by Forest, Will
“Skinny dip!” yelled Alex. “Jump don’t dive, the water’s shallow!”
Soon all four of them were nude in the water, splashing and hollering. Alex had never felt so stimulated; he imagined it was something like what a cat feels around catnip. His girlfriend wanted to place her body against his in the water, and that felt nice too, but Alex wanted to move, to feel the water rushing over him unimpeded. He ducked down between her legs and swam through them, gently pinching her thigh before surfacing. “Tag! You’re it!,” he yelled.
Alex knew she wouldn’t even try to catch him. But his fraternity brother began plowing after him, so Alex flung his arms and legs out as fast as he could. Without really thinking about it, he swam toward the anchored yacht, and before long he heard the woman on board yelling for him to climb up and have a sandwich. Alex accepted the invitation without looking back.
“Here, just put your feet on the bottom rung of the ladder there. You don’t have to get out if you’re nervous.” The woman leaned over the rail, her breasts hanging straight down toward Alex’s face as he looked up to answer her.
“It’s no problem, really,” Alex said, realizing as he spoke that his penis had already begun to stiffen. “I’ll just stay right here in the water.”
“Did you spring a boner?”
Alex, stunned by her directness, managed to say, “Yeah, well you know, it’s natural…”
“That’s exactly right. It’s natural. You’re young. All your body parts are in working order, and that’s a fine thing to have going for you. Don’t mind me, I like to act tipsy even when I’m not, because most of the time people won’t listen to the truth unless they hear it from a child, a lunatic, or a drunk! And they think that since I’m naked I must be a lunatic, but of course that won’t work with you because you crazy fool took your clothes off too!”
Alex laughed.
The woman took a slippery sip from her transparent tumbler. What was it – vodka and tonic? Water? “The truth is nudity is beauty, don’t let ‘em make you think otherwise. And beauty is truth! You’d be amazed how people act different around each other when there aren’t any clothing brands or styles to compare. Like at a nude beach. Of course they’ll still compare things—boobs, weenies, tattoos, all that—because they’re not gonna stop being human, and besides everybody’s hangin’ out all over the place. But you’ll find that when everybody’s naked, people look each other in the eyes more often, and they smile more often too.”
“And strike up conversations with people they maybe wouldn’t speak to otherwise.” The woman’s companion appeared beside her above the railing. “I saw how you convinced—dared, really—your friends to skinny dip,” said the man. “Good for you, son! Next time take ‘em to La Rioja, ever heard of it?”
“Isn’t that the beach… the next beach east from Pensacola?”
And that was it. Alex had climbed onto the boat eventually, accepting a chicken salad sandwich, a Coke, and the couple’s advice to go to the nude beach. At first he was overly conscious about sitting on a borrowed towel, nude, with nude strangers. And then, without knowing when, or at what precise moment, he relaxed and felt so completely at ease he didn’t really want to leave. Asking him about his studies, his job, and his girlfriend, the couple began to seem to him like his aunt and uncle, or maybe the neighbors—very familiar, very friendly. But the sun was setting, and when he heard his friends calling for him after about twenty minutes, he had to excuse himself. He jumped back into the bay.
On the trip home, Alex tried to convince his friends to go with him to La Rioja the next weekend, and although his fraternity brother expressed interest, the two women did not. His girlfriend said that skinny-dipping in a small group of people she knew, from their own boat, had been enjoyable, but that going to a beach full of strangers would feel too uncomfortable. But Alex honored his budding conviction that social nudity is essential, natural, even truthful in a socially democratic way, like the woman on the boat had described it, with just a touch of lunacy. Immensely appealing.
The next Saturday morning he went to La Rioja alone. At the beach he met Tucker, who invited him to a nude 5K race that afternoon at a landed club not far from there. The club was spread out on a hundred acres of rolling woodland with lakes. They paid $25 each for the registration, t-shirt (a t-shirt for a nude race, Alex marveled), and the right to be on the grounds that day. Alex easily finished third overall out of 120 participants, and Tucker finished second in his age group.
The two men took advantage of their one-day access to the club by playing volleyball and swimming the rest of the afternoon. Tucker explained that he didn’t have a club membership because he thought it was ridiculous to pay to be naked. Alex agreed. But when they left the club that evening, Alex felt even more reluctant than before to put his clothes on again. He decided that since the club had more settings—woods, sandlot, lakes, trails, clubhouse, pool—than the beach, it offered a greater variety of ways to be active and to enjoy nature while being nude. Some people even lived there, owned residences there. Also, the club was official: no potential for police raids, no need to disappear suddenly. Alex understood why Tucker opposed membership fees and dues, but he also realized that the fees funded the land and upkeep, affording the privilege of legal and private social nudity.
Movement through the glass dividing walls refocused Alex’s gaze on the Aquaflash floor model at Stevens Sporting Goods. A middle-aged couple was inspecting the boat with interest. Restraining himself from jumping to his feet, Alex nonetheless strode speedily down the paneled hallway, with each proleptic step, with each passing gumball machine, converting his next commission into landed nudist club membership.
Sweaty, Draped Bodies’ Need for Relief
At class-changing time, Herb Wishinsky carefully pushed open his office door and wedged himself into the packed hallway. He stopped Dr. Ross, in transit from his Philosophy 101 class to his senior seminar. “Christopher, listen, I don’t enjoy having to ask you this, but do you know anything about a streak rumored to be on for tonight?”
Dr. Ross was amused. “I don’t. And if I did I probably wouldn’t tell you. But I don’t and that’s the truth…you must have assumed I would be in the know about all things nude, huh? Sort of a Christopher Google on ‘nude’ and ‘campus’?”
“In fact I am culling information from anyone who is willing to share it, Christopher, but yes, I admit I figured a high probability in your case. And yet you disappoint.”
“Are you trying to find out about this streak to alert the police?”
“I can see why you would imagine that,” Herb said, “but no, in fact the police already know about it. On the contrary, my purpose is to alert the students who are planning the event to the fact that the police will be on the lookout for them. I’m assuming the event will happen, but I also suppose that the whole thing could be a hoax. In any case, a student informant tipped off the administration and the campus police. At this point the event is in no one’s best interest.”
Christopher stroked his chin. “When you say ‘the event’ do you mean streaking in general, or just this reported instance? The question of ‘no one’s best interest’ intrigues…”
“Please, Christopher, that’s enough. I regret having mentioned the subject to you. But if you do happen to learn who’s planning this specific streak…or others like it…then pass on the message. Thank you.”
The dean disappeared behind his office door. Dr. Ross walked out into the baking sunshine of the thronged courtyard on his way to the other wing of the Humanities Building, his heart oppressed by so many sweaty, draped bodies’ need for relief.
“Hi, Professor Ross!”
Christopher recognized the young man who had intercepted the covert cameraman at La Rioja. “Alex? I haven’t seen you since you disappeared behind the dunes!”
Alex laughed. “Yeah, Tucker told me you got hauled to the precinct. Sorry! If you had been with us playing volleyball you probably could have escaped!�
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“That’s okay. It was a valuable experience. I did get in a bit of trouble with the administration here, but that’s secondary. As a philosopher, I thrive on the clash between the pursuit of happiness and the letter of the law! And it was great to get to know Tucker.”
“He’s a real character. He’s out there on the beach all the time.”
“When I met you that day I didn’t know you’re a student. Have you taken all your requirements?”
“Yeah, except for the HUM 200 core course and a lab science. I’m putting them off until next semester.”
“I’ll be teaching a section of HUM 200 next semester, and it’s a topic that might interest you. I’ll get back to you when I’ve got the details. But hey, let me ask you something. Because of my bad rep from the scandal at La Rioja,”—Dr. Ross wiggled his fingers and rolled his eyes to cast aspersions on the words ‘bad’ and ‘scandal’—“the dean asked me if I knew anything about a streak planned for tonight. I don’t, do you?”
Alex looked around and motioned for Dr. Ross to follow him to a less crowded area of the courtyard. “I organized it. It’s going to be a big deal!! Wanna come? You have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“But the campus police already know about it! The dean wants to warn you.”
“The campus police, and the city police, know about it because I told them myself. Except I told them it’s tonight, when in fact it’s on for Sunday night.”
“Very sneaky…You mean Sunday three days from now? That’s Halloween. Don’t you think the police will suspect something on that night?”
“But it’s the night before Monday-morning classes. By Sunday night, if the cops think of it at all, they’ll think that they successfully thwarted the streak that was supposed to happen tonight, and that any other Halloween mischief must have already happened off campus. So meet here at midnight. There’s gonna be glow-in-the-dark body paint!”
“Sounds like fun! How did you come up with the idea?”
“I ran a nude race a few months ago at a landed club in Florida. There’s nothing like running free! And the body paint I just thought would be something fun for Halloween.”
“Thanks for the invitation. Will there be any other professors?”
“Not that I know of, Dr. Ross,” Alex laughed, “so you can be our faculty ‘advisor,’ how about that?”
“I could get into an even bigger mess than the one I’m in now. This is my tenure year…”
“Well, come if you want to. Bare if you dare. But mum’s the word. Hope to see you here on Sunday!”
Sacrificed on the Altar of Big Boobs
Renee took off her sunglasses so her eyes could adjust to the darkness inside Ricky’s. As an employee, she was supposed to enter through the backstage door, but she liked to see what her co-workers were doing, and what sort of audience had turned up, before heading to the changing room. She walked through the foyer to the stage area, the pounding music growing stronger with each step. On the main stage she saw Melodie gyrating, her long, straight hair swishing as she untied the bow holding the cups of her bikini top together. Renee noticed that Tina, on the side stage, had learned to climb the pole and flip herself over backward, holding on with her ankles. The customers appreciated any move that gave them a new perspective of the dancer’s body, and this position, because of the exuberant way Tina allowed her breasts to roll upside down, was a crowd-pleaser. A few of the regulars smiled and winked at Renee as she made her way around the bar to a side stage entrance.
The changing room overflowed with dancers dressing for the late shift while gossiping about paychecks and plastic surgery. Andrea (boob job, liposuction) was sliding into her Jungle Girl top, Heather (ass job, liposuction) was pulling on her policewoman boots, and Janice (boob job, lip injections) was applying her make-up. Ricky’s house rules did not allow customers to stuff bills in the dancer’s outfits, so lap dances presented the only opportunity for earning tips—and financing surgeries.
“There must be some reason you’re the most requested lap dancer,” complained Andrea to Heather as she dabbed blue glitter on her face. “Do one for me right now so I can learn your moves. C’mon, please?”
Renee removed her street clothes, fished a leather-and-fur combo out of her locker, and changed the topic.
“I have a new special friend,” she sang.
“Who is it?” asked Janice. “He here tonight?” She puckered her outsized lips again.
“Is it that guy who played volleyball with us at La Rioja?” asked Heather. “What was his name…Alex?”
“Oh yeah—he was nice!—but no, not him. It’s this brother I met in art class. Remember I took that posing gig? Hard to stand still like that.” Renee pulled on her hose. “But he’s so cute, he was so nervous when he tried to talk to me while I was putting my clothes on after class!”
“Is it good pay?” Andrea asked.
Renee shrugged.
“What does it matter?” said Heather. “Can’t you see she’s not in it for the money? She’s got a legitimate fan, not one of these Ricky’s regulars.”
Renee smiled. “Who’s jealous?” she teased.
“You must be really moonin’ over that boy ‘cause you’re late. You know you’re supposed to be on next?” asked Heather.
“Relax, girl!” said Renee. “The timer’s buzzing, and these buns are ready to come out of the oven, honey!” She adjusted her breasts and swiveled her hips in the mirror.
The announcer’s voice interrupted the house mix. “Alright now gentlemen, a hearty round of applause to show your appreciation for the loooovely Sheeeeila and booodacious Beeesssssie! Veeeery nice. Now appearing on the main stage: let’s give it up for: Prrrrrincessss! And for your enjoyment on the side stage: Cannndyyyy!”
“Kinda slow tonight,” said Melodie as she walked off the main stage past Renee.
Stretching the white fur lining of her black leather panties down over her cheeks, pinching and pulling her black fishnet hose, Renee waited for the applause to stop and the house mix to start up again. Then she strutted out onto the main stage, her bottom riding high on strong legs pumped by stilettos, and spun around with her right arm stretched out pointing at the crowd. Along her arm trailed a pink boa. She looked into the faces of the crowd without seeing them, partly because of the glare of the stage lights but also because she had learned to cultivate a professional distance from the customers. She snapped the feather boa around, sliding it suggestively between her legs and across her bust before tossing it out to a group of men in the front. Then she kneeled, backward, in front of one of the men in the front row, her buttocks looming in his face, and bent over, slowly pulling off her panties as she lifted her derriere. Whistles of appreciation pierced the dance music.
After strutting around some more, she chose another front-row patron and parked her sex, tantalizingly visible through the fishnet hose, in front of his eyes. She leisurely inched the hose down over her pubic mound, swaying her hips as the men cheered. When her mound crested, she sat down and threw one leg after another into the air, pulling off the stilettos and hose before writhing around like a cat ready to play. She stood up to remove her top, teasing the spectators by stretching the black leather straps down close to the fur-lined cups. But then she pulled the whole top up fast, her breasts popping out and bouncing with the force of their release. She threw the bra over her head, then hid her nipples with her fingertips before shaking her breasts in the face of an ecstatic young man.
Completely nude, she felt her energy surge as always. Her smile grew. She posed and swung and stretched and rolled, both feeding and consuming the audience’s excitement with her undulating muscles and the light playing off her skin. The announcer’s voice broke into the music. Only when she walked offstage did she see Terrence, clapping and grinning, his teeth and shirt fluorescent in the black light. He had seen the whole routine. She blew him a kiss.
Heather met Renee as they walked back into the changing room. “I saw that kis
s. He’s hot.”
“Damn straight. And you haven’t seen the rest of him,” said Renee, thinking that she herself had not literally seen ‘the rest of him’ either: she had seen only Terrence’s self-portrait, which he might have embellished. But the fact that she had informally commissioned the drawing, and her intuition that the portrait was an accurate representation, increased the secret pleasure she derived from Heather’s look of piqued interest.
Heather and Renee changed into their floor outfits, sexy garb for chatting up the customers and seeing who would pay for a lap dance. While Heather began circulating among the tables, Renee headed straight for Terrence.
“Hey, Princess,” said a large man with close-cropped hair as he caught Renee’s arm. “Why don’t you show me what you got?”
“Sure thing, honey, I’ll be right back.”
“No you won’t. You’re going with me now to a private room.” The man, smiling through closed teeth, pushed his chair back to stand up.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Renee yelled over the music.
“No you don’t, you just came out of the lockers. You would have gone then.” He remained seated. “What’s the matter, Princess? You dissin’ me?”
Renee was starting to get flustered. She opened her mouth.
“She ain’t dissin’ you, I had dibs, that’s all.”
Renee turned around and saw Terrence standing tall, arms folded across his chest. He winked at Renee who, for that reason, suddenly worried about him.
“Whaddya mean, dibs?” demanded the man.
“I asked her as soon as she walked in here tonight,” said Terrence. “Before she even got on stage.”
The man shook his head. “I been watching her since she came in and I didn’t see you do that. Besides that doesn’t count…”
“Gentlemen, there is no need for an argument. This young man,” Renee pointed at Terrence, “agreed, by prior arrangement, to meet me here to paint my portrait, so I need to speak with him first. Then it will be your turn,” she said to the other man.