“For today, abandon rude or disrespectful unneighborliness, photography without explicit permission, and uninvited groping, all ye who would enter here. Tomorrow, ask yourself if you want them back.”
-Sign above the gate at Potter Farm’s Annual Birthday Suit Bazaar and Celebration of The Skin You’re In.
*
Robin almost didn’t go that year. Two years in a row she had joined a small group of her sorority sisters at the local Nude Day celebration. Two years in a row she had posed the same riddle, like the Sphinx terrorizing Thebes, with an unspecified reward for the first brave and brainy hero who could solve it. She had nearly lost hope that anyone in this backwards, Miller High Life-drinking corner of Ohio met her idea of a hero.
The three girls at her door seemed genuinely dismayed, though. She rarely joined their ‘fun,’ and her quest for her own unique nude knight had become something of a sorority legend.
“Yay!” The three jumped in a mock-cheer when she acquiesced, not wanting to disappoint her sisters. Even if she knew one of the reasons they most wanted her presence was to attract more men to them with the proven combination of her long red hair, sweet lovely face with that big sincere smile she’d been told melted hearts, and two of the most magnificent, perfect breasts any of them had seen in their young lives. And the riddle, of course.
Usually, pretty young girls did not particularly seek out the company of girls like Robin who would steal the spotlight, but her riddle game guaranteed the boldest of boys and men would approach the group, only to be spurned. And spurned men, in the presence of multiple naked lovelies, tended to refocus their attention elsewhere very quickly. Her sisters shared more attention than they could possibly want.
Robin pulled on jeans, bra and t-shirt for the drive to the Potter farm, just over the county line, where the annual event was held. She heard the sigh when she pulled her shoes from the back of her closet.
“You’re not wearing those hideous shoes again, are you?”
She looked up at the three as she slipped on the worn but still bright blue leather boating shoes. She had spent countless hours in these shoes, sailing the waters of the East Coast on family vacations. “Love me, love my shoes. They remind me of my family.”
“That last thing I want to be reminded of when I’m surrounded by naked men is my family. Yuck.” That was Christine, the willowy blond that got most of the attention once they failed Robin’s test. The other two giggled. Christine was a major flirt, in defiance of her Ohio family which had preachers going back four generations.
Robin grabbed a small bag, made sure she had a couple of generic “Hello I’m” name tags and a marker in it, and they headed toward the beat-up Dodge Dart Swinger that the sorority had invested $200 in for the girls to share. Once inside the car and off campus, arms slipped in through arm holes and the girls did that magical dance that allowed bras to escape without undressing, Christine steering from the passenger seat while the driver made the change. No one wanted any creases or red lines spoiling the view once they disrobed.