My kinder, gentler vision of the mailgirl genre includes mailboys for equality. It's probably not necessary to read the three previous chapters, but I hope you'll want to. Thanks to Kenjisato, my editor, and Vitavie for an idea from Birth of a Mailgirl Day 02. This is a work of fiction and any similarity to real people is unintentional.
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Sumitra Grewal was a skilled technical writer who recently started working at D-Flowco. She quickly became known for her insightful comments in meetings, and her generous nature. She loved hiking, sometimes leaving to head to the forest right after work on a warm afternoon. She was a fit, young woman whose thick, dark hair came down almost to her waist. Her dark eyes were her most striking feature. She was athletic with a pretty face and beautiful skin, but she was no fashion model. She had a pear-shaped figure, with breasts a bit too small and thighs a bit too large, to fit the traditional look of a model. She had thick eyebrows, an untrimmed bush and a wisp of armpit hair. She was also a naturist.
The job posting from D-Flowco was very attractive. Wages and benefits were good and there were opportunities for advancement in her field. Since graduating with a degree in business writing, she'd done some writing for a volunteer organization, but working as a server in a casual restaurant was her primary source of income. Her roommate told her she was crazy when Sumitra told her where she was applying to work.
"I accept that you often choose to be nude at home. How does working with women forced to run around the office naked and be gawked at by pervy men mesh with your values?" she asked. Sumitra pointed out that the D-Flowco website stated the behaviour of staff with mailboys and mailgirls was strictly regulated. No touching or leering was allowed.
She was happy with what she wrote as an example of her work for the selection process. The interview went well and a week later, she started at D-Flowco in one of many cubicles in a large room.
A few weeks later, wanting to demonstrate that her writing skills were a good fit for her new job, she came into work on a Sunday. She had an important presentation on Monday morning, and wanted it to be perfect. It was a nice sunny day but breezy, so she wore jeans and a new sweater. This was the first time she had worn it and it had not been washed.
As she worked, the sunlight through the window made her warm and the new sweater was starting to feel itchy. No one else was around, so she decided to take it off. She felt much better, and the sun shining through the window on her bare arms and chest was pleasantly warm. It seemed pointless to be wearing any clothes at all, so she slipped out of her bra, jeans, panties and sandals and continued her work. During the next couple of hours, she made one trip to the coffee room and another to the washroom without encountering anyone else.
She thought it was a bit daring to be not just working at her desk without clothes, but walking around the empty office. Sumitra was noticed by one of the security staff monitoring the cameras around the building. Her nudity was nothing remarkable, as mailgirls were seen almost all the time.
Lots of people she worked with loved the mailboys and mailgirls for the excitement they created at the office. No matter where you were, you might be suddenly face to face with a naked mailboy or mailgirl. Some people liked having a submissive to order around. Lots of others hated the idea of nude men and women walking quickly around the office delivering messages.
Sumitra just didn't care about the nudity. She'd seen and been seen by hundreds of naked people at naturist gatherings in the woods and on beaches over several years, since she realized how much more content she felt without clothing. For her, it was a body-freedom thing. She was frequently naked at home with her roommate, but put on clothes when her family came over to visit.
"Hi Sumitra. When did you become a mailgirl?" She jumped, startled by the voice from behind her. It was Rob, who worked on the other side of the office.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I came in to pick up a coat I left here on Friday, and I saw your computer was on. Why aren't you wearing your clothes?" he said, while forcing himself to focus on her eyes and not down at her nakedness. He was not totally successful at keeping his eyes away from her body but at least he didn't stare.
Sumitra was aware of the awkwardness of the situation. "Rob," she said, while turning her office chair around to face him. "It's okay to look." Using both hands, she swept her long hair up and behind her, uncovering her breasts.
She told him the story about the itchy sweater and how she preferred to be nude, but had not tried it at the office before. Rob was tempted to comment on how good she looked, but didn't want to risk getting on the wrong side of the workplace harassment rules, so he just said, "I must get going. Don't work too long on your weekend and I'll see you Monday."
The visit from Rob jolted her out of the flow of her writing and she took a moment to re-group before continuing. Checking in with herself, Sumitra felt mostly calm and confident. She was alert and focused on her writing, but there was a bit of excitement inside her, too. The presentation had been pretty good when she saved it on Friday afternoon, and now, after a couple of hours of work, it was much better. Some phrases that seemed stilted and wooden had become in tune with each other. She felt so energized working in her natural state, that she suddenly decided that she would be undressed for the presentation.
Monday morning, she made a cup of tea, briefly greeted a friend, and continued on her way to her cubicle. Sumitra hung her jacket on a hook, took off the rest of her clothes, folded them and put them in a drawer, then sat down to read her presentation one more time. She could hear voices of people talking on the phone and the sound of fingers on keyboards. She was not really visible to anyone else sitting at their desk and no one seemed to notice her nudity, except for Rob. He walked over from his desk across the room and glanced in her direction from a distance. He did not come close enough for conversation, though.
The managers meeting included her manager, Eileen Emersen, and several other managers including John Gilmour, Director of Human Resources. It started at 8:30am, but her presentation was not until 9:10am, so she first saw her manager when she opened the door into the meeting room holding her tablet.
Mrs. Emersen jumped out of her chair when she first saw her employee, interrupting the discussion. "Sumitra!" she barked. "Where are your clothes?" she demanded, as all eyes turned to the door. "Leave this room and don't come back until you're properly dressed for working in the office."
Sumitra stood there stunned. She appeared to the people sitting around the table as a vision of health with her dark eyes, brown skin, athletic body, dark, silky hair covering her breasts and her thick pubic hair covering between her legs. She realized that some people might be surprised, but she was not expecting such an aggressive reaction.
John Gilmour, senior manager in the room, quietly said, "Please sit down, Eileen. Sumitra, please sit on a side chair while we finish our questions on the current presentation.
When she was called to the table, Sumitra was still a bit stunned by her manager's reaction of a couple of minutes ago. She took a deep breath, set her worries about that aside, and made a great presentation. She was pleased with how it flowed. There were only a couple of questions and she answered them easily.
After Sumitra's presentation was complete, and many people got up to refill their coffee cups, John walked over to Sumitra and Eileen. "I truly don't know what properly dressed for working at the office means these days at D-Flowco," he said. "No one has made an issue of it and forced us to make a decision. In an office with mailgirls and mailboys running around naked delivering messages, I don't see how we can require other employees to wear clothing, if they would prefer not to.
"Sumitra. At least for now, it's okay for you to work without clothing. Please be aware that for the last couple of years, any woman working naked here was presumed to be a mailgirl. Some people may try to give you demerits for your grooming, drinking tea from a cup, using the elevator or refusing to drop down to your knees when ordered to do so. Just look them in the eye and say you're not a mailgirl and that they can talk to me if they have questions.
"Eileen. If you think you need to open a can of worms and write a dress code, think about it for a couple of days and let me know, so you can be drafted onto a new committee. I hope you decide you have more important things to do."
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For Mailboy Twenty-one, known as Tim away from the office, morning yoga was the most uncomfortable part of his day. It was not the only time of day he was totally exposed to the sight of others, a feature of the mailgirl and mailboy program at D-Flowco. It was more than being seen walking past someone in a hallway or standing very close to bump his Mailboy Management Unit to record completion of a delivery. It was even more uncomfortable than the showers, cold water, of course, where he and the other naked delivery creatures washed themselves every morning and shaved their genitals sitting cross-legged on the floor. They must handle themselves, pulling penises and scrotums or labia and butt cheeks apart to ensure they were free of stubble. Mistress M, who was allowed to touch the mailgirls and mailboys, would frequently rub her fingertips across their bodies to determine whether they meet grooming standards. Failing her inspection was best avoided because that earned demerits and demerits led to being paddled. Of course. they were people, and not animals, but they're not treated like people.
