The inspiration for this story is Heinlein’s “The moon is a hardh mistress”, a book I have never read, so read at your peril. The story os incomplete bit I will gladly finish it if someone is interested – feedback is much appreciated.
“Can I take your order sir?”
Johna almost left out a yelp.
He had lifted the menu to cover his face and had made a conscious effort to isolate himself from the restaurant around him. He dared to look at the owner of the voice, a short freckled girl at least a decade his junior. Her smile was polite but he could glimpse a shadow of amusement in it.
His embarassment was obvious and the girl had probably seen this same scene a hundred times before. He muffled the name of the first plate he could see on the menu and looking down he handed it over to her. He almost chocked on his tongue. He had forgotten of the mirrored floor – his attempt not to look directly at her had backfired.
She was a natural redhead, apparently.
He turned his head, feeling the blood rush to his cheek. The girl left out a giggle, thanked him and left in direction of the kitchen. Only after he was certain she was far away he dared to start breathing again. He had chosen the most hidden angle of the hall to sit in hope to be ignored rather than to spy on the other customers but as it turned out his position mixed to these people’s love for mirrors made it virtually impossible to raise his head without catching sight of something, well, inappropriate. It was surreal – families happily having dinner together, people laughing merrily at the bar and a middleaged couple having a romantic dinner a few tables from his – all reassuring like a fastfood commercial.
It only made the fact that no woman was wearing any clothing all the more noticeable. Well, that wasn’t exact – the waitresses wore a little puch belt to keep tabs and payment machines and a few ladies were wearing something too skimpy to be even called lingerie but all the same it was impossible to take a look at the room without admiring many square meters of naked skin. He dared to be a bit more bold in his inspection, hoping not to attract too much attention. He was no doubt excited – hell, he would have had to be dead not to be – but what kept him interested was sheer curiosity rather than lust. His gaze ended on a girl, probably in her late twenties who was wearing something that looked like the skeleton of a gûepiere – just a few thin lines of fabric and some rigid structure around her breasts. It did absolutely nothing to cover her nipples, her behind or her… well, it didn’t cover much. What was even the point of wearing something like that? Probably here it was the equivalent of being overdressed. The girl was busy toying around with her “dress”, probably trying to get it to frame her breast the right way.
“Formal clothing is always such a hassle” thought Johna with a smile. The girl lifted her head, just in time to catch his gaze. He once again felt his face turn bright red. To his surprise, rather than looking angry the girl let out a short giggle and went back to adjust her few strips of clothing.
“Good” he thought “better to be laughed at than called a creep I guess.”
Once again he turned his head in a hurry and went back at staring the floor – where he was greeted by the familiar sight of a neatly trimmed red bush.
He froze.
“You must really like the view sir”
There was no anger or contempt in that comment, only obvious amusement. The waitress bowed down – a bit more than necessary, he noticed, and put his plate on the table.
“Here you go sir, have a good meal” said the waitress before he could think of an answer.
“Yo-you too” he said, feeling like an idiot again but at least for a different reason. Thank god, at least the plate offered something safe to look at. The waitress though was still standing there.
“Sir?”
“Y-yes”
“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t offend you.” She sounded a bit worried
“Wh-what? No, no, quite the contrary I was just…”
“It was clearly an accident sir, you don’t need to explain. But even if it had’t been you have nothing to worry about it, it is allright here. You can watch me all you want.” She stopped, noticing her own phrasing – this time it was her turn to blush.
“I mean, we women aren’t embarassed about our bodies here. We wouldn’t wear the sky if we were.”
“Wear the sky, such a cute expression” thought Johna “they aren’t embarassed by nudity but they still need a euphemism for it”.
“Thank you, I’ll try to keep that in mind” he said, this time with a calmer expression and a bit more confidence in his voice.
The girl, still a bit flustered, let out a smile and left without a word. As she turned around Johna decided to take her advice and for the first time he looked at her deliberately, the mirrors in the room giving him a 360° view of her body. Turning his head was out of the question. He allowed himself to look at her for a full second.
She was cute – a short, toned body, a cute round butt and two small but lovely shaped breasts – not a supermodel but definitely someone who wouldn’t have passed unobserved even if fully clothed. As she disappeared behind the kitchen doors Johna felt a twinge of disappointment. “I should have gotten over my shyness sooner” he muttered to himself. Without much enthusiasm he took a bite off his meal – he wasn’t sure of what he had ordered and even having it in front of him he had some trouble taking a guess – meat? Cheese? Tofu? Even taking a bite gave him no clue, but the taste was acceptable so he just carried on chewing and looking around. The girl he had nicknamed “fancy dress” was now sitting with who was probably his boyfriend, a tall, dark skinned man in an elegant suit. The contrast between the male and female concept of formal clothing here was almost ridiculous. He realized he was once again staring but before he could avert his eyes he crossed his gaze with that of the man, who seemed completely uninterested to the fact he had clearly been staring at his woman’s naked body for quite a while. The girl too looked at him, said something to her beau and they both erupted into a loud laugh. “I must be the bloody sensation of the evening.” he thought.
“You figure women would be used at someone staring at their… uh…”
And yet… one thing he had noticed, the man had never once gazed at her body during the time he had been studying him. Was it the force of habit? Training? Herculean willpower? He watched at another table, this time trying to be a bit more discreet.
Cont.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bn6dsy/the_view_from_the_moon_clothed_males_naked_females