Chapter 7: The Bureau

In a matter of seconds, the alarm would engage, and Angela would have to explain to a bunch of security guards what she was doing in a high-security engineering office she didn’t work at on a Saturday afternoon. And why she wasn’t wearing any clothes, but that would be the least of her worries.

To avoid that, she needed to move, fast. But a crucial choice gripped her. Mark hadn’t brought the shirt down from the upper floor for her, but it might still be somewhere up there. Then again, he might also have taken it back with him, to destroy it or whatever, or he may have even left it on the floor in the high-security computer room that Angela didn’t have the right fingerprints to get into.

Even if it was accessible, there was no time to fetch it. Angela told herself this repeatedly as she sprinted through the corridor, down the last set of stairs, and into the building’s lobby, the wind at her sides. Bare feet slapped against tiles as she ran for the door, slammed the open button, and slid out into the parking lot.

The door clicked and locked behind her, and she heard the final series of beeps that meant the alarm had engaged. There was no going back now.

Angela stepped gingerly through the parking lot, casting glances back at the office building. She didn’t appreciate being abandoned there by Mark, but at least it was private and empty. Now she was out in public again and any random passerby might spot her.

Something was hanging in one of the upper floor windows of the office building, Angela noticed. It couldn’t be. It was! A blue square, which could only be Mark’s shirt, was hanging up on a third floor window handle. It looked to be missing a few patches from the back, but still appeared very much wearable.

Angela threw her head back and screamed. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she raged and stomped around the parking lot. If she had just taken a little less time in the shower, or a bit less time trying to dry her hair! If she had just chosen to check upstairs before leaving! Maybe she could have made it, and she would have had a shirt.

But no, she had to sprint to outrun the alarm. She had had just enough time to get out and no more. And she hadn’t known about it when she was showering, nor had she known Mark would abandon her with a mere note.

Now she had nothing. No shirt, no shoes, no phone (she’d left it drying on grass at Mark’s), and no idea when or if Mark would come back for her. She wrapped her arms tight around her body in a pitiful self-embrace.

As if to prove to her that things could still get worse, a police siren ripped through the air. It was coming this way. Angela knew if she was caught by the police, she’d be arrested for indecent exposure. That was not how she needed to end this horrible, horrible day. She glanced back at the office. No cover there, not even an alcove or a tree to hide behind. So she ran.

The police siren neared. Angela sprinted down the sidewalk, bare feet slapping against asphalt, breasts heaving and making her wish for her sports bra with every step. The police car was going to come down this street any moment now, and she was still too far from the nearest alley. There was no way she could outrun it.

There! There was an open door to the building on her left, and it didn’t look like there were any people inside. Angela turned on a dime and sprinted up two steps at a time, clearing the entrance and diving to one side of it just as the police car turned the corner. Breathing hard, she crouched against the wall and waited for the car to pass by.

The siren soon faded into the distance. The police car hadn’t come to arrest her, either for breaking into Mark’s office or for running around town in the altogether. But now that the immediate threat was gone, she had a thought. Didn’t people who got arrested for public nudity usually get bundled into coats or blankets? Would that ... could that be worth it, actually? Trying to solve this problem by herself hadn’t exactly been working out so far. Everything she did just seemed to expose her to more people.

The police car was long gone, so it was too late to change her mind about being arrested. She looked around the dim, vacant lobby she’d found herself in. As her eyes adjusted to the weak light, she noticed a signpost with some writing on it that was far too good to be true. She got up and moved closer, rubbing her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. But sure enough, there it was.

“2nd floor: Bureau of Clothing”

And then, underneath it, in smaller letters:

“Give me your poor, your tired, your naked. Free coverings for all who need them. Open 24/7.”

A charity! A clothing charity that explicitly mentioned “your naked”, i.e. herself! And this one wouldn’t require payment with money she didn’t have. Maybe she wouldn’t need to get arrested after all.

Angela put her hair back in place and covered herself with her arms. She proceeded cautiously but optimistically up the stairs, to the local office of the Bureau of Clothing.

As she ascended the last few steps, a reception desk came into view. Behind this desk sat a neat little man in spectacles and a sweatervest. “Bureau of Clothing, how may I ass— oh! Oh wow!”

Angela sheepishly made her way to the counter, arms wrapped tight around her body. “Hi,” she said.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” said the man at the desk. “Welcome to the Bureau of Clothing, one part of the three-pronged National Helping Hands Initiative, in which our government has pledged to feed the hungry, heal the sick and clothe the naked.”

“Yes, great, I’m the naked. Could I get some clothes, please?”

“Certainly, ma’am! Just sign the entrance register here and we’ll kick off the process.” The man held a pen out in front of Angela.

Angela frowned. “Would it be possible to, uh, get some clothes first?” she asked. “I’ve, uh, got my hands full here.”

“Procedure is procedure, I’m afraid,” the man replied, his voice sickeningly chipper. “Just follow the process and we’ll have you dressed in no time.”

“What about your sweatervest? Could you let me wear it, just for a bit?”

The man put a shocked hand to his mouth. “Heavens no! That would be a gender mismatch. The big bosses would have my head! No, no, we must follow the proper procedure.”

Maybe this place hadn’t been the godsend it initially seemed after all. Getting clothing out of these people might take a while. Angela turned to leave, but felt a hand on her upper arm.

“Please don’t go,” said the man. “We want to help you, we really do. We haven’t had a full nude in ages! Please, sign the register, and we’ll get you some clothes.”

The man seemed genuine enough. And whatever happened in here, well, it was probably preferable to going outside and getting arrested. Angela reluctantly pulled her right hand away from covering her crotch and took the pen. She filled in her name, cellphone number and reason for visiting (“To get clothes”) in the blocks provided and signed at the end.

“Alright then, that’s all in order, right this way please!” The man motioned for Angela to enter a door to his left. She thanked him half-heartedly and proceeded through, holding her right hand between her backside and his spectacles.

The room beyond was a standard public office, with rows of ancient chairs against the walls, and a few snaking mazes of stanchions leading to windows, behind which bored government employees sat. Angela’s entry raised a few murmurs from these individuals, but no-one rushed out to help her.

Thankfully, there were no lines, or indeed anyone present other than the place’s staff. Angela walked over to the first window and greeted the woman behind it. The woman’s eyes betrayed a very slight spark of life, but she said nothing.

“I’m here about some clothes,” Angela said, feeling ridiculous.

“I can see that,” the woman replied, her eyes traveling slowly up and down Angela’s body. “This counter’s for footwear needs, you’ll want the next one.”

While Angela did have some footwear needs, they were not her most pressing concern just then. She thanked the lady and moved to the next counter, which was staffed by another, almost identical lady.

“Hello, I need some clothes,” Angela said.

“You need more than I can give you. This counter’s for tops, you’ll want the next one over.”

“I don’t have a top.”

“Yes, I can see that. You don’t have anything. Next counter.”

Angela sighed and move to the next counter, which was staffed by a fat, bald man, who licked his lips as she approached. Angela shuddered, and said, again, “Hello, I need some clothes.”

“This counter’s for bottoms. You’re looking for whole outfits, next one over. Can’t have ladies running around topless.”

“Really? But it’s fine to have them run around naked, like you’re making me do?”

The man smiled. “We’re here to help, but you need to follow procedure. It’s the only way to get it right.”

Angela moved to the next counter, where she found a bright, smiling young lady with red hair and sparkling blue eyes. She wore a lovely tan blouse and blue mini-blazer. Her name-tag read “Kate”. She seemed far too alive for this place, and closer to Angela’s age than any of the others.

“Hello there,” said Kate, a sympathetic look on her face as she looked Angela up and down. “You look like you’ve been through a lot today. But you’ve come to the right place.”

Angela sighed in deep relief. “Thank you. Please, tell me what I have to do to get some clothes.”

Kate leaned on her counter and pointed towards a desk in the corner of the room. “Grab a copy of form 3A, fill it in with your details and bring it back to me. That’ll be enough for us to kick things off.”

“This seems like an awful lot of admin for a naked girl who just needs something to cover herself. Can’t you just give me something to wear? At least something temporary, like a gown?”

A musical peal of laughter escaped Kate’s lips. “Oh honey, this is a government department. We’ll do our best for you, but we just don’t have the resources to give out temporary gowns to all comers.”

Angela scowled. “But the sign outside literally says that you will give clothes out to all comers!”

“All comers who follow the process,” corrected Kate. “We need some information from you so that we can allocate you the right clothes, tailored to your needs. Well, not literally tailored, but you get my meaning.”

Angela had a vision of Tammy’s bedroom. Was this just going to be a boring, drawn-out and bureaucratic version of that? She hoped not.

“Form 3A,” repeated Kate. “Come now, you must be getting cold.”

“Yes, I am,” Angela said between gritted teeth, before slinking off the find the form.

The desk in the corner of the room had a few scattered papers on it, one of which appeared to be a dog-eared, faded copy of Form 3A, Full Outfit Application for Totally Naked Individuals (TNIs). That described her pretty well. She grabbed the pen in her right hand and leaned over to fill in the form, left arm still covering her breasts. Her lower body was by necessity exposed, with her rump protruding. She tried to tune out the low whispers of the place’s employees and pretend that they weren’t all looking at her.

The pen took a few tried before any ink came out of it, and the little boxes on the form were the smallest she’d ever seen. Face screwed up with concentration, she slowly filled in her personal details. There didn’t appear to be another copy of Form 3A, and if she screwed this one up they’d probably send her bare ass packing. Kate would act apologetic about it though.

Name, surname, nationality, sex, age, address, contact details, favorite color ... past the personal details section, the questions on the form got a bit strange. In addition to her favorite color, it asked where her favorite place to do clothes shopping was and what her monthly clothing budget was. Sensing a trap, she filled in N/A for the first and $0 for the second. Didn’t need them deciding she didn’t qualify for help just because she wasn’t usually naked.

It also asked when last she’d been to a nudist beach (truthfully: never) and if she’d participated in any orgies over the last month (gross!). She filled in “none” for fabric allergies, checked “No” next to “Do you suffer from vestiphobia or related phobias?” and put an even bigger check on “No” next to “Do you feel comfortable in your own skin?”

The last question on the form read, “For how long have you been without clothes?” Angela glanced around the room and spotted a wall clock. The time was almost 3pm. Her hairdresser’s appointment had been at 7am. “8 hours”, she wrote, and it made her want to cry.

Angela sniffed and put the pen aside. She picked up the form and held it against her front, using her free hand to cover the butt that baldy had been making lewd comments about the whole time she’d been writing. Probably thought she couldn’t hear them, but the prolonged humiliation of public nudity had heightened all her senses. She felt every gust of wind, heard every low whisper and shocked gasp. She saw every look of disgust, disapproval and pity.

“Here you go,” said Angela to Kate, pushing the form through the gap under the glass.

“Thank you, Angela,” replied Kate, smiling beautifully. “And might I just say, I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

Angela coiled a strand around her finger. “I’ve certainly paid for it today.”

Kate scanned over the form, turned it around to look at the other side, and then nodded. “This all looks in order,” she said. “Please take a seat, and I’ll call you when we’ve finished processing.”

Kate smiled and disappeared from the window.

Angela walked over to a row of chairs against the wall and sat down on one, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. She glanced over the room. The people behind the windows all had their heads down, pretending to do something, ignoring her. The man would occasionally glance up at her.

Angela yawned. How long would they keep her waiting? The room’s stuffy air made her feel drowsy, but not enough to sleep. She would have need horse tranquilizers to fall asleep while naked in public. So she sat and stared at the wall.

Eventually, Angela heard a door to her right creak open. “Right this way, Angela,” Kate said, peaking her head out.

Angela stood up and approached the door. She gasped at what she saw there. Beautiful, elegant Kate was naked from the waist down! Angela caught a flash of red landing strip and then dutifully averted her eyes, casting them down at Kate’s high-heels.

Kate reached out to touch her shoulder and usher her through the doorway. “This way,” she said, heels clacking down the narrow corridor. She had a small, round butt. Angela scurried to walk abreast of her, though the space barely allowed it.

“You’re not wearing any panties!” she hissed. “You’re a Bureau of Clothing official and you’re not even fully dressed!”

“Budget cuts,” Kate replied nonchalantly. “I spend most of my time behind a window, so the higher ups decided it didn’t matter if I wore anything below the counter. And there’s always a need for more clothing to give to deserving cases like you.”

“Even underwear?”

“That’s usually the first to go.” The way Kate’s blouse shifted as she walked let Angela know that she wasn’t wearing a bra either.

Angela recalled the protestations of the man out front when she’d asked for his sweatervest. Maybe he would have given it to her if she’d been a man. That ... appeared to be how things worked here? She suddenly felt a new respect for the Bureau staff, especially brave, bottomless Kate.

The corridor opened up into a large open room, which was furnished with a desk to one side, a stool in the middle, and a treadmill next to the stool.

Kate cupped her hands over her mouth and called, “Horatio, I’ve got a new TNI for you! Female, mid-twenties.”

A door on the other side of the room flew open, and in stepped a small, hunchbacked old man in a dark suit. He was both bald and clean shaven, walked with a stick and gave off the impression of a turtle. Angela shuddered as his hungry gaze drank her in.