Have you ever been skinny dipping?
None of us had jacuzzis or we would have just gone home. Instead, loaded up with booze and hormones, we climbed over the fence into the pool area of an apartment complex. It was a spur of the moment thing, the kind of thing bored teenagers do to stave off the imminent intrusion of real life into our social group. We were going to graduate this year and be split up into various small units and individuals as we made our ways to college, the military, or just real life.
The night was clear and beautiful, stars glowing down over the desert of my hometown and promise of achingly hot days to come under the cool breeze. We shouted in whispers and helped the girls over the fence and stripped down to boxers or briefs, bras and panties, and we laughed at seeing each other thus.
The water was too hot and the bubbles were not quite powerful enough. The wine was cheap and our moods were light.
Someone, emboldened by the alcohol and atmosphere took off a bra and threw it to the side. Other garments followed until we were all exposed beneath the water, flushed and nervous and wondering how long it would be until we were caught.
Our conversation and voices and laughter grew louder and the security guard came to chase us away. He turned his back while we dressed in sopping underwear and grinned when I shook his hand to thank him for being cool.
We piled back into cars and made for home, laughing still.