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Bare All

Posted on June 28, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

Bare All, that’s what the ad exhorted its readers to do. That and a telephone number was all that was provided by way of enticement.

So in terms of conventional wisdom, it should have been an ad that was ignored. He was not the type to place much value in conventional wisdom, so he went ahead and called the number. After three rings a recorded message said, “The next session begins at twenty hundred hours on Friday the 29^th. If this is your first time you need to know that the clothing rule is non-negotiable. In twenty seconds you will be given an address. It will be repeated once. Please do not call back to verify our address because this phone number has been logged and it will be cross-referenced against all other numbers connected to the registered occupants of that address. Calls from untraceable phones will not be considered. Callbacks will result in cancellation of the invitation. Please be on time. The address is…”

He scrambled for a pen and wrote on his palm. When the voice repeated the address, he reconfirmed it, disconnected and committed the words on his palm to a fresh entry on his PDA.

Eight o’clock.

He was so bored he couldn’t wait for the appointed hour to arrive. So he fidgeted for a few minutes, considered calling back and decided against it because the recorded voice had sounded serious about cancelling invitations. He wondered what he should wear, he wondered whether he’d see people he knew and then because his imagination didn’t stretch any further without some clues about the nature of what he had signed up for, he gave up thinking about it and watched television.

When Friday the 29^th arrived he had almost forgotten about the ad and when he did remember, he gave serious thought to not going. It was a big old battle in his head because it was past six, he was comfortable and a movie he hadn’t yet seen was scheduled for eighty-thirty. He considered microwaving Some popcorn and staying right where he was.

A few minutes later, he was in the shower berating himself for not taking every opportunity to live life instead of listening to other people’s stories about their own adventures.

He was at the address at the appointed hour and though he hadn’t expected much, he was disappointment at how rundown the building looked. At the door he was asked for his telephone number. He gave the one he had made the call from. The woman behind the hulking bouncer at the door said, “Mr. Krishnan, have you at any time been involved with law enforcement?”

His surprised expression said it all but he felt compelled to answer any way, “No.”

Without looking directly at him but also without avoiding eye contact she directed him in the way policemen or waiters will, “Go left at the first fork in the corridor, go to the Clothes Deposit and you will be able to enter the main staging area directly from your booth.”

“I’m sorry. Clothes deposit?”

“Yes sir.”

“What does that mean?”

She looked at him and then at the computer screen in front of her, “First time?”

“Yes.”

Looking him squarely in the eyes she said, “Mr. Krishnan, clothing is strictly forbidden at Bare All.”

“What?”

“If you would like to withdraw, this is the time.”

“What about my wallet and keys and cellphone and things?”

“You will be given a pouch for valuables. We advise you to switch off any mobile communication devices to be able to fully experience Bare All without distractions.”

He was poised to turn on his heel and walk away but he was also feeling more adventurous than he had in a very long time so he nodded and walked through the door. It was cool on the inside and he didn’t have to walk far before he found the split in the corridor. He went left and arrived at the door marked CLOTHES DEPOSIT in Helvetica on backlit vinyl. A cheerful young woman smiled at him when he opened the door and led him to one of several cubicles that were attached to the back wall, “Hangers can be found on the top shelf. You need to take off your shoes as well. The orange pouch is for your belongings. The number on the pouch is the number of your cubicle when you wish to leave. Have a good time.”

Once the cubicle door had shut behind him he looked around and noticed that the cubicle was no different from the in-store cubicles where shoppers tried clothes on. It took him a moment to realise that there was no handle leading back into the front office of the clothes deposit. After several moment’s deliberation he slowly took off his shoes and socks, his jacket, his t-shirt, his jeans and finally his boxer shorts. When he laid eyes on his resting-state penis he felt another wave of doubt, “What the hell am I doing?” He sat down on the low shelf and tensed when his testicles rested on the cold Formica surface. Four minutes elapsed before he said, “Ah fuck it,” shoved his wallet, keys and cellphone into the orange pouch, wrapped it around his left biceps and pushed his way through the door leading to the soft sounds beyond.

The sight that greeted him was like nothing he had ever imagined. All around the room, people were stepping gingerly out of cubicles along every wall, looking around curiously while also struggling to avoid eye contact. He guessed there were about three hundred people in the room which struck him as odd because he hadn’t seen anything on the outside to suggest that there were so many people inside.

No congestion of cars, no other people who looked like they had answered an ad on impulse, nothing to suggest that he had walked into a temporary nudist colony where every visitor carried an orange pouch. He noticed that some of the men, and women, had wrapped the pouch around their waists, thereby providing them a modicum of modesty in this highly immodest setting. He wondered fleetingly what it said about him that he had chosen to attach his pouch to his arm.

A quick scan of his vicinity made him feel better about all the time he had spent in the gym. Musculature was definitely at a premium in this setting. He felt good enough to venture a few strides away from the cubicle that contained his clothes and that’s when he laid eyes on the first, absolutely stunning woman he had seen. She was in conversation with a much shorter, way fatter man with more hair on his back than a silverback gorilla. The man shifted enough at just that moment for Vijay Krishnan to think to to himself, What the fuck? I didn’t know you could wear a sock on your junk?

Much against his wishes he got another look and it was immediately clear why a woman that hot was hanging out with a man that ugly. He felt so spectacularly inadequate that even though he didn’t imagine it possible, his own treasure shrank another inch.

Just then a voice appeared at his left shoulder, “Don’t worry about James. He just likes to stand around and intimidate the newbies.”

He turned around, and found himself looking into the blue eyes of a Caucasian woman. Completely unbidden the thought popped into his head, Damn, you can’t go anywhere in Mumbai without seeing a white person!

She smiled and extended her hand, “Hi, I’m Alison.”

He shook her hand and tried hard to stay focused on her face and smile, “Hi. Vijay.”

“South Indian?”

“From Mumbai but yes, origins are in South India.”

“So Menon?”

“No Krishnan.”

“Damn, that should have been my first guess.”

“You’ve been in India long?”

“Six years.”

“Wow. Where are you from?”

“Guess.”

He berated himself for not paying closer attention to her accent. He leaned in a bit and inclined his head, “Say something.”

“Hi, my name is Alison.”

He thought about it for a moment, “I don’t know. Australian?”

Her eyes went wide, “Absolutely right! How did you guess? Is my accent that pronounced?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It just came to me.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Thank you. So what do you do here?”

“I’m in the hospitality industry.”

“You must be very good at your job.”

“Thank you. Why do you say that?”

“You’ve quickly made me feel comfortable. After…James scared the shit out of me.”

“Ah James. Can I tell you a secret?”

He nodded.

She leaned in, grabbed his arm to pull him a few inches closer and whispered, “James can’t get it up. It’s all show, no tell.”

“Really?” He smiled at her again, more appreciatively, “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel good.”

“Thank you. But he’s still a fantastic lover.”

“Sorry, what?”

She leaned back a little and took a good look at him, “Lovemaking is about bodies Vijay, no genitals alone. When James lost…it, he lost it. He didn’t always weigh two hundred and seventy pounds y’know? He hated not being able to use his…yardstick anymore. Then I guess one day he realised that there were other ways to pleasure a woman. Now he’s happier than ever because he’s no longer engaged in the sport of ‘who’d like to ride my red hot poker’ anymore.”

“So you and James…”

She shrugged, “Couple of times before, a few times after. James is like a recreational drug. It’s fun once in a while but you don’t want to get hooked. But enough about the man with the giant penis, let’s talk about you. Have you noticed something?”

“What?”

“We struck up a conversation and you haven’t felt the need to check out my tits once.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had become less self-conscious the moment the flow of conversation took over and distracted him from the fact that he was naked with a pouch on his arm. After he had stared like a small animal in headlights for a moment or two he snapped out of it and said, “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You can look, it’s fine. I get my tits checked out every five seconds, when I’m wearing clothes so this is nothing.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I’ve come here on my own, I’m naked of my own free will and so I’m okay with people checking me out. It’s only sometimes when I’m on the street that I’d like the eyes to leave me alone. Which is sort of too much to ask when you’re a different skin colour from everyone else around.”

“Does that happen a lot? Do you get harassed a lot?”

“People stare. And sometimes they say stuff and now since I understand a little Hindi I know what some of it means. But it’s just that you don’t want people staring at you when you’ve just been dumped or when you’ve had a bad day at work you know?”

He nodded, “Fair enough.”

He looked around and noticed that very few people were leaving cubicles anymore so he asked, “Is that it? Is this the turnout.”

She nodded, “Pretty much.”

“Okay. So what happens next?”

“People hang out.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s a bar…snacks, conversation…”

“So why does everybody have to be naked?”

“Have you ever tried to have a conversation in a bar or nightclub?”

“Yeah…?”

“Then you know what it’s like. People meet and make pointless conversation while constantly scanning the room to see if there is something or someone they’re missing. In a place like this, I have your undivided attention. You’re not wondering whether there’s a hotter white chick out there. I know I also have my boy James to thank for focussing your attention on me but I don’t know…maybe when you already know what all the tits and arses look like in a room, you can focus on actually making a connection.”

“That’s an interesting point.”

“It’s clothes man. Couturiers and fashion labels are the enemies of human relationships.”

“Really? Why?” He was smiling.

“Think about it. We could have met in a nightclub, my boobs could be held up by a fancy underwire bra that made them look like luscious melons, my ass could be squeezed into a pair of jeans that just made you want to play bongos on my butt cheeks, or take a bite out of them, I don’t know…and under it all I could have a corset on that made my waist look like that of an eleven-year-old. So what happens when we go to your place and you undress me? You notice the droops and sags that make me a living breathing woman and you’re disappointed. We’d fuck of course because I mean come on, what guy can say no to a naked chick right? But we’d never have a relationship that amounted to anything because our first connection was made on the basis of subterfuge.”

He laughed, “Wow, that’s quite a theory.”

“Also, when everyone is naked, you can tell exactly how certain people feel about certain things.”

He didn’t immediately get what she meant until he followed her line of sight and realised that he had become mildly erect. “You liked the idea of having sex with me,” she said with a smile, “Now we don’t have to play any games.”

“Wow, I feel so…exposed.”

“Isn’t it liberating?”

“I don’t know. I’m still getting used to it.”

She took his hand, “Come on. Let’s go get a drink and then I’ll introduce you to some people.”

“Great! Anything to get away from James.”

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