When the sun began to dip, she returned to the bench. She picked up her underwear—lacy, impractical, a little tight. She held them for a long moment. Then she put on only her sundress, letting it fall over her head like a whisper. No bra. No pantries. Just cotton against skin.
It started as a dare. A whisper from a friend at a party: "You? You wouldn't last an hour." zita dans la peau d une naturiste
Zita walked towards the lake. With every step, the self-consciousness sloughed off like a snake's skin. The tickle of grass on her ankles. The sun finding her shoulder blades, a spot a swimsuit usually hid. The whisper of wind across her belly. For the first time in years, she felt the weather on her entire body. It wasn't sexual. It wasn't shameful. It was just true . When the sun began to dip, she returned to the bench