …‘or take a piss in the woods!’
This was this photo that most seemed to stimulate the perv brigade, with a lot of them offering me advice on what to do next time I got caught short in the park. Most of this advice was either anatomically impossible or at least downright unhygienic!
The most sinister Email simply read ‘I always wondered what your cunt looked like!’ Emails like this had been sent from anonymous accounts which had probably been set up for the express purpose of trolling me.
By Saturday the situation had reached critical mass. Bill (or Mr ‘no negotiation’) as I like to call him, was forced to cede, and my email account was deleted. A new account on a new service was then set up. A new contact list carrying over my genuine friends and family was then sent a standard email designed to buy me some time while I planned a course of action and adapted to my new ‘totally exposed’ lifestyle. The trolls, weirdos, frat boys, and my high school ice hockey cheerleading team were all ghosted. I really couldn’t see myself attending any reunions in the foreseeable future!
RE: HEIDI GREEN NUDE PHOTOS
I would like to apologise to everyone who has been hurt, offended or distressed by the mailing sent from my old email account on Thursday pm.
I need to clear up some issues regarding the images that were forwarded to you.
The mailing was not a mistake. It was sent after a recent epiphany concerning my sexuality and my relation to the world at large.
The decision to go public was mine alone, and was not made under the influence of any threats or coercion .
I realise it will be hard for many of you to understand, or even countenance such an apparently extreme lifestyle choice, but please bear with me, as I struggle to understand my own needs and desires. Please be assured that I am well, both physically and emotionally, and the many offers of help and sympathy were very deeply appreciated but are not needed.
My old email has been deactivated and will not respond. This new account will be temporarily unreachable for the present time until I have formulated a way forward.
Love and respect Heidi Green.
Concurrent with dealing with the email situation, I obviously had similar issues by phone. This culminated with a two hour call from my parents on Friday in which my mother’s hysterical crying surpassed my own, and what began as my father’s concern for my mental health, quickly developed into barely concealed threats concerning ‘interventions’ and commitment to psychiatric hospital.
Sunday onwards, calls were left to be picked up by the answer phone, and a version of the email message was put on my voicemail basically saying ‘I’m ok, I’ll be in touch when I get my shit together’
The most hurtful response I received (worse than all the trolls) was the terse voicemail I got from my brother - He said simply: “Now that you are revealed to be a harlot, you are dead to me. Do not contact me again.”
Chapter Six - Further Fallout
On Sunday evening, with Monday morning looming, my biggest concern was the lack of any contact from my work company. I knew that my Line Manager and two of my fellow secretaries were in my address book and would have been sent the link. My hopes now were that somehow the mail hadn’t got through (unlikely) or that they had discarded it as spam. I did not hold up much hope.
Monday 9:30am I arrived in a sweaty panic to discover the brief message on my workstation: ‘Meeting with HR, suite 7612. Rm 17. 10:00am’
“Take a seat Ms Green”
The HR Director was an older Asian woman with such a calm and in-control manner, I felt like socking her on the jaw. Also present at the meeting were my Line Manager, the two secretaries who had got the email, and a girl lurking at the back of the room who was introduced to me as the ‘Wellness and Dignity at Work Ambassador’ All I needed now was for my father to burst in with a butterfly net and a tranquilizer dart!
The meeting started, and in a droning voice the HR woman explained that although the message had been sent from my personal account, not the work one, which would have caused the company to have been brought into disrepute, nevertheless because other employees had received it, and owing to the nature of the content, there would have to be an investigation as to whether the company policy on the use of internet and social media had been breached.
It was told that I would be given a chance to explain my actions at a later date (I just thought to myself ‘read the fucking blog’)
Impact statements were to be taken from the three recipients. At this point I tried to guess what their attitudes would be. My Line Manager refused to look me in the face. He was projecting a combination of outrage and shiftiness. I bet he was outwardly upset while having secretly spent all weekend jacking off to my pictures. The two secretaries could barely stop grinning. Probably relieved it wasn’t them in the HR shit, they were definitely in the ‘aint it hilarious’ camp.
Meanwhile, I realised HR woman was still droning on. Unfortunately, given the seriousness of the allegations against me, the company had no option other than to suspend me from my job, without pay, pending the result of the inquiry. I was advised not to make contact with any other employee during my suspension. An obvious exception would be made, as the company understood that my ‘life partner’ Bill _____ also worked for the company. I was to be reassured that he was not under investigation and his employment was not affected in any way. (“That’s rich” I thought, “Considering he took the fucking photos and edited them on your fucking computer system!”)
Concentrate Heidi! What did she just say? Something about Bill having been warned this meeting was happening. She then introduced me to the Wellness/Dignity Whosit who strongly recommended I take advantage of their wide range of mental health services, impartial counselling, and some bs about coloring books!
And that was it. I was ushered out, clutching the baggie of self-help leaflets I had been given, and soon found myself sitting in my car, in the parking lot, in the midday sun. The whole thing had taken just under two hours. I felt strangely calm. I called Bill on my new Wal-Mart cell phone (Bill was the only contact in it) He had already heard the news on the 4th floor grapevine.
“It’s just a box-ticking exercise Heid, The company is terrified that your ‘extreme lifestyle’ choice represents some new subset of oppressed minority that they weren’t even aware they were discriminating against. They’ll be crapping themselves that this will get into the mainstream media, and, I know you don’t believe this, but if it did, the publicity would be worse for them than you!”
“Great, not only was I their patron saint, now I’m the poster-girl for the pervert community!”
“You’ve just gotta hang tight for a month and I guarantee you will be reinstated. I’ll make up your pay this month.” That was nice, but it made me feel a bit like a prostitute being compensated for my sexual misdeeds.
“Ok, you all right, though? What you gonna do now?
“Just go home and sleep I guess. I didn’t exactly get much over the weekend! I’ll see you tonite. I love you!
Chapter Seven - Self Challenge
I pulled out of the company parking lot, for what could be the last time ever (despite Bill’s assurances)
As I began the forty minute drive home I thought of Bill’s earlier mention of the possibility of my story surfacing on mainstream media. I pondered the strange case of Barbra Lefleur or Lafleur (you know how accurate the web is! But I think it’s the first one)
On Tuesday May 15 2012, a 49 year old Product Developer was arrested, shortly after having walked, completely naked, around two upstate NY stores. Security video footage was leaked the next day and soon spread from local press to TV to the ‘net and across the world. Reporters from a morally ambiguous UK tabloid filled in extra details, including where the woman worked, and a headshot from her Linkdin profile. She had apparently entered the stores fully nude, pleasantly interacted with the staff, telling them that, yes, she was ok, and yes, she realised she was naked and was merely exercising her right to self expression. She was rewarded for her honesty, by having the cops called. After undergoing and passing a psychiatric assessment, she was awaiting possible charges of public lewdness, risking a 90 day sentence.
This story, which Bill and I had found looking for ENF (exposed, nude, female) videos, had become somewhat of an obsession of mine. Its narrative and motives seemed to mirror my own, then hidden, now, as you know, fully realised fantasies. I wondered what the consequences had been for Barbara? After the first furious week of postings, all information had dried up. The story, and censored stills from the CCTV were still archived. The uncensored footage somehow obtained by a Brazilian news site (ironic considering it revealed her pubic bush was as full and natural as mine!) had been reposted on Youtube. I wondered if she had retained her job, and whether her prosecution had gone forward.
Our situations differed in two main ways: I had not been arrested. This was fortunate, as the second difference was, her behaviour while nude, was ‘vanilla’ and concerned with personal freedom, my own was darker, blatantly sexual, and seemed to reflect a masochistic desire for self destruction.
I was so lost in my reveries that I was over half way home without recalling any of the journey. Thank God the traffic was light. I was probably a menace as a driver.
Now I was back to reality, I realised I was about to pass the park. The scene of the crime from nineteen days ago!
Without even considering what I was doing, I pulled over to the side of the road, stopped by the entrance to the park, and killed the engine. I sat for a few moments in the bright sunlight flooding through the windshield, There were very few cars passing on this quiet Monday afternoon, and no one on foot at all. In a sudden burst of activity, I locked my purse, phone, and stupid ‘wellness pack’ in the glove box, kicked my sandals off, and under my seat, and grabbing my keys, hopped out of the car, locked it, and padded across to the park entrance. As soon as my feet left the hot, smooth sidewalk and touched the cool bark of the footpath, my entire body was triggered with a jolt of memory. I could feel the same sensations exactly as experienced almost three weeks ago when I entered the park for the very first time.
Although this time only my feet were bare, I felt the same rush of shame and vulnerability as I had naked. My heart rate quickened, and my clitoris twitched and throbbed within the increasingly sticky confines of my panties. My breasts felt swollen. And my areolae chafed against my bra. Stepping out of the trees and crossing the grass towards the lake edge, I felt my spirits soaring. This felt fantastic! I was receiving all the endorphins and wonderful, heart-skippy, shame/pride, fear/courage, feels wrong/feels right, emotions that I had when I was naked in public, but now I was fully clothed. The rerouted mainline that connected my clitoris to my brain, which had been switched on when I first shed my underwear in front of a crowd, two weeks and five days ago, was now capable of overriding reality. I could have the feelings without having to indulge in the risky behaviour!
As I reached the bathroom block, I experienced another Pavlovian reaction. I needed to pee! This time there was no Bill to forbid use of the public restroom. I was mistress of my own destiny. I ducked into the tunnel that led to the women’s bathroom, and used the nearest cubicle.
It was most definitely a less intense experience than peeing in the trees in public. Maybe for that reason, after wiping and flushing, instead of pulling my panties and shorts up, I took them all the way off and hung them on the hook screwed into the back of the door. (The floor was disgusting)
I stood for a while, bottomless in the toilet stall, both contemplating my next move, and straining to hear if anyone else were present. An idea formed in my head. I pulled my long sleeved top over my head. I had chosen this top specifically to hide my bruised arms at work today so as not to look like an abuse victim, or a psycho. I looked at the black, yellow and green welts on my forearms and realised that if anyone saw me naked now, I would be more ashamed of them seeing this, than my breasts or my genitals.
I unhooked my bra and hung it and my top with the rest of my clothes. My challenge to myself was to leave the cubicle and wash and dry my hands, fully nude in the public bathroom. I realised this was pretty tame considering my previous exploits. It was, however, a step up from walking, fully clothed, around the lake daydreaming. I unlatched the door, and still listening for any unwanted company, left the cubicle. The sight of myself, naked in the full length mirror between the sinks gave me a familiar tingle. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car. A nude, mirror selfie would have been a perfect souvenir and a masturbatory tool for months to come.
After washing my hands, and using the scarily loud hand dryer (how would I hear if someone were coming?) I thought “What now?” I was going to masturbate there and then in front of the mirror, but I honestly considered that a little seedy, and I knew that post-orgasm, having done that in a rather smelly public bathroom would have seemed even more tawdry. Instead my eye was drawn to the shaft of sunlight visible from the exit tunnel.
The new plan was this: After checking it was safe, I would leave the bathroom block, circle it once, return for my clothes, run to the car, rush (safely) home, and frig myself into a far better quality orgasm than the one I would get here. I craned my head around both corners of the doorway, and sure that no one was in the park, I skipped out into the sunshine and started my circuit of the building. I turned the corner and began to cross behind the block, revelling in my nudity. Suddenly I saw something that none of us had noticed on the first trip to the park. Up against the wall were two large, metal recycling bins. The first one was for paper and cardboard and had slots like a mailbox. The second was the one which caught my eye. It was a large blue and white Goodwill bin for clothes recycling. There was a non return tray in the middle of it. The kind where you placed your items in and rocked it back so that your donation fell into the locked bin, where it would remain until the charity came to unlock and empty it.
My decision was made in an instant. I was going to make a donation! I was going to donate all my clothes, right now, leaving me totally naked in the park, and forcing me to drive home in the nude!
Before I allowed any logical part of my brain, which may have remained, to override my clitoris, I hurried back to the bathroom, snatched my shorts and panties, my top and bra from the hook, strode back to the bin, stuffed my clothes into the chute and rocked it forward, hearing a satisfying thud as my donation hit the bottom of the bin.
A warm tingle spread though my abdomen. Yet again I was naked in the park with no cover. Luckily I had not lost control enough to have binned my car keys, so with them gripped tightly in my hand I headed for the bark path leading back to my car. I scanned the road both ways. The traffic was still light and the sidewalks were deserted (don’t you just love how no one walks anymore?) To get to my car I had to time it right and sprint out of the trees when the gap between cars seemed long enough. I leapt into the car and immediately sprang up again, burning my bare ass on the seat which had been in direct sunlight. It was literally too hot to sit on. In the end I had to sit on the pile of leaflets from the glove box. It seemed the Wellness and Dignity team was helping me after all!
So I set off home. Slightly hunched, as I was concerned that although my bare shoulders might make people think I was wearing a sundress, the sight of a distended nipple bobbing above the window would not. I know many people keep spare clothes, coats, or picnic blankets in their cars. I am not one of those people. Apart from the mental health leaflets wedged under my ass, the only thing I could have used for cover, would have been to have fashioned a pair of pasties from a couple of Wrigley’s wrappers, but I figured silver nipples would be even more attention grabbing than pink ones! The seatbelt felt strangely erotic between my bare breasts, like some kind of bondage harness, warm but thankfully not as hot as the seat, (I’m beginning to think there is little that I don’t find strangely erotic while NIP!)
The drive from the park was uneventful. No other drivers seemed to notice my lack of clothing, and to be honest, I couldn’t make out what they were wearing either. Maybe they were naked too? Unlike when I walked home, no roofers shouted offers to ‘rim’ me! My dilemma began when after taking the left turn past my apartment block, circling to park in my space behind the building, I was faced with a fifty foot dash across the lot in full view of the other seven apartments’ windows to reach my back door near the foot of the fire escape.
The apartment block we live in consists of two floors with four flats on each. The ground level ones (like mine and Bill’s) have front doors facing the street (remember the lawn and the tree) and back doors leading from their kitchens out to the parking spaces. The flats on the upper floor (Like Holly and Meg’s) have only one door directly above our back ones but leading on to a balcony with fire escape stairways at each end.
I sat and tried to spot any movement in the widows or on the balcony. I could not see anyone. But that did not necessarily mean that someone inside the apartments would not be able to see me. I just had to risk it. I slipped my sandals on, (this would be another first, Bill was a NIP purist and would never have let me wear shoes! “Shoes is not naked!” He would scowl at any offender on the Blog) I grabbed my purse, phone and keys but left the mental health leaflets on the seat (they made a good ass protector, but I wasn’t going to read the fucking things!) After fumbling with the key fob, I set off at a sprint (What was this? Another rule break? Do I give a shit?)
When I was just eight feet from my door, a voice stopped me in my tracks: “Heidi, Oh my God! Babygirl you at it again? I thought the challenge was over?”
I looked up to see Meg poke her head over the balcony and look down on my naked form . I immediately assumed the classic ENF pose: one arm across my breasts, shielding my nipples, the other straight down, with my hand cupping my sex, to cover my pubic hair. Maintaining the pose was made more difficult by simultaneously clutching my purse with my free hand and twisting my arms in an attempt to hide my bruises. I began to blabber incoherently, saying that the challenge was over but I had challenged myself because I was trying to take back control through loss of control. (I really wasn’t making any sense!) All the while Meg grinned down at me, not in a mocking way but as if I were her favourite eccentric aunt or a new stand up comedy act she had just discovered. “Oh Babygirl you really are one freewheeling cookie! You wanna come up for a cup of tea and talk some more?”
“No I’ll have to take a rain check, I really need to get in and do stuff” (I found myself blushing) “But thanks for not having me burnt at the stake!”
“No problemo, Heidi, just remember Holly and I are always here for you if you want to talk or …show us anything!” she grinned wider. “See ya later Babygirl” she gave a little wave and disappeared from view, heading back to her door.
With my customary key fumble I crashed through my door into the kitchen. Twenty minutes later I was bringing my reacquaintance with Roger the vibrator to a thrilling conclusion. It had been an eventful day, and images flashed through my head. However my climax was not triggered by the thought of me naked in the bathroom, or the park, or the car, or the image of me stuffing my clothes in the Goodwill bin. It was of my neighbor Meg gazing down at me, as I tried to conceal my body from her, despite knowing that two and a half weeks ago I had masturbated, naked in front of her.
Chapter Five : Aftermath 2
I awoke in bed, feeling as if I had been kicked in the head. I had terrific pains in both forearms and pulled them from under the covers to discover a four inch purple bruise had risen on each. I remembered thrashing at the wall earlier. Bill was sitting on the end of the bed. He pushed a cup of herb tea into my hands. “Drink! It should be cool enough, I’ve been sitting, watching you sleep for ten minutes.”
“Wassa time?”
“Just after nine”
“In the morning?”
“No, still Thursday evening”
“My head hurts!”
“I’ll get you a Tylenol”
Bill returned with the tablet which I gulped down with my tea. He thrust my cell phone at me.
“Here, You need to call in sick, you’ll have fires to fight tomorrow!”
“Has it started?”
“Yeah, call first, I’ll show you after.”
I made the call to work and left a voicemail on the automated service. My throat was so raw from crying and screaming, that for once in my life I didn’t have to do my fake ‘I’m sick’ voice. I claimed a 24 hour virus and said I should be in Monday. “What about you?“ I asked Bill.
“I already booked another work from home.”
He approached the bed with the laptop and set it open on my legs. The send to all email had already generated over fifty replies. I had no more tears left. I contemplated what I had done. I had sent naked and explicit, degrading pictures and videos of myself to everyone in my address book : My Parents, my family, my friends, my Line Manager at work and at least two work colleagues that were in it. The link would also have been sent to my entire High School and College reunion lists. What had I done? I was fucked. I couldn’t see how I was ever going to recover from this.
I started to read the emails. Nearly all the first wave were from concerned friends and followed a general pattern. ‘Oh my God what happened? I think you got hacked! Are you being blackmailed? Is it revenge porn? Who is doing this to you?’ There were a couple that would have made me laugh under other circumstances :
One from a dude I once went on a date with - “Er I don’t know if you meant to send me this? but you should know I’m married now” One from a sweet girl I went to high school with - “How did they manage to superimpose your head on all those and make it so realistic?” (What? On close to 800 pictures and an hour and a half of HD video) Bless her, if only everyone had her faith in me I’d be in the clear.
I started to reply to some individually, just apologising for any offence I had caused, and saying further explanations would follow, but by now the second wave had started to hit, and my inbox was in danger of filling completely. Most of these second wave replies appeared to be people off the reunion lists, and fell into two categories : Those who found the situation hilarious, (which I might have done, if it were happening to someone else) and the creepy pervs (I know this might seem hypocritical, as my actions probably qualified me to be patron saint of creepy pervs.)
The ‘aint it hilarious’ one that stood out most, was the wag who sent my old high school yearbook picture with its original caption of ‘girl most likely to work in a public library’ pasted next to the one of me in the crab position, and the legend : …‘or take a piss in the woods!’
This was this photo that most seemed to stimulate the perv brigade, with a lot of them offering me advice on what to do next time I got caught short in the park. Most of this advice was either anatomically impossible or at least downright unhygienic!
The most sinister Email simply read ‘I always wondered what your cunt looked like!’ Emails like this had been sent from anonymous accounts which had probably been set up for the express purpose of trolling me.
By Saturday the situation had reached critical mass. Bill (or Mr ‘no negotiation’) as I like to call him, was forced to cede, and my email account was deleted. A new account on a new service was then set up. A new contact list carrying over my genuine friends and family was then sent a standard email designed to buy me some time while I planned a course of action and adapted to my new ‘totally exposed’ lifestyle. The trolls, weirdos, frat boys, and my high school ice hockey cheerleading team were all ghosted. I really couldn’t see myself attending any reunions in the foreseeable future!
RE: HEIDI GREEN NUDE PHOTOS
I would like to apologise to everyone who has been hurt, offended or distressed by the mailing sent from my old email account on Thursday pm.
I need to clear up some issues regarding the images that were forwarded to you.
The mailing was not a mistake. It was sent after a recent epiphany concerning my sexuality and my relation to the world at large.
The decision to go public was mine alone, and was not made under the influence of any threats or coercion .
I realise it will be hard for many of you to understand, or even countenance such an apparently extreme lifestyle choice, but please bear with me, as I struggle to understand my own needs and desires. Please be assured that I am well, both physically and emotionally, and the many offers of help and sympathy were very deeply appreciated but are not needed.
My old email has been deactivated and will not respond. This new account will be temporarily unreachable for the present time until I have formulated a way forward.
Love and respect Heidi Green.
Concurrent with dealing with the email situation, I obviously had similar issues by phone. This culminated with a two hour call from my parents on Friday in which my mother’s hysterical crying surpassed my own, and what began as my father’s concern for my mental health, quickly developed into barely concealed threats concerning ‘interventions’ and commitment to psychiatric hospital.
Sunday onwards, calls were left to be picked up by the answer phone, and a version of the email message was put on my voicemail basically saying ‘I’m ok, I’ll be in touch when I get my shit together’
The most hurtful response I received (worse than all the trolls) was the terse voicemail I got from my brother - He said simply: “Now that you are revealed to be a harlot, you are dead to me. Do not contact me again.”
Chapter Six - Further Fallout
On Sunday evening, with Monday morning looming, my biggest concern was the lack of any contact from my work company. I knew that my Line Manager and two of my fellow secretaries were in my address book and would have been sent the link. My hopes now were that somehow the mail hadn’t got through (unlikely) or that they had discarded it as spam. I did not hold up much hope.
Monday 9:30am I arrived in a sweaty panic to discover the brief message on my workstation: ‘Meeting with HR, suite 7612. Rm 17. 10:00am’
“Take a seat Ms Green”
The HR Director was an older Asian woman with such a calm and in-control manner, I felt like socking her on the jaw. Also present at the meeting were my Line Manager, the two secretaries who had got the email, and a girl lurking at the back of the room who was introduced to me as the ‘Wellness and Dignity at Work Ambassador’ All I needed now was for my father to burst in with a butterfly net and a tranquilizer dart!
The meeting started, and in a droning voice the HR woman explained that although the message had been sent from my personal account, not the work one, which would have caused the company to have been brought into disrepute, nevertheless because other employees had received it, and owing to the nature of the content, there would have to be an investigation as to whether the company policy on the use of internet and social media had been breached.
It was told that I would be given a chance to explain my actions at a later date (I just thought to myself ‘read the fucking blog’)
Impact statements were to be taken from the three recipients. At this point I tried to guess what their attitudes would be. My Line Manager refused to look me in the face. He was projecting a combination of outrage and shiftiness. I bet he was outwardly upset while having secretly spent all weekend jacking off to my pictures. The two secretaries could barely stop grinning. Probably relieved it wasn’t them in the HR shit, they were definitely in the ‘aint it hilarious’ camp.
Meanwhile, I realised HR woman was still droning on. Unfortunately, given the seriousness of the allegations against me, the company had no option other than to suspend me from my job, without pay, pending the result of the inquiry. I was advised not to make contact with any other employee during my suspension. An obvious exception would be made, as the company understood that my ‘life partner’ Bill _____ also worked for the company. I was to be reassured that he was not under investigation and his employment was not affected in any way. (“That’s rich” I thought, “Considering he took the fucking photos and edited them on your fucking computer system!”)
Concentrate Heidi! What did she just say? Something about Bill having been warned this meeting was happening. She then introduced me to the Wellness/Dignity Whosit who strongly recommended I take advantage of their wide range of mental health services, impartial counselling, and some bs about coloring books!
And that was it. I was ushered out, clutching the baggie of self-help leaflets I had been given, and soon found myself sitting in my car, in the parking lot, in the midday sun. The whole thing had taken just under two hours. I felt strangely calm. I called Bill on my new Wal-Mart cell phone (Bill was the only contact in it) He had already heard the news on the 4th floor grapevine.
“It’s just a box-ticking exercise Heid, The company is terrified that your ‘extreme lifestyle’ choice represents some new subset of oppressed minority that they weren’t even aware they were discriminating against. They’ll be crapping themselves that this will get into the mainstream media, and, I know you don’t believe this, but if it did, the publicity would be worse for them than you!”
“Great, not only was I their patron saint, now I’m the poster-girl for the pervert community!”
“You’ve just gotta hang tight for a month and I guarantee you will be reinstated. I’ll make up your pay this month.” That was nice, but it made me feel a bit like a prostitute being compensated for my sexual misdeeds.
“Ok, you all right, though? What you gonna do now?
“Just go home and sleep I guess. I didn’t exactly get much over the weekend! I’ll see you tonite. I love you!
Chapter Seven - Self Challenge
I pulled out of the company parking lot, for what could be the last time ever (despite Bill’s assurances)
As I began the forty minute drive home I thought of Bill’s earlier mention of the possibility of my story surfacing on mainstream media. I pondered the strange case of Barbra Lefleur or Lafleur (you know how accurate the web is! But I think it’s the first one)
On Tuesday May 15 2012, a 49 year old Product Developer was arrested, shortly after having walked, completely naked, around two upstate NY stores. Security video footage was leaked the next day and soon spread from local press to TV to the ‘net and across the world. Reporters from a morally ambiguous UK tabloid filled in extra details, including where the woman worked, and a headshot from her Linkdin profile. She had apparently entered the stores fully nude, pleasantly interacted with the staff, telling them that, yes, she was ok, and yes, she realised she was naked and was merely exercising her right to self expression. She was rewarded for her honesty, by having the cops called. After undergoing and passing a psychiatric assessment, she was awaiting possible charges of public lewdness, risking a 90 day sentence.
This story, which Bill and I had found looking for ENF (exposed, nude, female) videos, had become somewhat of an obsession of mine. Its narrative and motives seemed to mirror my own, then hidden, now, as you know, fully realised fantasies. I wondered what the consequences had been for Barbara? After the first furious week of postings, all information had dried up. The story, and censored stills from the CCTV were still archived. The uncensored footage somehow obtained by a Brazilian news site (ironic considering it revealed her pubic bush was as full and natural as mine!) had been reposted on Youtube. I wondered if she had retained her job, and whether her prosecution had gone forward.
Our situations differed in two main ways: I had not been arrested. This was fortunate, as the second difference was, her behaviour while nude, was ‘vanilla’ and concerned with personal freedom, my own was darker, blatantly sexual, and seemed to reflect a masochistic desire for self destruction.
I was so lost in my reveries that I was over half way home without recalling any of the journey. Thank God the traffic was light. I was probably a menace as a driver.
Now I was back to reality, I realised I was about to pass the park. The scene of the crime from nineteen days ago!
Without even considering what I was doing, I pulled over to the side of the road, stopped by the entrance to the park, and killed the engine. I sat for a few moments in the bright sunlight flooding through the windshield, There were very few cars passing on this quiet Monday afternoon, and no one on foot at all. In a sudden burst of activity, I locked my purse, phone, and stupid ‘wellness pack’ in the glove box, kicked my sandals off, and under my seat, and grabbing my keys, hopped out of the car, locked it, and padded across to the park entrance. As soon as my feet left the hot, smooth sidewalk and touched the cool bark of the footpath, my entire body was triggered with a jolt of memory. I could feel the same sensations exactly as experienced almost three weeks ago when I entered the park for the very first time.
Although this time only my feet were bare, I felt the same rush of shame and vulnerability as I had naked. My heart rate quickened, and my clitoris twitched and throbbed within the increasingly sticky confines of my panties. My breasts felt swollen. And my areolae chafed against my bra. Stepping out of the trees and crossing the grass towards the lake edge, I felt my spirits soaring. This felt fantastic! I was receiving all the endorphins and wonderful, heart-skippy, shame/pride, fear/courage, feels wrong/feels right, emotions that I had when I was naked in public, but now I was fully clothed. The rerouted mainline that connected my clitoris to my brain, which had been switched on when I first shed my underwear in front of a crowd, two weeks and five days ago, was now capable of overriding reality. I could have the feelings without having to indulge in the risky behaviour!
As I reached the bathroom block, I experienced another Pavlovian reaction. I needed to pee! This time there was no Bill to forbid use of the public restroom. I was mistress of my own destiny. I ducked into the tunnel that led to the women’s bathroom, and used the nearest cubicle.
It was most definitely a less intense experience than peeing in the trees in public. Maybe for that reason, after wiping and flushing, instead of pulling my panties and shorts up, I took them all the way off and hung them on the hook screwed into the back of the door. (The floor was disgusting)
I stood for a while, bottomless in the toilet stall, both contemplating my next move, and straining to hear if anyone else were present. An idea formed in my head. I pulled my long sleeved top over my head. I had chosen this top specifically to hide my bruised arms at work today so as not to look like an abuse victim, or a psycho. I looked at the black, yellow and green welts on my forearms and realised that if anyone saw me naked now, I would be more ashamed of them seeing this, than my breasts or my genitals.
I unhooked my bra and hung it and my top with the rest of my clothes. My challenge to myself was to leave the cubicle and wash and dry my hands, fully nude in the public bathroom. I realised this was pretty tame considering my previous exploits. It was, however, a step up from walking, fully clothed, around the lake daydreaming. I unlatched the door, and still listening for any unwanted company, left the cubicle. The sight of myself, naked in the full length mirror between the sinks gave me a familiar tingle. I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car. A nude, mirror selfie would have been a perfect souvenir and a masturbatory tool for months to come.
After washing my hands, and using the scarily loud hand dryer (how would I hear if someone were coming?) I thought “What now?” I was going to masturbate there and then in front of the mirror, but I honestly considered that a little seedy, and I knew that post-orgasm, having done that in a rather smelly public bathroom would have seemed even more tawdry. Instead my eye was drawn to the shaft of sunlight visible from the exit tunnel.
The new plan was this: After checking it was safe, I would leave the bathroom block, circle it once, return for my clothes, run to the car, rush (safely) home, and frig myself into a far better quality orgasm than the one I would get here. I craned my head around both corners of the doorway, and sure that no one was in the park, I skipped out into the sunshine and started my circuit of the building. I turned the corner and began to cross behind the block, revelling in my nudity. Suddenly I saw something that none of us had noticed on the first trip to the park. Up against the wall were two large, metal recycling bins. The first one was for paper and cardboard and had slots like a mailbox. The second was the one which caught my eye. It was a large blue and white Goodwill bin for clothes recycling. There was a non return tray in the middle of it. The kind where you placed your items in and rocked it back so that your donation fell into the locked bin, where it would remain until the charity came to unlock and empty it.
My decision was made in an instant. I was going to make a donation! I was going to donate all my clothes, right now, leaving me totally naked in the park, and forcing me to drive home in the nude!
Before I allowed any logical part of my brain, which may have remained, to override my clitoris, I hurried back to the bathroom, snatched my shorts and panties, my top and bra from the hook, strode back to the bin, stuffed my clothes into the chute and rocked it forward, hearing a satisfying thud as my donation hit the bottom of the bin.
A warm tingle spread though my abdomen. Yet again I was naked in the park with no cover. Luckily I had not lost control enough to have binned my car keys, so with them gripped tightly in my hand I headed for the bark path leading back to my car. I scanned the road both ways. The traffic was still light and the sidewalks were deserted (don’t you just love how no one walks anymore?) To get to my car I had to time it right and sprint out of the trees when the gap between cars seemed long enough. I leapt into the car and immediately sprang up again, burning my bare ass on the seat which had been in direct sunlight. It was literally too hot to sit on. In the end I had to sit on the pile of leaflets from the glove box. It seemed the Wellness and Dignity team was helping me after all!
So I set off home. Slightly hunched, as I was concerned that although my bare shoulders might make people think I was wearing a sundress, the sight of a distended nipple bobbing above the window would not. I know many people keep spare clothes, coats, or picnic blankets in their cars. I am not one of those people. Apart from the mental health leaflets wedged under my ass, the only thing I could have used for cover, would have been to have fashioned a pair of pasties from a couple of Wrigley’s wrappers, but I figured silver nipples would be even more attention grabbing than pink ones! The seatbelt felt strangely erotic between my bare breasts, like some kind of bondage harness, warm but thankfully not as hot as the seat, (I’m beginning to think there is little that I don’t find strangely erotic while NIP!)
The drive from the park was uneventful. No other drivers seemed to notice my lack of clothing, and to be honest, I couldn’t make out what they were wearing either. Maybe they were naked too? Unlike when I walked home, no roofers shouted offers to ‘rim’ me! My dilemma began when after taking the left turn past my apartment block, circling to park in my space behind the building, I was faced with a fifty foot dash across the lot in full view of the other seven apartments’ windows to reach my back door near the foot of the fire escape.
The apartment block we live in consists of two floors with four flats on each. The ground level ones (like mine and Bill’s) have front doors facing the street (remember the lawn and the tree) and back doors leading from their kitchens out to the parking spaces. The flats on the upper floor (Like Holly and Meg’s) have only one door directly above our back ones but leading on to a balcony with fire escape stairways at each end.
I sat and tried to spot any movement in the widows or on the balcony. I could not see anyone. But that did not necessarily mean that someone inside the apartments would not be able to see me. I just had to risk it. I slipped my sandals on, (this would be another first, Bill was a NIP purist and would never have let me wear shoes! “Shoes is not naked!” He would scowl at any offender on the Blog) I grabbed my purse, phone and keys but left the mental health leaflets on the seat (they made a good ass protector, but I wasn’t going to read the fucking things!) After fumbling with the key fob, I set off at a sprint (What was this? Another rule break? Do I give a shit?)
When I was just eight feet from my door, a voice stopped me in my tracks: “Heidi, Oh my God! Babygirl you at it again? I thought the challenge was over?”
I looked up to see Meg poke her head over the balcony and look down on my naked form . I immediately assumed the classic ENF pose: one arm across my breasts, shielding my nipples, the other straight down, with my hand cupping my sex, to cover my pubic hair. Maintaining the pose was made more difficult by simultaneously clutching my purse with my free hand and twisting my arms in an attempt to hide my bruises. I began to blabber incoherently, saying that the challenge was over but I had challenged myself because I was trying to take back control through loss of control. (I really wasn’t making any sense!) All the while Meg grinned down at me, not in a mocking way but as if I were her favourite eccentric aunt or a new stand up comedy act she had just discovered. “Oh Babygirl you really are one freewheeling cookie! You wanna come up for a cup of tea and talk some more?”
“No I’ll have to take a rain check, I really need to get in and do stuff” (I found myself blushing) “But thanks for not having me burnt at the stake!”
“No problemo, Heidi, just remember Holly and I are always here for you if you want to talk or …show us anything!” she grinned wider. “See ya later Babygirl” she gave a little wave and disappeared from view, heading back to her door.
With my customary key fumble I crashed through my door into the kitchen. Twenty minutes later I was bringing my reacquaintance with Roger the vibrator to a thrilling conclusion. It had been an eventful day, and images flashed through my head. However my climax was not triggered by the thought of me naked in the bathroom, or the park, or the car, or the image of me stuffing my clothes in the Goodwill bin. It was of my neighbor Meg gazing down at me, as I tried to conceal my body from her, despite knowing that two and a half weeks ago I had masturbated, naked in front of her.
Poster:
Heidi Green
