Naed Through the City

The weather had changed overnight. We went directly from a week of constant rain to a blue sky and lots of sun. The inhabitants of Greater Copenhagen hadn't yet realized that it was excellent beach weather, so I was practically alone in the artificial dunes of the Amager Beach.

I had left my apartment after lunch and planned to spend the whole afternoon sunbathing toplessly and studying for my exams later that June.

It was a little after three o'clock when I first noticed the guy with the camera. He walked around talking to various people on the beach. For a short moment I wondered why, then returned to my book and forgot all about him for a while.

"What are you reading?" a voice asked behind me, tearing me out of important anthropologic theories that I needed to master before the end of the month.

"Anthropology!" I said and took in a mouthful of smoke from my cigarette. I looked up at the photographer, who had almost scared me as he had sneaked in silently from behind and was now standing right beside me.

"Oh! You're a university student?" he asked when uninvitedly squatting down next to me. He seemed to be in his late twenties, which is about five years older than me, and not bad looking. At all. I sat up.

"Yeah! I have exams in a couple weeks. So I very much need to read this," I replied, directing my cigarette smoke away from him.

"You found a nice place to study. And work on your tan at the same time."

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," I agreed and inhaled the last smoke from my cigarette before extinguishing it in the sand.

"And I like that you're topless. Most women are so prude these days."

"I guess so. My parents tell me it was different in the 70s and 80s."

I blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Oh yeah. You hardly saw any bikini tops at the beach back then. Not that I remember it. But I've seen pictures from those happy hippie days."

He paused for a moment before continuing:

"I like your tattoo."

"Oh, thank you!" I smiled and held up my right arm with its tattooed vine of large red roses stretching all the way from my shoulder and onto the back of the hand. "I like it myself. I found a very skilful tattooist on Vesterbro."

"Being a student you must be in need of money? I mean if you want your other arm tattooed as nicely."

"Well, you know, I'm still thinking about what other tattoos to get. So I'm not in a hurry. And I have a job."

"What are you doing? Does it pay well?"

"Not exactly. I sell bread at a bakery. You know... I could always use some extra cash. Why are you asking?"

"I'm a freelance photographer... I'm Jacob by the way."

Jacob extended his hand and I shook it.

"I'm Emma. Nice to meet you, Jacob!"

"You know, Emma, I really like the way you're not a prude."

"You mean being topless at the beach? I really want to avoid those tan lines around my breasts. So I'm working on a solid tan now at summer's start. I do that every year."

"That's nice. And I like the way you're absolutely not covering your boobs while talking to me."

"I'm sure you've seen tits before, Jacob. Haven't you?"

"Oh yeah. I have. But compared to most tits I've seen, yours are especially nice."

"They are?" I asked, trying to sound surprised.

As an aside: For a person with a body as slim as mine, I have unusually large natural tits. Furthermore, I have shoulder-long, blonde hair and a nice curvy ass, and men do tend to find my slightly upturned, small nose and my full lips very becoming. So, yes, I know I'm pretty. I've even heard guys refer to me as beautiful.

"Absolutely. And I wondered if you'd like to make some extra money?"

"Doing what?"

"Like... modelling."

"You mean topless modelling?"

"Well that would be up to you. You know the Page Nine Girl in Ekstra Bladet?" he asked, referring to the country's leading tabloid paper and its long-standing daily tradition of printing a photo of a topless woman on Page Nine for sexually frustrated men to jerk off to.

"Sorry, Jacob. You've come to the wrong person. I'm not interested in becoming a porn model. Good luck finding someone for Page Nine!"

"The Page Nine Girl is just one of the possibilities I have for you. That would pay you 1000 kroner once your picture is in the paper..."

"That's ridiculously low," I interrupted him.

"Please hear me out!" he continued stubbornly. "Then you'd get another 3000 kroner if you're chosen as the Page Nine Girl of the Month. And I guess you'd stand a pretty good chance."

"I didn't know porn paid that lousy!"

"It's not porn. It's just natural young Danish woman who are not afraid of showing their assets. You're fortunate enough to live in a very liberal and free-spirited country. But maybe you are a little uptight after all, Emma?"

"It has nothing to do with being uptight. But I'm not showing my naked tits in Ekstra Bladet for fucking 1000 or 4000 kroner. No way!"

"We could throw in another 2000 if we publish a gallery of your pictures on the website."

"Forget it!"

"Okay. Here's another idea. The paper is introducing a new summer series called Naked Through the City."

"Really?" I asked, attempting to be demonstratively uninterested.

"Yes. Ekstra Bladet will make a bet with you and pay you 10.000 kroner if you manage to report to the paper's head office at City Hall Square by..."

Jacob looked at his wristwatch.

"...say five o'clock today. That's around one and a half hours. And you have to be naked."

"You mean naked-naked... like bottomless."

"Yes. Absolute nakedness is essential here."

"And it's 10.000 kroner?"

"Yes. Couldn't you use that kind of money for a summer vacation, Emma?"

"Sure I could. But I'm not a porn model."

"It's not porn. It's a fun game."

"And you want to take pictures of me?"

"All the time. And I have colleagues around the city who would also try to make as many nude pictures of you as possible as you move Naked Through the City."

"And suppose I'd do it... Ekstra Bladet would pay me 10.000 kroner if I arrive there before five o'clock?"

"Absolutely. I've seen the cash. It's in the safe of the editor-in-chief."

"And if I don't make it?"

"Then you won't get the money. That's the nature of a bet."

"And Ekstra Bladet still gets to publish the pictures?"

"That's right."

"For free then?"

"They'd still have to pay me and the other photographers."

"Handsomely, I suppose?"

"Well... I make a living."

"As I said: I'm not doing porn."

"Me neither. It's just a nice bet. But if you're not into funny games..."

Jacob got up.

"Good luck finding someone," I said and picked up my anthropology book.

"Thanks. Take care, Emma!" he concluded our conversation and started walking away.

I did some quick math in my head. Jacob was 10 or 15 meters away from me when I, on a sudden impulse, yelled:

"I'd do it for 50.000 though."

Jacob turned around:

"Really? You'd do porn for 50.000?"

"It's not porn. It's a fun game," I turned Jacob's point against him.

Jacob smiled for a moment.

"I'm glad we agree on this. Do you know the old anecdote about Winston Churchill?"

"No... I guess not."

"Well, old Winston was at this dinner party having a conversation with the lady sitting next to him at the table. And then he asked her, theoretically, if she would have sex with him for a million pounds. As it turned out, she would. Then he asked if she would have sex with him for five pounds. She immediately got offended: 'What kind of woman do you think I am?' He answered: 'We've already established that. Now we're just discussing the price.'"

"Touché. But your boss wouldn't pay me 50.000 anyway, would he?"

"Well... Never say never. He's known to make quick decisions. Let me just facetime him. That is... if you stick to what you just said."

I thought for a moment and slightly regretted my forwardness. On the other hand it was highly unlikely that the editor would pay five times the price for his ridiculous bet.

"Sure!" I said, trying to sound more convinced than I was.

Jacob already had a connection.

"Hi, I'm here at Amager Beach with Emma, who is a very pretty girl and in the mood for our little game."

"She is?" a male voice said from Jacob's iPhone.

"Yes. The trouble is she's such a tough negotiator. She wants 50.000 if she gets to your office by five."

"50??? Forget it, Jacob! I said 10!"

"I know. But she's so pretty and I really like her... style. She has very big... assets. If you know what I mean. And she's smart too. She studies anthropology at university."

"Really? Can I speak to her?"

"Of course!"

I instinctively covered my tits with my left arm while taking Jacob's phone with the right.

"Hello, Emma! I'm Poul," said a man in his fifties who appeared on the small screen. I recognized him from TV.

"Hello," I said.

"So, you're up for our new game?"

"If I can win 50.000 kroner, yes!" I said and tried to sound resolute. There was no way back now. And 50.000 would make a nice summer holiday and last beyond that.

"You're very beautiful. Could you please take away that arm so I can see you?"

"Okay."

I removed my left arm.

"I think you look amazing, Emma!"

"Thank you. So... can I get 50.000 kroner if I get to your office by five?"

"Let me think about it. It's a lot of money. Did Jacob tell you the conditions?"

"I have to be naked. No bra, no panties."

"Absolutely. And you can't cover yourself at any time. No blankets, no towels."

"Okay."

"And you have to be visible and stay in public spaces all the time. Don't enter homes or private cars."

"Can I go to shops? Can I use public transport?"

"You can go anywhere with public access. But remember: You have no money, no credit card, no phone and no ticket. I guess you will have to get here on foot."

I held up my watch:

"Can I keep this?"

"Sure. You'll need to keep track of time, won't you?"

"Thanks! What about shoes? Can I wear shoes?"

"What kind of shoes have you got?"

I picked up one of my stiletto sandals from the sand next to my blanket and held it to the camera.

"Oh, they're nice, Emma. You have good taste. I'm sure you'll look great wearing those and nothing else. I just wanted to make sure that you didn't bring a pair of running shoes, so you'd outrun our photographers. Those high heels will slow you down. Be careful not to stumble."

"Don't worry! I'm used to them. And you'll be surprised how fast I can move in heels."

"Good for you, girl. Do we have a deal? You get 50.000 cash-in-hand if you're here by five. And nothing if you're late or if any of our photographers around town catches you cheating."

"I won't cheat."

"So we have a deal?"

I swallowed.

"Yes!" I confirmed as confidently as I could.

"I'm glad. This will be a good start for our little competition. And one more thing: Don't tell anyone that the price is 50.000 in your case. We don't want other girls to ask for that kind of money. But because you're such a pretty girl, we're willing to pay more. If you make it."

"So I get 50.000?"

"If you're here by five, yes. It will be in the contract that Jacob will ask you to sign in a second. Good luck, Emma. See you at five."

"See you!"

I handed the iPhone back to Jacob and the two men exchanged a few remarks about my tits and ass and some practical details about the contract. Jacob finished the call and found a printed three-page contract in his bag. He wrote something in it and handed it to me.

The "10.000" was crossed out and replaced by "50.000" as agreed.

"Now I need you to write name and address on the dotted line there... and sign at the bottom. And you're good to go."

I did as I was told and handed him the signed contract.

"So... What are you waiting for? Time is running. You have a bet to win."

I got up.

"I guess it's time to lose these," I said as I slipped out of my panties.

"Right... Oh! You have a nice shaven pussy!" Jacob remarked and shot his first nude photos of me.

"Can I keep my earrings?" I asked without entering a discussion of my shaving habits, touching the large hoop earring in my right ear.

"Yes. They look very nice on you. Just keep them."

"What about my stuff?"

"Put it in your bag. My car is parked over there. We'll throw it in there."

I applied a thick layer of bright red lipstick, put on the watch, turned off my phone, took a sip of water and emptied the bottle into the sand before quickly packing all my stuff into my bag and handing it to Jacob. Then I picked up my stilettos from the sand and we started walking.

I stopped at the bridge leading from the artificial beach island:

"Wait... Can I please have one of my cigarettes?"

Jacob handed me my bag and I found my Marlboros and lit one with my lighter before putting the pack back into the bag and handing it back to Jacob.

"I think I need this before the trip!" I smiled and held up the burning cigarette while exhaling smoke.

"I'm sure you do," Jacob said and photographed me with his professional Canon equipment.

Within a minute we were out of the sandy area and at his car. Jacob put my bag away as I buckled my sandals. Ready to conquer the streets of Copenhagen wearing nothing but large earrings and stilettos. Game on.

I paraded my naked boobs and shaven pussy down Italiensvej with Jacob moving backwards ahead of me, taking pictures. The farther we got away from the beach the more the few people on this quiet residential street started noticing me.

"I like that!" a young boy commented in passing.

Another guy coming toward me made a 180 and then started walking backwards next to Jacob while enthusiastically filming me with his smartphone.

I pretended to concentrate on enjoying my cigarette and totally ignoring my surroundings and wondered how to get to City Hall Square as quickly and smoothly as possible. I had an hour and twenty-five minutes left.

I decided to take the metro, which is an elevated railway at Amager Beach station.

Outside the station I extinguished my cigarette, threw it in a waste bin and started walking up the stairs. Jacob beeped his travel card at the machine.

"I don't suppose you could check me in on your card, could you?" I asked with my most charming voice.

"Sorry, Emma. I'd do it for you any other day. But my boss would hate me for helping you win this bet. You're on your own here."

"I thought so. I guess I can make it without anybody wanting to see my ticket."

The 30 or so people on the platform reacted quite differently to my presence. Some, all male, were staring, whistling and taking pictures. Others were staring at their feet pretending not to see me.

When the remote-controlled train arrived at the platform, it was already crammed with passengers. It came from the airport and some huge planes must have just landed. When the doors opened, the passengers formed an impenetrable human wall of flesh, T-shirts and Bermuda shorts and I almost gave up. Then strong arms grabbed me and pulled me on board, obviously wanting to be in close contact with my naked body.

Nobody pulled Jacob on board. He was left behind on the platform along with most other waiting passengers. Through the corner of my eye I saw that he used his phone as the train left the station. Probably to alert some of his colleagues on my route towards City Hall Square.

I had just barely managed not to get caught in the closing doors. At first, I was pressed against the metal and glass. Then I managed to move toward the centre of the metro wagon. Midway between the Amager Beach station and the next, Øresund, I sensed that somebody was trying to grab me the Donald Trump way. By the pussy.

The problem was that the metro was so packed that I couldn't detect to which of my fellow passengers the finger that had tried to penetrate me belonged. I managed to move away from it.

I moved further away from the door as the train approached the Øresund Station in order not to get pushed out of the train by the crowd getting off. Hard shoes stepped on my toes in the process. It hurt. But I managed to stay inside.

Just as the train was about to leave, a conductor entered. He started asking for tickets as soon as the doors had closed, and I moved further away. I would have no problem paying the fine for not having a ticket if only I won my well-deserved 50.000 kroner. The problem was that I had no ID or anything except my sandals, my earrings and an unbelievable story of being in a Naked Through the City game that no one had ever heard of.

If the conductor caught me, he could easily hold me back beyond my vital deadline at 1700 hrs. Maybe he would even involve the police. Luckily, he wasn't able to move fast through the crowd so I hoped to avoid him until the next station where I could get off.

"Shouldn't you get dressed?" a loud voice said beside me.

I smiled and shrugged at the sweaty suit-and-tie guy who had asked the question. He just looked at me and shouted:

"This woman is completely naked. Have you seen that?"

People standing a bit further away turned their heads in his direction, trying to find out who he was talking about. Luckily, most of them could only see my head and not the rest of me, which is why they were at first unable to find out who he was talking about.

The guy's shouting attracted the attention of the conductor who was just two meters away. Some of the men and young boys around me started laughing and commenting on my private parts. One tall bearded guy openly put his hands on my tits while smiling confidently at me:

"You like that?" he asked.

"No. Stop it!" I mouthed quietly.

"I think you like it. What's your name?"

"That's none of your business!"

In the corner of my eye I could see the conductor trying to maneuver towards the commotion around me. I tried to hide behind other passengers while the metro dived from the elevated railway and went underground. Soon we would be at the next station, Lergravsparken, and with some luck I could get off before the conductor got to me.

The guy, who was still resting both hands on my tits, continued his charming approach:

"Can I suck your nipples?"

He looked tall and strong like someone who could make way through the crowd and get me of the train.

"I need to get off this train now. Please help me!"

"Can I suck your nipples if I help you!"

"Sure. Just get me off this train."

His desire to place my nipples between his lips was strong enough to make him lead the way quite recklessly while other passengers were moaning as he shoved them and stepped on unprotected toes in flip-flops. I threw myself into the guy's slipstream and probably, with my pointed heels, pierced some of the same feet the guy had stepped on. Finally, the train was slowing down toward Lergravsparken Station.

"Hey, young lady, wait a minute. Can I see your ticket, please?" the conductor said somewhere behind me. But he was unable to reach me. The passengers, who weren't moaning in pain, were laughing at the situation.

The train came to a halt. The doors opened slowly, and the bearded guy pulled me, so I stumbled onto the platform.

"I need to get out of here," I said and started running towards the stair with the Suck-Your-Nipples guy beside me. Inside the train the conductor was still fighting to get out so I had a head start.

At the top of the stairs a photographer was taking pictures.

"I guess you're from Ekstra Bladet?" I asked in passing.

"Jup!"

"Sorry! I gotta run."

The photographer followed me and, as it turned out, also Mr. Suck-Your-Nipples around a couple of street corners before we stopped for a much-needed break.

"So... Where are we going?" Suck-Your-Nipples asked.

"I don't know where you're going, prick! I'm going with this photographer for an appointment at his paper."

"But I helped you! You were going to pay me back!"