The Girl Who Didn’t Change, Day Four

By Molly McMann

After another sleep-deprived night of intimacy, an exhausted Jamie was still sound asleep at 7:30 when Sam, now fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, kissed her awake. Sam hadn’t gotten much sleep either, but it was only her second day at her new job so she made sure she was up in time to shower and prepare for work.

Jamie, barely awake and still tangled in the damp sheets, managed to focus her eyes as Sam crossed the tiny apartment in two strides and was at the door. “Oh, your phone was ringing a minute ago, sleepyhead.”

After Sam was gone, Jamie lay staring at her third new ceiling in as many days. She and Sam were living together! They were a real couple and it wasn’t going to end in a few days anymore. She laughed at herself in embarrassment, amazed at how much she’d gone naked – in front of all of those people! Well, THAT craziness was over.

Jamie reached for her phone, wondering who it could be since no one but Sam even knew Jamie’s phone number. She played back the message: “Jamie, this is Annabelle Bethanyson calling from Simone Enterprises to confirm your appointment at 9 a.m. Simone has instructed me to draw up an employment contract so we can get you working right away. See you at 9!”

Wow, this is great, Jamie thought. I’ve practically got a job already! She bounded out of bed to go take a shower, but then stopped abruptly in front of the mirror. Uh-oh. Her conversation with Simone played through her mind, word for word. Oh crap, that had to mean that . . . that Simone would be expecting Jamie to come to the appointment naked! How could she assume anything else after what Jamie had said?

But surely there was a way to explain it, she told herself as she got into a steamy shower. She could simply say she changed her mind. But . . . overnight? After the things she’d said? Simone would not believe that and would think Jamie had been deliberately deceiving her. Why not just tell the truth? But the truth didn’t even make sense to Jamie. She did it to woo Sam, but that didn’t explain why she said what she did to Simone when Sam wasn’t even there and after Sam had expressly told her it was okay to wear clothes. Why did she do that? If she couldn’t explain it to herself, how could she explain it to someone else?

Jamie was still puzzling over her options a few minutes later as she dried her hair and put on her body lotion. She could go to the appointment naked, but then tell Simone she was considering the going back to clothing. She could say that as much as she truly desired to stay naked, that she had reluctantly decided that wearing clothes would increase her chances at getting a good job. She was making a sacrifice of her lifestyle preference in order to bring in a much-needed paycheck.

That seemed the best plan, Jamie decided, though the downside was that she’d have to go to the appointment naked. Of course, considering all that she had done naked in the past 24 hours, surely she could do it one more time in order to preserve her chance at whatever jobs Simone’s agency had to offer.

It was now past 8:30 and Jamie absolutely needed to get going. She checked her purse for her key but then remembered that the only key she had was to the dorm room, not to this apartment. She and Sam hadn’t even discussed keys yet.

Leaving the apartment door unlocked was not an option. It would have been back at the dorm, but not here in the big city. She could take some of Sam’s clothing with her to put on after her appointment, but where could she hide them? No, she would just go shopping after her appointment, and then perhaps arrange to meet Sam for lunch where she could borrow the key and go make a copy.

With that plan in mind, Jamie stepped out into the hallway and bit her lip as she gently closed the door until it clicked solidly. Once again, Jamie had intentionally locked herself out naked. She took the stairway down to the ground floor and pushed out the revolving door into the busy city.

Although Jamie had walked naked through downtown Hariston the previous day, somehow it felt different. Yesterday, she had been so preoccupied by her search for Sam and expecting any minute to find a clothing store. But now she had neither of those distractions and could not think of anything except her very public nakedness.

The most awkward moments were when she had to stop at an intersection to wait for the light. Then she was just standing there naked as cars went by. She tried to act as if she were just another busy Haristonian on her way to work, holding her phone to her ear as if already on an important business call.

However, she had to admit to herself that there was something wonderful about the experience that she could not deny. Although Haristonians were notoriously aloof and supposedly unshockable, none of them were mentally prepared for their first sight of Jamie Taylor. Her beauty was startling even when she was fully dressed, and many people would have guessed she was a herm from her face alone. And yet here she was completely nude except for her various red accessories and her sunglasses.

Jamie saw their reactions – first surprise or even shock but then came the smiles. The most negative reaction was a studied indifference, but very few people could avoid looking at her and as they recovered from the surprise everyone seemed absolutely delighted to see her. For someone who had spent most of her life believing she was a freak, this kind of attention filled Jamie with happiness. Yesterday she had been too worried to let herself feel it, but today Jamie allowed a hidden door in her heart to open and she felt joy and confidence, both such new emotions for her.

When she had nearly reached her destination, Jamie found herself walking past a string of clothing stores, all of them with nice dresses in their display windows. Yes! This was the perfect spot for her to buy a new dress – maybe two dresses for a change. Watching her nude reflection in the shop windows as she walked on past, Jamie vowed to return as soon as her interview was over.

Right around the corner she found the correct building and pushed through the revolving doors into the spacious, busy lobby where nearly everyone immediately noticed her presence. Taking a crowded elevator to the 9th floor, Jamie stepped out in front of glass doors with “Simone’s Talent Agency” painted on them. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

The pretty young receptionist was obviously surprised to see Jamie, but greeted her with bubbly cheerfulness and directed her to a waiting area with elegant chairs. Every interior wall seemed to be covered with mirrors so Jamie could not help but watch herself as she walked to the chairs and sat down. Another woman was also waiting – a tall brunette with perfect makeup and a tiny dress. Now that’s what a model looks like, Jamie told herself, and it wasn’t just how the woman looked but how she sat, balancing imaginary books on her head and with her long legs tightly crossed.

Jamie tried to strike a similar pose, straightening her back and crossing her legs. However, this squished her penis between her legs, so she re-crossed them and this time she lifted up her penis and flopped it to rest on her thigh after her legs were crossed. That felt better.

Filling out the application for employment was discouraging. After all, Jamie had zero official work experience, no references and not even any college credits yet. The only thing she felt confident about was checking the box that asked if she could sing. Jamie  heard her name called and looked up to see another pretty young woman beckoning to her from an office doorway. Jamie had to walk 20 feet or so to reach the woman’s office and as she did so Jamie could see by the woman’s expression that she had not, in fact, been told Jamie would be nude. Oh great, Jamie thought. She probably could have worn clothing after all, but had foolishly convinced herself she had to come to the appointment naked. Stupid.

“Hi Jamie. I’m Annabelle. Simone told me you were special, but she didn’t tell me how special! Please have a seat.” Jamie tried to look like a model as she sat in the guest chair in Annabelle’s small office. As she crossed her legs, Jamie again lifted her penis and dropped it on her thigh where it made a barely audible slap. Annabelle watched with the expression of one receiving a delightful and unexpected gift. “Well,” she finally said, “I must say, Jamie, you are a very beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you,” Jamie said, feeling herself blush at the compliment. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me, but I really don’t have any experience at modeling, or at anything really.”

Annabelle waved this aside. “Dear, in the modeling business we are always looking for someone fresh and new. A girl doesn’t need experience if she’s as beautiful as you are. And I absolutely LOVE that you’re naked.”

“Well, about that—“

“Oh, that’s Simone ringing in now,” Annabelle said as her phone buzzed. She punched a button and said, somewhat louder, “Simone! I’m sitting here with Jamie right now.”

“Excellent,” Simone’s voice said on the speakerphone. “And how does she look to you?”

“Positively adorable!” Annabelle exclaimed. “And so gloriously nude!”

“Yes, she is adorable,” Simone agreed. “And as for being nude, Jamie explained to me last night that she prefers to always be nude and in fact no longer owns any clothing, so we must factor that into our thinking.”

“Oh my, yes!” Annabelle exclaimed.

Panicked, Jamie hurriedly blurted out her cover story as best she could. “Although I do truly love being naked, I’ve been thinking lately that I may need to give it up. You see, I really have to help my girlfriend with rent and other expenses and I’m sure I’ll have a better chance at getting a good job if I go back to wearing clothing. It would be selfish of me not to do that.”

Simone and Annabelle were silent for a moment and Jamie feared they’d seen through her deception and would throw her out for lying to them. But then Simone’s voice came through the speaker again. “That is very mature of you Jamie, but I assure you such a sacrifice on your part will not be necessary.  Don’t you agree, Annabelle?”

“Oh absolutely,” Annabelle laughed. “We can definitely accommodate your preference on this.  There are loads of possibilities.”

Jamie was feeling desperate, grasping for something else she could say as the printer on Annabelle’s desk came on and several important-looking pages churned out. Annabelle took the pages and put them upside down on her desk facing Jamie. “This would be a one-year contract, Jamie, but if you want to be a full-time college student in the fall we can work around your school schedule. Here’s the amount of money we can guarantee you just for the summer.”

With her elegant pen, Annabelle pointed to a dollar figure that made Jamie’s mouth drop open. Although she’d come out of the commune naïve about how much things cost, she had since learned how much air travel was, how much tuition at college would be and what Sam was paying for their tiny apartment. This amount would make a huge difference in their lives.

“And here’s the addendum in which you assert your intention to remain nude continuously, along with our commitment to giving you exclusively nude assignments.”

“Annabelle,” Simone interrupted. “Please add another zero to the end of that figure.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but Bridgette was in an auto accident early this morning. Don’t worry, she’s going to be fine, but she won’t be able to work today.”

“Oh my!,” Annabelle gasped. “She was supposed to do the Duchamp shoot!”

“Exactly. Francois is already set up in the Plaza and suddenly he has no model. Of course we have a few other girls who might do it in a pinch, but don’t you think this would be ideal for Jamie?”

“Oh absolutely! In fact – and I wouldn’t want Bridgette to hear me say this — I think Jamie would be even better than her.”

Even with her limited experience buying cosmetics and body care products Jamie knew the name Duchamp. “Um, what’s this all about?” she finally asked.

“It’s the annual Duchamp photo shoot,” Simone said in a way that assumed Jamie would be familiar with it.

“Oh, right,” Jamie faked. “So, um . . . that’s today?”

“Yes and it’s a perfect opportunity for you. Francois Deneuve is the best male photographer in the fashion industry, arguably among the top five overall. But the important thing is that it’s the Duchamp Sessions. In a single day, Francois will shoot six sessions with a single model and the resulting images will go on all of Duchamp’s product labels and will be used in all of its advertising – the Duchamp Girl ad.”

Jamie could tell that this was something that anyone in the Outside World would know so she just nodded and Simone went on. “I just showed your picture to Francois and he said you have the face of a goddess. And when I told him that you’re a herm who goes naked continuously in your day-to-day life, that put it over the top. Now baby, I’m sorry to throw all of this at you in such a rush, but if you want to do this you need to decide right now – because if it’s not going to be you, I need to know that now so I can figure out a Plan B.”

Annabelle offered the pen to Jamie, who accepted it in a trance. She looked at the dollar amount again with its extra zero already in place, and then she read the addenda item again. She looked down at herself, so starkly nude. Her pink nipples puckered as she looked at them and her penis roused itself and nudged forward an inch against her thigh. Jamie imagined herself showing Sam the contract with it’s dollar amount and it’s nudity clause. Her penis scooted itself a little further down and Jamie felt a sense of calm certainty. She signed the contract with a flourish and slapped the pen onto the desk.

“Wonderful!” Annabelle declared, grabbing the pen from Jamie and signing the document herself. “Now let’s get to work!” Annabelle leaped up from her desk and grabbed Jamie by the elbow, leading her from the room to a private elevator as Simone’s voice called her congratulations over the still-open speaker of Annabelle’s phone. “The car is waiting downstairs,” she said. “Get Jamie over to the Plaza and I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

The staff-only elevator whisked them to the garage level where a sleek, black SUV with dark windows waited, its doors open. Inside, the seats were plush leather, cool against Jamie’s bare skin.

“So . . . where are we going exactly,” Jamie asked.

“To the Palace Plaza, of course. The Duchamp Session is always at the Plaza.”

The ride was only a few blocks and when Jamie exited the car a video camera crew followed them as Simone and Annabelle led Jamie up the stone steps. Jamie was awed by the view of the Palace surrounded by gleaming office towers. A red-uniformed guard stood by the urn that held Queen Elaine’s ashes, which would not be buried until the new queen was chosen.

The Duchamp crew was set up on the highest platform where they could be seen by tens of thousands of people looking down from office tower windows or milling among the food concession carts that were being set up for the lunch crowd.

A skinny old man dressed in black bowed in greeting as they approached and said “ah, and she is lovelier in life zan in zee photograph! Now, we must get started, yes? Time, she will not wait for us so we must be quick.”

The video camerawoman tagged along as Francois handed Jamie off to the care of two young women, introduced as Britney and Bethany, who each had more tattoos and body piercings than Jamie had even imagined someone might choose to have. One had green hair and the other blue hair, but Jamie was not entirely sure which one was which. They went to work, removing Jamie’s necklace, earrings  and shoes. Though these few accessories had done nothing to hide her nakedness, Jamie somehow felt more nude without them, especially when the makeup girls led her to a steaming bathtub right there on the stage in front of the entire city.

“I did take a shower this morning,” Jamie said, “and it was hardly two hours ago.”

The girls laughed, and the green-haired girl said, “we always start with a bubble bath, don’t we Brit?” The blue-haired girl nodded and Jamie made a mental note that blue was Britney.

Jamie stepped into the sudsy water and sat down in it, immediately feeling her body relax and the tension leave her muscles. She leaned back as Britney and Bethany began to wash her. They used no washrags but soaped their hands and rubbed them against Jamie’s skin, seeming to pay particular attention to her exposed, shiny-wet breasts. Again and again they splashed the soapy water on her chest and slid their hands over her breasts, making her nipples harden. Below the bubbly water the four hands made slippery caresses on Jamie’s legs and feet and even her vagina and her penis, again seeming to require exquisite certainty that these particular body parts were as clean as possible.

Jamie’s penis responded to this unexpected intimacy by becoming fully erect and nearly poking its head out of the bathwater. Britney and Bethany seemed to decide that since it was now larger, her penis required additional washing.

A video camera was affixed some eight feet above the bathtub pointing straight down, but soap bubbles concealed what was happening beneath the water line.

But then Jamie heard the plug pulled and water began rushing out of the tub as Bethany cheerfully sang out, “all done!”

There was only one thing to do. Jamie plunged her hand into the water and grabbed her penis, simultaneously sliding her ring finger and pinkie into her vagina. Instantly, she splashed, but only a ripple in the sudsy water between her legs gave any clue to the camera of what had just occurred.

Jamie was still dazed by the sudden orgasm when Britney and Bethany helped her stand up in the tub, sprayed the remaining suds from her body and began toweling her off. Next, they led her to a hairdresser’s chair where they dried and styled her hair and began to prepare her makeup.

“Can you believe her skin, Brit?” Bethany marveled.

“It’s fabulous,” Britney agreed. “Jamie, you have such perfect skin. Me and Bet have seen a lot of skin and everyone has flaws that we have to cover up because those high-def cameras really pick up the details. But you . . . you don’t have a single flaw on your whole body!”

“Um, thank you.”

“So, let’s skip the foundation, Brit,” Bethany suggested. “This is a makeup shoot so we gotta do eye shadow and lipstick.”

“But what if consumers think it’s Duchamp makeup that causes her to look this great?”

“No brand of makeup is gonna make someone look like this, Brit, and every rational person knows that. If Francois wants her to look as beautiful as possible, then don’t cover her up.”

Britney agreed and in a moment they were ushering her back to Francois. The bit of makeup was all that Jamie wore, her jewelry and shoes having been left behind.

Francois went quickly to work, sitting Jamie on a stool under mostly natural light. Two very large TV screens set up behind him showed every photo as he took it, so that people crowded around could see them.

Because this first photo shoot was for hair and makeup products, the photos only showed Jamie from the shoulders up, but when he was satisfied with these, Francois moved on to the second session, for body wash, lotions and smooth-as-silk shaving products. He had her stand on the stool and then he sat cross-legged on the floor shooting up the length of her body.

Jamie nearly toppled off the stool when she saw the first photo go up on the TV screens. It showed her from the toes up, displaying the undersides of her breasts, her penis and even the slit of her pussy, which Francois was intentionally illuminating with secondary lights. He had worked with hundreds of models and knew how to keep them in focus “Look at ze camera, my dear,” he instructed, “Now I want you to lift up your left arm and reach over your head and touch your right ear. You will do this for Francois, yes? Ze camera, she wants to see your lovely underarm, so smooth it is, so wanting of a kiss by ze one you love.”

Jamie did as she was told but tried to steal a glance at the TVs. “No, no, my sweet,” Francois admonished her. “Look down at ze camera for it is zee eye of zee girl you love. She has begun to kiss you down here at your little toes, and she kisses you up your very smooth and beautiful leg to your hip and zen she kisses each of your little ribs and zen her kisses, they climb up over your lovely breast. She looks up into your eyes and you sink she is coming to kiss you on ze lips, but instead she kisses her way up under your arm where your skin is so smooth.”

This made Jamie smile in exactly the way Francois wanted for his photo, and it also made her elongated penis swing outward just a little to expose more of Jamie’s other lips. “Perfect.” Francois whispered as he took a rapid fire of shots.

The third photo session was for a line of jewelry stores. In this scene, Jamie was a bride without a wedding dress. Britney and Bethany put her hair up and fitted her with a lace veil that fell halfway down her back. They placed around her neck a double strand of pearls with matching dangly earrings and for her feet, sparkly-white, four-inch heels. They slipped onto her left thigh a baby-blue garter belt for the “something blue” of wedding tradition. Finally, of course there were the rings – an expensive wedding ring and engagement band — which completed Jamie’s ensemble.

Francois by this time had learned enough of Jamie’s reactions to flirt and tease and cajole her into whatever reaction he wanted. And so for the wedding scene he told her a story about her own someday wedding to the girl of her dreams which may be someone she has already met or someone she is yet to meet. He had told similar stories to hundreds of other models, but it struck a particular chord with Jamie, who swooned as she imagined herself someday being Sam’s bride. In her fantasy wedding scene, Jamie was wearing precisely this outfit as she walked down the aisle.

Just in time, Jamie realized she was getting an erection. It was beginning to rise, but was not yet perpendicular and might still be stopped. Concentrating, Jamie mentally and physically pushed her penis back down, until it lost its momentum and dropped back down in disappointment.

Francois chuckled as he captured the moment and then he called for the lunch break. It was about 1 p.m. and the streets around Hariston Plaza were now jammed with people buying sandwiches from street vendors and hanging around the Plaza to watch. Office balconies were lined with people as if for a parade.

The Duchamp crew had catered its own lunch which was being set up on banquet tables covered with white linen. Still wearing her bride outfit, Jamie started walking over to the luncheon table but then she halted in her tracks and gasped. Two of Francois’ photos were being projected in enormous size on the sides of two buildings facing the plaza. The first was a gigantic close-up of Jamie’s face from the makeup session. The second photo was from the skin care session and it was a full-body shot, looking up along the line of Jamie’s leg to her armpit. If there had been any doubt that the Duchamp model was a herm, this photo fully resolved that question.

Even as Jamie stood gaping at these, a third photo went up on another building. This was from the just-completed jewelry store shoot with Jamie as the naked bride. Francois had chosen his image from the moment when Jamie realized she was getting an erection and was trying to make it go away. Her right hand was covering her mouth in embarrassment as her left hand – wearing the wedding and engagement rings – pushed daintily down on her half-erect penis.

Jamie staggered on her four-inch heels over to the luncheon table, her eyes distracted by the out-sized display, and when she looked back down she was surprised to see Sam standing with Annabelle and Simone. Still wearing her bridal veil, pearls and garter, Jamie ran to Sam and leaped into her arms. “How did you know I was here? I wanted to call and tell you about my new job, but there hasn’t been any time.”

“Baby, you’re all over the news!” Sam replied. “You’re the Duchamp Girl!”

“I . . . I don’t quite know what that means,” Jamie laughed, “except that it pays really well and it’s . . . a lot more public than I thought it was going to be. I can’t believe how many people are standing around watching.”

“Honey, there’s something you need to know,” Sam said, suddenly serious. “The news sites have been trying to find out more about you, and they traced you to the commune. Jamie, they’re reporting that you grew up as a boy.”

“Oh no!” Jamie gasped. She had so divested herself from her old life that she hadn’t even thought about it being revealed. This was infinitely more embarrassing than merely being seen naked. It was absolutely the last thing she wanted anyone to know about her.

Jamie began to weep as she heard Simone saying, “Jamie, I’m sorry this happened so fast today. Normally I talk to the girls about what happens when you get famous. I should have prepared you for this.”

Down the stone steps on the sidewalk, the public and press were cordoned off at the edge of the Plaza, and Jamie saw the zoom lenses pointing at her. Before Annabelle and Simone realized she was going to do it, Jamie began walking down the stairs toward the press. Annabelle tried to catch her, but Jamie was quick, and surprisingly sure-footed in four-inch heels. By the time Annabelle caught up it was too late and they were standing in front of dozens of whirring and clicking cameras.

“Miss Taylor only has a few minutes available,” Annabelle announced officiously, trying to take control of the situation. “She will very briefly answer one or two questions.”

The reporters all shouted out questions, the most common being variations of “were you really raised as a boy?” and “do you really live naked?”

Jamie cleared her throat and said, “It’s true that I grew up Gated In . . . and it’s true that I was raised as a boy. I don’t know if they just couldn’t tell I was a herm or didn’t want to acknowledge that herms exist because all that mattered was that I had this.” Jamie lifted up her penis and let it fall again.

“My mother died when I was four and they put me in a boys’ orphanage. I remember trying to tell the adults I belonged with the girls – that I was a girl – but no they told me it was a sin to even say that. I stopped saying that because all it did was make things worse. But I tried to keep believing it.” Jamie’s voice broke and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

“As I got older, people started looking at me like I was deformed, and then I got these.” Jamie cupped her breasts in her hands for a long moment as she said, “I loved them, but I tried to hide them because they were jut more evidence of my freakishness. I heard them say I was a mistake of nature — an abomination that for some mysterious reason God allowed to be born. On the morning of my 18th birthday, before anyone else was awake, I climbed over the gate. That was . . . three days ago.”

Even among the most cynical reporters there were gasps and tears as Jamie told her story.

“I had some money from my mother’s life insurance and I wanted to get as far away as possible and I went to enroll at Scarborough University. I had to have a physical exam, and that’s when I found out I was a hermaphrodite — and therefore a girl, and not a freak.”  Jamie sobbed as tears ran like rivers down her cheeks and dripped onto her breasts.

Annabelle stepped between Jamie and the cameras. “I think that’s enough for now,” she said, but Jamie shook her head and wiped her eyes as she fought to regain her composure.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll answer the other question too. The one about . . . about my nudity.”

Wiping her eyes with a tissue Annabelle gave her, Jamie went on. “At Scarborough, I met Sam, who–”

“Are you now referring to the former Olympic athlete and college hoops star Samantha McCain?” one of the reporters called out. “And as a follow-up, are the two of you romantically involved?”

At this first public mention of their relationship, Jamie grinned, made an involuntary giggle and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, causing her pink nipples to jiggle for the cameras.

“Was that a yes?” someone else called out, and the entire press corps roared with laughter.

“Yes it was a yes,” Jamie said, and then wagged her finger at the women, adding “but she prefers to be called Sam, not Samantha.  Anyway, one of Sam’s other talents besides sports was convincing other girls to go naked.  Even though I knew by then that I was a girl and people even told me that i was pretty, inside I didn’t believe them because I’d spent so many years being told I was a deformed boy.  But everyone seemed to like it when I went nude, especially Sam, so I did it.  At first I thought I was doing it to please her, but now I know that I’m doing this for myself — because I truly love being nude.”

This was a very stirring little speech – especially to Jamie’s penis which was so stirred it rose to give her a stranding ovation.

“Oh crap, not now!” Jamie shrieked, pushing down on her erection and mentally wishing it to go away. Although this technique had worked a few minutes earlier during the wedding photo shoot, this time she was too late. Her penis stood up full and hard as cameras clicked like machine guns. Jamie knew it was too late to stop it and let her hands drop to her sides.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her face and chest going bright red behind her pearls “I just can’t control it very well and once it gets this big it just sort of locks in position. Unless I splash – which I really hope I don’t do in front of everyone – it could take an hour to go back down. I hope nobody minds too much.”

The hardboiled women of the press tried to maintain their objectivity on this question, failed utterly, and began assuring Jamie that they certainly didn’t think anyone would mind at all. Annabelle took the opportunity to bring the impromptu press conference to a close, announcing that there was only 10 minutes remaining before the next shoot and Jamie had not yet had time to have her lunch.

Annabelle took Jamie’s arm and they walked together back up the long stone stairway, Jamie still wearing her bridal outfit, her rigid penis swaying back and forth with her stride. At the lunch table, she took a glass plate and selected some mixed fruit and bit of Greek salad. Others in the production crew were still eating also, standing together in a circle because there were no chairs, and Jamie joined them. She tried to just ignore the fact that her penis was still fully erect, and she was grateful when the women in the crew ignored it also and made small talk about other things.

Just as she could not control whether she got an erection, Jamie also could not control the production of moisture inside her vagina. As she stood eating bits of fruit from the glass plate, still wearing her bridal attire, drips began to slip through her labia and fall to the stone between her feet where a little puddle grew. This did not go unobserved, but the Duchamp crew — being pros — politely ignored it.

As Jamie had predicted, her erection did not go away for a long time. It remained steadfastly in the “11 o’clock” position when the lunch break concluded and she was sent back to the makeup station to prepare for the next photo shoot. Britney and Bethany carefully removed and packed away the bridal accessories, and began preparing Jamie for the next photo session.

It was a beer ad and the setting was to be a tropical beach, so the makeup girls began giving Jamie a spray-on tan. Although the color was applied with a spray gun, Britney and Bethany deemed it necessary to use their fingers to rub the color in, so as one of them sprayed the other rubbed it on Jamie’s skin. When they reached Jamie’s penis, it was still quite erect. Undeterred, they began meticulously rubbing in a layer of color. They also had to do her bottom and between her legs where Jamie’s pussy continued to drip. This was a potential problem because sometimes the drip ran down her inner thigh and this disturbed the makeup. Bethany  balled up some tissues and delicately inserted it between Jamie’s lips just far enough for it to stay in place.

Meanwhile, Britney had returned to work on Jamie’s still-erect penis while Jamie herself focused on not splashing. “I think you’ve got it,” she finally said.

“Be patient,” Britney replied with a little grin. “We’re the makeup experts. Bethany, what do you think?”

“It’s too orange, Brit,” Bethany insisted. She sprayed some plain water on Jamie’s penis and used her hands to rub off some of the color and then she dried it with a paper towel.

“Now you’ve taken too much color off,” Britney complained. They took turns spraying on a little color and rubbing it in as Jamie bit her lip and concentrated. This went on for several more minutes until Francois started yelling for them to wrap it up.

“Just one more sec,” Britney called. Setting aside the tan sprayer, she picked up a squirt bottle filled with baby oil. Now she sprayed on a layer of wet sheen to simulate sweat. Jamie could not help but laugh at the irony of this. “I could have done that for you,” she said.

“You should have,” Britney laughed, digging the now-sopping ball of tissues out of Jamie’s pussy. “You can’t say we didn’t give you a chance.”

The crew had set up a green screen background which would become the backdrop. Posing Jamie in front of it, they turned on a wind machine to blow her hair back and boosted up the spotlights to simulate the tropical sun. Finally, they gave her a volley ball to hold in one hand and an ice-cold beer bottle to hold in the other.

Jamie’s erection had not subsided even slightly, but Francois decided it was perfect for this particular ad.

“Imagine you have just beaten all of zee others at volley bool,” he said. “And here you stand laughing at zem, yes? So bold and bare you are, and you have zee hard-on of veektory!” Jamie laughed just the way he wanted and Francois got what he knew was the perfect shot.

It did not take long and now Jamie was sent back to Britney and Bethany to have the fake tan and fake sweat washed off. For this, they had her stand up in the empty claw-foot bathtub while they sprayed her with warm water. Of course, the spray alone was not enough so while one girl performed that task the other would lather up her hands with soap and rub them on Jamie’s skin to wash everything off. Both girls preferred the lathering task to the spraying task so they agreed to take turns.

As before, some body parts seemed to require much more attention than others.  Again and again they lathered their hands and rubbed them between Jamie’s legs and on her penis, which was still erect but beginning to soften slightly. However it was still perpendicular and substantially enlarged and as the girls took turns vigorously cleaning it, they kept their faces close to their work. Jamie knew they were daring her to splash them in the face, and oh she wanted so much to do so. But the videographer was so close, zooming in to capture the moment while down the hill the photojournalists had their giant zoom lenses on tripods pointing at her too.

Jamie managed to keep control, disappointing both the makeup girls and her own penis, which finally gave up and collapsed from exhaustion, slowly shrinking to almost-normal size.

For the next shoot, the props were an opened bottle of red wine and a half-filled wine glass. Francois knew exactly the pose he wanted. He would shoot from behind her as she stood with a wide stance forming a triangle inside of which the viewer would see the bottle of wine. A crew member opened the wine and poured some into a glass. Francois knew how much wine he wanted remaining in the bottle and he knew how much he wanted remaining in the glass so he kept telling Jamie to take a few sips until they got it just right. Now the bottle was half empty and Jamie was feeling the buzz as she stood in her pose, her feet planted wide and holding the half-empty glass in her right hand, her arm straight down so the wine glass would be in the frame next to her thigh.

Jamie knew Francois was aiming his camera between her legs from behind, but she still had so little knowledge of her own body it did not yet occur to her that the poofy slit of her vagina would be so prominently displayed, her penis dangling behind it. Francois recorded this image at least 100 times with only the slightest variation between shots.

Now they had reached the final photo shoot of the day. This last advertisement was for a company that made expensive sheets and pillowcases, and the setting of the shoot was a king-sized bed upon which Jamie was to recline sensuously.

The company’s claim to fame was that it’s synthetic material absorbed moisture without letting wetness through to the mattress. The product’s previous ad campaign showed a married couple drinking champagne in bed to celebrate their anniversary and humorously spilling the bottle in bed. But for the new campaign, Francois had something sexier in mind.

Positioning Jamie on her back, sprawled across the bed diagonally, her legs entwined in a tangle of sheets. “Now my dear,” he said to her. “My camera, she is going to be focused only on your beautiful face, but your whole body must be involved, yes? We must see in your expression that you are having ze orgasm. So do with your hands what you do when you give yourself love. But I will be looking at your face, not at your hands. Your eyes must be on the camera, looking back into the eyes of the one you love.”

Jamie’s penis, having rested, perked up at this suggestion and Jamie felt it rigid in her hand. “You want me to . . . to splash myself?”

“Yes, but it is not ze splashing zat I am trying to capture, but your expression just before ze splash, yes?”

“Okay,” Jamie smiled, “but you better be quick because zee orgasm, she will not wait for us, yes?”

This made him chuckle. “What a bad girl, making fun of poor Francois. I will be ready when you are ready, my sweet little one. But your eye must stay with my camera, yes?”

“Yes, Francois,” Jamie breathed in a whisper as her fingers reached between her legs to the wet slit of her pussy where she was dripping with sweat. She had tried so hard to avoid splashing earlier, but now Francois wanted her to, so it must be okay. She wanted to close her eyes, but she kept them open, staring with adoration at the camera in which she imagined not Francois’ eye, but Sam’s. Her fingertips slid upwards out of her vagina and slid wetly along the underside of her rigid penis.

Jamie smiled, keeping her eyes on the camera. “I love you,” she whispered to the camera as the orgasm began and in an instant sweat splashed across her face and chest.

“Fini!” Francois declared. A cheer went up among the crew and someone popped open a few bottles of champagne. Jamie was still getting her breath back after her orgasm and sweat was running off of her face and chest onto the apparently impervious sheets. She just wanted to lie there and let it dry on her skin like she always did, but she heard voices calling her name.

Jamie sat up and looked down the tall stone steps to where the police had cordoned off the public. Hundreds of people were crowded together trying to watch and when they saw she was looking in their direction they waved excitedly and called her name louder. Without consciously deciding to do so, Jamie stood and began walking down the stone steps towards the crowd, her face and chest still dripping with the sweat of her ejaculation

Although a few men were in the crowd, those who pushed their way to the front as Jamie approached were all women – their arms stretching over the barricade wanting to touch her. As two security guards hovered nearby, Jamie stepped closer and began touching the hands that reached out to her. But it was not just Jamie’s hands that her fans wanted to touch, but her body – especially wherever she was wet – and she saw women put their wetted fingers to their lips or wipe her sweat on their cheeks as if it were a magic elixir. As Jamie slowly moved along the barricade, she felt hands on her breasts and even on her penis and between her legs where she was dripping wet. But this did not feel like sexual groping to her, but something more innocent and pure.

When she came to the end of the area that had been roped off, Jamie waved goodbye as she turned to walk back up the stone steps, her body now completely wiped dry.

By this time, Francois had chosen his sixth image and there it was projected onto the side of a building – Jamie’s face, still dry, at the moment of orgasm while frozen in the air a few inches above her face a thin, clear sheet of liquid glistened in the light.

So now there were six photos on six buildings, all of them 40 or 50 stories tall. The first and last were close-ups of her face while the four in the middle all showed her nude body from one angle or another. Two of the photos showed her with a full or partial erection.

The production crew was still packing up its gear, but Simone, Annabelle, Britney and Sam were getting into a limo and waiting for Jamie to join them. She said her goodbyes to Francois and the crew and then climbed in and took the space they’d saved for her between Sam and Britney and again felt the cool leather seat against her skin.

“Baby, you were wonderful!” Sam declared, grabbing her by the ears and planting a big kiss on her. “But did you just cheat on me with 200 people down there?”

“No!,” Jamie squealed, embarrassed. It had been a beautiful moment that she hoped to experience again, but she was not sure how to talk about it so she changed the subject. “Where are we going anyway?”

Annabelle was just getting off a phone call and said, “it’s all set. Jamie and Sam are both booked on Ellen tonight.”

“Um, who’s Ellen?” Jamie asked.

Annabelle laughed. “I keep forgetting you don’t know these popular culture things. ‘The Evening Show, with Ellen DePalma.’  She’s a very famous comedian and on her show she interviews guests who are in the public eye – and you, dear, are the star of the moment.”

“Gosh, this has all happened so fast. So, there’s an audience?”

“A small audience – 200 people or so. You’ll just go out and sit with Ellen and she’ll interview you for 10 minutes, then they’ll bring Sam out to join you.”

Though she was emotionally exhausted and just wanted to be alone with Sam, Jamie nodded her ascent and Annabelle sent the producers a text confirming the appearance.  Then she opened up her notebook and projected a holographic screen displaying charts and numbers. “We’ve only got a few minutes before we get there so let me bring you all up to date on the data we’ve been seeing all day. The instant polling data is so far off the chart we had to have the IT guys make sure it wasn’t a programming error. You polled extremely well among both men and women, but honey you are absolutely phenomenal among women between 18 and 40, which is of course Duchamp’s demographic. Jamie, nearly every woman in the country just fell in love with you.”

“Oh that can’t be so,” Jamie laughed, waving it off. “And whatever you’re seeing is probably just because of those ginormous photos!”

“It’s not just the photos,” Annabelle said. “The Duchamp Girl always gets a lot of attention every year, but nothing like this. We even factored in an extra boost because of you being a herm, but the numbers are way beyond that estimate too.”

“It’s you, Jamie,” Simone said. “It’s you as a person that people love. Not just that you’re the Duchamp Girl, not just that you’re a herm, not even just because you go naked – though that is a huge factor. No, Jamie, what the country loves is you. We started seeing the reaction during the first photo shoot, and then photos and video of you started surfacing on the Interweb – including this amazing piece of footage.”

Simone held up her phone and played the video of Jamie singing “Choose me” back at the dorm. “This became the number one video in the U.Q. within 10 minutes after it was posted this morning. All the news channels started following the shoot live – which they’ve never done before. They broke away now and then to work in some of their other programming, but when you started walking down that long bank of steps toward the press every station switched live to hear your voice for the first time. Virtually the entire country was watching when you told your very personal story. You were eloquent and charming and genuine, and they loved you for it. When you spoke of your childhood, millions of people wept, myself included. And then, in an instant, you lightened the mood and millions of people laughed with you — and fell in love with you.”

“And then they probably all masturbated,” Sam put in.

“Some of us were a bit too busy to do that,” Annabelle laughed, “Not that it didn’t cross our minds. But yes, Jamie, virtually every woman in the country is now fantasizing about you — and probably the men are too. All day long the media has been reporting what they were learning about you second-hand, and that tantalizing detail – that you’ve chosen to be naked continuously – was rumored all day long, but no one was certain it was true. Then you were in front of them confirming it, talking with such honesty and openness about why you want to be naked. You totally had them at that point and just when no one could imagine anything sexier than that, then you topped it all by getting a humongous erection on live TV!”

“But I . . . I couldn’t help it!” Jamie cried. “It just happened and I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve been struggling with it all day and I knew I couldn’t keep hiding it with that many cameras on me.”

“You handled it perfectly,” Simone said, patting Jamie’s bare thigh. “That was a home run from a PR standpoint.”

“Definitely,” Annabelle agreed. “We have polling results on that too. The vast majority of respondents gave positive answers about your erections.”

“You polled THAT?”

“Of course,” she said. “People love your story, they love that you go naked all the time, they love it when you had that erection during the photo shoot.  Lordy, those are high positives — I’ve never seen numbers like this before. Needless to say, that video clip of the moment when you splashed yourself is at the top of the charts. You should do more of that, honey. Oh, it looks like we’re here.”

They had only traveled a few blocks, and several of Jamie’s fans had followed on foot.

When the car came to a stop in front of the World News Network building a security team had already cordoned off a pathway for Jamie and her entourage to enter the building. As Jamie exited the limo, she was overwhelmed by the crowd and the attention. Many of the women closest to the barricades had stripped themselves topless or even naked, striving to get Jamie’s attention.

Jamie was drawn to them and before the security guards realized it she started leaning over the barricade to accept hugs and skin-against-skin intimacy with more than a hundred women who had squeezed themselves into the limited space.

Annabelle took her by the elbow to pull her along and keep her from lunging over the barricades and in so doing they made their way up the red carpet. Jamie would not allow herself to be hurried as she accepted embraces from each woman in turn.

Once inside the theater, they were ushered into a green room which was well stocked with chilled wine, fruit and cheese. A TV monitor showed what was happening out on the stage while another monitor showed a TV station with the words “Coming up: Jamie Taylor on Ellen!”

Jamie gulped.  “This is going to be on live TV?”

“That’s right,” Simone said.  “Usually Ellen tapes her shows a few hour before broadcast, but this show is special.”

Jamie didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t realized it was going to be on TV at all.  In her mind, it had just been 200 people in an audience, which she could see in a third monitor.

“Is it my imagination or are the women who seem the most excited about . . . about me are really attractive?”

“You’re not imagining it,” Simone said. “It’s your pheromones. Didn’t that doctor back at S.U. cover this part?”

“She had to cover all the basics with me,” Jamie said, a little embarrassed by her ignorance. “I guess she didn’t have time for pheromones.”

“Well, we all emit them and we all react to them,” Simone explained. “They’re in our sweat and on our skin. But there are subtle differences that makes a woman attracted to other women similar to herself in physical beauty. So a homely girl is more likely to be truly attracted to another homely girl, and beautiful girls are attracted to other beautiful girls.

“Everyone is attracted to herms, of course, but the more beautiful the woman, the more exited she will be about you. A plain-looking girl might fantasize about you, but she does not lose control of her emotions because her body tells her you are beyond reach. But a more beautiful girl will be more excited because her body tells her she has a chance. And a very beautiful woman – a woman who might herself be a supermodel on the covers of magazines – well, this woman will become so excited by you that she will behave like a teenage girl infatuated with a movie star. I’ve seen it happen many times.”

“You’re a herm too, aren’t you?” Jamie said.

Simone laughed. “I assumed you knew that the day we met, if only because most people recognize me from my own modeling days. Sometimes girls in your generation don’t know me because I retired 20 years ago when I turned 65. But then when I learned you were Gated In, I realized that of course you wouldn’t have—“

“Wait,” Jamie interrupted. “What did you just say about your age?”

“I’m 85 years old,” dear.

Jamie remembered what the doctor said about herms not showing their age, but this seemed unbelievable. Other than her white hair and some lines around her eyes, Simone looked as young as an especially fit 30-year-old. “But you . . . you don’t look . . . you can’t be . . .”

Simone glanced around to confirm that they were alone and then she untied the sash that held her wrap-around dress together. She opened it and Jamie’s mouth dropped. Simone’s breasts were much larger than Jamie’s but they were still round and firm, without a hint of sagging. Her stomach was flat and her hips and legs as perfect as any woman of any age could be. Simone’s pubic hair was white against her well-tanned body and even as Jamie watched, Simone’s penis grew into a sudden, full erection in a matter of three seconds.

“Oopsie,” Simone said, closing her dress and retying the sash low enough on her hips to press her still-standing erection against her body. “I’ve never learned to control—“

She was interrupted by sudden applause in the theater below as Ellen DePalma was introduced. Jamie and Simone joined the others in the green room watching Ellen’s monologue in which she made several hilarious references to the hoopla over Jamie Taylor — and when she announced that the rumors were true that Jamie would be her guest that evening, the studio audience went wild.

A makeup staffer from the show dashed into the green room to assess Jamie. “Wow,” she laughed. “If everybody looked as perfect as you, I’d be unemployed. All I need to do is give you a light powdering for the TV lights.” She quickly did this and dashed from the room as another staffer beckoned Jamie to follow.

Jamie was positioned behind a curtain and told to wait as she heard the announcer’s voice introducing her. The curtain opened and she did as she was instructed, walking across the stage to the desk where Ellen waited. The cheers from the audience were deafening and did not relent even when Jamie was standing next to Ellen and ready to sit down on her interview couch.

“Well, that was impressive,” Ellen said when the noise died down “I worked 10 years to get cheers like that and you did it in a day, girl. What’s up with that?”

“To tell you the truth,” Jamie said. “I have no idea what exactly happened today. I just fell off the turnip truck a few days ago and wandered into the Plaza and now here I am.”

“Were you naked in this turnip truck?” Ellen asked. “And why do these trucks only carry turnips? What’s wrong with carrots? But enough about produce. I’m told there was a particular moment when you gave up your last article of clothing. Can you describe that moment for us?”

“Oh yes, my yellow dress,” Jamie said, and she launched into a recounting of the previous morning’s events. She’d been so busy since that this was really the first time Jamie had even thought back on it and now that she was describing it the feelings rushed back to her. As she got to the part in the story when she took off her dress and handed the clerk her receipt, Jamie was aware of her penis becoming erect. She noticed it early enough that she might have pushed it back down, but she decided not to and by the time she had finished the story it was fully erect.

“Oopsie,” she said, imitating Simone.

“I think I speak for my entire audience,” Ellen said, “when I say . . . Oh. My. God.”

“I really hope no one is offended ,” Jamie said, “but I get, like, 10 or 15 of these a day, and if I’m going to go naked all the time – and I’ve decided I really want to do that – then I don’t know what else to do except just let it happen when it happens.”

“That sounds like a fine idea to me,” Ellen said. “What do you think, audience?” Everyone in the theater roared in approval.

“Well, this seems like an ideal segue to introduce my second guest,” Ellen said. “She won an Olympic gold medal in volleyball, she won a national college basketball championship, and now apparently she has won Jamie’s heart. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Sam McCain!”

Sam came onstage wearing a tight black dress that covered almost nothing above the waist where its narrow straps somehow managed to stay on her nipples as Sam’s otherwise unhindered breasts bounced gently with her stride. Her magnificent arms and shoulders were fully on display as she waved in response to the thunderous cheers. Though she’d been out of competitive sports for more than a year, Sam McCain remained one of the best known athletes in the U.Q. and millions of girls across the country had pictures of her on their bedroom walls.

Jamie’s penis was still fully erect as Sam gave her a five-second kiss, and they sat on Ellen’s curved interview couch with Jamie in the middle.

“Isn’t this cozy – just the four of us,” Ellen said to much laughter.

“I just want everyone to know,” Sam said, “that I get to play with this whenever I want.” She gave Jamie’s rigid penis a wiggle with her thumb and forefinger, holding out her pinky. The beautiful women in the audience cheered like sports fans urging Sam to do more as the camera zoomed in.

“Sam!” Jamie squealed.  “You’re gonna make me splash on live TV.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what your fans want you to do.”  The audience whooped and cheered, tearing at their own clothing.

“Sam, please . . .”

“Now if any of you is ever lucky enough to date a herm, I’ll give you a tip. “The  most sensitive spot is right here.”  With her index finger, she gently stroked the underside of Jamie’s penis.

“Sam, please.”

“Just slide your fingers up and down right here . . .”

“Please, Sam,” Jamie breathed, her eyes now closed. “Please make me splash on live TV.”  Every woman in the audience was on her feet, many now partially undressed themselves. Blouses and bras were tossed in the air and trampled underfoot as they cheered.

Sam winked at Ellen and gave Jamie’s penis a quick squeeze.  A geyser exploded from Jamie’s penis, drenching her completely while also raining down on Sam and Ellen. At that instant the audience went almost silent but for the gasps, and then it exploded as well, bursting with random articles of clothing that flew up in the air and rained back down.

When the noise subsided enough for her to speak, Ellen said, “so, could I offer you something? A towel, maybe? A cigarette? Shot of whiskey?”

Jamie shook her head and opened her eyes, her face and hair dripping. “I don’t actually like to . .. wipe it off.”

“Not with a towel anyway,” Sam said, “but Ellen, Jamie does like to wipe her sweat on something.”

“Well now I’m intrigued,” Ellen said, “and I know the audience is. What exactly does Jamie like to wipe her sweat on?”

“I took the liberty of recruiting a few volunteers from the audience,” Sam said. “Ladies! Come on out!”

Three naked women, each so beautiful she might have been a contestant in the Miss U.Q. Pageant, ran onto the stage giggling like 12-year-olds. They lined up in a row and with Sam’s direction each embraced Jamie, briefly rubbing their skin against hers, their faces against her neck and their hands everywhere.  The audience was in a frenzy and nearly everyone was naked except a few forgotten boyfriends who congregated shyly at the back of the crowd, holding their girlfriends’ purses.

“That was surprisingly generous of you, Sam,” Ellen said as the three naked women left the stage.

“I’ve decided I’m going to have to share her,” Sam said as the audience applauded and cheered.

“Well!” Ellen said to the camera,  “We’ll be back after this break.  Stay with us — I’m sure you will —  and maybe Jamie will show off her voice also.”

During the break Jamie made sure to hug each of the naked girls and kiss them each on the cheek before they left the stage, and then she said to Ellen, “They told me you want me to sing, but I haven’t rehearsed anything.”

“The girls in the band were hoping you’d sing ‘Choose Me’ with them. They’re a lot better than that karaoke machine, aren’t you girls?” The band members responded with a flurry of drum rolls, guitar licks and piano flourishes to show their enthusiasm.

Then the show was back live and Ellen said to the camera, “If you’re just joining us . . . well you really missed out! But there might still be something pretty special if we can talk Jamie into singing for us.” The women in the audience most of them now entirely naked, were losing their voices as they screamed for Jamie to sing.

“I don’t even have the words memorized,” Jamie weakly pleaded.

Ellen stood and pulled Jamie by the hand over to the stage where the band was set up. “Honey, we may not have a karaoke machine, but we do have teleprompters. See? Just stand here and look into that camera. The words are right below it.”

The band leader, a black-haired woman with tattoos covering both arms, counted down the beat and the song began. Jamie felt relaxed and confident. She launched into it, pitch perfect from the first note, and belted out the song that now meant so much to her. Only two days had passed since she’d sung it to Sam back in the dorm basement, still thinking she might lose her in a few days. But now she and Sam were together and so much else had happened. It had taken Jamie a while to believe that people actually did think she was pretty and that they actually did want to see her going naked. And in that way they were choosing her, and she wanted that so much. All of her life, Jamie had been the most imperfect and least desired person in the entire Gated In community, and now she looked out into an audience of beautiful, naked women jumping up and down, their perfect breasts bouncing, as they called out her name in voices gone raw.

Jamie wept with love and gratitude as she sang, and she held the final note longer than anyone had heard a singer do before. And while her voice still echoed in the theater, Jamie ran to the edge of the stage to clasp the sweaty hands of the women in the front row. They tugged at her and she lost her balance and fell into the crowd, but a dozen hands caught her and held her aloft. Realizing they would never let her fall, Jamie arched her back and surfed on her chest across the crowd, as hundreds of hands passed her along, many of them also gently squeezing her penis or touching her sweat-drenched pussy as she passed above them.

At the back of the crowd, Jamie came to her feet, her penis now erect, and embraced the first woman she could and then the next. Working her way back to the stage, Jamie took a moment with every one of the 200 women, all of them naked and treading on their abandoned, ruined clothes.

As Sam and Ellen watched, Jamie hugged each woman in turn, bare skin against bare skin. Depending on the other women’s height, sometimes Jamie’s erection pressed against their bellies and sometimes it slipped between their thighs. When the height difference was just perfect, the tip of Jamie’s penis would be snug against the wet lips of the girl’s pussy, sometimes slipping slightly inside.

Before she embraced the 50th naked woman, Jamie splashed involuntarily, sending a geyser of warm sweat above their heads and raining down on everyone nearby. Every wet girl immediately rubbed her body against a dry girl, spreading Jamie’s sweat until as many women possible had shared in it. Ten minutes later, after 100 more embraces, Jamie splashed again, and everyone who was wet rubbed vigorously against anyone nearby who was dry.

Finally, Jamie was at the stairs going up to the stage and she felt hands caressing her bottom and between her legs as she climbed the stairs to where Sam and others were waiting.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, seeing something unusual in Sam’s expression. She was afraid Sam was jealous about all the touching that went on in the crowd, but that wasn’t it.

Then, Jamie noticed what was on the three giant video screens behind the stage. There was her face and the words “Jamie Taylor elected new queen of the U.Q.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “That’s a joke, right? I wasn’t even a candidate, and isn’t the election next Monday?”

Annabelle, who was now among those closest, said, “Jaime, every woman in the U.Q. is eligible to be queen. Voters have been writing in your name all day, but while you were singing ‘Choose Me,’ just now, well, everyone did. Monday is the final day of the election, but so many people have voted for you already that the outcome is decided. Annabelle knelt and bowed her head. “Your grace,” she said. “You are our new queen.”

As Annabelle knelt, so too did Ellen, Simone and even Sam. All said, “your grace, my queen.” Up on the TV screens the news stations showed huge crowds all across the U.Q., everyone kneeling in honor of the newly chosen queen.

“Please, please everyone stand up,” Jamie said. “This can’t be true.”

Annabelle, Sam and the others stood, as Annabelle said, “it’s true, Jamie. You’ve been chosen as our next queen, and you will remain our queen for the rest of your life.”

“We Love Queen Jamie! We Love Queen Jamie! “everyone in the crowed chanted. Up on the video screens, the news stations showed crowds in city after city across the U.Q. chanting “We Love Queen Jamie!”

A red carpet appeared at Jamie’s feet, and it was unrolled in front of her as the crowd parted respectfully, no one stepping on the red carpet as Jamie walked down it, followed by Sam, Annabelle, Simone and the rest. Burly male workers, directed by a woman, kept the carpet unrolling and added new sections each time one ran out. The citizens dutifully stood aside and accepted the red carpet as the boundary they could not cross. But Jamie held out her arms to touch their fingertips as she followed the carpet down the stairs, outside and across the Plaza to the Palace.

The analytical part of Jamie’s brain had by this time abdicated and she allowed the momentum of the moment to carry her down the carpet, her fingertips touching her fans and moved forward. Whenever she passed a naked woman she paused to embrace her and as this was noticed on live television feeds to women in line watching on their cellphones, it provoked a phenomenon along the velvet rope line as more women shed their clothing for a chance to be embraced by Queen Jamie. The final 50 feet took a very long time as Jamie paused to spend a special moment with each naked woman on the line.

Now Jamie was ascending the steps of the Palace where women in vestments of the Church of The Mother blessed her. At the top of the stairs was a throne where two women in formal red uniforms held a crown. When Jamie reached the platform she turned to look back from the top of the Palace steps. Every street was jammed with people. Every window of every skyscraper and every bridge and balcony held people watching this moment in history. She could see thousands of faces looking back at her and she felt as if she saw each face individually, and she wanted to know each person personally.

Two women in white robes lifted the diamond-studded crown and held it above Jamie’s head. Declaring Jamie chosen by the people and by the Mother God Herself, they placed the crown upon Queen Jamie’s head. She stepped forward to the center of the platform overlooking the city, every microphone and camera focused on her. She looked modestly down at herself and spoke her first words as queen – “Oh crap, not now!”

The writings of Molly McMann