Practically Nude: A Poolside Confession
Hypotheticals are easy when you're fully clothed at the sink. It's different when you're standing in a changing room trying not to look.
The text notification chimed, slicing through the serene, sun drenched silence of their post spa afternoon. Chloe's phone lit up on the teak patio table, face up.
Sarah: So… we saw your pics. Sunrise Shores looks amazing.
David, sipping a glass of cold mint water, saw Chloe's posture change. It was a subtle shift, a slight tightening of the shoulders, a quick glance in his direction. The relaxation from their weekend at the nudist resort, which had felt so profound moments ago, suddenly felt thin.
"It's Sarah," Chloe said, her voice carefully neutral.
"Oh yeah?" David kept his tone light, but he too felt a familiar internal click, a shifting of gears from serene to strategic. Sarah and Mark weren't just friends; they were their history, their mirror, their sometimes rivals. Their relationship was a comfortable sweater that occasionally itched.
Chloe: It was! So freeing. You guys should totally go sometime.
She typed it with the enthusiastic confidence of a true convert. She believed it. But as she hit send, she and David shared a look. It was the same look they'd exchanged a thousand times: at college parties when Sarah would debate a point into the ground, at backyard barbecues when Mark would get quietly competitive over grill marks.
It was a look that said, We love them, but…
Sarah: We're actually thinking about it. Maybe next weekend?
The air went still.
"Next weekend?" David said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "As in… our weekend? The one we were just talking about going back for?"
"I think so," Chloe replied, her thumbs hovering over the screen.
The unspoken question hung between them, as palpable as the humidity:
Could we handle seeing Sarah and Mark naked?
The logistics were one thing. The sheer, terrifying psychology of it was another.
Chloe's mind raced. Sarah, with her sharp, analytical eyes that missed nothing, seeing the soft curve of her belly she was still learning to accept. Mark, who loved to win arguments with cold, hard facts, seeing David's thinning hair and the mole on his back he was self conscious about.
David's thoughts ran a parallel path. Would Mark's gaze linger a second too long on Chloe? Would he, David, instinctively compare himself to Mark? Would their entire carefully constructed dynamic, the witty banter, the subtle one upmanship, collapse the moment the clothes came off and they were all just… bodies?
"It would be weird," Chloe said finally, giving voice to the elephant in the room.
"It would be so weird," David agreed instantly, a wave of relief washing over him that she felt it too.
"But…" Chloe continued, the convert in her wrestling with the friend. "Isn't the whole point that it shouldn't be weird? That we're supposed to be past all that?"
"In theory," David said. "But that's with strangers. This is… Sarah and Mark. He still gives me a hard time about that time I voted for a third party candidate in 2012. You and Sarah nearly came to blows over whether a hot dog is a sandwich."
"It's not a sandwich!" Chloe said automatically, then groaned. "See? This is what I mean. We can't even agree on lunch meat. How are we supposed to agree on… on…"
"On the fundamental vulnerability of the human form?" David offered dryly.
"Yes, that."
They decided, in the end, to be supportive. They were good friends. They were.
Chloe: That's awesome! Let us know if you have any questions!
It was a safe, neutral response. It also felt like signing a permission slip for their own potential social annihilation.
The weekend arrived. The sun at Sunrise Shores was just as bright, the air just as warm. But the vibe was entirely different.
From the moment they met at the gate, clothed, the awkwardness was already settling in like fog.
"Hey! You made it!" Chloe's voice was too bright, too enthusiastic.
"Yeah! Traffic wasn't too bad!" Sarah's smile was strained at the edges.
They all hugged, the standard greeting… but it felt different. Like they were already anticipating what was coming.
As they walked toward the entrance, Mark tried for levity. "So, uh… do you guys think this is going to be weird?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
"No!" Chloe said quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, it's only weird if we make it weird, right?"
"Right," Sarah agreed, but her voice had no conviction.
"Totally," David added. "We're all adults. Mature adults. Who have known each other for twenty years."
"Twenty years," Mark repeated, as if that number was supposed to be reassuring but somehow made it worse.
Another silence.
"I mean," Sarah tried, "we've seen each other in bathing suits, so it's basically the same thing, right?"
David laughed. It came out strangled. "Yeah. Basically the same. Just… less suit."
"Way less," Mark muttered.
Chloe shot David a look that clearly said, This was a mistake.
David's return look said, I know, but what are we supposed to do now?
They checked in. Got their towels. And then the attendant pointed them toward the co-ed changing rooms.
"Oh," Sarah said, stopping in her tracks. "Co-ed. Right. Of course."
"Makes sense," Mark said, making no move forward.
They all stood there, a small cluster of frozen humans, staring at the door like it might bite them.
"Well," Chloe said, forcing brightness back into her voice. "Here we go!"
The changing room was spacious, clean, with wooden benches and lockers lining the walls. There were a few other people inside, casually changing, chatting, completely at ease.
The four of them found a corner and stood in a tight circle, still fully clothed.
"So," Mark said, his voice low. "Do we just… do it?"
"I guess?" Sarah whispered back.
They all looked at each other. Then looked away. Then looked back.
David cleared his throat. "Maybe we should… I don't know… turn around? Give each other space?"
"But we're going to see each other in like two minutes anyway," Chloe pointed out, her voice tight.
"Valid point," Mark conceded.
Another beat of paralysis.
Sarah let out a breath. "Okay. This is ridiculous. We're adults. Let's just… nobody look. We'll all change, and then we'll turn around, and it'll be fine."
"Nobody look," Mark repeated, nodding vigorously. "Good plan. Solid plan."
They all turned to face their respective lockers, backs to each other.
The sounds of fabric rustling filled the air. Shoes being removed. The zip of a bag.
David tried to focus on his locker combination. He tried so hard. But his peripheral vision was a traitor. He caught the edge of Mark's shoulder. Looked away. Caught a flash of Sarah's movement. Looked away harder.
Chloe was staring intently at the wood grain of her locker door like it held the secrets of the universe.
Sarah fumbled with her shirt, her hands shaking slightly, hyper-aware that Mark was three feet away, that David was right there, that this was happening, this was really happening.
Mark's internal monologue was a panicked loop: Don't look don't look don't look why is this taking so long why did I agree to this don't look.
"Everyone good?" Chloe's voice cracked slightly.
A chorus of unconvincing "yeps" and "uh-huhs."
"Okay," Sarah said. "On three, we turn around?"
"On three," David confirmed.
"Wait," Mark said quickly. "Do we turn on three, or do we count to three and then turn?"
"Jesus, Mark," Sarah hissed.
"It's a legitimate question!"
"On three we turn," Chloe said firmly. "One… two…"
Everyone took a breath.
"Three."
They turned.
And there they were. Four naked people who had known each other since college, standing in a changing room, seeing everything, trying desperately to look like they weren't seeing anything.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Mark's eyes went to the ceiling. David found a fascinating spot on the floor. Sarah studied her own hands. Chloe looked at literally anything else.
"Well," David said, his voice tight. "Here we are."
"Here we are," Chloe echoed.
"Yep," Mark added.
"Sure are," Sarah managed.
They stood frozen, a tableau of pure human awkwardness, until a woman in her sixties walked past them, completely unbothered, and said cheerfully, "First time?"
"Is it that obvious?" Sarah asked weakly.
The woman smiled kindly. "Gets easier. Just go sit by the pool. You'll forget about it in ten minutes."
She walked away, and they were alone again.
"Ten minutes," Mark said, latching onto that like a life raft. "We just have to make it ten minutes."
"We can do ten minutes," Sarah said, trying to convince herself.
"Let's go," Chloe said, grabbing her towel like armor.
They walked toward the exit, a awkward little procession, towels clutched, eyes determinedly forward.
The sun hit them first. Then the reality of it all.
They found loungers in a cluster, as far from other people as possible. The moment they sat down, the silence became oppressive.
David tried for normal. "Nice day."
"Yep," Mark said, gripping his towel.
"Great weather," Chloe added.
"Really great," Sarah agreed.
More silence.
Then Sarah, staring straight ahead, said quietly, "I know you're trying not to look at me, but I can feel you trying not to look, which makes me more self-conscious than if you just looked."
"I'm not looking!" Mark said too quickly.
"I know you're not looking! That's the problem!"
David rubbed his face. "This is a nightmare."
"It's not a nightmare," Chloe said, but her voice wavered. "It's just… an adjustment period."
"An adjustment period," Mark repeated flatly. "We're naked with our friends. This isn't adjusting. This is… this is…"
"Weird," Sarah finished. "It's so, so weird."
They sat there, the sun beating down, their towels their only shields, and the ten minutes the kind woman had promised felt like an eternity away.
"Maybe," David said slowly, "maybe we should just… acknowledge it. We're all pretending this isn't the weirdest thing we've ever done."
"It IS the weirdest thing we've ever done," Mark said emphatically.
"Then let's just say it!" David said, his voice rising. "This is weird! You're naked! I'm naked! We're all very, very naked, and I have no idea what to do with my hands!"
"My hands feel huge," Mark blurted out. "Like, are hands always this big? Where do they normally go?"
"I'm hyper-aware of every single part of my body," Sarah confessed. "My toes feel wrong. Why do my toes feel wrong?"
"I keep thinking about what you all think of my stomach," Chloe said, her voice breaking slightly. "And I hate that I'm thinking about it, because that means I'm also thinking about your stomachs, which I'm not supposed to do, which makes me think about them more…"
"This was a terrible idea," Mark said.
"The worst idea," Sarah agreed.
They all sat in their misery, the liberation Chloe and David had promised feeling like a cruel joke.
"Do we just… leave?" David asked quietly.
No one answered.
Because the truth was, they'd driven three hours. They'd paid for the weekend. They'd taken the leap. And the idea of getting dressed, getting in the car, and admitting defeat felt almost as unbearable as staying.
"Ten minutes," Sarah said finally, her voice small. "The woman said ten minutes. Let's just… try to make it ten minutes."
"And if we still want to leave?" Mark asked.
"Then we leave," David said. "No judgment."
They sat there, four miserable, naked friends, watching the seconds tick by, wondering if liberation was something you could force, or if some lines, once crossed, just left you standing on the other side, exposed and uncertain, with no clear path back.
Ten minutes in, and they were less "four friends at a pool" and more like four stone hinges, rusted solid with courtesy and sheer panic.
Then, out of nowhere, David broke.
"I see your boobies," he said flatly, staring straight ahead at Sarah.
The silence that followed was atomic.
Sarah's head whipped toward him. "What did you just…"
"I see your pee-pee," Chloe announced, pointing at Mark with the solemnity of a child at show-and-tell.
Mark's mouth fell open. Then, slowly, a grin crept across his face. "I see your stomach."
"I see your toes," Sarah added, her voice cracking with the first hint of laughter.
"Well," David said, "I'd say I see your butt, but… you're sitting on it."
That did it.
Sarah snorted. Then Chloe started giggling. Mark let out a bark of laughter that turned into a full-body shake. David was wheezing, his face red, and suddenly they were all laughing, the kind of deep, gasping, tears-streaming-down-your-face laughter that comes from pure, absurd relief.
They laughed until their sides hurt, until they couldn't breathe, until the terror of the last hour dissolved into something lighter.
And then they heard it.
Thwack.
The sound of a volleyball hitting skin, followed by distant laughter and cheering.
They all turned their heads at once, following the sound.
On the far side of the pool area, there was a sand volleyball court. Naked people, completely, unselfconsciously naked… were setting up for a game. Someone spiked the ball. Someone else dove for it, missed, and landed face-first in the sand to the cheers and jeers of their teammates.
No one said a word.
Mark stood up. Then Chloe. Then David. Then Sarah.
Without a single word exchanged, they all walked toward the volleyball court.
And just like that, the weirdness was over.
They played two games. Terrible, chaotic, hilarious games where no one kept score and everyone argued about whether that last point counted. David's serve went sideways into the net. Sarah dove for a ball and came up with a mouthful of sand. Mark accidentally spiked it directly into Chloe's shoulder, and they both laughed so hard they had to sit down.
After, they rinsed off in the outdoor showers, still weird, but less weird and sank into the hot tub, letting the heat work out the soreness from muscles they didn't know they'd been using.
That's when it started again.
"So," Mark said, leaning back with his eyes closed. "Hot dog. Sandwich or not?"
Sarah groaned. "Mark, I swear to god…"
"It's a sandwich," David said firmly.
"It is NOT a sandwich!" Chloe shot back, sitting up so fast water sloshed over the edge.
"If it's between bread, it's a sandwich," David argued.
"A hot dog bun is ONE piece of bread!" Sarah countered, apparently on Chloe's side for once.
"It's a split piece! That counts!"
"By that logic, a sub is a hot dog!"
They argued all the way through the hot tub session, through drying off, through getting dressed in the changing room (still a little weird, but manageable now), and into the parking lot.
By the time they reached their cars, Mark was still arguing that structural integrity determined sandwich classification, and Sarah was threatening to unfriend him on principle.
"Same time next month?" David asked as they said their goodbyes.
This time, everyone said yes.
The next time they met at Sunrise Shores, something had shifted.
As they walked from the parking lot, Mark grinned and said, "I see your boobies."
"I see your pee-pee," Sarah shot back without missing a beat.
"I see your toes," Chloe added, laughing.
"I see your butt!" David called out. "And this time I can actually see it!"
They were pros now. Laughing, easy, already arguing about whether they should play volleyball first or hit the pool.
The nudity hadn't ruined their friendship.
It hadn't saved it either.
It had just… stripped away the performance. And what was left, the arguments, the laughter, the ability to call each other out on their bullshit while naked in a hot tub… that was real.
That was worth coming back for.
On the drive home, Sarah stared out the window, quiet.
"You okay?" Mark asked.
She turned to him. "Remember that night in the kitchen? When we couldn't figure out if we were the kind of people who could do this?"
"Yeah."
"I think I have the answer now."
Mark waited.
"We're not," she said. "We're the kind of people who do it anyway."
Mark smiled. "That's worse, you know. That's so much worse."
"I know," Sarah said, and reached for his hand.
They drove in silence, but it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of that kitchen. It was the silence of two people who'd stopped asking permission to be messy, awkward, imperfect versions of themselves.
They'd answered the question. Not with bravery or confidence or any grand transformation.
Just by showing up.
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