Saturday Night Live: Les Nue De Paris

Emma Stone was no stranger to appearing on the long-running comedy variety show Saturday Night Live, broadcast from New York and host to many a celebrity throughout its storied history. Most remembered the combination of the two as very funny.....and sexy.

Sexy because of a certain unstaged moment that caught the eye of the nation for a brief second.

A skit called "Les Jeunes De Paris", which would later be continued with other celebrities, found the beautiful Emma and her co-stars dancing and enacting silly antics amid a French pop song while parodying French style and culture. Emma looked sexy as ever despite the silliness, with jet black hair and red lipstick and in a dark grey and black striped outer shirt with a black blouse.

There was a scene where Emma takes her bra off under her shirt and sexily holds it out for the audience (and her male dance partner). But fortunately for the audience and for SNL's ratings, the bra caught on her shirt as it came off and pulled the shirt up just so, granting all a swift glimpse of Emma's toned tummy without risking a hint of her breasts, now known to be bare under the dark shirt. Just for a moment, the whole world thought they might see something that had somehow remained sacred and secret despite Hollywood's abilities to expose.

She played it off, laughing and looking composed and sexy.

And so she wasn't surprised when SNL contacted her again, about hosting once more. However, this time they wanted to bring "Les Jeunes De Paris" back with a bang.
The idea was simple. There would be no bra removal and no surprises this time, except for the audience.

Emma would incorporate a cute and sexy tease into her dance, pulling her shirt up to reveal her trim stomach and her bra before letting it fall down. It would give the audience something be excited about without risking much more exposure than before.

But Emma was still nervous despite having shown herself in a bra before for films. She had the strangest feeling that something would go wrong.

Little did she really know just how wrong things were going to go. Because somewhere, someone had it out for poor Emma. Someone who didn't understand. Who COULDN'T understand. Emma was a nice girl, really, thrust into the spotlight. But her adversary had a disdain for all things celebrity, and Emma was the current direction for her hate.

Somewhere, something very strange was going on in a dark wood. A ritual of sorts. But that's not where our story happens, not where the action takes place. The details of said operation are moot. We are here for the results.

Emma walked onto the set that day, composed and bold as always. She wore the same number as last time. She looked a picture of allure. She prepared herself as she entered the world of live broadcast once more. The intro to skit went by and the cameras were rolling. She was presenting herself to the world now.

The music started and she began to dance with the cast, jerking to and fro and gyrating in a near-suggestive manner. The director gave the cue and the dancers watched as Emma erratically tossed off her outer shirt and slowly dropped both hands to the hem of her blouse, and she began to swing her hips, pulling the garment up steadily on one side, then the other, winking and smirking a dangerously delicious smirk.

Her pale stomach was revealed in full, a cute belly button and a waist any man would love to wrap his arms around. She turned, showing some lower back, and brought her arms up under her scarlet bra, her fingers danced on her ribs for just a moment and her hands settled almost cupping her fabric covered breasts. The light and shadow played with the small valley of her cleavage.

And then something weird happened. Emma found herself holding her boobs in her bra. She stood there with the blouse still up. The director frowned and motioned at her that it was enough.

But Emma couldn't stop herself. Below the waist, she felt she had lost all control. Her face turned as red as her bra as she suddenly felt herself kick off her black shoes. Her small feet moved gracefully, covered only by black socks as she swayed and then pulled off her blouse entirely. Standing in her bra, skirt, socks, and panties and still moving to the music, what began as a sexy strip tease slowly became and frenzied, at least below the waist. Emma squealed as she suddenly turned around and dropped her skirt, revealing her panty-clad perfect bottom.

At this point the cast didn't know what to do. Some were unsure how far she was going to go. Others were secretly enjoying the show. Some were dumbstruck entirely. Regardless, Emma continued to move as if she had no concern for what they thought, except for her visibly embarrassed pretty face.

Emma began to shout for help. "Stop me, someone! Please, I don't want this!"

Taran Killam began to make his way toward Emma before she suddenly and abruptly pushed him away with all her strength. Not seeing it coming, Taran ended up on his behind, and got up, leaving in a huff.

"No, come back! I don't want this! What if I...."Emma's eyes went wide and she began to fight back tears. Meanwhile she was standing in her bra, panties, and black socks. She kicked her skirt to the side and kept dancing, now in her undergarments. And the disgruntled actors were leaving, the helpless few staying behind unsure of what to do.

The director had called for assistance, not wanting to be shoved himself. The next few moments found Emma screaming for help as her phantom hands lingered at her back, before finally unclasping and doing away with her bra. Emma looked down and her screams doubled as she watched her lovely bare breasts bounce in the light, rosy nipples hard.

One foot came up behind her as she stood on the other, and she peeled her sock off, returning a pretty bare foot to the ground. She could feel the air on her body now, and the cool wood under her toes. She repeated with the other foot, and was left with only a single piece of clothing to save her dignity.

It almost seemed like the director would make it, but as he entered the room and called off the cameras, something else happened. He ducked in, and then out, and then in, complaining about the cameras.

Emma looked up......she was still on broadcast! Why weren't the cameras shutting off? Was she cursed!?!

Emma didn't have much time to think, because suddenly she was sliding her panties down her slender creamy legs, and off of her cute feet. She stepped out of them and finally her body stopped. She thought she might be able to cover up when suddenly she stooped down - and began to scratch the nail polish from her toenails! She summoned up all her strength and was able to stop herself there, but she had to fight the urge. She slammed one hand between her legs and threw another over her breasts, and she stood there flabbergasted and nude, afraid to do anything, but even more afraid knowing that the whole world had watched her bare humiliation unfold and could see her now, scared and covering what she could. She hunched over and began to cry, her fingers crossing over each other still to get at whatever nail polish they could from her fingers. Finally, the director threw up his hands and with an angry look walked over to Emma to guide her out of the room.

"OH NO! WHERE'S MY TOWEL?", asked Emma indignantly.

She was met by a cold stare and a harsher tug around her bare arm as she was lead out of the studio.

Suddenly she realized she was being pulled out of the set.....NAKED!

"Relax, I'm taking you to your dressing room. And then you're going to explain this to me, is that understood? I'm pretty sure you know what might happen to your career by the look on your face", said the director.

Emma just nodded and walked, bare feet slapping down the hall, her pert rear end and cradled breasts shaking, her whole body feeling chilly and naked and exposed.

Emma didn't know how she could live it down.

Little did she know this was just the beginning of her naked humiliation.

Little did she know.