Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, she would be with friends. It would be nice to catch up on things. She could sit demurely in the corner of Charlene's old couch with her legs crossed. They wouldn't see much once she sat down. It would be almost like wearing a bikini, weird enough though that might be at a Christmas party.

She exhaled in resignation and got out to dry herself off.

Charlene's house was three blocks from Tami's. The naked girl took the darkest, most deserted route, through a path in a vacant lot. It was hard to see anything; there were no street lights nearby. The wind was still blowing and it was way cold. Maybe even below freezing by now.

Sometimes there were rough guys hanging out in this lot but not on a night like tonight. Sprinting with long strides of tough bare feet over the broken glass, trees and weeds on all sides of her, the cold wind whipping around her tummy and butt and shoulders, feeling it rush up to sting her pussy and asshole, the naked teenager felt like a wood nymph stirring up the forces of nature on the eve of a hurricane. Her eyes flashed as she heard a crack overhead. A branch fell in her path. Without breaking her stride she jumped over it.

Catching her breath behind a big tree on the corner, Tami looked at Charlene's, a small house tidily wreathed in blinking colored lights, and thought of how she would act. She realized there was only one way to do it. Acknowledge her nudity, act as nonchalant about it as possible, and announce that she was now a nudist if you don't mind.

This is what she did. Charlene, a short, fat but popular girl with frizzy black hair and glasses, stood openmouthed at first but then smiled and said, "Wow! . . . Well OK then, come in. Good thing my dad's out!"

Tami smiled as she sauntered pinkly and nakedly into the living room to the sound of disco Christmas tunes (Charlene had very retro tastes). It was good to see her old friends again, even though they were openmouthed and speechless. There were about eight of them so far, on two couches surrounding a little Christmas tree with lots and lots of ornaments on it. April and Tina were the first to speak. "Tami!!??"

Hell, after what she had been through this was a piece of cake. Tami Smithers, naked in front of her old friends, extended her arms and turned around on her pointed toes. "Here I am, your friend the nudist." She looked at the two big bowls of egg nog -- "Virgin" and "Not So Virgin" --across the room. "And this naked girl is thirsty!"

It was like the end of her visit at Wethby Campbell's. Tami felt confident and totally in control. As she filled her glass with Not So Virgin nog -- there was a lot of nog here, evidently Charlene was expecting quite a crowd -- she imagined the consternation going on behind her bare back and realized that these clothed people were more ill at ease than she was. Though she wasn't enjoying their nervousness like with Wethby, it felt good to be the relaxed one for a change.

She turned around and took a sip of the nog. "Whoa!!" she said, bugging her eyes out. "This is . . . not my aunt's nog!" She sat down next to Tina and continued sipping, legs crossed, flexing the toes of her top foot to the beat of the disco. She looked up. This was a living room she knew well. There was the big painting of the moon that Charlene had done in art class in ninth grade, pictures of relatives, a picture of Charlene's mother who had died about ten years ago.

Ricky Serra was the first to speak. "So," he said from his chair across the room, "Tami, how has college changed you?"

This got a big laugh which broke the tension. The first questions were about Tami being naked. When did she decide to do it? Where were her clothes? Didn't she get cold? Then it branched out to how she liked the college. Some of the others there were back from college too -- then there were those who were attending the local community college, and one or two who were a year younger, still in twelfth grade, and listening curiously to what college life was like -- and soon people were chatting with each other almost as if their friend Tami were wearing clothes like the rest of them.

Dirk Evans showed up back from college with, to everyone's surprise, his blond curls gone and a shiny shaved head. This perhaps was ill-advised. The girls in high school would pant over his sexy hair . . .but now he just looked like a lobotomy patient. "Hi!" he said, entering the living room with his hands stretching out from his ears to show off his shiny scalp. But then seeing Tami he laughed and said, "Wow! Tami Smithers, you certainly outdid me!" He approached and looked at her up and down, then at her face, and said, "Hi you." Soon he was sitting on the floor near Tami and, sipping egg nog and looking at her feet from six inches away, said, "Pretty toes," and began massaging Tami's feet. Tami leaned her head back and moaned. "Oh, harder, harder, more, more! Dirk, you are the MASTER!" At this everyone laughed; Dirk was supposedly the real lady-killer. It did feel awfully good, though.

More people came in. Some were pretty good friends of Tami's, but most were little more than acquaintances. People were standing up, sitting on the floor, taking up every available chair. It was way too crowded for this little house. In between the gabbing there was a buzz which was subdued but noticeable. Not having been present when Tami made her little speech at the egg nog, people were asking each other why Tami Smithers was sitting in the corner of the couch stark naked, with Dirk massaging her bare feet and toes.

Tami did not quite pick up on this, letting herself drift into bliss from the expert massage and the refills of nog that Dirk kept bringing her. Charlene, monitoring the party from her seat next to the door, was getting a little concerned. Some of the girls were starting to make little catty remarks about her naked friend. "So, Miss Perfect Gymnast Body has decided to flaunt it . . ."

Tami felt the need to pee. "Excuse me," she said to Dirk, putting her feet down and trying to heave herself up from the soft couch she had sunk into. She didn't realize how relaxed her feet had gotten, or maybe it was the nog, but after being cantilevered up by Dirk she shot up and almost fell right into Mark, who was sitting across the room right next to his girlfriend, the Sergeant of the local fashion police, Elizabeth Apple. Liz had been regarding Tami with barely disguised distaste and was stunned. As Tami put her hands up against the wall behind Mark to stop her trajectory she found her breasts were right in his face, and the naked girl could actually feel her pussy hair brush against one of his hands holding a glass of soda. "Oh, excuse me, Mark," Tami said, feeling a little embarrassed but also feeling like this was happening to somebody else. She pushed herself back and upright and tried to remember which direction the bathroom was.

Tami was enjoying the alcohol high. She felt warm and comfortable with her nudity. This was a most unusual feeling and she welcomed it. Maybe if she drank more nog she would feel it even more. But first she had to pee.

Sqatting over the toilet in the tiny bathroom, watching the stream of piss shoot out from her furry patch, she didn't remember about Charlene's bathroom door. You had to push it closed until it clicked or it would begin to creep open. Tami had forgotten to push. As the yellow stream began to die down Tami sensed a flash. Somebody must be taking pictures of the party. Then after she got up and wiped herself she noticed that the door was half open. Hmmm. Gotta close that. She pushed it closed, then washed her hands.

Tami forced herself upright, took a deep breath, and strode back into the living room. There was a slightly different buzz to the party now but it was too hard to sort out what it was. Her mind was on the egg nog. Her first attempt at grabbing the big ladle failed. Hmmm. I'm a little drunk, I'd better concentrate on doing this right. After all, I don't want to make a fool of myself. Her back to the crowd, she bent way over, her eyes right on top of the bowl, and v - e - r - y carefully measured one little spoonful, then another. It took a long time for her to fill up her glass, the whole time with her bare butt sticking up and out into the room.

As she finally stood up with a full glass she felt a hand caressing her butt. "Oh!" She turned and it was Dirk. "Sorry," he said. "You know you really have a beautiful body, if the Class of 2000 had to have a nudist, I'm glad it had to be you." At least that's what it sounded like he was saying. He stood looking down at her, his face very close to hers.

Tami remembered his foot massage. She hadn't known Dirk all that well, but now she wished she had. He was nice to give her a foot massage and he was nice to compliment her so. "Thanks," she said, burying the last of the word as she gulped heavily from her glass.

Dirk took a step back. "Your body and this tree are like two beautiful holiday decorations." He shot a quick dark look at a couple of girls who were rolling their eyes, but Tami didn't notice.

Tami smiled behind her glass. "Thanks."

Dirk looked at her for a second. "Let me try something." As Tami looked down, Dirk took a couple of cubes from the ice tray and brought them to Tami's nipples. Tami squealed as she felt cold points somewhere down on her body and when she looked down she saw her nipples, cold and hard and erect and wet. Then she saw Dirk's hands holding two of the big red glassy globe-shaped ornaments from the tree.

He was holding them by their threads, then tied them on one then the other nipple so quickly and expertly it was like he was a magician. "You are even more beautiful now," she heard Dirk's warm voice say. Tami giggled at the ornaments hanging from her nipples. It was the funniest thing she ever saw. She heard some other voices coming from further away -- were they arguing? -- but went back to looking at the hanging globes. I've got globes on my globes, she thought. Then she looked up as Dirk put a little section of tinsel from the tree onto her head as if he were crowning her Homecoming Queen. "Beautiful," he said again, as her face glowed with a smile.

A new disco tune came on. "Let's dance," Dirk said, swaying to the beat. Tami, still holding the glass in one hand, turned from side to side, making little steps with her feet, watching the ornaments jump and dance. She did not notice that Dirk had moved away. Now she was dancing for the crowd. What the hey. I feel good. This is fun. The downed the rest of the glass but kept it in her hand.

She saw Liz Apple squatting in front of her. "Stand still, Tami, let's see how this looks," she said, pulling out her lipstick. Well, well, even stuck-up old Liz Apple is getting into the spirit, Tami noted happily. It took some doing to stand still without wobbling, but Tami did, feeling the sticky slickness of the lipstick. She could make out the words "Merry X-Mas!" on her flat tummy. Then Liz drew a little heart around Tami's navel. This was even funnier than the ornaments. Tami giggled.

Liz backed away and Tami started dancing again, wiggling, shaking, turning around, to hoots and cheers that she could hear from afar. I'm so glad I feel good, she told herself. She saw flashes go off as people took pictures. Hey, I'm the star, she told herself. . . The cheers were like a miniature version of the thunderous applause she had gotten for her solo dance at the Black Formal. Being naked has gotten me liked and admired . . .

Someone suggested she try to make the ornaments twirl in a circle. She bounced and bounced but could only get them to go up and down. But then she discovered that she could almost get the globes to twirl if she squatted. She started bouncing up and down so that her butt almost hit the floor. Bounce, bounce, she heard cheering as she finally got the globes to go in circles, feeling the rhythmic tug on her nipples. She raised her arms in triumph and shouted. "Wooo -- oooo!!" Twirl, twirl, bounce, bounce, actually hitting the floor with her butt once or twice . . . more flashes . . .

Tami felt hot. Her pussy must have been gaping open because she could feel air in there. Good. I need to cool off. She could feel air on her asshole too. Faster and faster she bounced up and down, getting the air going down there, the globes twirling, her hair flinging, people cheering . . .

After a couple of seconds Tami realized the music had stopped.

She quit bouncing to see what was going on. She looked up from her squatting position, feeling the globes bobbing around on her nipples and coming to rest, and there was Charlene's father. She was about to say hi when she realized that his face was red and livid.

"What -- the -- HELL -- is going on???" His eyes were ferocious. She and Charlene's father knew each other pretty well, but she had never seen him like this. Who was he mad at?

"Tami!!"

Well, Tami thought, it must be me he's mad at. She stood up, vaguely feeling the ornaments swinging from her nipples, and felt like she was watching a movie in which a little girl was being scolded by her father for drawing on the wall or something.

"Tami!" Charlene's father said again. He was momentarily at a loss for words. When the words did come they were loud and angry. "I don't know what happened to you at college but -- you really turned into a cheap SLUT!!" Somewhere inside her brain Tami told herself she should be deeply hurt by these words. "Where the hell are your clothes??"

Tami continued standing with difficulty, arms at her sides. "I don't have any," she said, her words a little slurred.

"No clothes??"

"N - n - nope. I don't have any clothes. No clothes for me." Tami smacked her lips with that mixture of satisfaction and resignation that drunk people can sometimes express. Her legs wobbled unsteadily, causing the red balls to swing tightly from her nipples. She felt the need to give a fuller explanation. "I don't have any clothes in the whole wide world. Always naked. That's me."

Charlene's father pointed to the door. "Get the hell out of here. Run back to your house, young lady." He then glared at Charlene. "Turn that music off . . . I want everyone out of here in ten minutes!!"

Tami, sensing escape, or maybe a bad feeling of some kind, suddenly felt herself running past Charlene's father and out the door.

Her run back to the house was wild, ragged, frantic. Part of her could feel the biting cold wind, the branches hitting her feet that she was no longer alert enough to jump over, the ornaments tugging down and up and sideways on her nipples, though suddenly it was only one nipple. To the rest of her it was like watching someone else in a movie. In this movie the cold, naked girl, feet and legs scratched, hurled herself against the front door of her house like a runner hitting the finish line ribbon, fumbled with the doorknob, and stumbled up the stairs.

In the bathroom the naked girl looked at herself in the mirror in the unnatural buzz of the fluorescent light and suddenly she was no longer watching a movie. She saw herself, a cheap drunk whore, a naked party slut, hair wild, a string of tinsel almost falling off one side, a Christmas tree ornament hanging from one nipple, a piece of thread from the other, "Merry Xmas" in smeared lipstick letters across her heaving tummy with a smeared heart around her navel. As she looked at herself she began to cry, holding herself up over the sink, holding her hand over her downcast eyes.

She abruptly choked back the tears and then, without thinking, turned on the shower. She stepped in and felt the chill of cold water and then suddenly remembed to start mixing in the hot. She grabbed the ornament and the string and pulled and pulled, stretching her breasts down and away, accepting the pain as if she deserved it. "N - n - n - nhhh!!" With a final awful pain her nipples came free and bounced back against her chest. Then she washed herself and dried herself about as well as a drunk person could and plunged into her bed.

She began to sober up. In her tossings and turnings there was a new kind of shame. She had been taken advantage of, sure, but she had allowed it. Nobody forced her this time. She had made a jerk of HERSELF. Dancing around naked, painted, ornaments on her nipples . . . And somebody had taken pictures!

Then she thought of Charlene's father. He had been almost like an uncle to her, but the memory of his outraged, reproachful glare was enough to make her cover her eyes with the pillow. She felt deep, deep shame, different maybe than that time in the dining hall when she had to look into the gleefully sadistic eyes of Henry Ross as she succumbed to orgasm . . . but mortification just the same.

After a while she felt a little better and in her mind she worked out, bit by bit, how she should have reacted when Charlene's father came in. She should have stood up proudly and said, "This is the way I am. I never wear clothes. If you don't like it that's YOUR problem." Then she should have calmly taken those ornaments off, bid good-bye to her friends, and walked out as if her pride were intact.

Yeah right!! . . . as if I would ever have the courage to be that way. On the other hand, Tami thought of the times in the past, at college, when she did display that kind of courage. Could she be that way without her dorm friends around? Maybe next time. . .With these thoughts the naked girl, her nipples still a little sore, finally found sleep.


The Unintentional Nudist VII: The Girl in the Mirror, Part 6

They came drifting in like a dream to the sleeping girl. Christmas carols played by Salvation Army style horns. She opened her eyes and her room was magically brighter than usual. A quick glance up told her why. The back yard was a soft, silent heaven of white stuff. Big wet flakes were coming down from the white sky. The white stuff covered the ground, shrouded the branches, thatched the roofs of the garage and the nearby houses and the girl realized that this was the morning of Christmas Eve, the time of year she had been looking forward to for months.

Soon she would run down to the tree to see wrapped gifts that Santa had brought her, to be opened tonight, and Grandma and Grandpa would be there to give her lollipops, and Mommy would suit her up in her snowpants and she'd go out and build a snowman with Joey and Daddy, with branches stuck in its sides for arms . . .

With her first full awake breath Tami realized that she was no longer eight years old. She was no longer in a little kid's world. Grandma and Grandpa were dead. Those would be no toys under the tree. A tear rolled from her eye.

She sniffled and cleared her throat and sat up, blankets wrapped around her shoulders, looking out at the snowy wonderland. She took a deep breath, listening to the Christmas carols. Yes, she was a grownup now. Being grownup was better, in general. You had more control of things. Still, there were so many nice memories which should be held onto.

She glanced quickly down and ruefully acknowledged her nakedness. Well, I might be a grownup but I'm a naked grownup. In one important way I don't have control of my life at all.

She looked over to her old broken clock radio, a Christmas gift from ten years ago. 7:15 a.m. It had gone off unexpectedly to play her Christmas carols, like a kind angel from the past. She felt like it was giving her a sign. Was this still a dream? No.

Outside the snow was about four inches deep. Tami looked closer. At points there was bare ground where it had not stuck. This snow was not going to last. If it was melting already, it will melt all the more quickly later in the day as the temperature rises. Melt away like her childhood.

It was a crazy thought. Tami fought against it. It was ridiculous. But yet . . . it was not that cold out. This was do-able. There would be no snow pants, no Joey (at least as she knew him). But she was going to make a snowman. The radio was calling her to do it. And there wasn't much time.

The naked girl threw off her blankets and decided she was not going to turn back. She tiptoed downstairs, slowly opened the back door, then the storm door, and walked upright into the still, cold air and the unbelievably cold feeling of snow which stuck wet and feathery to her bare feet.

Like a swimmer who knows the best way to get used to cold water is to dive in all at once, Tami fell forward on her face, letting the snow crunch into her breasts, her tummy, her legs . . . then she rolled over, feeling it on her back, wedging into the crack of her butt . . . deliberately freezing herself . . . and when she got up the air was not so cold.

She went to work. Rolling snowballs that grew as she pushed them across the yard, the crunching from her bare feet and from the snowballs echoing in the cold silence, within five minutes she had hefted one snowy boulder on top of the other with strong wide-spread arms against her hard, flushed, pointy breasts and flat tummy until she had a snowman as tall as she was (and much fatter). The falling snow matted her hair, and there was more snow packed into to her pubic bush and melting all over in little rivers down her red, flushed skin. She imagined little Naked Tami, eight years old, playing in the snow with the other kids, a lifetime of never having worn clothes except for at the beginning with diapers . . . Could such a thing be possible? In just four months she had already developed resistance to cold which amazed her. Maybe after eight years of being exposed to the outdoors she would have been a healthy, rugged, ruddy-skinned child free of any sense of modesty. Part of her wished she had been indeed naked since birth. The hard part was not the nudity but her feelings of shame . . .

She stuck branches in the snowman's sides, said a gentle "Merry Christmas" to the snowman and to Joey and Mommy and Daddy and her grandparents and to her childhood, and then rushed back into the house where it was quiet and warm.


The Unintentional Nudist VII: The Girl in the Mirror, Part 7

John Smithers, sitting at the kitchen table, glancing at his wife's butt as she poured him coffee while wearing nothing but an apron and high heels, said offhandedly, "Who made that snowman?"

"I did." Tami was standing in the living room, naked as always, sipping coffee from her old "Miss Brat" mug and looking out the big bay window.

He grunted, looking back at his paper. "You are amazing, Tami . . . I'll bet you came in pretty fast afterwards."

"I sure did."

Tami took another sip. On this quiet Saturday morning, Christmas Eve, the snow had melted off the street and was quickly melting off their front lawn. The sun was out, and the reflections off the remaining snow played over her breasts, her tummy, her legs. She knew that anyone passing by could see her nakedness through the window. But right now the streets were deserted.

Tami closed her eyes. I made a real ass of myself at that party last night. She imagined how she must have looked to Charlene's father. Stark naked, Christmas tree ornaments tied to her nipples, lipsticked words on her tummy, tinsel in her hair . . . and squatting on the floor, her pussy wide open, bouncing up and down, shouting, drunk . . .She shook her head.

She counted the ways in which she had been cruelly and shamefully exposed to people at the college. All of that suddenly didn't seem so bad. All that had been stuff she was forced into. But this, this was different. And now she felt a new and more intense kind of shame.

She had never particularly wanted to stay in her home town after graduating high school. In fact, college was her ticket out of here. Now it looked like her bridges have been burned. How could she face her friends again? How could she even be seen in public? Well, she had to concede, that was a dicey proposition anyway, because she would have to be naked. But all Mr. Noyes did was force her to go to the party. Making an ass of herself, ruining her reputation, that was her own doing.

With a sigh Tami regarded the clothing worn by her brother Joe as he slouched in his father's big easy chair, playing with a hand-held video game. Big wool socks. Tami looked down at her bare feet, a little scratched from last night's wild run through the lots. She looked at Joe's sweatshirt and sweatpants, and glanced down at her bare legs, her bare pussy, her tummy and breasts. She looked at everyone else's clothes with a terrible longing. Why can't I have clothes, God?? For a second she almost wanted to cry. Then she sighed again. Stop torturing yourself, Tami! She tried sour grapes. That chair Joe was sitting on, for example. It was camel hair and awfully itchy on the skin of a naked girl. This effort to make herself feel better was only partly successful.

This was turning out to be a miserable Christmas break. At first she was glad to be home. She could stay in one place and not be subject to public exposure in front of so many eyes like at college. But now she actually missed college. That visit by Mr. Noyes, and that party, and now . . . tonight . . . Midnight Mass!

Tami closed her eyes again and took another sip of coffee. This was going to be horrible.

She thought of her friends at college. Jen, Rod, Terri, Rebecca, Marisol, Mayree, Dawn . . . they were so much more mature. Well, of course they are. They're older. But she couldn't imagine them taking advantage of her like those high school acquaintances did last night. Then again, at college there were Wanda and Heather and that crowd. They are just older versions of Liz Apple.

The mail truck went by.

Tami's father went out. Joe said, "Ma, who's coming over today?"

"Uncle Robert and Aunt Jane, and the kids. Maybe Charlotte and Herbert, but that's still up in the air." Tami closed her eyes again. She will have to smile and prance naked in front of some relatives today. More torture.

Her father appeared in the doorway with a torn-open envelope and a wide grin. "Tami Smithers, straight A's! A perfect 4.0 GPA in her first semester!" he announced.

Tami's mother advanced to look at the grade report. They brought it over to Tami. Indeed. Nothing but A's. Under "comments", there was Mrs. Barrows's handwriting: "Excellent attitude, only student with perfect attendance."

Mr. Smithers said, "Tami, whatever bad things I had to say about your nudism thing, it sure seems to be working. Congratulations, darling." And he hugged her.

Tami smiled. She was glad to make him proud. And once again, being naked had somehow got bound up with what she was respected for.

A while later, Tami Smithers was lying on her bed, reading the comics section of the newspaper. She glanced out to the snowman in the back yard, a little drooped and melted now, one of its branch arms down at an angle. She thought of this magical morning, when she felt like a little girl again.

Tami stretched out full length and then bent her legs, pushing her back down against the mattress so that it was straightened out. This was a warmup exercise for gymnastics, though on a soft bed it didn't accomplish much. She had an excellent view of her pussy hair and started idly playing with it. This is me, she told herself. Other girls play with the curls on their head, I play with the curls on my pussy. She saw that the trimmed sections were growing back bit by bit. Pulling on one of her longer hairs, seeing that it extended about an inch and a half, letting it go so that it bounced back. . . It's amazing that pussy hair never grows to where you have to cut it. It just gets to a certain length and stops.

She was a gymnast and didn't even have to strain. She casually propped her elbows in the crooks of her knees and spread her legs while hoisting her head to within a foot of her pussy. She wanted a good look for some reason. The naked girl looked at her pussy, stretched open in this position. She twisted her arms so that her fingers could reach it. She picked carefully at the big outer lips, then spread the inner lips, looking in at the little pink tunnel. It was dark inside. So this is what everyone has been looking at. This is what has been on display, in a dozen different ways, to dozens of people, during that past semester. This is Jen's favorite place to be as she explores me and brings me to orgasm with her fingers and tongue.

Tami pulled her inner lips this way and that, trying to get some light into the pink tunnel so she could see more. Was it possible to see my cervix like this? Or do I need a speculum? But no, she just couldn't get the right angle. It was still dark in there.

She saw the little hood that hid her clitoris. With a little smirk of distaste she remembered Dr. Harridance rubbing her clit to see if it would get erect normally. Tami very delicately opened the hood and saw her little pleasure button, soft and quiet in its little hiding place. She pulled it out and almost jerked at the quick little jolt of pleasure. Yes, I have normal sexual responses all right. She let it go and saw it retract back into its hood, though not all the way.

She bent her head further and saw the bottom of her pussy, the end of her pussy hairs, then her famous butthole, surrounded by its ring of brown skin. With a little effort she could move her butt muscles so that her asshole actually twitched. She smiled. Yeah, like this is a really useful talent. She pushed like she was taking a shit, then pulled. She tried all sorts of combinations of muscles. Whoa! I just made by butthole open up! The pucker lines disappeared and there was a little round open hole maybe big enough for her pinky. Then it closed again. Tami tried to duplicate what she had just done but couldn't.

The naked girl, in the solitude of her bedroom, giggled and covered her eyes and stretched back out full length. She turned over, feeling the soft blankets against her breasts and legs. What the hell am I doing? she asked herself with amusement. Spreading myself and poking around in my pussy, looking at my own butthole. What kind of person am I turning into?

What kind indeed? Tami felt like a different person now. After months of being forced to go naked in public, denied even a scrap of covering, it was no wonder. There were the cruel humiliations, the Dean was out to get her, that creep Henry Ross was up to no good, but . . . well, the matter of cold, for instance. I've walked out naked in the snow, I've walked in sub-freezing weather that whole way to Rebecca and Marisol's new apartment, I've been naked when there were drafts . . . a normal girl would have gotten hypothermia, or maybe frostbite. But I survived. In fact I did better than survive. She thought once again of the fact that of all the girls in her dorm wing, she had not gotten sick once since she started being naked all the time.

And finding such true friends like Jen and Terri and Mayree and Rebecca and the others, that was a good feeling. And then there was Rod. And his magnificent dick. God, she missed college. She burrowed under the blankets. Once again she found her hand making its way to her pussy as she thought of Rod. After a few minutes had passed she was relaxed and happy and sleepy . . .

. . .

She was awakened by the hum of conversation downstairs and the smell of turkey. She looked at the old alarm clock. 3:30 p.m. Wow. She really slept!

She recognized the voices of Uncle Robert and Charlotte, and Jane's kids, who were actually her age by now, or thereabouts. She cleared her throat. Descending down the stairs into that crowd was going to take some courage. But she was a trouper. Tami got up and brushed her teeth and down she went.

"Well here she is, Miss Straight A Student," Tami's father said, leading the cheer. Everyone clapped. As Tami forced a relaxed-looking smile, she saw old Uncle Robert, whom she had last seen at Thanksgiving . . . and Aunt Jane, sitting next to her two kids, Preston and Amaryl . . . and Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Herbert, standing next to her parents. Her mother was back to being fully dressed. Everyone, it seemed, was wearing an abundance of clothing. And looking at her and clapping.

Descending the stairs slowly, Tami knew herself to be the star of the show. Listening to the clapping, she thought of how to show herself. There was one way of descending, like a Miss America or something, where you were in a way showing off your body. Tami opted for the other way, acting like there's nothing special about your appearance. She could not quite pull it off; she could not ignore the stares of her relatives at her breasts and pussy and legs and bare feet. She looked down and blushed, a blush that extended down to her breasts.

She reached the bottom of the stairs. Now what? After a moment of indecision Tami decided to work the room like a politician. She greeted everyone individually and hugged them. She felt the scratchy or soft or silky sweaters and jackets and shirts and blouses against her bare skin and the desire to wear these things and her envy of these well-clothed people was so intense that her throat was dry. But she bravely and sincerely said to each, "Good to see you."

This was the beginning of a strange two hours in the midst of her family, during which Tami sat and talked, drank coffee and soda, ate celery and blue cheese and deviled eggs and black olives, and chatted about whatever people wanted to talk about. Tami steeled herself and managed to act naturally. After a while the glances at her nakedness got less frequent and people were actually making eye contact. But Tami was always thinking about how weird it was to be naked in the middle of it all . . .

Only once did her nudity come up in conversation. Amaryl, sitting at the kitchen table with Tami, munching on potato chips, talking a mile a minute as always, said, "My mom told me about your new religion . . . how can you go around naked all the time? Isn't it uncomfortable? I'd hate to be naked and have everyone look at me. Last summer I wore one of those new backless tops out, and I just couldn't stand the idea that everyone might be looking at me. How do you go out in the snow? Isn't it cold where you're going to college? If I were you I'd transfer to Miami or someplace like that . . ." Tami smiled. She hardly had to say anything when talking with her cousin Amaryl. Amaryl made her own conversation and all Tami had to do was nod. Tami smiled. Some things hadn't changed . . .


The Unintentional Nudist VII: The Girl in the Mirror, Part 8

In her Intro to Psych class Tami's professor had said, "An experienced therapist is able to look totally concerned while not paying any attention whatsoever what the client is saying." That got a chuckle from the class. Now on Christmas Even the naked freshman, sitting at the table, thought of that as she listened to her cousin Amaryl talk and talk and talk . . .

Tami felt like everything was off balance, like she was living in a dream. Did she really have Christmas tree ornaments tied to her nipples last night as she got drunk and danced in front of her high school friends? Did she really split her legs open up in her bedroom a while ago and practically stick her face into her pussy, watching how her butthole moved? What is going on here? This is stuff I willingly did. Compared to this, somehow her misadventures at college seemed settled and sane. At college she was the same old Tami, trying to keep her wits while being forced to expose herself. But now back at home it seemed like maybe her wits were leaving her . . .

Tami munched on another stalk of celery, sitting back in her chair, looking attentively at Amaryl as she talked about -- something about her college plans -- and the naked girl sighed, glancing down to make sure no crumbs had fallen onto her pussy hair, her feet tucked under the chair, her toes curling around the bottom post . . .

She was vaguely conscious of the phone ringing and then her mother said, "Tami, it's Charlene."

Shit. The drunk dancing. Tami excused herself and said, "I'll take it upstairs, Mom."

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Tami decided to bite the bullet. The first thing she said was, "Sorry about last night."

"Indeed." The pause was depressing. Tami had really let her friend down. But then she heard, "I blame Liz and Dirk more than I do you. I mean, it was stupid of you to get drunk. Also stupid, let's face it, to go around naked. I don't get this nudism thing you're suddenly into. But they really took advantage of you."

It was a compact expression of Charlene's feelings, sounding well-rehearsed because it was. Tami was glad to hear the acknowledgement of Liz's and Dirk's fault, but still felt contrite. "I'm REALLY sorry about your dad."

"Well . . . I told him I was trying to stop it and he kind of believes me now. I didn't think he'd be back so soon. One must admit, the sight you presented him with when he came in was rather shocking." Charlene tended to have an almost upper-crust British way of talking at times, especially when she was trying to act grown-up.

Tami closed her eyes, trying once again to blot out the image. Maybe even worse were the pictures. "Whose camera was that?"

"I took it from Dirk's friend and pulled the film and threw it out. I think that was the only camera." This was a lie, told to make Tami feel more at ease. Actually Charlene had tried to grab the camera but Dirk and his friends ran out the door with it. She would keep trying, though.

Tami breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God the pictures were destroyed. "So how have you been . . ." It was a relief to have a normal conversation for a while. Talking on the phone Tami could pretend that she was wearing clothes.

A few minutes after hanging up, while Tami was looking at the ceiling, once again absent-mindedly playing with her pubic hair, the phone rang again.

"Hi babe," Rod's happy voice echoed staticky and distant over the phone.

A big, broad smile came over Tami's face. "Oh Rod . . ." She looked up at the ceiling, pretending he was up there, and her finger quickly went to her clit. "I want to fuck you . . ." a throaty giggle as she turned to one side.

Rod chuckled. "I miss you babe."

"Oh Rod . . . I miss YOU . . . you have no idea . . ."

A slight pause. "I've got a little friend down here that I'm stroking who misses you too."

Another giggle. "Maybe not so little . . ." Tami was getting turned on incredibly fast. Her finger rubbed and rubbed as she cradled the phone in the other hand and began to moan. A moment later she was saying, "Rod, I'm going to come for you . . . ohhh . . ."

. . .

The Smithers family was making its bloated way to the living room, stuffed with turkey and a dozen other delicious things. Tami decided to sit down on the floor, next to the couch. She had always been something of a floor-sitter, as gymnasts tend to be, and the old but still decent carpet felt good under her bare butt. She had been wondering during dinner whether her nipples were still erect after her little long-distance diddle with Rod. Also, whether her pussy gave off any leftover female musk. As she settled into a cross-legged position on the floor she also guessed that, though everyone was stuffed, it was visible only on her as the only naked person. She looked down and saw that her tummy was a little convex, instead of flat as usual. A naked girl lives with the knowledge that everything about her is noticeable.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to buy anything," she said, looking up at the gifts on the table next to the tree.

"That's O.K.," her mother said. "You're a scholar athlete with a straight A average, you've worked hard and you're excused."

The passing out of the gifts was its usual pleasant ritual. The Smithers family was small, and everyone got a gift for everyone. Tami got various little trinkets, a new watch, a new necklace. Of course, she did not get any clothes.

But there was one big fluffy wrapped gift for her. Her Uncle Robert spoke. "We know that because of your, uh, new lifestyle, we couldn't very well get you any clothing, but we thought this might keep you warm in your dorm."

Tami, standing up, unwrapped the big fluffy comforter and clutched it with bittersweet longing, feeling its soft warmness against her nipples, her tummy, her bare legs, knowing that she would never be allowed to keep it in her dorm room, knowing that Wanda or Heather would confiscate it immediately. "Oh, it's so nice," she said. She forced a brave smile. Then she diplomatically folded it and put it on the table, her eyes still locked on it as she stood naked in front of her family and aunts and uncles and cousins.

"I'm curious, dear," said Aunt Charlotte, looking over her bifocals, sitting and sipping coffee in her old-school-lady way, "how has being a nudist changed you?"

Tami looked directly at Aunt Charlotte and then down at her bare feet. This was a question she had asked herself many times. She could do nothing except give a serious answer. She tried to make a start of it. "Well . . . it's made me a lot braver."

The outburst of laughter was both surprising and irritating. This was a serious, hard-won answer, not a joke. But Tami decided to be a good sport and smile. She glanced at Aunt Charlotte and knew that at least her aunt did not think of her answer as a joke.

Late, over pumpkin pie, Aunt Charlotte returned to the topic. Looking across the table at Tami, glancing fleetingly at her niece's nipples which were visible over the tablecloth, she said, "What do your old friends make of you?"

"That reminds me," Tami's father said, "how did the party go last night? We were all asleep when you got back."

Tami gulped down a piece of pie without bothering to chew. After a second she decided to focus on the beginning of the party, when it was a small affair with close friends. "It took some getting used to, but they were O.K. People change a lot when they come back from college."

More irritating laughter.

Tami politely declined the offer of brandy as everyone again sat around in the living room. Alcohol brought back memories of last night. And so did Preston when he said, "Time for a picture!" This was an annual event, having been taken over by Preston in recent years because he had gotten enthusiastic about photography and now wanted to show off his new delayed-action camera.

Tami couldn't very well decline to be part of the family portrait in front of the fireplace. But she did manage to get in behind everyone else so that she was sure that nothing showed but her face and maybe her neck. It would look maybe only like she was wearing a low-cut blouse. Just before Preston set the timer and ran to strike a hammy pose kneeling in front of everybody, Tami's father took the grade report off his desk and gave it to Tami. "Show your A's for the camera!"

Tami smirked as she heard an embarrassing unintended pun in this phrase, but smiled and waved the report over her head as the seconds ticked away and the flash went off.

"One more," Preston said.

"Tami, you're the star of this show, you should be in front," Uncle Robert said. There was a brief feeling of apprehension in the room. What would Tami do?

Tami couldn't very well refuse, though. And she had been naked in front of everyone all day, so what was the difference? She stood proud and naked and tall in front for Preston's second picture, smiling gamely.

It was only as the flash was about to go off that Tami realized what she was doing. The flash recorded a partly faded smile as she and her family were again recorded for posterity. As she blinked the purple dots from her eyes and slowly put the grade report back on her father's desk, she shuddered inside. This picture was going to end up in photo albums that will be looked at from now until forever. She was naked at college, she was naked in front of her friends, and now she will be naked to her family and cousins and anyone else who is shown the picture. "There's cousin Tami, she's a nudist . . ." There was no way she could put this whole nude episode behind her now. Her nudity was enshrined for eternity. She'd might as well stay naked for life.

In this stunned state of mind, she sat and decided to take a nip of brandy after all.

The naked girl felt the cold drafts acutely as the door opened and her relatives, bundled up, hugged her and the others as they left. She stood behind her father and briefly watched them go down the front path before she turned, hugging herself, and went to the couch. For a while after that she was pensive, going through the same magazines yet again.

Only one thing was on her mind. Midnight mass. She looked at the clock. 9:30!! She worked out the logistics. She would have to drive there herself. Maybe she could use the "old car" -- the broken-down Chevy sedan that was now mostly used by Joe when he drove around with his friends and to his job at the supermarket. And she would certainly go alone.

Shit! This was going to be Hell. It was also ridiculous. She just could not walk naked into her old church.

The Smitherses were not particularly devout. In the past few years they had gone to church only at Christmas and Easter. The others went to Christmas mass during the day -- but she would go to the Midnight Mass, usually with some friends. Not Charlene (who was Protestant), but with some others. They enjoyed the festive decorations, singing the old Christmas carols . . . the church was a magical place on this one night. But she was definitely not going to go with her friends this time. She wondered if any of the old gang would be there tonight.

Tami looked at her father, snoozing in his chair. What would he think?

Do I REALLY have to go? she asked herself. Mr. Noyes said he would have someone there to check on her. Maybe he was lying. But why would he be lying? He seemed determinated to hold her to her promise of being a committed nudist. She grimaced at her little unintended joke. Yes, if I showed up nude at Midnight Mass I'd be "committed" all right -- by the men in the white suits. I'll get thrown out before I even sit down. I've got to make sure that Noyes's spy sees me. He certainly can't blame me for getting thrown out. But what if he's late and gets there afterwards? Well, then I should show up late too just to make sure he's there.

This line of thinking almost exhausted the naked girl as she sat curled up on the couch, her head on her upraised knees. She covered her face with her hand. God, I can't believe what I'm planning on doing. I always wanted to leave this town . . . in spite of everything I kind of feel much more at home at college now with my friends there . . .but to show up naked in church at Christmas . . . so many people I know are sure to be there . . . this is really burning my bridges. I'd never be able to walk the streets again . . . after I graduate and get back into clothes, that is!

She looked up and saw her grade report on her father's desk. She realized again the consequence of not going. Expulsion. Throwing away the scholarship. Disappointment by her father and her family. That would be horrible. And this nudism thing is only temporary after all.

She looked through the doorway at the crucifix in the dining room. One of her professors made a good point about how barbaric Christians must seem to people in the third world. It's our custom to have this little statute placed in a prominent place in our houses -- of a nearly naked, bleeding, tortured, dying man with nails in his hands and feet . . .She looked at the expression on Jesus' face, looking up, saying . . . what was it he said? "My father, why hast thou forsaken me?"

It seemed blasphemous but she knew how Jesus felt. She had looked up many times to God when she was naked, put on display, quaking from extreme shame, feeling abandoned and forlorn, stripped of everything including hope . . . she remembered having her legs spread in the dorm lounge in front of her friends and dorm-mates, on the verge of orgasm from the pokings and proddings, knowing the odor of her female musk was obvious to everyone . . . looking up at the ceiling, praying . . .

She remembered standing in the supermarket parking lot, in subfreezing weather, being stared at by the customers in the parking lot, and by the stockboys from behind through the window, not being able to close her legs or use her arms to cover herself because she was sure one of Dean Jorgon's spies was sitting in a nice warm car right in front of her . . . looking up and praying . . .

She looked at that crucifix now and prayed again. Please, God, please Jesus, give me the strength to do this . . . and forgive me for what I'm about to do . . .

Tami looked down. In her praying she was even starting to sound like Jesus. She shook her head. I can't get pretentious. I'm just an 18-year-old college freshman. Let's just get through this, O.K.?

She got up and walked toward the stairs as her father turned in his chair and woke up. He got up stiffly, holding a newspaper.

"Gotta get ready," Tami said, starting up the stairs.

"For what?"

"Midnight Mass."

"You're going like that?"

"Well, I'm a nudist, you know."

Her father looked concerned. "Tami . . . c'mon. You can't go to Midnight Mass like that. It's just stupid. They won't even let you in."

This was true but Tami had to try. "Well, maybe they will and maybe they won't."

Her father shook his head. "Forget it, Tami." He was not a real churchgoer but he was thinking about people they knew who might be there, and his daughter walking into church naked right in front of them. A quick three-block sprint to Charlene's house was one thing. But this was different. "It's just dumb."

He was absolutely right but Tami swallowed and said, "Well, I'm going . . . I'll take the old car."

John Smithers thought for a second. "You'll be back right away. . ." He told himself, If she's NOT back soon, I'll take that as a sign that they let her in. That new liberal priest might be there and he might do anything. But I just can't imagine that even he will let her sit there for mass like that.

Tami went up the stairs. In a few minutes, washed and combed, the ankle pouch with her driver's license in it securely fastened, she was in the living room with her legs bent up on the couch looking out the big bay window. She had dashed out and started the old car and was now trying to make out the exhaust smoke in the darkness as the car warmed up. She held her toes in her hand, rubbing them, biting her lip at what she was about to do.


The Unintentional Nudist VII: The Girl in the Mirror, Part 9

The car with the heat on full blast was like an oven. Tami didn't mind at all. She carefully gripped the steering wheel and worked the bare steel of the worn-out pedals with her bare feet as she drove the empty streets into town and to St. Mary's Roman Catholic Church. The parking lot was almost full. She was late, as planned. She parked facing the church on the edge of the parking lot and kept the motor running, hunched down behind the steeing wheel, even though there was no need to hide, everyone already being in the church.

The front of the church was decked out in style. Pine branches and a wreath, and a big lit cross on the door. Holly leaves. Tinsel. A creche on the little piece of grass in front. This was a drab church in a drab town, but tonight it really looked special.

Tami looked down at the dashboard gauges. Once this old car got warm it really didn't run too bad. She was interested in cars, and her dad had showed her how to change the oil and the spark plugs on this old thing. Tonight it almost didn't start, but the ride was smooth because of the warmup time. You've got to take time to warm up these old cars before driving off.

Tami pictured herself for a moment working on this car naked, crawling out from under it, with oil and grease smears on her bare skin. She smiled at the ridiculous image. I suppose my days as a junior mechanic are over, at least until graduation. Then again, maybe when I get my summer job and wear clothes . . . no, I won't be able to make enough money to get a car, at least not then.

The sound of "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" got Tami's mind focused again. Sung in tune and loudly for once, unlike those bland songs during ordinary Sundays. It was good to sing something familiar, it was part of the good feeling of this night. And look . . . now it's beginning to snow! How right on Christmas Eve. Tami had her sentimental side. She was really just your typical teenage girl.

She started shaking as she realized it was do-or-die time. Time to walk naked into the middle of Midnight Mass. Noyes's spy must surely be in there by now. She turned off the motor. The Christmas carol rang out, loud and distinct, bouncing off the silence of the surrounding buildings, mostly stores that were shuttered this time of night.

With the motor off the car would get cold soon. Tami figured she would walk in and then get thrown out. Then it would be over and she could drive back home. But first she would have to make her way well into the church to make sure Noyes's spy saw her. She would have to walk proudly and upright, not covering any part of herself. Oh God . . . oh God . . .

Tami found herself muttering this as she zippered the car keys into her ankle pouch, threw the pouch under the driver's seat (nobody would steal a car here) and gently opened the car door and stepped with bare feet onto the freezing pavement which was now covered with a thin film of dusty snow. "Oh God . . . oh God . . ."

She walked stiffly through the parking lot toward the church steps, trying not to feel the cold, her face a conflicted mask of deadpan numbness and barely concealed misery, her feet making perfect little prints in the snow that lay on the icy path to the steps.

Up to the big wooden front doors she went.

She suddenly wished Rebecca was with her. Rebecca, her churchgoing friend. Rebecca was not Catholic but would understand and be supportive. Tami shut her eyes tight and tried to imagine Rebecca in her wire rimmed glasses and unstyled hair and lumberjack shirt, standing next to her, giving her encouragement.

The naked teenage girl opened one of the big wooden doors. Numbly, she walked in. The singing had just stopped and people were looking down at their missalettes to follow the priest's words.

The place was crowded, packed like at no other time of year, holly branches and wreaths and tinsel everywhere, a big party of holiday decorations. . . this registered only dimly in the naked girl's mind, as did the gasps, the half-expressed "what the --" from the ushers who she had now passed, the sudden total silence that fell over the church.

Tami walked a bit faster now. She had to be seen by Noyes's spy, wherever he was. When she was right in the middle of the church she looked up and saw Father Coubert, that old fart, who had once told her fifth grade cathechism class that non-Catholics don't go to heaven, who had told her brusquely during the last time she went to confession, in junior high school, that to have sexual feelings before marriage was a mortal sin -- Father Coubert standing behind the altar and looking at her from behind his thick glasses with an expression of surprise and outrage such as she had never seen before.

"M - miss Smithers!!" he finally choked out, his voice cracking with anger.

It was like a splash of cold water. Everything she saw and heard was now suddenly real.

The naked girl, now frightenend half out of her wits, looked around in a panic at the sea of astonished faces.

There was Mr. Gottman, her science teacher from high school.

There was her mother's friend Aunt Ginny.

There was Debby Poquette, her old friend from the cheerleading squad, with her grandmother.

There were the parents and sister of Maryanne Spinelli, her friend since grade school who was now in the Army.

It seemed like everybody who she knew from her childhood, who knew her as Tami Smithers, a nice good girl, now saw her as what she had turned into -- a shameless, naked slut.

Tami wanted to crouch and cover herself and run into one of the pews but knew that she was not allowed to do that. The spy was watching. Her fists clenched, her arms locked straight and waving wildly from the strain of not being able to cover herself --

She looked up at the crucifix and the expression of Jesus that she now knew so well. She dashed for the little kneeling rail where they received communion, tears streaming from her face, praying madly: please Jesus, please forgive me, please this is not really me, I'm not this naked shameless slut, please I'm just a scared innocent nice good girl like the one who received her first communion here in that cute white dress with the shiny white shoes and the little pink rosary and Mommy and Daddy standing in the back proudly . . .

Kept naked for four months, forced to go through cold and rain and ice and snow, spread and stretched and exposed and humiliated in front of professors, friends, enemies, strangers, God, Jesus, her home town, subjected to shame upon shame upon shame, the poor naked teenaged girl could not take it any more.

It was at that point that Tami Smithers finally snapped.

The ushers, having regained their wits, moved forward and grabbed the naked girl, prying her from the rail and carrying her to the back. Father Coubert looked on as the parishioners clustered into the aisle behind the retreating ushers, looking on in disbelief.

It was a moment for the ages. This was not the first naked woman who had walked into a Catholic service. There was Agrippa of Solito in 442. There was Jeanne d'Expury in Caen, France in 1212. There was Maria Alessandrio in Turin, Italy in 1556. And several dozen others, which now included Tami Smithers of the United States in 2000. All of them thrown out immediately, some of them later excommunicated or burned at the stake. And all of them quite mad.

The naked girl, eyes rolled up into her head, started cursing and hitting the ushers. "Fuck you fuck you, get away from me, fuck this all . . ." The ushers could barely hold the naked teenager in her fury. They made it to the door, not really certain what they would do when they got her outside, but the naked girl solved that problem for them by bolting from their grasp as soon as they had opened the big wooden doors.

The naked girl ran wildly and raggedly down the sidewalk, her bare feet slipping on the ice and snow, cursing under her breath, until one of her legs gave way and she fell solidly and painfully on her hip. Crying, cursing again, she got up, and like a person on fire ran uncontrollably into the plowed, deserted street.

In the police patrol car, idling at the nearby intersection, the two officers, complacent and convivial in their warm car with doughnuts and coffee, looked up openmouthed as the naked figure ran toward them and then past them. Jolted into action, they ran from the car and tried to apprehend her, only to be cursed at and smacked in the face with the upkick of a bare foot. There was only one thing to do. As the people crowding out from the front of the church watched, the two officers wrestled the naked girl to the snowy ground, handcuffed her from behind, pulled her up to reveal snow matted to her pubic hair and breasts and her stiff, cold, hard nipples poking out, and tossed her into the back seat of the patrol car. They headed for the station house, radioing ahead to the desk sergeant, while their naked handcuffed passenger softly continued muttering, "Fuck this, fuck this shit, fuck this all . . ."

. . .

"She's been sitting there for an hour now. Just walked right into Midnight Mass at St. Mary's, naked like that. I don't know who she is yet."

"No I.D.?"

"She's naked, stupid! Where's she gonna keep her I.D., up her butt?"

"Oh right. . . She won't talk?"

"She doesn't respond to anything. I think she's just a nut case. We've called the mental health people."

The naked girl, sitting on the wooden bench in her cell, slouched against the concrete wall, not minding as it scraped her bare back. She stared dully down at her dirty bare feet. She moved her hands, cuffed uncomfortably behind her, to scratch an itch. She had stopped muttering a while ago.

"Well we can't just leave her naked like that. Look at those punks there, if they weren't separated by those bars she'd be raped a dozen times." He was referring to the gang members in the next cell who were standing at the bars, staring in lust and in morbid horror at the crazy naked chick.

More time passed.

Tami Smithers felt like she was waking up. She looked around and cowered in shame as she took stock of her surroundings. Oh God. Here I am, naked in a jail . . . handcuffed . . . with these scruffy guys looking right at me! What happened?? And shit, it's cold in here.

She drew her legs up to sit cross-legged. She was intensely conscious of the leering thugs not ten feet in front of her and wished she could cover her breasts with her hands. As it was she bent forward a bit so that at least her breasts were not so obviously on display.

She cleared her throat. She looked slowly over to the people at the desk on the other side of the bars. In a low, scratchy voice she said, "Could I have some water?"

A relieved, kind face came up to the bars. "Are you O.K.?" It was a middle-aged woman in casual, heavy clothing, overcoat unbuttoned. She had