By the time the lights flickered back on, the party had re-formed around Leo. He wasn't dancing or painted. He was just sitting by the fire, roasting a marshmallow for the little girl.
Brenda walked over, her feather boa now sadly wilted. "Leo," she said. "You're not wearing a costume."
The night of the party, a coastal fog rolled in, making the outdoor string lights look like dripping candles. The guests arrived, a shimmering parade of body paint, faux vines, and one brave soul (Water) who wore only a shower cap and carried a loofah. They laughed, danced, and filled their plates with chili from the cauldron Leo had set up. nudismprovider halloween
Leo ran the only business in town where the dress code was a suggestion you were actively encouraged to ignore. "Aura's Away," his clothing-optional resort, was a peaceful haven of mineral pools, redwood saunas, and strict rules about sunscreen. But October brought a new challenge: Halloween.
Leo stood by the grill, wearing his usual skin, but feeling utterly naked. He was the host, the provider, the only one without a story to tell. He felt like a ghost in his own home. By the time the lights flickered back on,
He didn't run for a generator. He didn't shout for order. He simply walked to the center of the patio, where the moonlight through the fog cast him in a soft, silver glow. He picked up the heavy cast-iron cauldron lid and the ladle. BONG. BONG. BONG. The sound cut through the panic.
And Leo knew what to do.
The theme was "Elements." Earth, Air, Fire, Water. Everyone else had brilliant, skin-based ideas. Brenda, the aerobics instructor, was going as "Air," adorned only with strategically placed feather boas. Carl, the retired geologist, was "Earth," his entire body painted like a topographical map. Leo, however, felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity.