[abrupt cut to man in ministerial outfit on stage, speaking to crowd, presenting medal to naked girl, with her parents, dressed in their finest, standing next to her] [narrator] It is estimated that Min-jeong’s catch accounts for 15% of the village’s entire production, measured in won.  That is why she and her family recently were invited to Pyongyang where the Minister of Fisheries bestowed her with the annual Golden Sunrise Award, given to the country’s outstanding student.

The “script” had four main scenes, various forms of abuse and torture.  They went over it yesterday before shooting began.  She could choose the basic “plot” idea.  She was either a schoolgirl who was caught cheating, or a housewife whose husband owed money to the Yakuza, or a political prisoner being interrogated.  She picked the last -- that way she could act defiant instead of scared.         She has also set some ground rules.  No clothing, not even a “harness”.  “I gave

Prudence has brought the posters, Kathy the markers.  The four girls are having a snack in the dining room when Mr. and Mrs. Fairweather come downstairs, all dressed up, already in their coats.  They are as tall as their daughter and, like her, carry themselves like African royalty.  Mrs. Fairweather wears an ornate headdress which seems to almost touch the ceiling.  “That whole family makes me feel inferior,” Prudence admitted once, and she was not alone. ​         “I see yo

DR. CHO        I see St. Lewina’s still insists on a special                         uniform. SHANNON     That’s right.  Our uniform is wearing nothing at                         all. DR. CHO        I bet that took a while to get used to. SHANNON     I think it’s easier for the first-years now.  I had                         to do that stripping ceremony.  But starting last                         year, they leave their clothes on the mainland.                         Makes i

There are eight girls up there, swinging their pom-poms.  The naked girl is second from the right.  They’re pretty well practiced, all moving in sync, the hard clap of saddle shoes hitting the floor all at once in rhythm, though I can detect the thud of bare soles too.  They twirl, their short skirts flying outward like little pinwheels, and she’s spinning and jumping right along with her clothed teammates, even though she has no skirt to twirl.  Her breasts are about the siz

I manage to wind my way around the side street and come up near her at the storefronts.  There’s a bench there, and I buy a soda and pretend to relax.  In fact I’m observing her closely as she looks into a store window. ​         I count the ways she is unique here.  She doesn’t wear clothes or shoes.  She has no friends or acquaintances.  She’s the only Ama.  Her skin is dark, and theirs is pale.  And there’s something else about her -- I don’t want to use the word “savage”,

Today would be Thanksgiving Day in the United States but of course it was no special day here.  In town I was able to make out a poster announcing a town meeting tonight and I decided to go. ​         There was a town council of five older people and they were hearing public comment on what sounded like -- a “tourist pier”?  A man in a suit, evidently an outsider, explained the project and took questions.  My sense was that the townspeople would be happy to attract any kind o

Third period was math, a class Brigid was in, and what was more, her assigned seat was near the front.  Rod was in the back, one row over.  He could pay better attention here, because his skin coverage calculations had gotten him to like math, at least a little.  They were on algebra now, doing problems on the board for Mr. Gianelli.           Rod was lucky.  Brigid’s desk-chair was not quite in line with the others so he got a good look at the side of her that stuck out.  Sh

30.    We climbed up the ladder to the top of the plant and I immediately saw that there was still over a foot of snow up there.  It went up to her knees.  She helped me heft the loops up and we worked quietly together separating the wires, my overcoat and shirt and gloves next to her bare shoulders and bare breasts and bare hands, my pants next to her bare legs, my boots and thermal socks next to her freezing bare feet buried in the snow.  I worried about her getting frostbi

“Damn!” Maurice says, jumping to his left, hindered by his heavy boots, once again unable to catch the moist ping pong ball.  He picks it up off the cold ground and flips it to Sandy.  “That was some curve!” ​         “She’s left-handed, so it’s a screwball,” Tom points out.  As Sandy rinses the gritty ball in the bucket she flips another one to Patty.  With her left hand Patty pops it into her vagina.  In her other hand is a slice of pizza and she takes another bite.  The di

Brigid, Brigid...  How could he show his love for her in this crisis? He felt helpless, standing out in the hall with the suffering majorette trapped in that closet.  He decided to be heroic.  To hell with the band, it’s Brigid’s welfare first.  She could not emerge as she was.  He would give her his jacket, which would serve to cover her nipples.  Then he would go out with her, and she could act sick with the jacket draped over her, and he’d tell Sarge that Brigid was ill an

She stood up and shook the water off herself like a dog, and gathered her hair behind her and squeezed out the excess.  Then looked up at the building.  No, no one had seen her.  She looked back down at the spout and turned it off.  God, that felt good.  Thank you God, for giving this to me and letting me feel all these wonderful sensations.           The hot dry sun lovingly and quickly licked her dry as she bent this way and that to expose every part of her perfect, tanned

As Phil and Duvon kept talking, with Kai-Kai mostly listening, Angela’s mind wandered to the heavy burden of work she had this summer. A lot of documents had come in from Russia and she had been working with Ludmilla Woronov, a P-7 of Russian descent who lived a couple of hours away by car. She was the proud mother of Project triplets, who would stay over their grandparents’, along with her other three children, so that Angela and Mrs. Woronov could work undistracted. Mrs. Wo

February 3.           Today I made my first close-up observation of Miss Tami Smithers.  As arranged, I went to Professor Brignon of the Art Department, who explained that Miss Smithers had agreed to serve as a model for their figure drawing classes.  Miss Smithers had come to their rescue, because the college had announced that this semester it would be opening up these classes (along with some others) to the community and to the students at the local community college, only

We followed Dr. Harridance back into the bright circular lab.  I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t help myself.  The slight, slender body of the nude 18-year-old-girl was shaking even more than before.  She was gasping, her flat midriff heaving in and out, her toes curling and uncurling below the ankle cuffs.  I can’t deny the fact that I am a human male, and even at my age I found myself feeling some sexual arousal at this powerful sight.  I immediately tried to suppress it

One of the guys had thrown a clod of dried mud at her, hitting her on her side, just below the armpit.  It was followed by another, hitting her on the side of the butt.  Soon she was target practice for a series of dirt bombs, one after another.  It was hard to believe these jerks could be so cruel but they were having a great time at it.           As she got higher up she suffered a particularly nasty shot, a cross-blow on the side of the breast.  This was followed by anothe

The naked girl, sweating from her long travels since leaving the Daughters of Judith, her body marked up by the branches and leaves and dirt she had walked through, her bare feet muddy and scratched up by brambles, stumbled through the steaming Georgia woods and crouched down, finding herself in front of a clearing.                   It was a big garden.  Behind, some fields, and a large building, looking like a big school, out of place in the middle of this wilderness.  And

“Hey Brigid,” another guy said as he passed, “are ya -- FRIGID?”           He could detect Brigid giving him the finger from under the table.  He was fascinated by her even more now.  She could give as well as she got.           “Woo!  Look!  The girl scouts!”  Debra’s announcement got the three of them up.  Careful to put her sandals on first, Brigid joined the rest of them as they went up to the big window facing the street.  They stepped up onto the low sill and pressed th

The gregarious Mr. Penka sat down next to his wife and took over the conversation. He had a folder with him from which he took an article cut out from an old-style newspaper. “This is from Dnevnik, the biggest newspaper in Sofia, the capital,” he explained. The article was in Bulgarian, which no one understood, but was clearly about his wife’s participation in the Project, topped by a photo of the two of them, smiling next to a man in a business suit who Mr. Penka said was th

“She can speak.  And read!”  Rydall, in his ragged tunic, hat off, hair wild around his ears, staggers into the kitchen, to an astonished Mr. and Mrs. Whyte.  The wife is horrified to see the naked girl so close to the doorstep.  “Get that -- witch away from this house!”         “She is no witch!”  Though it is not his place to do so, Rydall pushes the garlic and the St. Benedict medals away from their place on the window sill.  “You have no need of these.  Though I have be