Openness is synonymous with nakedness

The email begins by reminding you that younger female employees must submit to physical inspections whenever required. This is not a change in policy, although you are not aware of any women being required to strip, except as part of a punishment. That may change now that you have messed with attitudes towards privacy, of course.

The second part is what sends your heart racing. In order to prove that the company has nothing to hide, female staff members aged between eighteen and thirty six must offer to disrobe before every meeting with clients or subcontractors. It makes no sense to you that the company's reputation for honesty and probity should be dependent upon its employees baring their bodies, but apparently that is how the world is interpreting the rule that physical privacy for young women is undesirable. Your job often involves interfacing with clients, so it is going to be a significant change.

The email then concludes with a few minor changes to the dress code, which should not affect either of you. Offensive tattoos, pubic hair and tan lines are all now banned (previously only visible tattoos were controlled, but now you suppose all tattoos will be visible), with instructions for anyone in violation to report to Human Resources in order to make a plan for future compliance. You should probably count yourselves lucky that you are allowed to wear clothes at all.

A gasp from the seat next to you signals that Diana has also read the email. You lean in close to discuss it quietly and come to the conclusion that it is insane, but not unreasonable. At least, as team leader, you can shelter Diana and the other women from the worst of the changes by sounding out clients and choosing who accompanies you to meetings accordingly.

You alight at your stop without difficulty and walk the short distance to the office. Inside, there is no sign of the changed policies until you reach your floor—and then, you almost miss it. There are no women walking around in the nude (or no more than usual, anyway, just a few with red bottoms), no intimate examinations taking place. On one of the glass partitions, a single sheet of paper has been stuck with tack, so inconspicuous that you nearly walk past it, distracted as you are by your thoughts, but at the last minute, you notice it and take a closer look.

The paper has a list of some of the women in the department, each with some information associated. The exact entries vary, but include web addresses and log in details. There is no title, but you work out that the document is telling people how to watch the video feed from these women's anti-privacy cameras. Your name and Diana's are there, together with the information you provided last night, so anybody in the office will be able to check up on you. That is horrifying and you wish your raging libido agreed.

You decide not to trouble your girlfriend with the news that the whole department has access to your intimate moments and do your best to push aside your arousal and frustration to concentrate on your work. You do not overhear anyone discussing your love life, so either they have not accessed your recordings (yet) or they are too polite to mention what they saw. In fact, it is a day like any other, at least until you are scheduled to have a meeting with a long term client.