A Nude A is Dawning

"So whatcha doin' tomorrow?" Kris asked.

I looked up and felt the usual twitch of my cock. I was reading Diderot's Essais Complètes, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of overlarge shorts. My gorgeous apartment mate was dressed for an evening on the town in a pink polo shirt and a pair of white shorts that appeared to have been painted on her perfect little ass.

"Actually, I get the day off," I said. "How did you know?"

She giggled. "It's a big holiday. What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing," I said. "I just didn't realize you were such a Francophile. I'm impressed."

In truth, I was stunned. Hell, I would have been surprised if she could have found France on a map of Europe. Kris and I had been roommates for over a month now, ever since they closed down the sophomore dorm and I had needed to find a place for the summer. As a junior, Kris could live off-campus, and she was more than happy to sublet her absent friend's room. As beautiful and sweet and nice as she was, she was no Rhodes Scholar. While I was spending the summer working for my Western Intellectual History professor, she was interning for the Athletic Department.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Bastille Day? Tomorrow, the fourteenth of July? The national holiday of France?"

She giggled again. "You think Elaine Baranger is giving you the day off to celebrate a French holiday?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "I'm studying the writings of the French philosophes during the Enlightenment."

"Is Miss Baranger French?" she asked.

"No, she's from Australia, I think," I said. "Or New Zealand, with that sort of accent. Somewhere like that. I never asked."

"Maybe one of them has a big holiday tomorrow," Kris said with a big smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I am, Robert "Smarty" Jones. I guess you don't know everything after all."

She was still sore at me for beating her and a team of two girlfriends at Trivial Pursuit at the beginning of the summer. We had never played again.

"So are you going to tell me what it is?" I asked. "Please?"

Her smile grew even bigger.

"Google it, Smarty," she said. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up."

"Oh, come on," I pleaded. "Give me a hint."

She turned and looked back over her shoulder. With a waggle of her eyebrows, she unzipped her shorts and pulled them down far enough to let me glimpse the tops of two perfect cheeks split by a white thong.

"Jesus Christ!"

Kris pulled her shorts back up and giggled once again.

"His holidays are in the spring and winter. See ya, Smarty."

***

I was waiting for her that night—the next morning, actually—when she returned.

"National Nude Day?" I asked.

"I thought you weren't going to wait up."

"That was before I found out about National Nude Day," I pointed out.

"And got a nice look at my ass," she added.

"You know, I'm a normal guy. After a girl like you gives me a show like that, and gives me this picture of my history teacher—"

"Who is a babe herself," Kris added.

"Who is a babe herself," I agreed, "—participating in some exhibitionist holiday, how can you possibly expect me to get any sleep?"

"Why do you always sell yourself short, Bobby?"

"This has nothing to do with me!" I protested.

"For one thing, I just can't see Elaine Baranger running around naked once a year."

"It has everything to do with you. You just said you can't see it. I can see it just fine. Miss Baranger lives in Kerner, right, the girls' dorm?"

"Yeah."

"So she's the only one there this summer. So how hard do you think it is to sneak up to the roof and catch some rays up there? I lived in Kerner last year. We were up there every weekend."

"We?"

"Kelly, Lisa, me. Elaine."

"You were up there sunbathing with . . .." I shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Oh, God."

"And you never knew, right? And you were in South last year, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"You can't see the roof of Kerner from the top floor of South. You have to go up to the roof. So we were pretty safe. You can't tell anyone, though. She could get in real trouble."

"Of course not. Um, trouble? How?"

"At Good Shepherd College? And she doesn't have tenure, right?"

She was right on both counts. It was a very conservative institution, and Miss Baranger was only an associate professor. She was only twenty-six years old, and had just finished her master's degree. She had only just started working on her doctorate, which she would need before they even considered her for tenure.

"The same reason she'll never go out with you," Kris added.

I spat the coffee that I was sipping across the table.

"See?" she said amid laughter. "It is about you."

"Go out with me? What would possibly make you think she would ever go out with me?"

"She won't. I just said that. Not while she's here."

"Here on Earth," I agreed.

"No, here at this college. So now we get back to my first question. Why are you always selling yourself short?"

"Oh, come on. Alright, what would possibly make you think a woman like that would ever go out with a guy like me? How's that?"

"How about a woman like me?"

"Okay, then, a woman like you. Same thing."

"Why would I go out with you? You've never asked me out."

"You've heard the expression 'out of my league,' haven't you? We all know generally what league we're in. That's how we go through life without getting rejected every time we ask someone on a date."

"So when was the last time you asked someone out on a date?" she asked.

I opened and closed my mouth. It had been a while.

"Exactly. So what the hell do you have to lose? What, 'cause you're short? 'Cause you had to go into the Army for two years so you could afford to go to school? Look, you're cute, you're smart—oh, don't roll your eyes at me. I know, I know, Elaine Baranger only gave you a B-plus. She also gave you a summer job. Where was I? Cute, smart, and you're funny. And you had two years in the Army so you're way more mature than all the other guys here. Maybe that's not enough for some women. But it is for others. And yet you're constantly selling yourself short."

"So if I asked you out, you'd—"

"Well, not while we're roommates, no. How weird would that be?"

"Don't you have to sleep?" I asked. "Get ready for work tomorrow?"

"Changing the subject? Okay, yeah. I have a job. My boss told me not to hurry in."

"National Nude Day?" I asked.

"He just dropped me off," she said. "He'll be in late tomorrow, too. We Americans don't have a day to celebrate parading around naked, ya know? Sleep well, Bobby. Try not to think about Elaine up on top of that roof."

She left in a peal of laughter. I sat there thinking about, well, about Elaine Baranger lying naked on the roof of Kerner Dorm.

I retreated to my bedroom and pulled out a picture of a young Elaine Baranger that I had printed off the Internet. It was probably five or six years old, when she was still in college. She was standing with a toothy smile aimed more at the photographer than the camera. Her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her jeans. Her hair in the picture was a little blonder and a little longer; she was clearly much more comfortable with her body now. And then there were those breasts, soft pert globes beautifully outlined by the tight sweater she was wearing.

I put the picture on my bedside table and reached into my shorts for my dick. It was already hard, of course; Kris had seen to that. It grew harder under the slow, steady stroking of my fingers. At the beginning of the semester, my Baranger fantasies involved a candlelit dinner and a romantic seduction. Sometimes I seduced her; most of the time I was the young naïf being seduced by the predatory professor.

The fantasy had changed a month ago. The bitch's B-plus was the only blot on my college transcript and I imagined her begging to be allowed to change it.

"I need your cock, Bobby," she would moan.

"I know, baby," I would say. I would hold it poised at the entrance to her tunnel, slowly rubbing it up and down against her wetness. She would be wearing that same sweater, pulled up to expose her braless breasts to my kisses. Her thighs would be wrapped around my waist, her heels drumming a tattoo on my ass as she desperately tried to pull me inside her.

"Bobby," she would whimper, squirming beneath me.

"Well worth an A, don't you think?" I would ask.

"Anything, Bobby," she would cry. "Just fuck me!"

And I would fuck her.

But that was last month. And as much as I had enjoyed that fantasy then, version 3.0 was the best so far. She had offered me a summer job as her research assistant. We were working together almost as equals; she seemed even more excited than I was by my most recent discovery in the works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. My current fantasy reflected our new relationship.

"Mmmmm," she would groan. Her lips would be wrapped around my cock, those beautiful teeth only occasionally brushing the base as she displayed a surprising talent for deep throating me.

"Mmmmm," I would echo. I would have no more ability to articulate my thoughts than she would. I would be underneath her, my head at her thighs just as hers were at mine. My tongue would be flicking deep into her swollen lips, my mouth suckling at her clit.

It was more than enough. I felt my cock tingling, the cum in my balls surging upward. I held it in for several seconds, increasing the delicious ripening of the moment, before finally letting it spray forward.

A horn sounded outside and I turned my head and realized that the shade had not been pulled. Fortunately, nobody could see inside our first-floor apartment unless they were in the tree outside. Still, I was a little embarrassed to realize that I was quite possibly the first American celebrant of National Nude Day this year. To the extent that anyone else celebrated it, I suspected, most would be waiting for daybreak. I cleaned up, pulled my shorts back up, and turned off the lamp on the table.

***

I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and leisurely sipping a second cup of coffee when Kris emerged from her room the next morning, dressed for work but with her hair still wet from the shower. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the only breakfast she allowed herself.

"Beautiful day, huh?" she asked as she took a seat.

"Yeah," I said. "Says here the high's supposed to be in the upper eighties."

"I meant a beautiful day for an all-over tan. Come on, Bobby, live a little. Why don't you give Elaine a call and see if she needs some company?"

"I thought you were going in late today," I said.

"I always go in late. You're not just planning on sitting around here, are you?"

"Nah. I don't think the library's going to be closed. Either for Bastille Day or National Nude Day, you know."

"But you have the day off!" she protested. "She might not even pay you!"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I won't work the whole day, Kris. I promise."

"All right," she said with a sigh. "You're such a . . such a—"

"Soldier?"

"Seriously. I have no idea when I'll be home. See ya later."

"Bye, Kris."

"Bye, Bobby."

She had no sooner left than the phone rang. The caller ID said it was Elaine.

"Bobby, I was wondering if we could get together after all today."

"Sure," I answered. "I could just come in now."

"No, no," she said quickly. "I, um, have some stuff I need to get done this morning. Are you free around, say, three o'clock?"

"Sure," I repeated. "You're the boss, Elaine. I'm free whenever you like. You want me to come to your office at three?"

"I'm not planning on showing up there today. Why don't you just stop by my apartment? Do you know where Kerner is?"

"Kerner, yes. Yes I do. Next to South."

"That's right. See you at three, then."

I spent the morning at the library, but around noon I could take it no longer. I may have been more mature than the other sophomores I went to school with, but I was still only 22 years old. And there was a beautiful blonde sunbathing nude on the roof of Kerner Dorm. And if there was one thing I had learned as a juvenile delinquent, before I had enlisted in the Army and turned my life around, it was how to pick the cheap sort of locks they used here at Good Shepherd College.

Maturity lost.

South was as deserted as all the other dorms on campus. There was a security guard making his rounds as I walked toward it so I kept on walking and he kept on driving. I casually strolled back to the entrance to South Dorm. The door had been left open, probably for some maintenance work, and I quickly slipped inside. As I mounted the stairs two at a time, I felt maturity trying to battle back. Spying on a woman sunbathing might not be illegal, but it was certainly sleazy.

"Not on National Nude Day," I muttered. According to one web site, the holiday was supposed to celebrate exhibitionism and voyeurism. I was helping with the voyeur part, and without me, there wouldn't be an exhibition part either. That was good enough for me.

The lock on the door to the roof was an old one, quite clearly meant to be used with a master key of the type carried by the security guards who circulated the campus. I didn't have a master key, but I did have my ever-present Swiss Army knife. It took me only a few minutes to crack it.

As I emerged onto the roof, I gave one more second of thought to what I was doing. I was celebrating. Which direction was Kerner Dorm?

And there she was. I peered over the edge of the building and looked down on the roof of Kerner Dorm. It was a perfect spot for sunbathing, just as Kris had said. There was a blanket spread out on a wooden walkway and on top of it lay one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

She was lying on her stomach, completely naked. Her shoulders were lightly muscled, her waist thin but not impossibly so. The twin cheeks of her buttocks were magnificent, tanned symmetrical orbs that melted into slender, toned legs. I couldn't resist. I pulled my cell phone and its camera out of my pocket and snapped a picture of perfection.

As if she knew I was there she began to turn over and I ducked back so that she wouldn't see me. I couldn't take that chance; my research into this National Nude Day had been a little hurried and there was a possibility I might have gotten it wrong. I waited five minutes until I risked another glance.

Oh. My. God.

She was on her back and I was in heaven. Her breasts were just as they had appeared in my fantasies, small and perky with dime-sized areolae. The hair between her thighs was full but carefully trimmed. I pulled back again. Her eyes had been closed, but they would only have to open for a half a second to catch me red-handed.

I peered back again and my jaw dropped open. Her hands were between her thighs, her fingers busy. I was too far away to get a really good look, but I snapped a few more quick pictures on my cell phone. Then I watched while she got herself off. I watched her body writhe on the towel, the muscles in her legs tighten as she squeezed them around her hand before she found her final relief. God, she was beautiful.

When I returned to my room it was still before two o'clock. With fumbling fingers I hooked the phone up to the computer and downloaded the pictures I had taken. They were a little grainy but easily recognizable as Elaine Baranger. I thought of what Kris had said about never telling anyone about Elaine's "celebration." I would have to make sure that nobody ever saw these pictures. In the meantime, though, I reached for my dick.

As I stared at the pictures, I imagined her squirming underneath me, her thighs wrapped around me, her nails dug into my back.

"Worth an A, don't you think?" I asked.

She stared back at me in abject horror.

It dawned on me that I was staring in abject horror myself. My erection was gone, my dick flaccid in my hand. I could live with the voyeurism, particularly if it appeared to be invited. Or at least, not unwelcome. But my last thought had crossed the line into dishonorable. I immediately erased the pictures from my computer. I erased them from the phone. I took a shower.

I appeared at Elaine's door just after three. She was dressed in a red polo and a pair of knee-length khaki shorts. She looked cute, nothing more. I smiled.

"Come on in, Bobby. I have something to tell you."

I sat down, all ears. She sat down opposite me.

"Good or bad?" I asked.

"A bit of both, really. Which do you want first?"

"The good. I always like the good first."

"I've been accepted into a doctoral fellowship at Columbia. I start there this fall."

"That's wonderful. What a wonderful opportunity."

"Well, I owe it partly to you, Bobby. That reference you found in Rousseau to the works of the Greek philosopher Anaximander—I faxed my quick and dirty analysis of it to my doctoral committee to supplement my application and that appears to have been what tipped the balance in my favor."

"Well, I am very pleased to be of help. I can't imagine what the bad news is."

"Well, I won't be here this fall. I really wanted to see how well you did in the second half of the course. And give you the chance to earn that A."

I could feel myself blushing. Elaine started to laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Bobby. I know how much you want to succeed. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that."

"No," I mumbled.

"Seriously, Bobby, you're the first person I've taught here that I would call a scholar rather than a student. The research you've done this summer is top-notch stuff. I can't imagine what you could do at a school with a proper library. This Interlibrary loan stuff we've been using is awful, isn't it?"

"It's not so bad. Thanks, though. It means a lot to hear you say that."

She looked out the window. Apparently it was her turn to be embarrassed.

"I, um, I'm going to miss you when I leave," she said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. So I wanted to give you something to remember me by."

I raised my eyebrows.

"So, how'd they turn out?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"How did what turn out?" I responded.

"The pictures."

I could feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

"Er, what pictures?"

"The ones you took of me from the roof, Bobby Jones. Did you get one of me with my fingers in my—"

"You knew I was there?" I interrupted her. "But—"

"Mine turned out great," she continued.

"I'm sorry." I shook my head. "Your what?"

"My pictures."

"You have pictures?"

"I do."

"Of . . ."

Her look was serious now, her eyes searching mine.

"You, Bobby. Last night. Through the window."

"You were watching me?"

She nodded.

"Jerking off. I thought you were beautiful. What were you thinking about while you were doing it?"

"What were you thinking about?" I retorted.

"You, Bobby. Now what were you thinking about?"

I moved over to her computer and typed in the URL of the site on which I had found her picture.

"I knew it," she said with a satisfied smile. "Otherwise you never would have taken the bait."

"Bait?"

"Are you going to talk all afternoon or are you going to take me into the bedroom and make love to me?"

I swept her into my arms and carried her into the bedroom. I gently lowered her to the bed and lowered myself down next to her. Her kisses tasted of strawberries and mint. I made sure that the first thing we did together was a classic sixty-nine. Just like in my most recent fantasies, the ones where we were equals.

Over a late dinner she explained to me that she thought I wouldn't have any trouble transferring into NYU if I was interested. Of course I was. We agreed to start the paperwork the following day. Then we went back to bed and made love again. It wasn't until we woke up the next morning with the sun peering over the hills to the east that we realized we had left the blinds to her apartment open.