journal entry, member of the committee
February 8. To begin with, she appears to be popular. At least that is the unmistakeable impression I get from watching our campus nudist, Tami Smithers, as she goes from class to class and “hangs out” in the Student Union. She is almost always with someone, often her boyfriend Rod Sykes or her roommates, Jen McIntyre and Mandy Rabinowitz, or with Miss Shanille White, who is active in the Black Students Association. People say “hi” to her often, and she acknowledges them. Of course, it’s easy for people to notice her; with her bare skin she stands out a mile away. Once in a while I notice some crude remark behind her (bare) back. But as a whole everyone seems to know her and like her, and in contrast to the social segregation that unfortunately afflicts college life in general, she seems to hang out with a lot of gay students and students of color. She does seem somber, though, as if brooding on something. And then she snaps out of it, suddenly walking bolt upright, bare breasts thrust out, bare feet thudding confidently against the concrete or the tile floor, as the case may be. I noted before that she did not seem to have any exhibitionist tendencies. I want to modify that observation somewhat. There’s something interesting I’ve noticed. Often, sitting with friends in the Student Union, she takes care to sit in the middle, behind a table, arms and legs crossed, as if hiding herself. But when an “adult” comes by, someone well-dressed who looks like he/she might be a faculty or (especially) administration person, she uncrosses her arms and legs, whether she is sitting or walking, as if to show that she is totally open and unashamed. I don’t know why she does this; it appears to be an unconscious motion, and she does not smile while doing it, so I can’t really ascribe it to exhibitionism. I wish I could ask her about this, but I don’t want to give myself away. Fortunately it is possible for me to watch her unnoticed, at least in the Student Union. The second floor has little offices that look out onto the cafeteria and lounge areas, and I’ve taken up residence (almost) in one of the empty ones that has a good view through a tinted window. I can keep a steady eye on her (and her friends) without being noticed. This makes me feel like a Peeping Tom, but once again, I am only observing what is apparent to any other person passing by. I am struck by her physicality, her strength. No doubt this comes from being an athlete. Seeing her nakedness in the midst of the heavy winter clothing of others, she appears at first glance small and weak and cold and vulnerable and unprotected. This is especially true when she first comes in from the cold and her whole body, especially her hands and feet and breasts, are flushed red. She seems like an alien being, the only one with breasts and genitals and toes. But on further observation one sees she is well-nourished, well-exercised, strong, healthy, lightly but firmly muscled. Today I saw an example of her athleticism. The big concourse is criss-crossed at the second floor level with permanent scaffold-catwalk type bars which bend down a bit as they meet the walls. (After twenty years I still don’t like the artsy affectations of this Student Union building design!) A handicapped student, coasting by on her wheelchair, got her ski cap stuck on her wheel and stopped. She pulled up mightily to free the ski cap, but it came loose suddenly and flew up to get stuck in the crook of the cross-bars of one of the catwalks. She looked up at it helplessly, and so did some others who stopped by. The bar was maybe twelve feet up and very much out of reach of anyone. Miss Smithers came by and looked up with the others. Seeing that nobody could help her, the handicapped student appeared to give up and started coasting away sullenly. Miss Smithers told her to wait, though, and quickly padded over to the wall. Setting aside her backpack, the nude young woman crawled up the low end of the bar and then, leaning against the wall, grabbed a higher bar which was about five feet over the catwalk. Everyone in the concourse stopped as Miss Smithers, holding onto the upper bar, walked across the catwalk, her toes clasping the cross-bars, until she came to the trapped ski cap. Standing upright, her hands holding the upper bar, she looked down and clasped the cap with her toes and jerked it free, tossing it down right onto the handicapped student’s lap. There was spontaneous cheering from all over the Student Union. Miss Smithers appeared not to acknowledge it as she tiptoed back to the wall, hands on the upper bar, breasts jiggling with each step, then swung down onto the floor with a loud slap of her bare feet. As she walked back with her backpack she bent down to accept the extended arms of the handicapped student, who kissed her on the cheek. Miss Smithers smiled at her and then walked onward, joining up with Miss McIntyre who was waiting. As Miss Smithers continued on her friend gave her an appreciative slap on a bare buttock. Such is the life of a naked, athletic, popular, intelligent, kindhearted girl. I’ve also watched Miss Smithers outside. She respects the cold; a naked person in this climate at this time of year could hardly do otherwise. But to my surprise she does not actually run, except when it is bitter cold or windy. Instead, she walks briskly. After a moment’s thought I realized that an average healthy person is not harmed by a naked walk in the cold, so long as it lasts only a couple of minutes. This knowledge tempered my shock when I saw her enter the Student Union in a snowstorm with snow matted not only to the hair on her head but also to her pubic hair! As she entered the building she casually brushed the half-melted lumps of snow off her genitals and, in fact, as she was sitting down a minute later with friends, she waved herself with her hand as if feeling hot. Indeed it must have seemed hot to her indoors after walking naked through the snow. She walks on the concrete usually, on the grass or snow often. In spite of being always barefoot, her feet never seem to be dirty. In fact, she seems to keep her entire naked body scrupulously clean, as if she had just stepped from the shower. As I noted, her nakedness makes her stand out, and the other students are only partly used to it by now. Plenty of them turn to look as she goes by, most of them (especially the young men) with an intense regard. She has friends who, it is obvious, adore her body. Sitting in the Student Union, with Mr. Sykes and Ms. McIntrye and Ms. Rabinowitz, it is not unusual while engaged in conversation or eating for Mr. Sykes to be absently stroking her hair, either on her head or her pubic hair, while Ms. McIntyre pulls a bare leg over her lap and massages Miss Smithers’ calf and foot. Once I even saw Miss Smithers do almost a split as she extended one leg over to Mr. Sykes on one side and Ms. Rabinowitz on the other at the same time. When she sits in the Student Union with one or two friends for any length of time, others tend to accumulate. Sometimes there are more than a dozen young people sitting at tables that have been pushed together, with Miss Smithers at the center. She tends not to participate too actively in what is being talked about. The whole tableau resembles a princess -- a princess who is always naked -- presiding over her court. She is her usual somber self in the middle of that crowd, eyes often downcast; her manner resembles the dignity of royalty. It is only when she is with one or two of her inner circle that she tends to smile and laugh. Can I say that she has any disruptive or immoral effect on the students or the college in any sense? My general answer at this point is “no”. But yesterday I did notice one instance of hidden, though public, indiscretion. I had gone up to my aerie in the Student Union when I saw that Miss Smithers was already in her usual seat, surrounded by Miss Rabinowitz on one side and Jeffrey Dillon, who is active in the campus gay & lesbian club, on the other. Each was cradling one of Miss Smithers’s bare feet, her legs being split wide under the table. There was a heavy coat on the unoccupied chair in front of her. Mr. Dillon and Miss Rabinowitz were chatting idly, but Miss Smithers was leaning back and her eyes were closed. She appeared to be resting or meditating, like I have seen her do at odd moments. Her hands were folded primly on the table. Suddenly I saw her whole body shift and a grimace spread over her face as if in pain. Then her bare shoulders jerked to one side. I suddenly realized what was happening -- someone under the table, hidden by the coat, was performing oral sex on her! All this time her two friends were conversing casually, even though they were obviously fully aware, if not party to, what was happening under the table. At this point none other than Professor Brignon of the Art Department walked by and, seeing Miss Smithers, stopped by to speak with her, standing next to the table. The naked young woman looked up and listened to the Professor with a very complicated look on her face, as if she were having trouble focusing or as if she were trying to hold back some kind of utterance. The corners of her lips were drawn back as if she were tasting something bitter. In her friends’ laps, her toes alternately spread and clenched (to the extent that toes can do that). Finally after a minute or so Miss Smithers nodded at something the Professor said and the Professor went on her way. After she was gone Miss Smithers closed her eyes again and started breathing deeply. The full-body trembling, the red over-all flush, the moans muffled by her stuffing her fist into her mouth, finally the rhythmic shaking which jerked the whole table -- these were the unmistakeable signs of orgasm. All the time, Mr. Dillon and Miss Rabinowitz cradled their friend’s feet lovingly and when it was over and Miss Smithers sank in her seat, they each kissed her on the face from each side. Then, Miss McIntrye emerged to sit on the unoccupied chair. After a few pleasant words the three got their coats and sat up and left with Miss Smithers, who was helped along with her unsteady steps as the four of them walked out into the bitter cold night. I went to the outer window and saw them, the nude Miss Smithers with her heavily clothed and booted friends, making the short distance to Pilgrim Hall, with Miss Smithers’ bare feet crunching into the frozen snow. This episode, arguably, would be disruptive to the college, yet it appeared to be relatively discreet. I’m not sure it was even Miss Smithers’s idea; she seems too modest and unassuming for that. I think rather it was Miss McIntyre’s idea, even though it was Miss Smithers who enjoyed the semi-public orgasm. At any rate, this could be something to mention to the Dean. I did see one last thing this afternoon which I should mention because it was an exception to my general observations as to Miss Smithers being somber. It was a bright, snowy day, not very cold, and the snow was just right for snowballs. Miss Smithers, walking alone from her dorm with her backpack, was struck from the side on her left buttock by a snowball. Upon looking up she was struck by another in almost the same place. A third snowball just grazed across her nipples. She looked over to see a group of about five young men approaching her with more snowballs in their gloved hands, ready to be fired. Upon seeing that the posse was led by Mr. Sykes, she gave out a playful shriek and, when a bombardment began, she dropped her backpack and ran away into the snowy field between the dorms.
The five young men trudged quickly after her, pelting her on her buttocks and the back of her head and squarely on her bare back, and she ran quickly, her bare feet kicking up little bunches of snow behind her. She slipped once, falling on her face, but she got up quickly and, snow sticking to her breasts and her pubic hair, she easily outran the young men, who were impeded by their boots and heavy clothing. When she was halfway across the field, a few hundred feet out, she suddenly turned and, expertly snatching up snow and forming it into a ball, reversed course and went after the men! With the skill of a shortstop, she hit Mr. Sykes on the chest and then scooped up and made and threw more snowballs at the other men. She was smiling and laughing the whole time, as were they. The men formed a circle around her and threw snowballs at her from every direction, but she gave as good as she got, bending down and making and throwing her own ammunition. At one point as she bent down she shrieked good-naturedly as an especially big, sloppy snowball from behind apparently hit her between the buttocks. Snow was stuck to her hair, her face, her breasts, her belly, her pubic hair (a prime target), her legs, and encrusted to her toes. Her body was flushed from the exertion and the cold. I couldn’t help but notice that the spectacle was drawing appreciative looks from people on the nearby paths who stopped to enjoyed the show. Finally, she threw a snowball at Mr. Sykes’s face and charged him, tackling him down onto the snow. The happy couple rolled over and over in the snow until finally, he pinned her down, sitting on her pelvis. Eyes met and the two engaged in a kiss that was very romantic in spite of the bizarre circumstances. Mr. Sykes’s friends looked for a moment and then turned and went away, eyes rolling as if to say, “There they go again!” After a very involved, intimate kiss Mr. Sykes picked Miss Smithers up and carried her over his shoulder like the prototypical caveman picking up his cavewoman. In this way he carried her back to her dorm, picking up her backpack along the way. I could see her arm around his shoulder to keep her from falling forward, melting snow wedged in between her buttocks and sticking to the soles of her bare feet. This was a bizarre scene, as I say, but it made me feel good because it showed Miss Smithers, whom I am beginning to greatly respect, enjoying herself and being happy. She really does have a pretty face and a smile worthy of a fashion model. And lots of friends and admirers. All in all she really is a very lucky girl!