You hear a group of women approaching

You are alone for less than a minute when you hear a woman’s voice in the distance. “I’m telling you, Amy, we’re lost!”

That’s not Bianca. Before long you can hear four or five voices arguing with each other. All female.

“Not again, not again,” you mutter as you try in vain to figure out which direction they’re coming from.

In desperation, you grab the only item you have nearby for cover: a brochure from the nearby table. You hold it in front of your crotch but it barely provides more cover than your hands. You unfold it to see if you can wrap it around your body, but it barely reaches halfway. You twist your body around to see just how much of you it can shield, when you hear a sound that freezes you in place.

“Oh my god!”

You look up in a panic to see 5 women in bikinis holding cocktails. The one in the lead has a hand over her mouth and is wearing a sash that says “Bachelorette.” You freeze in place, all your muscles flexed as you try to keep the brochure in a position that allows you some semblance of dignity.

The bachelorette says to her friends, “I didn’t know you’d ordered a stripper!”

“We didn’t!” another girl said. “I think this guy just got lost looking for the nude beach!”

“I-“ Before you can say more than a word, a long tear formed in the brochure, exposing your upper thigh. If it ripped another inch, it’d fall apart.

The women laugh as you take off in a hobbling run away from them. When you realize you are following the path that leads to the beach, you know that you’re cornered. A bachelorette party behind you and god knows how many unsuspecting people waiting around the corner in front of you. You jump to the right and run through the vegetation, **** to get somewhere hidden. A branch snatches away your brochure and you’re totally naked yet again.

You come to a stop. Nobody can see you here, but Bianca won't be able to find you. You're on your own.

You creep through the vegetation until you can see the beach ahead of you. You hide behind a thick tree branch and check out the scene. It looks very much like the nude beach. Except of course for the major difference: this time, you’re the only beachgoer without anything to wear.

The number of scantily clad females ahead of you makes you nervous, but then you spot what you’ve been looking for: a stack of towels. They’re sitting abandoned on a table 40 yards away from the tree line. They’re right next to the entrances to the changing rooms and, if you’re lucky, you think you could sneak between the various buildings nearby without being seen.

Covering yourself with your hands, you make a break for it. You stop behind a tool shed and peak out from behind to wait for a group of women to pass, then run for the next building.

You’re so close. Just a 15 yard sprint and it’s finally over. Not bothering to cover with your hands, you take off running once the coast is clear.

You barely make it three steps.

A pair of female lifeguards step out of the women’s changing room before you. They’re side-by-side in the middle of a conversation, and if they hadn’t been facing each other, they would have been treated to the sight of a naked man skidding to a halt on the sand.

You frantically look to the right and see a beach bar. You dive behind it. Fortunately, there is no bartender on duty and you ease yourself up over the counter to look around.

The good news is the lifeguards didn’t see you.

The bad news is they picked up the towels and walked off down the beach.

Your nudity isn’t visible behind the bar, but you are stranded with nowhere to go. Just as you start to search behind the bar for anything, even a bar rag, you hear a familiar voice.

“There you are!”

You turn to see Leanna approaching the bar. Seems your college classmates hadn’t left the beach, yet. You fight the desire to cover yourself with your hands. She doesn’t know you’re naked. Not from where she’s standing right now, anyway.

You put on your most convincing smile and try to pretend you’re not out of breath from sprinting naked through vegetation and sand.

“Here I am!” you say.

Leanna, the captain of the cheerleader squad at your school, gives you an inquisitive look as she puts her hand on a cocked hip. As she moves her red hair out of her eyes, you see why she’s considered by many of your peers to be the hottest girl in your college. The idea that this girl might be about to see you without any clothes on makes your knees shake with anxiety.

“What are you doing back there?” she asks.

You put a glass on the bar counter. “Making a drink.”

“Only staff are allowed back there,” she says.

You shrug, doing your best to appear nonchalant. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Leanna furrows her brow and purses her lips at your response. After a moment, she smiles and says, “I know what’s going on here, Sam.”

“Is that so?” you put your hands on the bar top and lean forward casually.

The curvy redhead saunters toward you. Your heart starts to race as she gets closer. The bar doesn’t go much higher than your waist. She’s shorter than you, but you can’t tell if she can see over the bar. At last she puts her elbows on the bar and rests her chin on her hands without breaking eye contact.

“You like to pretend you’re sweet and innocent,” she says.

Suddenly she reaches her hand over the counter top. At the last possible second before you flinch away from her, she grabs what she was reaching for: another glass. She puts it on the countertop next to yours.

“But you’re a badboy, aren’t you, Sam?.”

You try to conceal your relief. She doesn’t know you’re naked.

“Guess I can’t hide anything from you, Leanna.”

“Sure can’t.” She winks, then taps her glass with her fingernail. “Pour another one for me, badboy.”