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the “Hail Mary” pass

         The intracampus envelope arrived in Tami’s mailbox the next day.  The note inside was short.  “Please see me at 1:30 p.m. today.  Dean Jorgon.”  Tami thought, the time is here.  I made it through that endless, horrible “sexual health” workshop and the ordeal is about to end.  Later today, for the first time in months, I will be wearing clothes.

         She couldn’t concentrate on her geometry class.  She sat in the back row of move theater-style chairs like she always did, using her book and notebook to hide as much of herself as possible.  Most of the students had gotten used to her nudity by now, and didn’t want to deal with the harsh stare of Mrs. Barrows whenever one of them turned their heads to look at the naked girl in the back row.  “The lecture is up here, sir,” Mrs. Barrows would say at such times.  Still, from time to time one of the guys did sneak a look back.  They could see Tami’s beautiful face, her bare shoulders and the upper parts of her breasts, and the toes of one foot gripping the empty seat in front of her, but that was all.

 

         Tami ignored the occasional backward glances.  In fact she was ignoring the class in general.  She was thinking only of what she would do later that day.  She had about eighty dollars left from what her father had given her at Thanksgiving.  She now earmarked it totally for buying clothes.  To stretch it as far as possible she would go to one of the discount places she often heard Terri and the other girls talk about.  Those places were almost right across the highway from campus.  She wouldn’t have to go through town, just deal with the stares as she crossed the highway and went into the store.  That would be easy considering what she had just been through.  She would first get sweatpants, a sweatshirt and some sneakers and put them on as soon as she paid for them.  The cheapest possible.  Together they should cost less than thirty dollars.  Then she would take her time with the remaining fifty bucks.

 

         She was trying to imagine the feel of the sweatpants and sweatshirt on her skin.  It was so long since she had worn clothes, it was hard to remember what they felt like.  She bent down and picked up her bookbag, which was made of denim.  She lay it across her lap and rubbed it back and forth once or twice.  Yes, that is close to what it would feel like.  She also thought of how the slipcover on her bed felt against her skin when she was getting to sleep, and imagined how it would feel if it was all around her instead of only underneath.

 

         She didn’t go to lunch.  Today she didn’t want to go through the daily ordeal of being stared at by half the campus in the dining hall.  Instead she stayed in her dorm room, sitting at her desk, watching the minutes slowly tick by.  She wanted no more of nakedness and wanted to keep any public exposure to a minimum until she was allowed to rejoin the world of clothed, normal people.

 

         It began to rain as 1:30 approached.  It was a cold, windy day.  Well, Tami thought, it will be rough going out today, but it will be worth it.  Like a swimmer bracing herself for a dive into a cold pool, she took a deep breath and then plunged into the wind and rain, following the path to Rossland Hall.  She didn’t need to take her bookbag.  Wearing her ankle pouch, she walked with her arms crossed in front of her, hiding most of her breasts, though because her breasts were big compared to her slender arms and were being squashed a bit, the bottoms could be seen poking out underneath.  The cold rain stung her from the side.  Soon her entire body was glistening with wetness.  Her feet were freezing from walking on the wet sidewalks and going through the occasional puddle.  Fortunately the temperature was above freezing, though not by much.  Her whole body was flushed red from the cold but she kept on going, intent on her destination.

 

         Again, she felt out of place entering the courtyard of Rossland Hall, and again the stones of the pavement hurt her bare feet.  But she didn’t mind the stones or the rain or the cold.  Her mind was on what she would do later that day.

 

        As always on cold days, when she got inside she immediately felt warm, almost hot.  She almost didn’t mind waiting for the elevator and standing naked in it with clothed people as it eventually got to the seventh floor.  Alert with anticipation she tracked wet footprints down the hall and into Dean Jorgon’s reception area.  She gave the appointment note to Gwendolyn King.  Ms. King looked at it with her usual haughty expression and wordlessly motioned for Tami to go into the Dean’s office.

 

         It was like before.  The Dean was sitting behind his imposing desk, with Henry Ross in the big comfortable chair to one side.  Once again Tami felt small and weak and vulnerable standing naked in this plush office before the two well-dressed men.  Once again the Dean denied her the dignity of sitting down, forcing her to remain standing in the mortification of full frontal exposure in front of the two men.

 

        Bare skin dries swiftly.  Tami’s evenly tanned, beautiful skin was dry by now except for her feet and some droplets across the tops of her breasts.  Her hair, though, was still soaked.  With both hands she gathered it and twisted it into a kind of ponytail behind her.  A small crooked stream of water trickled down her back and into her butt crack.  As for her pubic hair, it was still a little damp, flecked with a drop or two of rain that clung to it like dew on grass.  She looked up again and stood erect facing the men as if confident and unashamed.  Standing naked before these two men was easier to bear this time in light of what must follow.

 

        But there was something amiss.  She had talked herself into expecting the Dean to look on her with avuncular good nature as he released her from her sentence of public nudity.  She had the right to expect it; after all, she had earned it.  She had been through hell, suffering through that long sexual health workshop and all its humiliations, and had done it without flinching.

 

         While Mr. Ross hungrily looked Tami’s naked body up and down from his vantage point, the Dean looked at her face and began.  “Miss Smithers, you might remember our conversation of last week, where I told you that we were going to stop monitoring compliance with the, uh, tenets of your supposed religion, using your participation in the training given by Assistant Dean Congi as proof that your beliefs were genuine.”  Tami’s spirits sank as she sensed this was not going as she hoped.  The Dean almost cruelly let the tension build for a few seconds before continuing.  “I’m afraid that according to Mr. Ross, it was clear that you had compunctions about your participation.  This opinion is concurred in by the intern he brought with him as another witness just in case he was in error as to his observations.”

 

         Shit.  This was not going well.  Tami thought quickly.  Realizing she might be making a mistake she said, “I -- I didn’t know the workshop would involve . . . all those things.  I thought it would just be about self exam of . . . b - breasts.”  She hated to say the word, knowing it would draw attention to her own rain-topped breasts, which Mr. Ross was staring at greedily.

 

        The Dean said, “According to Mr. Ross, you also showed hesitation during the, uh, breast part of the training, even the parts that involved no more than standing normally.  You in fact clearly tried to cover yourself with your hands.”

 

         Tami shot a glance of daggers at Mr. Ross.  The angry words poured out of her mouth before she realized she was saying them.  “What!? . . . It’s not true!  Ask anyone who was there!  They’ll tell you!  They’ll prove that -- “

 

         “That WHAT?” suddenly thundered the Dean in a loud voice that shook Tami and made all the blood drain from her face.  “That your portrayal of a religious nudist was convincing?  The only reason you would want to prove that is if you were faking your religion claim and wanted to get out of our arrangement.  Otherwise it would be all the same to you!  Miss Smithers, you were and are naked and nobody is forcing you to wear clothes!  A religious nudist would have no reason to complain about this state of affairs!”  Tami cowered under his angry gaze.  She suddenly regretted missing lunch.  She was getting the shakes from the lack of food, aggravated tenfold by the Dean’s intimidating attack.

 

         Then Tami made a big mistake.  Without thinking, cringing in shock and fear, she crossed one arm over her breasts and closed her legs and used her other hand to cover her pussy.  Upon seeing the Dean raise one eyebrow, she forced herself to put her arms down, keeping her arms straight at her sides, her fists clenched, and forced herself to open her legs to a normal standing posture.


         This caused the Dean for once to indulge in a full-length appreciation of her beautiful nakedness from head to toe.  Seeing his close examination her charms, Tami died a thousand deaths beneath her motionless facade.

 

        The Dean’s gaze returned to Tami’s eyes and then he continued in a calmer voice.  “If nudism were your religion, you would have no hesitation about being naked in a public setting.  Even if, for the sake of argument, Mr. Ross were lying, you would feel no need to prove that in fact you were not trying to cover up.  Whether there were more, uh, intimate exposures is irrelevant.  According to Mr. Ross it was all of a piece.  You showed a desire to be covered throughout the training.”  He then said, speaking very slowly, “Miss Smithers, right now I am of the opinion that this whole religion thing has been a charade, an excuse to get out of the consequences of streaking on campus.”  He looked Tami right in the eye with a glare that could penetrate metal.

 

         Then he spoke in a low voice in the tone of someone who has been deeply offended.  “This college was founded by people who were deeply religious and suffered for their beliefs.  They did not fabricate their beliefs to excuse silly, irresponsible behavior.  Religion, true religion, is not fun, Miss Smithers.  It is not a prank.”

         Tami felt out-argued, out-prepared, out-manuevered, and totally outclassed by these experienced, knowledgeable, powerful, clothed men.  Her nakedness in these august surroundings only increased her feeling of vulnerability.  She felt like everything had been taken from her.

 

         It was clear to Tami that she was about to be expelled.  She had to act fast.  There was only one thing to do.  Tami Smithers threw her shoulders back, her prominent, firm breasts jutting out and pointing as if accusingly at her distinguished audience over her hard, concave tummy.  “I am a religious nudist,” she said firmly, looking the Dean in the eye and trying to numb herself as if voluntarily stepping off a cliff.  “You MUST believe me.  Please believe me!”  Her tone was both determined and pleading.

 

         The Dean said, “A minute ago you seemed to be covering yourself up.  Doesn’t your religion, uh, forbid such modesty?”

 

         Tami had to think fast.  “Yes.  It was -- wrong.  I won’t do it again.”

 

         “Really?”  The Dean continued to look at Tami with skepticism.  He tapped his pen against the desk, as if impatient.

 

         “Really!”  Tami went into a state of panic.  This wasn’t working.  To the naive, frightened 18-year-old, getting expelled would be the end of the world.  She also desperately wanted to get back into clothes.  She wanted to do something that would utterly convince the Dean so that he would honor his earlier offer to end the monitoring and allow Tami the option of wearing clothes again.  What could she do?  She remembered the workshop . . .

 

         Only such a state of mind could account for the extraordinary acts the girl now undertook.  Using all her gymnast’s skill and flexibility, she turned to the Dean in profile, grabbed her left ankle and, holding out her right arm for balance, drew her left leg out and up so that it was at shoulder height.  She forced herself to look the Dean right in the eye with an emotionless stare as she exposed her open, damp, stretched pussy to him for five full seconds.  Then she put her leg down, turned around, and bent over, spreading her legs.  In a final demonstration, she spread open her butt cheeks, giving the Dean and Henry Ross a clear view of her butthole.  She just could not look at them in this posture, even upside down; instead she held her head up so that she was facing away from these well-dressed, middle-aged men, which also meant she did not see the astonished looks on their faces.  Fortunately for the naked teenager they also could not see her expression of panic and utter misery.

 

         Tami slowly stood up and turned to face the Dean, exhaling.  In a tiny, quivering voice she said, “You must believe me.”

 

         The Dean was silent for a few seconds and shifted in his chair.  Both he and Henry Ross were waiting for their erections to subside.  He also seemed undecided as to what to say.  Finally he said, “I was thinking of expelling you, but I’ve changed my mind.”

 

        Tami sighed in relief.  The ultimate horror was not to be.  She waited now for the assurance that monitoring would end, leaving her free to wear clothes.  Seconds ticked by unbearably.

 

        But then the Dean said, “However, in light of what I’ve been told, I have no choice but to continue our former arrangement.  I will enlist others to help Miss Wanda Percival in the monitoring of your adherence to this supposed religion.  I also expect to see you at the next gymnastics meet, which is the day after tomorrow.  I will be there.”

 

        Tami felt a huge weight of disappointment tugging down on her.  It was only increased when she saw the Dean hold his thumb and forefinger an inch apart and say, “Miss Smithers, you are still this close to being expelled.  I still don’t fully believe you.  If we see any further evidence whatsoever that you are not completely, uh, dedicated to your religion, then notwithstanding your protestations, you will be expelled immediately.”  He then said calmly and evenly, “Again, a person dedicated to your religion would have no reason to object to this arrangement.”  He looked at Tami as if waiting for her to say something.

 

         Tami felt a surge of anger at Henry Ross.  She would have been home free if he hadn’t lied.  But there was nothing she could do about it.  She tried to think of some angry words to say but was stumped.

 

        The only thing she could do was deny these men the courtesy of saying good bye.  She turned on her bare heels and marched out of the office.  She was so distracted in her anger that she stubbed her little toe on the door jamb.  With only a temporary break in stride she went right on walking into the hall, ignoring the pain in her toe, trying to make herself numb to the consequences of what had just happened.  In her stunned state of mind she walked right past the elevator and had to continue around the circular corridor to get back to it again.  When the elevator doors closed on her, she suddenly and unexpectedly felt sobs beginning to erupt.  Fortunately she was alone.  She pressed a random button and got out on the sixth floor.

 

         Luckily as she hoped there was a ladies’ room right there.  She barged through the door and saw that it was empty.  She went straight to one of the stalls, her feet slapping on the clean tile floor.  Once inside she sat on the closed lid and began to cry, burying her face in her hands.

 

        The naked girl couldn’t hold back any more.  It seemed like all the frustration and humiliation of the past few months were pouring out of her.  There would be no shopping for clothes today, no feeling of being covered up again.  To have clothing snatched away when it was finally within her grasp was too much to bear.  She was condemned to stay naked and there seemed to be no way out.  Even though there was nobody else there and she was fully hidden in the stall, she pulled her arms in to cover her breasts, pressed her legs tightly together, and even pointed her bare toes inward so that one foot covered the other.  She pulled out some of the flimsy toilet paper which seemed to disintegrate as she used it to dry her copious tears.

 

         She was there for a long time.  At intervals she calmed down and then found the sobs coming again.  They echoed against the walls of the small lavatory.  She stamped her bare feet against the floor in frustration.

 

         While catching her breath she became aware of the scent of perfume.  She then saw a pair of shiny, high heeled shoes and nylons arrive to face her on the other side of the stall door.  A grandmotherly voice said, “Are you all right, dear?”

 

         Her eyes bleary, Tami reached up and opened the door just enough so that she could see the face.  She saw a woman past middle age, dressed immaculately in a green jacket and skirt, complete with a white ruffled shirt buttoned to the neck and a folded red kerchief in the pocket of the jacket.  She had on makeup and glasses hung from a chain around her neck.  She looked at the girl with amazement and concern.  “Miss Smithers?  Tami Smithers?”

 

         Tami was puzzled.  “You know me?”

 

         “Dear, you’re naked.  I don’t see any sign of clothes about you.  You must be Tami Smithers.”  Tami realized again to her chagrin how her nakedness set her apart from everyone else.  “Are you O.K.?”

 

         Clearly the naked, teary-eyed girl was not O.K.  Tami thought about telling this nice lady the truth, that she was forced to go naked and there seemed to be no way out of it.  She certainly needed an ally.  But she dare not do it in light of what the Dean had told her.  In the end it would come down to getting expelled.

 

         Tami decided to make something up.  “B - boyfriend problem . . . I’ll be all right.”  She looked up at the lady.  “Thanks for asking.  Who are you?”

 

         The older woman smiled, still with a look of concern on her face.  “My name is Mildred George, I run the Department of Foreign Languages.”  She looked at Tami’s tear-stained face, with a quick look down at her naked, cringing body.  Her next words made Tami want to scream.  “I’d offer you something to wear, dear, but I know it would be against your religion. . . I do respect that choice, believe me, though I realize how inconvenient it must be for you.”

         With a great effort Tami held her breath.  She resisted the urge to say, “Yes!! Give me something to put on!!  Please!!  Anything!!”, her body almost shaking from the strain.  But she knew it would get back to the Dean and she would be finished.

 

         Finally Mildred George said, “If you want to sit in my office to collect yourself, please come by.  It’s two doors down, Room 606.”

 

         Tami thought once again about telling the truth.  But everything she said today seemed only to backfire.  “Thanks, but . . . I’ll be going in a minute.”

 

         “Okay, dear.  Remember what I said though.”  Mildred George left the lavatory with the echo of clicking of high heels.

 

         Tami slowly closed the stall door and took some deep breaths.  She didn’t know what to do, until she realized that her next class was starting soon and she would have to go back to her dorm to get her books.  She felt grateful for this.  Once again, schoolwork would take her mind off things.  After a few minutes she carefully wiped all traces of tears from her face with the toilet paper.  As she became more relaxed she felt the urge to pee.  She opened her legs and held open the tops of her pussy lips with her fingers and looked at the stream of piss.  She always felt like an animal, peeing while naked.  Quickly using the toilet paper one more time she flushed the toilet and left.

 

         Five minutes later she was gorging herself on junk food from the vending machine in a small room on the first floor.  Then she wordlessly strode through the cold rain to her dorm.  All she wanted to think about was her next class, linear algebra.


 ​. . . .

         Dean Jorgon and Henry Ross looked at the doorway for several minutes after the naked girl had left.  Finally the Dean got up and closed the door.

 

         He turned back and shook his head.  “Jesus . . . That girl is tougher than I thought.”

 

         Henry Ross, being an experienced attorney, maintained a poker face, not betraying his thoughts.

         The Dean walked back to his desk and looked out the window.  “Do you think I made a mistake in not expelling her just now?  It’s clear to me she’s faking this religion business.  In retrospect that quick jaunt through the snow simply looks like another episode of streaking.  And that strip joint act just now was obviously just a last ditch attempt not to get expelled.”  The Dean shrugged.  “An attempt that worked, I guess.”

 

        The Dean looked at Henry Ross.  “This meeting did not go the way we hoped.  I had her red-handed.  But she stuck to her story . . . I sure as hell felt like expelling that little bitch, after she accused you of lying.”

 

         Henry Ross said blandly, “You really had no choice.  Like I told you before she came in, she has to make a clear, uncoerced admission that nudism is not her religion.  Otherwise the ACLU crowd will be all over us.  Remember what happened last year . . .”  The Dean made a sour face as he remembered the sex discrimination suit the college had settled for mucho bucks, and which the college was very lucky to get out of without any publicity.  Henry Ross continued, “You tried to talk her into making the admission and she wouldn’t do it.  In fact she did the opposite.”

 

        Though the college was no longer run by Baptists, it still depended heavily on conservative benefactors.  The Dean said, “We just can’t continue to have a naked girl walking around our campus.  I’ve heard rumblings from some of our friends and they’re afraid we won’t be able to keep the lid on this for long.  They don’t care about this First Amendment business.  Sooner or later they’ll take their money elsewhere.”

 

         Henry Ross said, “There’s nothing we can do until she admits that her religion claim is false.  We just have to wait until then.”

 

         The Dean looked sharply at the attorney.  “Maybe we can speed the process up. “  He spoke slowly, measuring his words.  “We have to find a way to make the practice of this so-called religion so unbearable for her that she’ll have to give up and admit that she’s really just streaking.  We have to find a way to make her say ‘uncle!’.

 

        “This college is not going to go down the tubes, on my watch, because of a silly girl with a bogus First Amendment claim.  Henry, I want you to think of ways we can do this . . . Apparently her ‘religion’ forbids modesty.  Well, I want it so that for Tami Smithers, Congi’s little show-and-tell session will look, in retrospect, like a church social!”

 

         Henry Ross saw the Dean look out the window again and allowed himself a faint, mischievous smile

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