Chapter Ten
The next day was clothing optional day at Stevenson, a Friday. Taimi was the first one in, coming into the building at eight, and then going to the rooftop pool, to unclothe and do her lifeguard work naked. At eight thirty in the morning, a blue, dusty Reliant Robin, parked in front of the garden company entrance, carrying Atkins Rubens inside. The Robin looked like a special prize out of a gumball machine, it counted among its glorious features being the eighth worst car ever made in the US. Instead of four wheels, it had three, with only one in the front, making the car a valid competitor of the segway, and also somewhat unstable, at speeds over twenty five miles an hour.
Atkins' father refused to buy his mischievous son a new car after Atkins crashed the one he had, and a Reliant was a temporary solution to test his driving skills, while his father, the mayor, drove an Eagle Premier, the tenth worst-made car in America, a piece of junk without anything unique or special, one of the most underwhelming cars designed, branded as luxury, exuding nothing. A crowd of onlookers from Stevenson gathered to see Atkins step out of his blue car. Everyone knew about the article published by the City Dweller and Bill Stevenson had circulated a memo telling everyone to keep working as usual.
Clarity saw Flake welcoming Atkins, using a broom to clean the floor in front of the mayor's son. Brock told Clarity to lead Atkins into a conference room on the second floor. Clarity knew that the general activity committee was meeting in the morning with Bill Stevenson, and that the owner would give out a set of new indications for the company after listening to the reflections from the members of the committee. This talk, of course, did not include Atkins.
"We don't want him walking around, bring him coffee, our gardening catalog, anything, so that he doesn't walk around the floors on his own. We want to make a favorable impression, this is what Mr. Stevenson said." Clarity nodded, thinking Atkins probably thought otherwise. She led the mayor's son to a conference room.
"So how does this clothing optional business work here?" he asked.
"It just works, employees who prefer to work naked can," said Clarity.
"How many work naked?"
"Some, a few," said Clarity.
She left him with a Starbucks coffee mug, and walked out towards the teleoperator room, which was also on the second floor. She ran across Heather, who warned her about the expense for the new shower expense, saying she was going to present an unfavorable employee notice about her to Mr. Stevenson. Clarity ignored her, joining the teleoperator room. She began undressing and placed her clothes on a chair nearby, and then she began to take calls from customers. After a couple of hours, Flake called her. Packwood wanted to come inside Stevenson, during clothing optional day, to ensure the company was indeed, working.
"No, don't let him come in, he doesn't like the policy, it's going to change the whole mood here," said Clarity.
"I have to let Brock know then," said Flake.
"No, I'll take care of this," said Clarity. She looked at her watch, it was eleven thirty, the meeting of the general activity committee was taking place, she wanted to check something in particular. Feeling light and comfortable, she walked naked into the conference room on the third floor. Five people gathered around a large cherry wood oval table, legal counsel Lareya Marquez, Brock, Heather, Patrick, the accountant, and Blake, from marketing. In front of them, Mr. Stevenson was presenting sales figures on a presentation board placed on a tripod. He was naked. That's what she wanted to know, whether Bill Stevenson, the owner of the company, actually took his clothes off on clothing optional day. She walked towards him, feeling a slight throb in her belly.
"Sir, officer Packwood is inside the entrance, he would like to come into the building, even though he disapproves of our clothing optional policy."
Brock was dressed casual, Patrick was naked, Blake was clothed, and Lareya was unclothed. Clarity kept staring at Bill Stevenson, and her eyes lowered. He was thick, thick and circumsized. Wow, what a sweet sight, she thought, so commanding and laid back, sure of himself. He replied in his usual levelled voice, looking at her.
"Can you take care of this?"
"Come with me sir, you need to talk to Flake."
Bill Stevenson walked away from the table, following Clarity. He left Lareya Marquez in his spot, telling the legal counsel to explain the status of the mayor's complaint and how the company was going to deal with it and with the article of the City Dweller. Clarity led Cynthia's father to her cubicle, and Bill Stevenson spoke to Flake, telling him to show Packwood the company garden catalog for an hour or two. He placed the phone back in place, and turned to Clarity.
"Brock spoke to me about a large expense, this new shower, you know we might have to talk Clarity," said Mr. Stevenson.
"Let's talk sir, in private." She led him to a small room used for short meetings on the second floor.
"Here?"
"Yes, I just want to say thank you for making Stevenson clothing optional, I just love casual Fridays." He smiled and breathed comfortably. This is when Clarity felt something happen, she attributed it to not having touched herself for more than eighty days. Her arousal rose to unintended levels without her really understanding why it was happening.
"Sir, can you watch me for a few seconds?"
"Watch you, sure."
Clarity turned around and bent forward, grabbing her ankles, spreading her legs slightly. It was so validating to show herself naked in front of her boss, the owner of the company. Her belly was throbbing and she knew her temperature was rising. He wasn't saying anything, she ventured further.
"Take a closer look, please."
"A closer look?"
"Below my cheeks, you can grab my legs if you'd like to." She wanted him to look at her lips. Clarity felt Mr. Stevenson behind her. He positioned his face at the level of her cheeks, seeing her lips. She felt his breath closer to her intimate parts.
"You can smell if you'd like to," she said. She wanted to know what he thought of her scent. She felt his breathing and smelling very close to her.
"It's very sweet Clarity, smells like a nice bush."
The sense of time disappeared, a high pitched sensation overcame her body and head, and she began feeling open, cumming. It lasted a few minutes. Mr. Stevenson picked up a thin stream of slick fluid which had made its way along one of her legs. Someone knocked on the door, it was Heather.
"Sir, what should we do about officer Packwood? He insists on seeing you."
"Show him our garden warehouse, Heather," he said, "I'll be right out." Clarity began talking, feeling more calm.
"I don't want you to be uncomfortable, you know," said Clarity, "I'll write a memo or a one pager signed by me, saying all of this was my own initiative and it was consensual. I'm going to work a lot better now, it's just so validating to be naked in front of you."
"That's nice of you, please do that, I don't want to create uncomfortable situations for my employees." He offered a glass of water to Clarity.
"What do you want to do about the shower expense, I need to say something in the meeting, people are beginning to ask questions about this shower, I'm not sure why you think this is so important, it's part of the company's clothing optional outlook, but it's expensive, we can't spend like this every time we see something we like, even if my wife likes it, which she does." Her job was safe, thought Clarity.
"Let me talk to Brock, he knows me, how I work, I'll explain what happened, it has to do with how talent is developed here at Stevenson." Bill Stevenson stared at Clarity, somewhat intrigued.
"I see, all right, talk to Brock, next time we'll do what you did today in private, if you still want to do something like that. Stevenson is not ready for something like what just happened here."
Clarity nodded and left the room. She kept working naked and was very comfortable all day, thinking only a few times about the employee report which Brock prepared every year for each worker of Stevenson. In the afternoon, thinking the report was not going to be that g
ood, she called Brock to meet him in his office. She placed her teleoperator manual on his desk, saying she wanted to try some other type of work, because she understood what the customer wanted, and liked, and also how each client decided to buy gardening stuff and why they liked Stevenson. She knew all of this because she spoke every day with customers, and the information was not being used by the company, by the sales people, or marketing, the value of all this information was not appraised.
"Can you lift sales, say, noticeably?" asked Brock. His hand began to drift towards his computer mouse, when a green light indicated an uptick of google's stock price.
"It's not about sales, it's about feeling you're doing something rewarding at work." Brock stared at his financial screen and decided to turn it off. He understood the issue was important to Clarity.
"Learn about marketing then," said Brock, "but do it along with your regular work. Mr. Stevenson decided to give you a job warning because of the new shower expense. He likes it, but Heather argued that you weren't authorized to give instructions to accounting, and that the money could be put to better uses, in the marketing department in fact."
Later that day, Clarity clothed before she led Atkins back to his Reliant Robin. The mayor's son had seen Heather in underwear, and he was satisfied with what he'd seen at Stevenson, which was not much besides the conference room on the second floor.
"Not much happening here," he said.
"No, you're right, this is just a regular company," said Clarity. She slammed his door, and came back to her cubicle. At five thirty, she left work, somewhat relieved. She called Cynthia and they met in her backyard, where there was a nice terrace. She began by asking her about why she hadn't told her about her meeting with Brock.
"It was just a talk about talent development, for my homework at Pepperdine." Clarity fumed a few minutes, and finally forgave her friend. She told Cynthia about what had taken place with her father at work that day, and Cynthia simply smiled.
"Wow, I think he likes you," she said.
"I wasn't uncomfortable, you know, it was all spontaneous." Cynthia chewed on the back of one of her fingers slightly, indicating a mischievous thought.
"Why don't we try polyamory with Brock? It will take your mind off the idea of a promotion, or of working in different area at Stevenson, that's going to take time."
"Do you think it may change his mind, so that he becomes clothing optional?"
"Maybe," said Cynthia.
"I'll think about it," said Clarity.
She headed home to her apartment, grabbing a sandwich along the way for dinner. There was another use for the shower, she thought, she was sure of that, in a way. She was seeing some similarities between the shower and Stevenson's gardening activity, but couldn't quite figure out in what ways the two were complementary, or similar. In her mind, an image arose quite vividly. She kept thinking that the shower head looked like a watering can. Maybe if she thought like a salesperson, she would find what was begging to be out in the open.