Skin Deep Date

 I have a new novelette length story for you today, a story that I wrote last night but I didn't have time to get around to posting it and illustrating it etc. so now I am posting it now. This one sort of an awkward exploration of those naked dating shows, with the twist here being that it's too awkward people who have a secret attraction to each other whose friends end up signing them up for the naked dating show without their knowledge and then because it offers a $50,000 payment for appearing on the show they can't resist.

This story includes mutual male and female nudity, only ones naked and naked in public.

Skin Deep Date
"Professor Kensington's lecture notes smell like formaldehyde and regret," Adriana muttered, sliding into the cracked vinyl booth. She dropped her organic chemistry textbook with a thud that rattled the diner's sugar shakers.
    Dan barely glanced up from dissecting his blueberry pancake stack. "Still bitter about that midterm?" His fork hovered mid-air, syrup dripping onto the laminate table. Across the sticky surface, her knee bounced beneath the table, accidentally brushing his thigh. They both froze for half a second too long before Adriana jerked back, heat crawling up her neck.
    Outside the fogged windows, sleet peppered the sidewalk where their mutual friends, Liam and Priya, pressed faces against the glass like conspiratorial gargoyles. Priya’s muffled voice carried through the door chime: "They’re doing that thing again. The intense eye contact mixed with terrified avoidance." Liam snorted, thumb hovering over his phone screen displaying the casting call for *Skin Deep*, the notorious reality show where contestants dated completely nude. "Perfect. Submit both applications before they sober up from finals week despair."
    Inside, Dan watched Adriana wipe a smudge of ink from her cheekbone. Her finger left a faint red streak near her temple. When she licked her thumb to try again, his knuckles whitened around his coffee mug. He cleared his throat. "You got... just there." The words came out strangled. She froze, thumb still against her skin, eyes locked on his as the jukebox switched to a slow, throbbing bassline. Across the room, Liam hit 'send' on both applications with a grin.
    Twenty-four hours later, Adriana stared at her buzzing phone like it was a live grenade. The notification banner screamed: **CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’RE ACCEPTED FOR SKIN DEEP PREMIERE WEEKEND!** Below it, a hyperlink pulsed: *Click Here For Mandatory Prep Details*. "What the hell?" she whispered, perched on the edge of her dorm bed. Her Physics homework lay abandoned. Was this spam? A phishing scam? She hadn’t applied for anything since that campus bookstore raffle… which she’d lost. Yet the email address looked terrifyingly official: *casting@skindeepnetwork.com*.
    Down the hall, Dan received identical news. He read the subject line—**SKIN DEEP: YOUR NAKED ADVENTURE AWAITS!**—twice before choking on his protein shake. Coughing, he scanned the details: *Arrival: Friday, 7 AM. Location: Secluded Malibu Estate. Bring: Nothing but ID and an open mind*. Cold dread pooled in his stomach. Malibu? Open mind? The only thing he’d opened recently was Adriana’s textbook when she dropped it. A memory flashed: Priya’s smirk through the diner window. His fist clenched around the phone. "Liam," he growled aloud. "You absolute weasel." The email included a waver PDF longer than their organic chem syllabus. Page 37, clause 12.1 glared: *All contestants consent to full nudity upon arrival*.
    Adriana paced her tiny room, socked feet silent on the cheap carpet. Her reflection in the closet mirror looked pale. Skin Deep. The name alone conjured images of strategically placed sunsets and tearful eliminations aired on national TV. She remembered Priya’s gleeful gossip about last season’s scandal where a contestant hid eczema medication in her… Adriana shuddered. But acceptance? Based on *what*? Her academic probation? Her disastrous attempt at eyeliner wings yesterday? Her thumb hovered over the rejection button just as her phone buzzed again—Dan’s name flashing. Her breath hitched. They hadn’t spoken since the diner, where his knee had felt startlingly warm against hers. Was he panicking too? Did he… *know* what this was?
    Outside Dan’s door, Liam pressed his ear to the wood. A furious thump rattled the frame—probably Dan’s textbook hitting the wall. Liam exchanged a gleeful thumbs-up with Priya waiting at the stairwell. Operation Mortifying Matchup was exceeding expectations.
    Adriana gripped her phone until the plastic case creaked. Three rapid taps sent Dan’s name flashing off. Silence answered. She slumped against her flimsy dorm bed, the cheap mattress springs groaning in protest. "*Reject*," she hissed at the email, finger hovering—but then she paused. Below the nudity clauses, buried in Courier font, glowed a number: **$50,000 Participation Prize Guaranteed Upon Arrival.** Fifty thousand dollars. The exact amount her scholarship didn’t cover after her disastrous chemistry grade. Her laptop sat open beside her, displaying the bursar’s ominous payment deadline: two weeks away. Her thumb trembled.
    Dan stared at the same figure on his screen. Fifty grand. Enough to fix his ancient Honda *and* stop borrowing his dad’s embarrassing minivan for dates that never happened. He pictured Adriana’s ink-smudged cheekbone, the accidental brush of her knee. His stomach knotted. He jabbed Priya’s contact icon instead. "You meddling gremlin," he growled when she answered. "What did you do?"
    Priya’s laughter echoed down the hallway. "Relax, Dan! It’s just TV! Think of the prize money!" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "You’ll be in Malibu, getting paid to lounge around. And whoever they match you with? Total strangers, shipped in from who-knows-where. You’ll never see them again after filming wraps."
    Downstairs in the commons lounge, Liam cornered Adriana near the vending machines’ buzzing fluorescent glow. "It’s free cash for wearing *less*!" he insisted, waving a bag of stale pretzels like a victory flag. "And yeah, okay, nudity sounds terrifying. But Priya’s right—you’ll be with some rando producer-picked stranger. One awkward weekend, then *poof!* Ghosted forever. Easy money."
    Adriana chewed her lip. The sugar-shaker rattle from the diner echoed in her memory—Dan’s knee warm against hers. She imagined faceless strangers in Malibu instead. "Fine," she whispered, defeat sour on her tongue. Across campus, Dan slumped against his doorframe, Liam’s laughter still ringing in his ears. "Whatever," he muttered into his phone. "But if I end up paired with someone who calls molecules ‘cute little guys,’ I’m blaming you." Priya’s triumphant squeal pierced his eardrum. Neither noticed Liam fist-bumping the air as Priya mouthed: *Phase Two complete.* The casting confirmation emails blinked unread in their inboxes—subject lines identical, participant IDs sequential. Matched Pair #7.

Dan found Adriana hunched over coffee at the campus library two days later. Dark circles bruised her eyes. "Finals?" he asked, sliding into the chair opposite. She flinched, nearly knocking over her mug. "Yeah. Organic chem." Her gaze darted to his hands—strong fingers drumming a nervous rhythm—then away. Silence stretched thick as spilled syrup. He should mention Malibu. But what if she hadn’t gotten the email? Worse: what if she *knew* and thought he’d applied? He pictured her laughing—that sharp, bright sound—at the idea of Dan stripping for cash. His ears burned. "Just... stressed," he mumbled. Adriana traced the ink stains on her textbook. *He looks tense too*. Was he broke? His ancient Honda backfired daily. But admitting she’d seen the Skin Deep email felt like confessing to theft. "Exams suck," she offered weakly. The lie hung between them like sleet against glass.

Outside, Liam peered through the library’s rain-streaked window. Priya snorted into her scarf. "Look at them! Two geniuses who can’t say ‘naked.’" Adriana rubbed her temple—a phantom smudge Dan remembered too vividly. He coughed, shifting his legs away. *Don’t look at her thigh*. Liam grinned, filming their awkward hunch on his phone. "Send this to production," he whispered. "Proof they’re already radiating ‘fear-flirting.’" Priya cackled, muffling the sound against her sleeve. They’d know soon enough. Malibu beckoned—sun, surf, and skin-deep humiliation.

Dan gripped his coffee cup tighter. Adriana’s knee bounced under the table again. He wondered, absurdly, if she’d worn thick socks to Malibu. Would she? His pulse hammered against his ribs. Across the room, Priya bounced on her toes. "This weekend," she hissed, "is going to be epic." Liam nodded, eyes gleaming. He’d already packed Adriana’s suitcase: sunscreen, flip-flops, and—buried beneath textbooks—a single, lacy black thong Priya swore was "accidentally" mixed in. Payback for lost bookstore raffles.

Two days later, the campus recreation area buzzed like a kicked hornet’s nest. Students sprawled on worn couches, eyes glued to the massive wall-mounted TV. On screen, *Skin Deep* blared—contestants splashed in slow motion through turquoise water, laughter echoing artificially. Adriana froze mid-stride, her physics lab report crumpling in her fist. The TV showed a contestant tripping over driftwood, bare flesh gleaming under studio lights. A collective groan-laugh rose from the viewers. Her cheeks flamed as if sunburnt.
    Dan bumped into her from behind, spilling lukewarm chai onto his shoe. "Oh—sorry—" His apology died as he followed her horrified gaze to the screen. A contestant now wept dramatically into the sunset, strategically blurred pixels failing to hide trembling shoulders. Dan’s stomach clenched. "$50k," muttered a guy shredding popcorn kernels. "For *that*? Sign me up tomorrow." Adriana flinched. She could practically smell the salt-spray and panic sweat.
    Their eyes met—a startled, magnetic snap—across the crowded room. Dan saw the panic flicker in Adriana’s pupils. She saw the sweat beading his temple. "Pathetic," Adriana whispered, too loud. An eavesdropper glanced over. "Who’d subject themselves to that circus?"
    "Total losers," Dan rasped, knuckles white on his cup. "Getting paid to be humiliated?" A laugh burst from him, strained as tearing cloth. Adriana’s answering chuckle sounded like cracking ice. They stared at the screen—at slick bodies navigating forced intimacy—and wondered, fiercely, desperately, how fast $50k could vanish into tuition debts and mechanic bills. Neither noticed Liam filming them from the juice bar, zooming in on their synchronized flinch as a contestant’s microphone picked up a mortifying digestive gurgle.

Priya appeared beside Adriana, smooth as spilled syrup. "Wild, right?" She gestured at the TV where a contestant now hid behind a potted palm. "Imagine knowing you’ll replay *that* moment at every family holiday forever." Adriana swallowed hard. The waiver’s clause 37.2 flashed in her mind: *Footage remains property of Skin Deep Network in perpetuity*. Priya’s smile sharpened. "Good thing smart people avoid trash like this." Dan turned abruptly, knocking over a recycling bin. Plastic bottles clattered across the floor, drawing every eye—including the camera crew capturing reactions for "Campus Vibes" cutaways. Adriana’s throat tightened. Malibu felt less like paradise, more like quicksand.

The predawn chill bit through Dan’s hoodie as the shuttle hissed to a stop outside the Malibu compound. Chain-link fencing, draped in faux-greenery, snaked toward cliffs where Pacific waves hammered the shore like a frantic heartbeat. *Open mind*, the email taunted. His knuckles whitened around his backpack strap—empty except for his ID and the crushing weight of humiliation. He’d spent the flight imagining faceless strangers: vapid influencers, gym bros who’d call molecules “cute.” Never Adriana. Never her sharp wit or the way her brows furrowed over equations. He inhaled salt-tinged air thick with blooming jasmine and dread. *Just get through the gate. Get the money. Run.*

Adriana stumbled off a second shuttle, squinting against the assault of klieg lights and producer shouts. “Contestants, form line Alpha!” Her gaze swept the chaotic courtyard—palm trees swaying under rigged spotlights, production assistants herding bewildered people toward tents emitting chemical-scented steam. *Sterilization*, she guessed, nose wrinkling. Then she froze. There, near a sign screaming “STRIP HERE FOR YOUR WELCOME PACKAGE!”, stood Dan. His back was rigid, shoulders hunched as if bracing against a gale. Her pulse stuttered. *Impossible*. Liam’s prank had spiraled into cosmic cruelty. She ducked behind a woman adjusting her sarong, praying the sea mist hid her face. *He can’t see me. Not like this. Not ever.*

Inside the “Prep Tent,” Dan clutched a scratchy terrycloth robe. The air hummed with nervous energy and antiseptic. Contestants whispered—about prize money, about who’d crack first under the cameras. Dan stared at the curtained changing stalls, imagining Adriana’s laugh if she knew. *She’d sketch molecules on my naked back*, he thought wildly. Across the room, Adriana fumbled with her robe tie, fingers numb. Through a gap in the curtains, she caught a sliver of Dan’s profile—jaw clenched, gaze fixed on the exit like a trapped animal. Her breath hitched. For years, she’d stolen glances at his hands during labs, wondering how they’d feel tracing her spine. Now, inches away, reality curdled into panic. A producer’s voice crackled: “Matched Pair #7, report to Cove Sunset Platform. Deep breaths, folks—it’s skin o’clock!”
    Blindfolded, Dan groped forward on cool bamboo planks. Salt spray misted his bare shoulders. His robe pooled at his feet minutes ago, leaving him terrifyingly exposed. Heart pounding against his ribs like a mallet, he concentrated on the roar of the waves—anything to ignore the primal urge to fold himself inward. Footsteps whispered nearby—his partner. He caught a faint scent: chalk dust and bergamot tea. *Impossible*, he thought, dizzy. Adriana’s blindfold scratched her temples. The plank shifted under her feet. Someone breathed raggedly beside her—close enough she felt their warmth radiating through the humid air. Her mind screamed: *Liam, you sociopath*. Production hands guided them to stand facing each other, palms sweating inches apart.
    The host’s amplified voice boomed: “Remove your blindfolds… and meet your deepest connection!” Dan ripped his off first. Adriana’s fingers trembled, tearing at silk. Light flooded her vision—and there stood Dan. Utterly naked. Every freckle, every scar from bike crashes visible. Her scream tangled with his—a hoarse, mutual shock. Hands flew—hers shielding her breasts, his cupping himself—as they scrambled backwards, crimson flooding their faces. Cameras whirred, capturing every twitching muscle. The host chuckled into his headset mic. “Whoa, sparks fly! A little shy, huh? Introduce yourselves properly! Names?”
    Dan gulped air, eyes locked desperately on a distant palm frond. “D-Dan,” he croaked. Adriana’s voice cracked. “Adriana.” Her gaze flickered—against her will—down his chest, then snapped away, hotter than the Malibu sun. The host leaned in conspiratorially. “Recognize each other? Campus acquaintances, perhaps?” Dan stared at Adriana’s shoulder—where he’d once brushed off a spider. “We… share Organic Chemistry.” Adriana nodded stiffly, swallowing the hysterical laugh bubbling in her throat. *Shared textbooks. Shared panic attacks. Now shared nudity*. Her toes curled against the bamboo. Dan risked a glance—her hipbone curved like a question mark he ached to trace. The host grinned. “Chemistry? Oh, we’ll test *that*!”
    A gust whipped off the ocean, raising goosebumps on Adriana’s arms. She crossed them tightly. “Bit chilly,” she whispered, voice taut as piano wire. Dan nodded vigorously, shivering despite the warmth. “Yeah. Definitely.” His hands hovered uselessly—craving her skin’s warmth, terrified to touch. The host chuckled, microphone amplifying their awkward silence. “First impressions?” Adriana blurted, “Your hair looks… windswept.” Dan stared at her damp forehead. “You have salt spray… here.” He pointed vaguely near her ear. Her hand flew up, fingers grazing the spot. They both froze. The host sighed dramatically. “Poetry! Pure, naked poetry!”
    Adriana’s mind screamed equations—distractions. Surface area-to-volume ratios. Thermal conductivity of seawater. Anything but Dan’s sculpted calf inches from hers. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple, mirroring her own. “How… are you?” Dan managed. Adriana pretended fascination with a gull overhead. “Fine. Just… processing the… environment.” His laugh escaped sharp, panicked. “Me too. The… uh… biodiversity is impressive.” She risked a glance. His jaw clenched tight. She remembered that look during finals—right before he’d ace a problem she’d struggled with. Now, the problem was exposed skin and accelerating heartbeats. Cameras zoomed tight on Dan’s trembling fingers, Adriana’s flushed collarbone. The host purred into his mic, “Folks, witness vulnerability! Raw and unscripted!”
    Suddenly, Adriana’s gaze snagged on something below Dan’s hip—a faded, diagonal scar slicing across his thigh. Her breath hitched. “The bike crash,” she whispered. Sophomore year. He’d slid across asphalt chasing a runaway lab report. Dan followed her stare, color deepening. “You… remember?” Adriana’s hand lifted, an inch from touching the jagged line. “You limped for weeks.” His voice thickened. “You brought me ibuprofen.” The host leaned in, eyes alight. “History! Shared pain! Now *this* is connection!” Dan stepped closer instinctively, drawn to the memory—and her. Adriana’s fingertips hovered over the scar. For a heartbeat, the cameras, the ocean, the host’s grin faded. Just skin, memory, and the terrifying ache of proximity. Then a producer yelled, “Pair Seven! Sunset shoot in five! Get ’em moisturized!” Dan flinched back. Adriana snatched her hand away, mortification crashing back like a wave. The moment shattered, leaving only naked dread and sunburned ears.
    Dan squeezed his eyes shut. *Focus. Anything*. He pictured Professor Kensington’s mole—the one shaped like Tasmania. He recited the Krebs cycle under his breath: *Pyruvate oxidation yields acetyl-CoA…* His eyes snapped open. Adriana was twisting a strand of hair nervously, her breasts shifting with the movement. *Fuck*. The Krebs cycle evaporated. *Cold showers. Root canals*. He imagined chiseling ice with bare hands. Anything to avoid noticing how the fading light gilded her collarbone, how her stomach curved into her hip—a topography he’d sketched mentally a thousand times in lecture halls. *Don’t look down. Don’t you dare*. He jammed his hands into his robe pockets, fabric straining. His heart hammered against his ribs like a frantic prisoner.
    Adriana studied a seagull dive-bombing a chip bag. *Safe*. Anything but Dan’s body—lean muscle, the dusting of hair on his forearms, that damned scar. Yet her traitorous eyes flickered back. His vulnerability—the slight hunch of his shoulders, the way he tucked his chin—ignited something molten in her belly. She’d glimpsed him naked only once, changing after intramural soccer. A stolen, guilty peek through a cracked locker room door. This? This was her birthday, Christmas, and that time she aced quantum mechanics *rolled into one*. She forced herself to stare at the horizon. *Think about osmotic pressure. Think about Liam drowning in his own stupidity*. But the image burned behind her eyelids: Dan, utterly exposed, and impossibly, devastatingly beautiful. She pressed her thighs together, praying the cameras missed her tremor.
    The host clapped. “Alright, lovebirds! Time to capture that golden hour glow! Lose the robes!” Dan froze. *Acetyl-CoA enters the citric acid cycle…* Adriana’s robe slipped off her shoulders like water. Dan’s gaze dropped—landing squarely on the swell of her breast, the shadowed dip of her navel. Heat roared through him, unstoppable, undeniable. Panic seized his throat. *Not now. Please*. He fumbled his robe tie, buying seconds. Adriana watched him, cheeks aflame. She saw the frantic calculation in his eyes, the way his muscles coiled tight as springs. A traitorous thrill shot through her—he was affected. Deeply. He wasn’t indifferent. He saw *her*. Her fingers brushed his arm—a spark. Dan gasped, jerking away. “Sorry!” they blurted in unison, voices cracking. Cameras whirred closer, capturing every flinch, every desperate flick of their eyes seeking salvation in the indifferent sky. The host sighed, delighted. “Perfection! Pure, awkward tension! Give us *more*!”
    Dan’s robe hit the bamboo with a soft thud. Totally exposed. Adriana’s breath hitched. Every freckle, every tendon laid bare. No hiding behind textbooks now. She forced her gaze upwards—past his collarbone, past his wonderfully sculpted arms—and met his eyes. Wide, startled, dark pupils swallowing the blue of his irises. A shaky, involuntary smile tugged at her lips. It mirrored his own—a terrified, lopsided grimace. They looked away instantly, Adriana studying the grain of the bamboo beneath her toes, Dan examining the distant cliffs with intense geological interest. But the awareness vibrated between them—the heat radiating off his skin, the flutter of her pulse in her throat. They weren’t just naked; they were hyper-aware, stripped down to raw nerve endings. She saw the frantic rise and fall of his chest. He saw the tremor running down her spine. The breeze felt impossibly intimate on exposed skin.
    Dan’s mind scrambled. *Mitochondria produce ATP… Krebs cycle… Citric acid… Citric? Fuck*. He fixated on a kelp blob clinging to a nearby rock. *Brown. Slimy. Think slimy*. Yet his peripheral vision betrayed him, painting Adriana against the sunset—the curve of her waist flaring into her hip, the elegant line of her thigh vanishing into shadow. He could *smell* her faint bergamot scent over the salt. Blood roared southward, a traitorous tide impossible to stem. He angled his hips subtly towards the ocean, praying the fading light hid the inevitable betrayal beneath his navel. *Don’t look down. Don’t look down*. Adriana shifted her weight, acutely conscious of his gaze skittering over her ribs, grazing her hipbone. *He’s staring. Oh god*. The realization was terrifying—and exhilarating. Years of stolen glances dissolved into this brutal intimacy. She remembered his scar, traced its phantom line with her mind’s eye… then lower. Heat prickled beneath her skin. *Quantum states. Uncertainty principle. Anything*. But her core clenched, a molten ache spreading. They stood inches apart, oceans of unspoken desire flooding the space between their exposed bodies.
    The producer’s yell shattered the fragile silence. “Pair Seven! Stop eye-fucking the scenery! Smile! Hold hands! Fake it ’til you make it!” Dan flinched. Adriana swallowed hard. Slowly, cautiously, Dan’s hand found hers. Their fingers laced—skin shockingly hot against skin, palms slick with sweat. Neither dared move. The contact felt electric, amplifying every nerve-ending’s awareness. Adriana’s thumb brushed his knuckle—a tremor. Dan’s grip tightened instinctively. They stared straight ahead at the blinding sunset, jaws clenched in stiff, unnatural smiles for the cameras. But beneath the forced pose, their hands screamed secrets neither was ready to speak. The host chuckled into his mic. “Chemistry indeed.” The Pacific roared its agreement.
    Dan’s throat tightened. He needed words—anything—to break the unbearable tension coiled in his gut. His eyes stayed fixed on a pelican dive-bombing the waves. “Adriana?” His voice rasped, barely audible over the wind. She shifted slightly, her bare shoulder brushing his arm. A spark. “Yeah?” Her reply was breathless. He forced his gaze sideways, catching hers for a terrified second. Her eyes, wide and dark as drowning pools, locked onto his. “You… uh…” The sentence died. He swallowed hard, throat clicking dryly. “You look… nice. Today.” He choked it out, crimson flooding his neck and ears. The words hung, ludicrous and inadequate in the raw air.
    Adriana’s eyes flew wide. A sharp intake of breath hissed through her teeth. *Nice?* He stood naked beside her, sunlight catching the droplets on his collarbone, muscles taut with suppressed tension, and he called it *nice*? The absurdity hit her like a wave. A startled laugh bubbled up, mixed with panic. “*Nice*?” Her voice cracked, louder than intended. Her gaze raked down him, a visceral sweep she couldn't stop—the strong line of his chest, the lean abdomen, the sculpted thighs leading down to... Her mouth went dry. Her tongue darted out instinctively, wetting her lips. Words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered: “Dan, you look… really nice today. Really, *really* hot.” She froze. Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horrified realization. She *was* practically drooling. Mortification burned hotter than the sun.
    The host’s delighted cackle was immediate. “*Hot*? Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got genuine combustion here!” His amplified voice echoed off the cliffs. He leaned closer, mic aimed like a weapon, his gaze zeroing in below Dan’s waist. “And judging by *that* enthusiastic reaction down south, Dan…” He winked salaciously at the nearest camera. “It looks like you’re *definitely* happy to see Adriana!” Dan gasped, his free hand instinctively snapping down, fingers clawing to cover the sudden, undeniable swell tenting the air beneath his navel. He hunched forward, twisting his hips away, face a mask of pure scarlet agony. Adriana yanked her hand free from his, stumbling back a step on the slick bamboo. The host beamed. “Now *that’s* what we call a Skin Deep Moment! Keep ’em coming!” Dan squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the ocean would swallow him whole. Adriana stared at her feet, the ghost of her own words echoing: *Really hot*.
    Dan’s entire world narrowed to the frantic, volcanic pressure building between his legs. Every ragged breath Adriana took beside him, the faint rustle as she shifted her weight, the impossible warmth radiating off her bare skin—it all conspired against him. He clenched his jaw until his teeth screamed, digging his fingernails into his palms hard enough to leave crescents. *Cold showers. Calculus finals. Grandma’s funeral*. He summoned every soul-crushing image he could. But his traitorous body remembered the accidental brush of her knee under the diner table, the scent of her chalk-dust hair now mingled with salt air… and throbbed harder. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing with the sea spray. He dared not move an inch, rigid as driftwood, terrified any shift would tip him over the edge into mortifying oblivion. His knuckles pressed against his thighs felt slick and trembling. *Don’t look at her. Don’t think about her. Don’t.*
    Adriana felt the slick heat pooling low in her belly, an insistent throb pulsing with every frantic beat of her heart. The cool bamboo under her toes did nothing to soothe the fire spreading through her thighs. She pressed her legs together tighter, subtly rotating her hips inward, the friction a desperate, hidden relief against the unbearable ache Dan’s proximity ignited. Every stolen glance at his strained profile, the cords standing out in his neck as he fought his own war, sent fresh waves of liquid heat cascading through her core. Her inner muscles clenched involuntarily, a needy flutter she prayed the cameras couldn't see. Her breath hitched, shallow and quick. She stared fiercely at the horizon, seeing nothing but the phantom imprint of him—the lean muscle, the vulnerable scar, the *reaction* he couldn’t hide. The awkwardness was excruciating… yet the raw, undeniable fire it stoked was terrifyingly potent.
    They stood frozen amidst the pandemonium—Dan rigid and sweating, Adriana shifting almost imperceptibly against herself—both prisoners of their own bodies. The host’s voice boomed instructions for the sunset shot, urging them closer. Dan flinched as Adriana’s arm brushed his, another jolt of electricity shooting straight down his spine. She gasped softly, the sound lost in the wind but felt deep within him. Cameras whirred, capturing every micro-expression: the desperation in Dan’s eyes, the flush creeping down Adriana’s chest, the subtle tremor running through both their bodies as they battled arousal and dread inches apart. The air crackled with unspoken need, thick and suffocating. Adriana bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. Dan prayed for divine intervention—or at least a sudden, merciful tidal wave.
    A gust whipped Adriana’s dark hair forward. Strands streamed across Dan’s bare chest like silken spiderwebs, catching against his nipples, tickling the taut skin above his ribcage. He shuddered violently, a choked noise escaping his throat. "*So hot…*" he muttered, face beet-red, the words torn loose by sheer sensory overload. Adriana froze mid-shift. Her eyes snapped to his face, wide and searching. "*What?*" she breathed, the question barely audible over the crashing surf. The wind pushed another thick lock against his collarbone. Dan groaned, his control fraying completely. "*You,*" he rasped, voice raw. "*Right now… you’re driving me out of my mind.*" He gestured helplessly with his chin towards her hair fluttering against his skin. "*Like that. The wind… the way it… tickles…*"
    Adriana’s breath caught. For a heartbeat, the horror of exposure melted away, replaced by pure, dawning delight. A slow, radiant smile broke across her face—genuine, blinding, utterly unexpected. She *remembered*. Sophomore year in the crowded chem lab, she’d accidentally brushed a feather-light fingertip against his waist while reaching for a beaker. He’d yelped and nearly knocked over their titration setup, mortified, insisting he was "*ridiculously, stupidly ticklish*." Now, here he stood, naked and trembling, undone by windblown hair. The sheer vulnerability of it—this strong, quiet guy reduced to shuddering sensitivity—ignited something fierce and primal within her. Her gaze dropped, unbidden, to the curve of his lower back, the swell of his ass. Her fingers twitched violently with the sudden, overwhelming urge to trace the dimples above his hips, to test if the skin there was just as reactive.
    Dan saw her smile, saw the heat darkening her eyes as they lingered below his waist. Panic seized him anew—did she *like* seeing him unravel? The tickling intensified, maddening, relentless. Adriana leaned in fractionally, drawn by the magnetic pull of his discomfort, her smile softening into something dangerously intimate. "*Ticklish everywhere?*" she murmured, her voice husky, laced with a curiosity that sent fresh tremors through him. The cameras caught the flicker of her tongue wetting her lips, the slight forward cant of her hips. Dan could only nod, mute and paralyzed. The host’s triumphant yell pierced the bubble: "*Gold! Pure, ticklish tension! Hold that pose!*" Adriana didn’t look away. The itch to touch burned hotter than the studio lights.

A production assistant finally threw them thin towels and hissed, "Sunset Beach Cove! Fifteen minutes relaxation—unedited!" They scrambled, robes hastily cinched, fleeing the bamboo platform toward a secluded crescent of sand. Silence stretched, thick as the humid air. Waves hissed rhythmically. Adriana sank onto the sand, digging her toes into the damp coolness beneath the surface. Dan hesitated, then dropped beside her, robe gaping slightly at the neckline. "*So…*" he rasped, voice cracking. "*Classes next semester? Picked yours yet?*" Adriana tilted her face toward the dying sun, cheeks flushed crimson. "*Yeah. Art History 305: The Nude Form Through Western Tradition. And Media Studies 412: Sexual Objectification in Mass Media.*" She gave a choked, self-conscious laugh. "*Guess I’m getting some hands-on research experience right now.*" The absurdity hung shimmering between them.

Dan snorted—a sharp, startled bark of laughter. "*You think* you’re *getting a lesson? Wow.*" He gestured vaguely at his own towel-covered lap. "*Try starring in the damn syllabus.*" Adriana’s giggle bubbled up—genuine, bright, slicing through the residual panic. "*Point taken.*" She dared a sideways glance. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the first genuine warmth she’d seen since the blindfolds ripped away. "*Seriously,*" she added softly, "*I only enrolled because Clements teaches it. He’s brilliant. Doesn’t bullshit.*" Dan nodded, relaxing an increment. "*Kensington for my advanced Quantum. The mole’s still Tasmanian.*" The familiar shorthand—Clements’ brutal honesty, Kensington’s distracting birthmark—felt grounding. Safe. They weren’t just naked strangers on a beach. They were Adriana and Dan, who shared organic chem hell and knew which vending machine ate dollar bills.

The awkwardness didn’t vanish, but it softened, settling into a shared, weary amusement. Adriana stretched her legs out, her robe riding high on her thighs. Dan watched the delicate play of fading light on her calf muscles, the curve of her ankle. Earlier, he’d have flinched away. Now, he simply saw *her*. "*Hands-on research,*" he repeated slowly, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows. "*So… does this,*" he gestured between their towel-clad bodies, "*qualify as primary source material?*" Adriana grinned, leaning back on her elbows. "*Definitely. Participant observation. Complete with… physiological responses.*" Her tone was light, academic, but her gaze flickered knowingly down his torso. Dan didn't blush this time. A slow, answering smile spread across his face—real, unguarded. "*Fieldwork’s intense,*" he murmured. The Pacific sighed against the sand, echoing the unspoken shift: humiliation thawing into something dangerously close to possibility.
    Footsteps crunched loudly on the shell-strewn path behind them. "*Seven!*" The producer’s voice sliced through the quiet like a knife. He loomed over them, clipboard gleaming under the dusky sky, eyes sharp and impatient. "*Enough cozy chat. Sunset’s bleeding out, and we need golden-hour magic.*" He jabbed a thumb toward the distant cove where cameras were being repositioned. "*Robes off. Now.*" His gaze raked over their hastily covered bodies with clinical detachment. "*This isn’t called Skin Deep for nothing. Get bare, get back on platform, and give me that simmering tension you teased earlier.*" He snapped his fingers. "*Move! That prize money doesn’t film itself.*"
    Adriana met Dan’s eyes. The fragile ease evaporated, replaced by the visceral memory of bamboo under bare feet and blinding exposure. Panic flared anew, raw and familiar. "*Already?*" she whispered, fingers instinctively clutching the terrycloth hem bunched at her hips. Dan’s jaw tightened. He’d just begun to breathe normally. "*We just…*" he started, but the producer cut him off with a dismissive wave. "*You’re costing us light! Strip, or walk off. Your choice.*" He tapped his clipboard meaningfully against his thigh. "*Fifty grand says you’ll choose skin.*" The ultimatum hung, brutal and inescapable. Adriana saw the flicker in Dan’s eyes—the mechanic’s bill, the Honda’s rattle. She felt her own tuition shortfall pressing down. Slowly, reluctantly, their hands went to their robe ties.
    Dan stood first, the robe falling away with a whisper. The cool air hit his skin like a shock, raising instant goosebumps. He kept his gaze locked on the darkening horizon, refusing to look down or at Adriana, focusing on the rhythmic crash of waves instead. Adriana inhaled sharply, bracing herself. She peeled the terrycloth down her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles. The vulnerability slammed back—the cameras, the salt-laced wind on every inch of her, Dan’s tense profile beside her. Her skin prickled, hyper-aware. "*Okay,*" she breathed, more to herself than him. "*Again.*" She forced her shoulders back, chin lifting toward the cove, a brittle defiance settling over her fear. The producer smirked. "*There’s our courage. Now hustle—chemistry awaits.*" He herded them forward, a pair of trembling sacrifices marching back toward the klieg lights and the hungry lenses. Their footsteps left shallow prints in the damp sand, quickly erased by the incoming tide.
    The bamboo platform felt colder this time beneath Adriana’s bare feet. The host’s grin was predatory. "*Welcome back, Matched Pair Seven! Ready for Round Two? Let’s see that spark ignite!*" Cameras whirred aggressively. Adriana clenched her fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Dan stood rigidly beside her, radiating tension. "*Closer!*" the producer barked from behind a monitor. "*Side by side. Shoulders touching.*" Adriana shuffled half a step sideways. Her bare arm brushed against Dan’s—a jolt of warm skin on skin. He inhaled sharply but didn’t move away. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The contact was electric, terrifying. Heat bloomed where their arms touched, spreading outward. She could feel the tremor in his muscles, mirroring her own. The host leaned in, mic poised. "*Feeling that connection yet? Describe the energy!*" Adriana stayed silent, staring straight ahead. Dan swallowed hard. "*It’s… warm,*" he managed, voice strained.
    "*Warm?*" the host scoffed. "*Try volcanic! See that flush, folks? That’s not just the sunset!*" He gestured below Dan’s waist again, prompting a collective murmur from the crew. Dan flinched violently, instinctively curling inward, face scarlet. "*Get the close-up!*" someone yelled. Panic seized Adriana. Without thinking, driven by shared humiliation and a surge of protective anger, she grabbed Dan’s rigid hand. Her fingers interlaced tightly with his. "*Stop it,*" she hissed, not at Dan, but at the host and the encroaching cameras. Her voice was low, fierce. "*Leave him alone.*" Dan froze, stunned. His eyes locked onto hers—wide, startled, grateful. Her hand in his was an anchor, a shield. The heat radiating from their clasped palms was immediate, intense, a current flowing back and forth between them. It wasn't just awkwardness anymore; it was a raw, shared defiance.
    Ignoring the host’s sputtering protests, Adriana tugged Dan gently off the platform, pulling him toward the water’s edge where the sand met the foaming surf. "*Here,*" she muttered, dropping onto the damp sand. She gestured vaguely beside her. "*Sit.*" Hesitantly, Dan sank down, copying her posture—knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. The cameras followed, lenses whirring, capturing their silhouettes against the molten gold and crimson sky. The ocean roared, drowning out the host’s frustrated commands. Adriana shifted slightly, her thigh pressing against Dan’s in the sand. She didn't pull away. Neither did he. The contact felt… grounding. Safe, almost. The frantic energy of the setup faded into the vastness of the sea and the sky. "*This…*" Adriana mumbled, her voice barely audible over the waves, "*is actually really kind of nice.*" She gestured faintly at her own bare legs, shimmering faintly with salt spray and the last rays of the sun. "*Never sunbathed naked before.*"
    Dan let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slowly unknotting. He tilted his face toward the dying light, the warmth soaking into his skin. "*Me either,*" he admitted softly, his gaze tracing the path of a distant gull. "*Feels… free. Somehow.*" They sat side by side, naked on the cooling sand, watching the sun sink lower, painting their skin in liquid gold and deepening shadows. The tension hadn't vanished—it hummed beneath the surface, a palpable awareness of skin inches away, of shared vulnerability. But it was different now. Tinged with defiance, softened by the shared sunset and the roar of the ocean. Dan shifted minutely, his hip pressing more firmly against Adriana’s. She didn't flinch. She leaned into the contact, subtly, almost imperceptibly. Their breathing slowly synchronized with the waves. Eyes forward, they didn't look at each other. They simply sat, respecting the unspoken boundary while drowning in the overwhelming, terrifying, exhilarating proximity. The cameras rolled on, capturing the quiet intimacy, the glistening sheen of saltwater on bare skin, and the charged silence stretching between them, thick with everything left unsaid.
    Adriana’s gaze drifted from the horizon to Dan’s back. The fading light caught the lean musculature, the slight curve of his spine dipping down towards… She watched her own hand move almost of its own volition. Her finger, feather-light, drifted down the side of his hip, tracing a path just above the swell of his buttock. Her fingernail scraped gently, whispering over the sensitive skin. Dan jolted violently, a sharp gasp escaping him as his whole body flinched away from the touch. "*Whoa!*" he choked out, twisting around, eyes wide with startled surprise.
    "*Oh! Sorry!*" Adriana snatched her hand back instantly, mortification flooding her cheeks. "*Was that… okay? I didn’t mean to—*"
    Dan blinked rapidly, color high on his cheekbones. He managed a small, embarrassed smile. "*No, no… it’s okay. Actually,*" he swallowed, his voice dropping lower, "*it felt kind of… nice. J-just… startled me.*" He shifted slightly back towards her, offering his side again, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air thick with salt spray and the rhythmic hush of the tide.
    Adriana blushed deeper. She stared at his shoulder blade, then took a shaky breath. "*Dan? Can I ask you something? Like, really weird?*" Her voice was barely audible over the waves.
    He chuckled, a low rumble she felt reverberate where their hips still touched. "*Adriana, we are sitting naked on a beach, being filmed for millions, after finding out our friends tricked us onto a nudist dating show. I genuinely don’t think it’s possible to get much weirder.*"
    A surprised laugh bubbled out of her, bright and genuine, easing some of the tension. "*Okay, fair point.*" She fiddled with a damp strand of hair, gathering courage. "*So… this is going to sound wildly, unbelievably weird… but…*" She hesitated, biting her lip. "*I really need to tickle you right now. Like majorly. Brutally.*" She watched his reaction, suddenly terrified she’d shattered the tentative peace.
    Dan stared at her. Utterly still. His expression went from bewildered amusement to slack-jawed shock. "*Tick… tickle me?*"
    Adriana couldn’t help the small, nervous smile that curved her lips. "*Yeah.*" She looked away, then back, her eyes meeting his with startling intensity. "*Ever since sophomore year, when I saw you jump a mile in chem lab… It’s always been this… aberration. This weird little fantasy. Knowing you were ridiculously ticklish.*" Her blush flared hotter. "*Knowing I could unravel you like that.*" She let the confession hang, the roar of the ocean suddenly deafening. "*Is that… insane?*"
    Dan stared at her, utterly frozen. His mind spun. *She’d fantasized about tickling him? Years ago?* A choked sound escaped him—half-laugh, half-panic. He watched her hands, clenched in her lap, knuckles white. The tension wasn’t just awkward; it was coiled tight, electric. His gaze flickered—downward, betraying him—before snapping back to her face. The flush spreading across his chest wasn’t entirely embarrassment. Adriana’s breath hitched. She saw it too: the tightening of muscles low on his stomach, the subtle shift in his posture, the undeniable arousal stirring despite the fear flashing in his eyes. Her own pulse raced. "*So?*" she breathed. "*Can I?*"
    He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. But he gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod. His whole body braced.
    It started tentatively. Adriana’s fingers brushed his ribs—light, feathery strokes. Dan sucked in air, a giggle escaping. Then her nails danced across his hipbone, rasping softly. "*Ah!*" He jerked, laughter bubbling out louder, involuntary. "*Adri—stop!*" But his voice held no conviction, only breathless hysteria. Seeing his reaction—the helpless laughter, the frantic squirming—ignited something fierce and playful in Adriana. "*Everywhere,*" she murmured, her voice thick with sudden giddy determination. "*You said everywhere.*" Her hands became relentless, spidering up his sides, digging into the sensitive hollows beneath his arms, skittering across his stomach. Dan shrieked—a high-pitched, uncontrollable sound he’d never made before—doubling over, collapsing sideways onto the sand, tears streaming down his temples. He laughed harder than he’d ever laughed in his life, a raw, gasping sound tearing from his chest, shaking his entire frame. "*S-stop! P-please! I c-can’t breathe!*" he wheezed between shrieks.
    Adriana was breathless herself, exhilaration surging through her. She straddled his hips, pinning his thrashing legs momentarily, grinning down at his flushed, laughing face. "*Too much?*" she teased, fingers hovering near his vulnerable neck.
    Dan bucked wildly, twisting out from under her with surprising strength. "*Get… away!*" he gasped, scrambling backwards crab-style before launching himself to his feet. He took off down the beach, naked and laughing, heading straight for the crashing surf. "*Coward!*" Adriana yelled, chasing after him, kicking sand. "*Get back here!*" She tackled his legs just as the icy water surged around their ankles. They crashed into the shallows, shrieking—half from cold, half from residual laughter—splashing wildly at each other, soaking hair plastered to faces. The frantic tickling and chase dissolved into pure, unfiltered joy. Years of strained silence, weeks of agonized dread, evaporated in the spray and giggles. They stumbled deeper, waist-high now, facing each other, panting, soaked, utterly alive. Adriana saw only Dan’s wide, bright eyes, free of fear. He saw her radiant grin, untouched by humiliation. The tension was gone, replaced by something luminous and terrifyingly bright.
    Wordlessly, Adriana reached out. Dan grasped her hand instantly. His other hand found hers. They stood chest-deep in the Pacific, fingers interlaced tightly, breaths syncing. Without hesitation, Adriana surged forward. Dan met her halfway. Lips met—saltwater, laughter, and years of pent-up longing crashing into one frantic, desperate kiss. It was messy, urgent, perfect. Behind them, the producer’s excited voice crackled over a loudspeaker: "*YES! Pure, raw chemistry! Gold! This is everything!*" Still locked together, mouths exploring hungrily, Adriana raised her middle finger high. A heartbeat later, Dan mirrored her, flipping off the cameras without breaking the kiss, a defiant grin curving against her lips as the ocean roared its approval.
    The host’s delighted cackle echoed across the beach. "*Look at that! Matched Pair Seven showing off their... molecular bonding!*" He chuckled into his mic. "*Attraction... repulsion... and now this intense cohesion! Organic Chemistry indeed!*" Dan and Adriana ignored him entirely. They pulled apart slightly, foreheads touching, seawater dripping down flushed faces. Years of stolen glances, stifled laughter, and aching proximity dissolved into skin and salt. Dan trailed kisses down Adriana’s neck. She arched into him, sighing, her fingers threading through his wet hair. "*Screw them,*" Dan murmured against her skin. "*Screw Liam.*" Adriana laughed softly, pulling him closer. "*Screw everything,*" she whispered, her hands tracing slow, possessive circles on his bare back. The cameras zoomed relentlessly, capturing every shared smile, every lingering caress—two people finally, gloriously unburdened.
    They drifted slowly back towards shore, tangled together. The producer’s frantic instructions faded into background noise. "*Keep hugging! Keep touching! Focus on Particle Seven!*" Dan leaned in, nuzzling Adriana’s temple. "*They want chemistry,*" he whispered, his thumb brushing her collarbone. "*We’ll give them physics.*" Adriana giggled, tipping her head back to look at him, her eyes sparkling. "*Kinetic friction?*" she asked softly. "*Potential energy released,*" Dan replied, dipping his head to kiss her again, slow and deep this time, oblivious to the flash of bulbs or the host’s ongoing monologue about "endothermic reactions of passion." They moved slowly, hands exploring familiar contours now claimed openly—the dip of her waist, the curve of his shoulder—each touch a quiet declaration louder than any prize. The vast Pacific stretched behind them, swallowing the show's frantic energy, leaving only the undeniable pull of skin on skin.
    Later, seated at a secluded bamboo table overlooking the darkening cove, plates of grilled seabass and roasted vegetables steaming before them, Dan laughed—a full, rich sound Adriana hadn't heard since sophomore year. "*Remember Professor Kensington’s obsession with that weirdly shaped mole?*" Adriana speared a piece of asparagus, grinning. "*Like Tasmania! You drew it on your lab report once!*" She waved her fork. "*He circled it in angry red ink: ‘Unrelated geological formations, Mr. Carter!’*" Dan snorted, nearly choking on his fish. "*Worth it,*" he gasped, wiping his eyes. They leaned closer across the small table, knees brushing beneath it. Adriana’s fingers traced the grain of the wood, then drifted absently to her own thigh, resting there casually. She didn't flinch. She didn't pull the napkin over her lap. The nudity wasn't armour or humiliation anymore; it was simply… them. The cool night breeze whispered over their skin, a shared sensation noticed only peripherally.
    Dan watched the candlelight flicker in Adriana’s dark eyes. He gestured with his wine glass. "*Okay, confession time. That scar?*" He tapped his thigh. "*Wasn’t just chasing the lab report. Liam dared me to pop a wheelie off the library steps.*" Adriana gasped, delighted. "*You liar! You told me gravel jumped up!*" He grinned, unrepentant. "*Needed your sympathy ibuprofen.*" She kicked him playfully under the table—bare foot connecting with bare shin—a shock of warm contact that made them both pause, smile widening. Her gaze held his, steady and warm. "*Did it work?*" she asked softly. Dan reached across the tablecloth, his fingers brushing hers. "*Every time.*" They lingered like that—hands almost touching, eyes locked, the untouched food cooling—completely unaware of the cameras panning slowly around them. The nudity blurred into irrelevance, a forgotten detail eclipsed by the intimate geography of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the unspoken promise shining in their eyes.
    Later, hand-in-hand, they walked naked along the deserted shore. Moonlight silvered Adriana’s skin and traced the lean lines of Dan’s back. The cool night breeze whispered over them, raising goosebumps neither minded. Dan squeezed Adriana’s fingers. "*Feels… natural. Like breathing.*" She leaned into him, her shoulder bumping his arm. "*Yeah. Finally.*" His gaze drifted appreciatively down her body—the moonlight catching the curve of her hip, the soft swell of her breast—not with the frantic hunger of earlier, but a deep, quiet contentment. She watched him too, the moonlight etching the strong planes of his chest, the hard angle of his jaw softened. It wasn’t defiance anymore. Just them, utterly relaxed, utterly bare. Their footprints merged in the wet sand behind them, erased by the incoming tide.
    Their shared hotel room door clicked shut. Blessed silence descended. No cameras, no microphones, no host panting for drama. Adriana leaned back against the door, exhaling deeply. The moonlight filtered through the balcony blinds, painting stripes across their naked bodies. Dan cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "*So… um… should we… get dressed?*" He gestured vaguely toward the plush bathrobes hanging on the door.
    Adriana’s eyes snapped to his, fierce and gleaming. "*Don’t you even think about it,*" she commanded, stepping forward. "*You’ll get dressed over my dead body.*" Before he could react, her fingers were already spidering across his ribs. Dan yelped, scrambling backwards onto the bed, dissolving into helpless giggles instantly. "*Adri! No! Mercy!*" But his laughter held pure surrender. This time, he didn’t resist. He sprawled flat, arms flung wide, eyes squeezed shut, grinning wildly as her relentless hands explored—digging into his vulnerable armpits, tracing trembling paths down his sides, skittering across his trembling stomach. Adriana straddled his hips, pinning him effortlessly, her own laughter mixing with his gasps. Her touch wasn't teasing; it was possessive, thorough, delighting in every flinch, every choked giggle, every tremor beneath her palms. "*Everywhere,*" she murmured triumphantly, her nails rasping gently over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, watching his hips buck involuntarily. "*Told you I needed this.*" Dan gasped for air, tears of helpless mirth streaming down his temples. "*Y-you’re terrifying!*" he managed between shrieks. "*And… incredible.*" He opened his eyes, meeting her heated gaze. "*Keep going.*" Adriana leaned down, biting his earlobe softly. "*Oh, I plan to,*" she breathed. His answering groan was lost against her skin. "I think you're going to find yourself terrified at how much I will enjoy this!"
    Sunlight streamed through the blinds hours later, painting stripes across tangled limbs. Dan groaned, shifting gingerly. Every muscle felt loose, wrung-out. "*Can’t… move,*" he mumbled into the pillow. "*You broke me.*" Adriana sat perched beside him on the edge of the mattress, gloriously naked, chin resting on her knees. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face. "*Oh, poor baby,*" she teased, stretching languidly. Her fingers wiggled playfully inches from his hip. "*Need me to kiss it better?*" Dan flinched instinctively, a yelp catching in his throat, making her burst into bright, echoing laughter. "*Stop!*" He rolled away, shielding his side, but couldn't hide his answering grin. "*Sadist.*" "*Adoring sadist,*" she corrected, leaning over to peck his shoulder. "*And worth every penny.*" The memory of the oversized check handed to them that morning—signed, photographed, deposited—felt distant. The money was freedom; *this* felt like destiny. "*Now get up,*" Adriana ordered, bouncing lightly on the bed. "*We have a campus to scandalize.*"
    Their return to campus felt like walking through a surreal dream. Whispers followed them like startled birds. Priya met them at the dorm entrance, eyes wide with frantic apology and giddy disbelief. "*You guys… you were incredible! The ratings!*" Liam just stared, jaw slack, before stammering, "*Dude. The… the surf scene? And the… the…*" He pointed vaguely towards Dan’s midsection, turning crimson. Dan grinned, clapping him hard on the shoulder. "*You owe me. Big time.*" Priya thrust her phone towards Adriana. "*Everyone’s watching the finale live! Right now! In the common room!*" The air crackled. Adriana grabbed Dan’s hand, her pulse hammering. "*Let’s go see our triumph.*"
    They pushed open the heavy doors of the packed common room. A hundred heads snapped towards them—students crammed on couches, chairs, the floor. The giant wall screen showed Adriana, grinning defiantly, raising her middle finger beside Dan’s flipped bird, their kiss deepening as the ocean surged. "*YES! PURE CHEMISTRY!*" the host’s voice boomed through the speakers, echoing Priya’s phone feed. The scene froze—their defiant kiss immortalized. Dan cleared his throat loudly. "*So…*" his voice cut through the stunned silence. "*Did… did you watch all of it?*" Every woman in the room—sophomores, seniors, Priya included—instantly lifted their hands, fingers wiggling wildly in Dan’s direction. A chorus of giggles erupted. Adriana threw her head back, laughter roaring from her belly—louder, freer, more joyful than she’d ever thought possible. She couldn't wait to tell this story at her nudity and sexual objectification classes next semester, if this didn't get her an A+ nothing would!

This was another one of those stories that I thought was kind of sweet, because it's about two people who are very obviously attracted to each other but they are shy and awkward around one another. But then after their friends end up setting them up without their knowledge they end up going on that show out of financial necessity, and while they are initially very uncomfortable around each other because of the extreme sexual tension, eventually they end up relaxing, and they end up enjoying each other's company, and finally end up breaking all of the sexual tension.

I like the fact that in this story I also managed to get in my love of tickling, there's something I think that's really very playful about tickling, and I particularly like the idea of a woman who enjoys tickling a guy like that, so I like the idea that her fingers were just itching to dig into him, and he shows a moment of vulnerability and allows her to have her fun and they clearly both end up enjoying it. And then I thought it was just wild and awesome to end it like that where they find all of their friends are watching and then they start wiggling their fingers at Dan, which I just thought was just so freaking hot honestly.

I also was always kind of fascinated by those naked dating shows and wondering what kind of person would go on a show like that, and I figured it would mostly probably be people who don't mind being seen naked or who have an exhibitionist streak, but once again I do find that it was more interesting to explore awkward nudity between two people who are very clearly very uncomfortable being naked around each other and wouldn't have naturally volunteered for something like that, and having to deal with navigating the sexual tension from that, because to me in all of these stories that's the most interesting aspect. But I do I think there was something nice and sweet about this how they were brought together by their awkward naked bonding experience, and I think that that's probably what would happen to most people in a situation like that, especially if they had a pre-existing attraction to each other that they were too shy to act upon.

This story includes mutual male and female nudity, only ones naked and naked in public. Also I think that these illustrations came out particularly well, I'm very pleased with them and I hope you enjoy them as well.