When the new man in my life said he liked skiing naked on remote stretches of the Northern California mountains, I thought he was kidding. Now here I am with him, learning to cross-country ski sans clothing.
We are all alone — at least, I hope so. Despite enjoying the rear view of his naked body skiing confidently ahead of me, I can’t help keeping an eye out for other skiers. It appears we have the mountain all to ourselves, just as he said we would. But I’m still too modest to strip all the way down, so I’ve taken off just my shirt.
