The Volunteer

by D. H Jonathan

  Stacy stood without moving, her eyes wide. She looked like she was trying to figure out what to say, and I didn’t have time to wait on her.

  “See you later,” I said, pushing the door open and stepping into the stairwell.

  Afraid that Stacy might follow me, I bounded down the stairs, almost tripping at one point. The thick soled sandals felt heavy on my feet. It seemed ironic that the only things I was allowed to wear, the sandals, were not very comfortable. I slowed down on the bottom floor. The walk from Carlisle Hall to the dorm had been short. I was about to go out for a much longer time. My regular routine had me walking across campus to my Nineteenth Century British Novels class and then back across campus to eat lunch in the dining hall. After lunch, I had to cross the campus again to go to my world history and Spanish classes. I usually didn’t return to my room either before or after lunch, although today I thought I might need another coat of sunscreen.

  I stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and tried to gather myself before going outside. I thought back to that skinny dipping adventure and remembered that the thing I had been most afraid of was getting arrested or in trouble. Dr. Slater had guaranteed that I would face no such consequences, so I should be able to go naked without any fear. And yet my knees felt weak at the thought of walking out in public naked again. I knew I needed to change my attitude, to think of going nude as a privilege instead of a punishment.

  “I get to be naked,” I whispered to myself. “I don’t have to be naked; I get to be naked.”

  Taking a look out the window on the door, I was dismayed to see that foot traffic around the dorms had greatly increased.

  “Shit,” I whispered, remembering the crowd that had followed me half way across the Commons. I wondered how many people would follow me this time.

  I didn’t want to be late for class, so I put my hand on the bar of the door.

  “I’m going out the side exit,” I said, hoping that Greg was paying attention.

  After taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped out into the sunlight. I didn’t pause to wait for anyone to notice me but just started walking. My nipples stiffened in the gentle breeze. I saw a guy glance at me, then back toward where he was walking for just an instant before his head jerked back around again. I almost laughed at the classic double take, but I kept walking. Others were looking in shock or surprise as I merged onto the concrete walkway. I tried to ignore the looks of the oncoming people, but I couldn’t help but see the widened eyes and dropped jaws. One guy smiled at me and said, “How you doin’?” like Joey from the TV show Friends used to do. I smiled and said, “Fine,” but I didn’t slow down when the guy stopped almost in front of me. I wanted to look and make sure Greg was back there somewhere, but I also didn’t want to encourage the Joey guy to follow me. So I kept my eyes forward.

  The warmth of the sun felt good on my bare shoulders. It was another beautiful day in the valley. I carried my binder at my side in my hand, my fingers curled around the bottom. The tips of those fingers would brush against my hip every few steps, reminding me that I was naked. People still continued to stop and stare when they saw me, but I did my best to ignore them. I GET to be naked, I told myself again, but I still couldn’t help but feel the shame of having to do this to keep my college career intact.

  “Are you OK?” I heard a girl ask.

  I nodded and kept walking. That bravery I had felt when I had stopped and confronted the following crowd on my way to the dorm had left me. I just wanted to get inside, away from the eyes of EVERYONE. My British lit class only had about fifteen students, so at least my exposure there wouldn’t be so public.

  I was halfway across the Commons when I saw Diane, my roommate, walking toward me with her boyfriend James trailing behind her.

  “Dani?” she said in a loud voice.

  I wanted to turn and run, but I stopped walking and held my ground. Diane seeing me naked like this had to happen sooner or later. I had just imagined, and hoped, that it would have been in our dorm room.

  “What the hell?” James exclaimed, and I moved my binder so that I was holding it with both hands in front of my pelvis, hiding my pubic region.

  “Hi,” I said meekly when Diane and James neared.

  “Where are your clothes?” Diane said, shaking her head and laughing.

  My mouth felt dry, but I couldn’t let Diane see my humiliation. I forced a smile and said in as cheerful a voice as I could muster, “I gave them up for Lent.”

  The two of them burst into laughter, and I couldn’t help but laugh with them.

  “Got off to a late start then,” Diane said.

  James pointed his phone at me and hit a few buttons. I blushed, wondering where those photos were going to wind up.

  “Seriously Dani,” Diane said, “what the fuck?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I have to get to class.”

  My standing still was starting to attract a crowd, so I walked past Diane and James toward Preston Hall and my literature class. Diane hurried along beside me with James trailing behind again. I was never more aware or self-conscious of the jiggle of my buttocks as I took each step.

  “So did you lose a bet?” Diane asked me.

  “No.”

  “And you’re just going to go into class like that?”

  “Yep,” I replied.

  “I don’t believe this.”

  I didn’t believe it either, but I couldn’t tell Diane that.

  “You think your professor is just going to let you into class like that?” Diane continued.

  I shrugged, but based on what Dr. Slater told me about this study, I didn’t think I would have any problems with professors. “I guess I’ll find out,” I said.

  I increased my walking pace, hoping Diane would drop off and go away.

  “But why!?” she wailed.

  “It’s complicated,” I replied. “I’ll tell you later.”

  “You’d better.”

  She slowed down, and I could hear her say to James, “What are you looking at?” I didn’t hear his reply.

  Once Diane was left behind, I looked around and felt the butterflies in my stomach when I realized just how many people were looking at my naked body as I walked. My breasts were bouncing painfully and obscenely with each step, and I had been so intent on getting away from Diane that I had ignored them. Slowing down, I probably blushed, and I once again had to resist the urge to cover up and run away. As I neared Preston Hall, those butterflies in my stomach turned into a tingling sensation in my groin, the kind of thing I felt just before getting on the Titan roller coaster at Six Flags, that nervous excitement of doing something that I couldn’t believe I was doing. I looked around and spotted Greg following me off to the side, making sure that the front straps of his backpack were pointed toward me and the people around me. He nodded to me, and I smiled back.

  Preston Hall was one of the older, smaller buildings on campus and hosted mainly upper level English classes. The building was dark and quiet compared to the brightness and hustle and bustle of outside. The air conditioning hit me as soon as I walked in, turning my nipples hard in an instant, reminding me that I was naked in a place where I would normally be clothed. My nineteenth British novel class met three times a week, so in this eighth week of the semester, I had walked into it over twenty times. I had been fully clothed for all of those previous times, so walking in naked was the most unnatural feeling thing I had done to that point.

  As I neared the room, I took my black seat towel out of the exterior pocket of my binder. I wanted to get in and seated under the cover of a desk as quickly as I could. The door was in the back of the room, so everyone was facing away from me as I slipped in and sat in a desk in the middle of the back row rather than my regular seat near the front, hoping the desks around me would help hide my body somewhat. Keeping my head down but my eyes raised so that I could see my fellow students, I unzipped my binder and turned on the Kindle. The ten or so students already in the
room were talking amongst themselves. The tingling in my groin and belly hadn’t gone away as I waited for someone in the class to notice that I wasn’t wearing clothes.

  Quentin, a short black guy with dreadlocks, noticed me as he walked in the room. He did a double take as he passed me, then sat down in what had become his regular seat. Leaning over, he whispered something to the girl next to him. She looked back at me, and I saw her eyes widen. The chatter that had been present ceased as the whispered news made its way around the room. People kept taking glances back at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge them. I pulled up a copy of the book we were supposed to have read for class, North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, on the Kindle and read through the introduction. I had managed to read the entire novel over spring break, although I really didn’t get much out of it. The murmurs of the other students increased, and I wondered who would be the first one to speak to me. Greg was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered how he could miss getting this video if the purpose of all this was to study people’s reactions to me. Then I noticed the black bubble on the ceiling at the front of the room, and I remembered reading about how high definition security cameras had been installed in almost every classroom on campus within the last two years. I lifted the Kindle so that it was between the camera and my breasts.

  Three more students came into the room and sat down. I started hearing giggles which ceased when Dr. Trostle breezed into the room and set her briefcase down on the instructor’s desk.

  “Good morning, everyone,” she said. There was a smattering of replies. “Oh, I think we can do better than that. Is everyone still hung over from spring break? Good morning!”

  “Good morning!” the class responded in much more robust voices.

  “That’s better. I hope everyone had a—“ Dr. Trostle stopped when her gaze seemed to find me. Her eyes narrowed, and she took a deep breath. “Spring break. I hope you all had a restful and fulfilling spring break. And I hope you had an opportunity to read at least the first half of North and South.”

  From there, Dr. Trostle launched into her lecture about the novel. She talked about feminism (like she always did), tradition versus modernity, and the differences in the social classes in 1854 England. I took a few notes on the pad in my binder, but I couldn’t really get into the lecture. People in the class kept taking looks back at me. I tried to ignore them, to really listen to the lecture, but my mind wandered. Dr. Trostle herself seemed distracted as, several times, she trailed off in the middle of a sentence and didn’t finish the thought.

  I wondered if I could really go into the dining hall naked. Of course, Dr. Slater would have arranged it so that the workers would allow it, but could I really go in, stand in line, get my food, and sit down at a table to eat, with everyone I knew from both dorms watching me? And I had no doubt that they would be watching me. I was the only naked person in the whole university. That’s what made this so difficult, being singled out so that everyone couldn’t help but notice me. Even more difficult was having no privacy, my private parts on public display all the time, for two months. Would I be able to stand this for that long?

  “Miss Keaton!”

  The sound of my name being called out by Dr. Trostle snapped me out of my own reverie. I snapped to attention and looked at her.

  “Would you come up here please?”

  Everyone in the room was looking at me now, and I wanted shrink down into my desk. But Dr. Trostle wanted me to come up to the front of the class! The tingling sensation in my gut was back in full force as I slid out of the desk, stood up on wobbly legs, and staggered to the front of the class. My nipples tightened as I reached the instructor’s desk and turned around to face my fellow students.

  “Now, Miss Keaton has decided to come to class without any clothes,” Dr. Trostle said. “Can you tell the class what kind of statement you’re trying to make?”

  Shit, I thought. I really had nothing to say, especially since I couldn’t tell them the real reason I was doing this. “Ummm, well. It’s my objection to current fashion trends,” I said, making up something. “I mean, why do we always have to cover ourselves?”

  Everyone was looking at me, and I was standing with my hands at my sides, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to cover my breasts and pubic area. The students whose names I could remember, Quentin, Suzanne, Roberto, and Marco, were, like everyone else, taking in all of me. In that moment, I sincerely hoped that I could go away and never have to see any of them again.

  “Well,” Dr. Trostle said after an uncomfortably long silence, “your verbal presentation may need some work, but I do support your empowerment. Now, I want everyone to take a good look at her now so that, when she goes to sit back down, you are all looking at and paying attention to me. No more trying to sneak peeks at her. Is that clear?”

  “Yes ma’am,” several voices said.

  “All right.” She nodded to me, and I made my way back to my desk.

  As I sat down, I looked down and was dismayed to see how erect my nipples had become. I also felt wetness down below, and I was glad that my seat cover was black so that the wetness wouldn’t be easy to spot. Had Dr. Slater anticipated something like this? And how could something so embarrassing be so arousing?

  I don’t know if our little demonstration helped the other students pay attention to the rest of the lecture, but I know it didn’t help me. I kept thinking of myself naked and on display, unable to move or cover up, and how sexually aroused that had made me. Part of me kept wishing Dr. Trostle would call me up to the front of the room again, and another part dreaded it at the same time. If I had been alone, I would have masturbated myself to orgasm like I had done earlier that morning. Then I developed the fantasy of Dr. Trostle calling me up to the front and telling me that I had to masturbate in front of everyone. I shifted in my seat as I couldn’t get the image out of my head.

  Class finally ended, and I hadn’t taken a single note since I had sat back down. What was wrong with me, and how did I ever expect to get my much needed A in this course if I didn’t pay attention to lectures?

  I stood, grabbed my damp seat cover from the desk, stuffed it and the Kindle into my binder, zipped it up, and rushed out of the class before anyone had the chance to stop and talk to me. The sun was overwhelmingly bright when I walked out of the building, and I had to slow and let my eyes adjust. I kept walking though, wanting to get away from everyone. I knew that, for Dr. Slater’s experiment to work, I needed to act like I normally did, but that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t know if I could ever act normal while I was naked and everyone else was clothed.

  Greg was nowhere to be seen, but I did spot one of the other RA’s, a tall redheaded girl whose name I couldn’t remember. She had on the same green backpack that Greg had worn when leaving the Sociology Department office. The redhead nodded to me, but I ignored her and quickened my pace.

  “There she is!” someone exclaimed.

  “Holy shit, it’s true!” someone else said.

  I glanced up and saw a line of what seemed like several hundred people on the Commons next to the concrete walkway. Most of them had their cell phones out and were taking pictures and videos. I wondered if there was another way for me to get to my dining hall and then realized it was too late for that. The crowd would just follow me wherever I went. I took a glance behind me and saw the tall redhead closing in. Hoping she had a panic button somewhere, I put my head down and walked as quickly as I could without my breasts bouncing around.

  “Nice necklace,” someone said, and I almost had to laugh. If only you knew that the necklace was recording everything you say, I thought to myself.

  I heard all manner of things from the crowd, but the words beautiful, awesome, brave, and sexy stood out. Of course, I also picked up the words slutty, shameless, exhibitionist, and skank, but I ignored them and kept walking. I was relieved that no one tried to touch me or stop me in any way. By the time I reached the dining hall, I wanted to cry, laugh, and scream, all at
the same time. And this was only the first half of the first day. I still had 59 and a half days left.

  Walking naked into the dining hall where people were sitting around eating was the most unnatural and embarrassing thing I had ever done to that point. All the chatter and lunchtime conversations came to a sudden and complete stop when I walked into the room. Being twelve o’clock, about twenty people were waiting in the serving line. I was not about to wait in that line standing still and naked with everyone in the hall looking at me. I would just have to skip lunch. Turning around, I marched out of the dining hall and toward my dorm building. Laughter erupted from the dining hall before I could get far enough away to not hear it.

  That was it! I couldn’t face people any more. I was just going to go tell Dr. Slater that I was giving up and that she should give me my clothes. I would pack up and go back to Texas and make ends meet somehow. I would tell my parents that I had cheated on a paper and gotten kicked out. I would never, ever tell them about going around campus naked for half a day.

  The crowd that had watched my walk to the dining hall had, for the most part, dispersed, but there were still a few stragglers around when I walked back outside. Two young guys ran up to me as I strode across the grassy area between the dining hall and the dorm.

  “Oh my God!” one of them exclaimed. “You are so awesome!”

  “Why do you think that?” I asked, tired of everyone talking about my nakedness.

  “Because you are so brave, to go out without any of the disguises that we all wear.” I stopped and looked at him. “I mean,” he continued, “we all dress for other people. Look at me, the little alligator on my shirt here. What does my Izod shirt say about me? And is that really accurate? I don’t feel like anyone knows the real me. If I were as brave as you, I would go around in my pure state too.”

  “Pure state?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He looked down at my body and back up, but he did so in a simple, non-leering way. “You look pure and beautiful. Like a statue. Venus de Milo. Except you have arms.”