Chapter 2: Unveiling the Reality

Arriving home just thirty minutes past midnight, I felt the weight of the evening’s events pressing heavily on me. My bare feet touched the cold pavement as I made my way to the stairway, acutely aware of my exposed state. The chill of the night air seemed to cut through me, amplifying every pang of anxiety and discomfort. Even though it was legal to be nude, the stark reality of it brought me back to the day I was pregnant with Daniela—the day I had been publicly exposed in the classroom, my personal life laid bare for everyone to see. That traumatic experience was relieved in a different form tonight.

Every step up the stairs seemed colder and more unsettling. The crisp evening breeze did little to ease the tight knot of anxiety in my chest. I felt exposed and vulnerable, the very air seeming to prick at my bare skin. The familiar surroundings of our apartment building seemed foreign, almost menacing as if my nakedness had transformed them into a place of discomfort. The contrast between the outside world and the warmth of home only deepened my unease, making me long for the security and privacy I once took for granted.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw the light from our apartment seeping through the window. I hoped to find Pete waiting for me, ready to offer comfort after the tumultuous day. But when I walked in, carrying nothing but my purse, his reaction was one of shock and disbelief. “Whoa, Nellie; What—what’s going on? Why are you ... why are you like this?” His voice was filled with a mixture of confusion and deep concern, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and incredulity.

The urgency in his voice was palpable. “Did something happen at the gallery? Did you get hurt? Is this some kind of joke?” His questions tumbled out, reflecting his deep worry and the immediate need for answers.

I remained silent for a moment, letting his frantic questions wash over me. Despite the invasive and overwhelming nature of my new job, I felt an odd calm settling over me. There was a strange sense of acceptance in embracing my role, despite the discomfort it brought. The sense of freedom in my nakedness was intertwined with profound discomfort, a feeling that I was being stripped of every ounce of personal space and dignity.

Pete’s barrage of questions eventually slowed as he seemed to run out of scenarios to consider. His breathing steadied, but his eyes remained filled with frustration and concern. “Can you please just explain what’s happening? This doesn’t make any sense.”

I took a deep breath and sat down next to him on the couch. The warmth of his body and the softness of his clothes against my bare skin offered a small comfort amidst the chaos of the day. I set my phone down on the end table and tried to gather my thoughts while Pete’s gaze remained fixed on me, searching for answers.

“Hey,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “Zara read the employee handbook, about the requirement to be completely nude everywhere, including for my job with the leasing company.”

Pete looked at me puzzled and distressed. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

Before I could answer, Zara, the digital assistant, chimed in with a tone that shifted between cold detachment and surprising warmth. “The handbook outlines all these details about the job requirements, including being naked at all times.”

Pete’s eyes widened in shock, “Wait, Zara, you mean this is a rule for all aspects of her life? She has to be naked at her leasing job while commuting, and even taking our daughter to daycare?”

“Yes,” Zara responded with a clinical tone. “It’s all part of the exhibit’s concept. Preparing for when she will be a part of the upcoming living aspect of the future exhibit. The handbook states clearly that she fully understood and agreed to this requirement.”

Pete’s face grew pale as he absorbed this information. “But how is that even legal? And how are you supposed to manage everything while being exposed all the time? Isn’t there any flexibility in this?”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of frustration as Zara’s tone softened slightly, unexpected warmth creeping into her voice. “There’s no flexibility. The concept requires a complete and continuous state of undress to enhance the exhibit’s theme of raw, unfiltered vulnerability. The handbook made it clear that this is not negotiable.”

Pete’s concern deepened. “What about necessities? What if you need to go somewhere private, like a bathroom? Are there exceptions for things like that?”

“No exceptions,” Zara responded firmly, yet with a hint of sympathy. “The handbook stresses that even personal needs must be addressed while adhering to the exhibit’s requirements. Privacy is not part of this concept. For instance, if she is in a very public place and something falls on the ground, she would need to casually reach down and pick it up, even if it exposes every detail of her anatomy, including intimate areas like her vulva and anus. This requirement extends to all facets of her life, regardless of the personal discomfort or embarrassment it might cause.”

Pete’s face was a portrait of disbelief and distress. The thought of having to navigate such extreme exposure in everyday situations was deeply unsettling. “So, you’re saying that there’s no room for privacy at all? Not even when doing something as basic as picking up something that drops?”