Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Two Streakers - The Story of Yvonne and Christina by EC

   Chapter 04 Patient Narrative - Christina Melendez - entry four: the
first streaking adventure with Yvonne

   I had to spend the next three nights alone.  Yvonne told me that she had
to work over the weekend, but that if I wanted, she could come over Sunday
afternoon.  Seeing her Thursday and Friday at school, but not being able to
talk to her and knowing that I wouldn't see her until Sunday, was pure
torment.  Still, I was able to get caught up in my homework and finish my
assignments for the week.  On Saturday I cleaned up the house and bought
some stuff to cook.  And, during those three lonely nights, I masturbated
like crazy, thinking about her.

   I got a text from her late Sunday afternoon telling me that she was on
her way over.  I started dinner and had it ready by the time she rang the
doorbell.  Just before she arrived I remembered something important from
her last visit, that had told me that she wanted me to be naked whenever
she was in the house.  I wasn't sure if that was a joke or not, but I
remembered there was a tone of seriousness in her voice when she said it. I
figured it would be better to not risk pissing her off.  So, I took off my
clothes and tossed them in the dirty laundry basket.

   When she came in, I could tell that she was pleased that I had obeyed
her desire that I have my clothes off when she was in the house.  And I
realized that yes, she would have been mad had I disobeyed her.

   Yvonne looked somewhat different from the way she normally looked in
school.  She was wearing tight shorts and a loose sweatshirt and had a
large backpack with her.  She smelled like scented oil and incense.  I
could tell that she was very tired and very hungry.  As soon as we sat down
in the kitchen, she ate ravenously.

   "I didn't have much time to eat at my job, so thanks for doing this."

   She didn't much have time to eat at her job.  That, and the smell of
scented oil that permeated her clothes, made me wonder about her work.  I
wanted to ask what exactly she did, but I decided that might be a bad idea.

   After dinner, she went into the laundry room and unpacked her backpack.
She dumped all of her clothes into the washing machine, including what she
was wearing.  Then moved to the folded massage table she set down some
items that she told me we'd be using for my next massage: two large bottles
of professional massage oil, a tube of lubricant, and a box of surgical
gloves.

   "Whenever your folks come back, make sure you hide these."

   She rinsed off in the shower before getting into the hot-tub, but even
so, there still a whiff of scented oil when I got close to her.  She held
me for a while, but she seemed in a serious mood, like she wanted to tell
me something.  I assumed that it was about her job, but she had a surprise
for me:

   "I got a confession for you.  Maybe you're wondering how come I knew
about the tunnel?  And why I wasn't really scared when we were streaking?"

   "Why's that?"

   "That wasn't the first time I've streaked your neighborhood.  I've done
it plenty of times before."

   "Really?  Streaking?  As in, running around, totally naked?  And you do
it by yourself?"

   "Yeah.  Totally naked.  I like to do it totally naked.  And, until I ran
with you from school, I always did it alone.  I guess, it's something I
like to do it when I'm stressed out.  I got a lot of stress.  My life's
kinda fucked up, at home, and with everything else.  So when my old man and
that bitch he's living with get on my case, I gotta go out and do stupid
shit to get myself calmed down.  So I like to go streaking.  For me, that
works better than anything else.  And your neighborhood's a safe place to
do it.  A lot safer than Eastwood.  That's why I like coming over here."

   "The tunnel.  Do you ever go over in the direction of the school?  Uh...
When you're streaking, I mean?"

   "Sometimes.  It's the best shortcut.  I can streak around the school,
and if anyone tries coming after me, I can use the tunnel to get away."

   "Did you ever get caught?"

   "As in seen?  Yes.  A bunch of times.  Although, it helps a lot that I'm
black, if I'm running at night in the dark, I'm harder to see than a white
girl.  Chased?  Yeah, that too.  I've had security guys come after me a
couple of times, but I'm fast and I always outrun them."

   There was a awkward silence.  I wanted to hear more about her streaking,
but I didn't know what to ask.  Finally, mostly to get her talking again, I
changed the subject.

   "And your family?  You've said things aren't good there?"

   "No.  My life at home sucks.  I hate my old man, 'cause of that bitch he
brought in off the street.  Fuckin' whore.  She's got a couple of kids she
brought with her, and now she's gonna have another one, with my old man.  I
can't fucking stand her, and she can't stand me, but with the baby she's
not going anywhere.  And she's always bitchin' at me.  Hey, you take care
of the kids.  Fuck her!  I'm not taking care of her fuckin' kids!  We're
always fighting about it and my old man's always on her side.  So yeah, I
got stress.  And I run it off."

   "I guess my problem's the opposite of yours.  I get bored 'cause my
parents aren't around a whole lot, and I'm in this house by myself."

   "I wouldn't complain.  It's a nice place you got here."

   There was another awkward silence, because I knew she'd give anything to
exchange her problems for the ones I had.

   "So, when's the next time you're thinking about going out?"

   She was quiet for a moment.

   "To be honest, I'll probably go out tonight.  I'm stressed and kinda
tensed up from work and I was thinking about it, but I figured I was gonna
do it after midnight, while you were sleeping."

   My heart raced and I had to take a deep breath.  Streaking.  On the
internet I had read stories, both fiction and real experiences, about
streaking.  I was fascinated with the idea of running around outside naked.
If a story was written well, I'd have fantasies of my own, but I was always
too scared to act on them.  And now I was with a girl who did it for real.
That made me think: I'm much closer to streaking, if I want to, than I've
ever been in my life.

   "Then...  I...  I got a question...  I...  when you go out...  I mean
streaking...  can I come along?"

   "I guess...  Yeah...  Yeah, of course...  I'd have to teach you some
things about not getting caught, but I've love to have you come with me."

   *****

   Yvonne's streaking plans changed when I invited myself to go with her.
She had been planning on sleeping for a while before her run.

   "I go to sleep real easy, but then I always wake up around 2:00 and
that's when I go out."

   She decided to move the time up and go around 11:00, so that we'd be
back to get a few hours of sleep.  She also chose an easy route that was
much safer than what she was used to, so she could see how well I could run
and to be able to bail out if there was any sign of trouble.

   At 11:00 we stepped out of my house and stood next to the hedges, where
we were hidden in the darkness.  I was both terrified and excited, standing
in my front yard wearing nothing but my shoes.  I thought we were just
going to take off running, but Yvonne looked to make sure none of my
neighbors were watching.  Then she became very businesslike as she gave me
an "event briefing".

   "We're going to Sutter's Park first.  We're gonna run to 93rd, turn left
at Oak Street and run to the end of the cul-de-sac.  There's a trail there
between two houses that goes to 90th.  That'll get us to the park.  That'll
the first part.  Got it?"

   "Uh, yeah."

   "We'll see what's going on in the park.  We're going too early, so there
might still be people there.  If there's not, we'll hang out for a bit, and
then we'll go to the pond on 85th.  That's our turn-around spot.  Got it?"

   "Yeah."

   "From the pond we're coming back here.  If we can, we'll come back
through Sutter's Park, the way we're going out.  If not, then we're gonna
have to run straight along 97th, non-stop.  The problem is that there's
four intersections we'd have to cross if we go that way.  I can do that no
problem.  I'm not sure about you.  That's what we need to find out."

   She led me out to the sidewalk placed her hand on my bottom.

   "You're following me right now.  If I want you to run ahead, I'll tell
you where you need to go.  Be ready for that."

   She gave me a light slap and started running.  I was suddenly terrified
that my neighbors might see us and either call the cops or report back to
my parents that they had seen me running naked with another girl.  Yvonne
pulled about three feet in front of me and ran to the corner.  Whenever she
ran under a streetlight, her thin body and jiggling bottom were briefly
illuminated.  She was so sexy.

   When we got turned on Oak Street, Yvonne suddenly crouched and motioned
for me to get down as well.  A delivery van drove by.  I was terrified, but
the driver didn't see us.  Yvonne slapped my bottom again and I followed
her to the cul-de-sac.  There was a middle-aged couple walking a dog that
we nearly crashed into when we turned the corner.  The dog started barking
like crazy and the woman shrieked.

   "Hey!  Get some fucking clothes on!  What the..."

   I was shocked and terrified.  I almost, but not quite, stopped and tried
to cover myself.  Without missing a stride, Yvonne shouted:

   "Sorority hazing!  Sorry, but they made us..."

   "Just get out of here before I call the police!  Do that shit on
campus!"

   I about had a heart attack, but a few seconds later we were on the
trail, in the relative safety of the darkness.  When we emerged onto 90th
Street, Sutter's Park was only a block away.  I was too terrified to think
of anything other than keeping up with Yvonne.  I definitely did not feel
sexy at that moment.  The only thing I felt was raw fear.  I couldn't
believe I was doing this and desperately wanted to get back to my house.

   Fortunately the park was empty.  I was winded and gasping for air, but
Yvonne was barely breaking a sweat.  Now my fantasy was actually happening
and I was streaking for real, but my emotions were totally different from
what I was expecting.  I wanted to beg her to cancel the next part of the
trip to the pond and just head back, but I couldn't.  I was the one with
the streaking fantasy.  I was the one who asked to go with her.

   She handed me the phone and pointed at the photo icon.

   "Here.  Get some pictures of me.  Make sure it focuses before you
press."

   Yvonne struck several poses, standing front and back, and then bending
over.  She came back to me and grabbed the phone.

   "Yeah, these are OK.  They'll work.  Do you want me to get some of you?"

   I was shocked.  I hadn't thought about getting nude pictures of myself.
Wow, that would be...  great!  Nude pictures of me in Sutter's Park! 
Totally daring!  At that moment, some of my fear went away and I started to
feel a little fun and adventure.  I didn't say anything, but I moved into
some light and nervously stood with my hands at my sides while her cell
phone camera went off.

   "Turn around.  I wanna get your backside too.  Good, now look over your
shoulder at me.  Perfect."

   We moved into a shaded spot to rest for a moment before moving out. 
Suddenly I was totally aroused.  Yvonne kissed me and held up her phone to
get a picture while I had my arms around her.  It was her first picture of
us together.

   "I know what you're thinking and you're scared shitless.  It's always
that way.  The first time's the scariest.  It was for me too.  It'll get
better."

   The run to the pond was uneventful.  It was Sunday night and no one was
on the sidewalks.  We had to crouch twice to avoid being seen by a couple
of drivers, but that was it.  There were more pictures at the pond,
including one of me crouching in the middle a flock of nervous ducks.

   Yvonne looked like she was trying to make a difficult decision.  She
touched my shoulder.

   "I hate to do this to you, but I think we ought to run back along 97th.
I got a bad feeling about those two with the dog.  I don't think we'd
better go back that way."

   "Uh...  I guess."

   "It's more direct.  Problem is, we're gonna have to run 97th non-stop.
It's about twelve blocks with no breaks.  And with intersections.  I'll get
us back, but you've got to follow me and do exactly what I say.  Got it?"

   "Yeah, I got it."

   "Let's go."

   97th Street was much more exposed and well-lit than 93rd or 90th.  And
there were people driving around.  We ran along the lit sidewalks and
intersections.  There was one intersection where we actually had to wait
for the light, while I stood covering myself and Yvonne desperately pushed
the crossing signal.  A couple of cars stopped and I could see the drivers
were holding up cell phones.  Yvonne slapped my bottom.

   "We gotta go!  Move!"

   There was just enough of a break in the flow of cars that we made it
across the street, among a bunch of honking, light flashing, and whistling.
Fortunately the shaded streets started right after that intersection and we
turned off 97th.  I was so panicked that I was pushed forward by pure
adenine, but a stabbing pain started in my ribcage.  A block later I felt
more pain, this time in my right thigh.  After three more blocks, I was
stumbling and having trouble staying upright.  I put my hands on my knees
and threw up.  Yvonne put her hand on my back and looked around.

   "Come-on.  We got just two blocks to go."

   She didn't panic and she didn't try to make me run.  We walked the last
couple of blocks, holding hands, while I struggled to get my breath back.
When we got to the corner next to my house, Yvonne squeezed my arm.

   "I think you are gonna wanna run this part.  Go ahead of me and get the
door open.  If anyone comes this way, I'll deal with them."

   So I ran like crazy and made it to my front yard.  I fumbled for the key
and managed to get the door open.  I almost fell getting through.  I sat on
the floor, gasping for air.  A few seconds later Yvonne came in.

   "I didn't see anybody.  I think we're good."

   "I...  I...  sorry...  I know...  too scared...  I sucked..."

   "No!  What are you talking about?  For your first time?  Never having
done it before?  You did good!  With everything that happened out there,
you did really good!"

   Yvonne helped me stand up.

   "Let's get some water in you.  We'll get you cleaned up, and then I'll
massage you."

   I fell asleep on the massage table.  I woke up the next morning in my
bed with Yvonne cuddled next to me.  She must have moved me to the bed
after I passed out.

   It was Monday and we had to get up early and go to school.  We'd have to
go in separately and pretend not to acknowledge each other in the hallways.
That...  kinda sucked.



   Chapter 05 Patient Narrative - Christina Melendez - entry five: Climbing
a construction crane in the nude with Yvonne

   After I got to know her better and was able to share that part of her
life with her, I was able to understand how important streaking was to
Yvonne.  It turned out that she went out to streak at least twice per week.
It was more than just "stress relief".  Streaking was her secret life, an
obsession that she herself could not begin to explain or fully understand.

   The goal of Yvonne's streaking was not exactly exhibitionism.  The only
purpose of her running naked was to run naked.  She enjoyed the sensation
of being nude outside and loved the feeling the cool night air blowing
against her exposed body.  She was not out to deliberately shock or offend
anyone.  She knew that people would see her, but she did what she could to
keep that to a minimum.

   With a lot of people streaking is something spontaneous, quick, and done
with no planning.  It wasn't that way with Yvonne.  If she was planning to
streak through a new area, she always She always plotted her route ahead of
time and scouted it out the day before, looking for places to hide and
escape routes in case anything went wrong.  She programmed coordinates into
her cell phone to avoid getting lost, especially if she had to bail for a
few minutes and move several blocks away if she was worried about getting
caught.  As long as she had her phone, she could easily find her way back
and continue as soon as the danger had passed.  She had to carefully plan
her routes, because she loved to go to new places, take risks, and push the
envelope.

   She was totally not interested in short runs around the block or a quick
dash through a park; not interested a quick five or ten-minutes and
immediately putting her clothes back on.  She was hard-core.  She wanted to
be out as long as possible, run as far as possible, and explore different
places while being totally exposed.  A real streak for her was never less
than two hours and "didn't count" if she didn't go at least three miles
away from her starting point.

   The most important rule she set for herself was that she never took any
clothes with her while running.  She always started by finding a secure
place to hide whatever she was wearing, completely stripped, and took off
with nothing but her cell phone in her hand.  As she put it: "If you carry
clothes with you when you're streaking, that's cheating.  The point is to
have an experience that you got no choice but to finish."

   She always took a few selfies and at least one full-body picture of
herself using the cell phone's timer on each expedition.  Usually the timed
picture was taken at her turn-around point, the spot that was farthest from
where she had hidden her clothes.  She had long since learned how to set
the phone so it would take good pictures, no matter how dark it was where
she posed.  But with me coming along, "Now I'm not gonna have to worry
about setting the phone anymore.  You're gonna take the pictures."

   *****

   After that first night, I always went with Yvonne whenever she streaked.
Streaking with her was the hardest thing I ever did, but I wouldn't have
traded it for anything.  It was strange, with all the fear, pain, fatigue
and excitement, I never felt more alive than I did when I was with her.

   Yvonne was a much better runner than me.  She ran fast and she could go
miles without stopping.  I still think she should have joined the track
team.  If she had done that, I know she would have been one of the
District's best long-distance runners.  It took everything I had in me to
keep up with her.  There were times I got mad that she was in such great
shape, but I couldn't say anything.  The problem wasn't that she was too
fast; it was that I was too slow.  However, she was incredibly patient with
me.  I think it was because she was so grateful to have someone the share
her streaking with that she totally ignored my bad running.  And, over
time, with all the practice I was getting, I did become much better.

   Typically we'd run around 10 miles in an outing.  Sometimes it was more.
A few times we did 15 miles and were out nearly all night.  She let me take
breaks to get my breath back, then she'd take off again and I'd have to
keep up.

   Even though Yvonne was experienced and I could leave the decisions and
planning the routes to her, I was always terrified whenever we set out. 
But then, as I struggled to keep up with her, I soon forgot about being
scared or embarrassed, because I was so winded.

   *****

   Yvonne took our streaking adventures to a whole new level three weeks
after I started going out with her.  Before we went out, I noticed her
exchanging texts with someone on her cell phone.  I could tell she was very
excited about something, but she didn't want to tell me what it was.  I
later found out she wasn't sure until the last moment that we'd actually be
able to have the adventure she was planning, so she didn't want to let me
know anything until she was sure it was going to happen.

   We ran to Sutter's Park through an alternate route that was longer, but
avoided both the cul-de-sac and the open area along 97th streets.  When we
got to Sutter's Park we found a shaded area and made-out for a couple of
minutes.  I was getting aroused feeling her hands on my body, when her
phone rang.  The picked up:

   "So, Mr.  Galloway, you're gonna be there just by yourself tonight?"

   I could faintly hear a man's voice:

   "Sure thing, Missy.  I'm here 'till six.  Ain't gonna be no one else
here.  And I got a job for ya, if ya'll wanna do some climbin'."

   "Thanks!  We'll be over in a bit."

   "What's...  going on..."

   "Something awesome!  We're going to the Newberg Street construction
site! Come-on!"

   "A construction site?"

   "Yes!  This is gonna be epic!"

   We went through the tunnel and cut north along some shaded streets with
gated condo units on either side.  There were cars parked along the
sidewalk that shielded us from being seen by people driving down the
street. It was strange to think, we were running only a few feet away from
all those people driving by, and they had no clue two naked girls were
running along the sidewalk.

   We crossed a deserted street and ran along some construction fencing to
a gate that was left unlocked.  There were "No trespassing" signs posted
every few feet, but it was obvious we were going to be trespassing.  Yvonne
lifted the latch and we went through.  She led me to a workers' shed, where
an old man dressed in construction over-all's was waiting.  He smiled when
he saw Yvonne, as though he was seeing a close friend.

   "He-ya Missy.  Got your little friend with ya, I see."

   "Yeah, this is Christina.  Christina, this is Mr.  Galloway."

   I took a deep breath.  Yes, I remembered Mr.  Galloway.  He was the
school janitor before he retired two years before, when Yvonne and I were
sophomores in high school.  It turned out he was now working as a night
watchman for construction sites.

   I was horribly embarrassed, being seen by someone who knew and
recognized me.  I struggled to not cover myself and my voice trembled:

   "I...  nice...  uh...  nice...  to see you again...  I..."

   "No need to be the shy one, Missy.  We're all friends here."

   "Uh...  yeah..."

   Yvonne interlocked her fingers and shamelessly stretched her arms over
her head.  The watchman smiled slightly as he studied her thin figure.

   "So, Mr.  Galloway, what's the job?"

   He pointed to the upper part of a huge construction crane that dominated
the building site.

   "Light bulbs.  Them red ones, at the top, they done burnt out.  If you
can get up there and swap 'em, I'd be much obliged, Missy."

   "Sure thing, Sir.  New light bulbs...  going up."

   I looked at the crane.  It was one of the biggest ones I had ever seen,
and I was standing right next to it.

   "Uh...  we're...  actually gonna climb that?"

   "Sure are.  I'll have you go first so you can set the pace.  It's gonna
be a tough climb, so if you need to stop and rest, that's fine.  We got
four hours."

   We climbed past the crane's base and approached the service ladder.  It
went up, up, and more up, disappearing into the night sky.  It reminded me
of the kid's story "Jack and the Beanstalk".  And we were actually going to
climb it.

   This is totally insane, I thought to myself: why in the fuck am I going
along with this?  And yet, I knew I had to do it.  I'd regret it for the
rest of my life if I didn't.  I took a breath, nerved myself, and put my
hands on the ladder.

   Yvonne carried the light bulbs in a service backpack that old man
Galloway had provided her and slung it over her shoulder.  Then we started
climbing the crane's ladder.  I suppose we could have taken the lift, but
Galloway never mentioned it and Yvonne didn't ask.  And I knew why.  Her
attitude about streaking would mean that she expected to climb the ladder.
Taking the lift would be cheating, in her mind.

   There were a lot of things I wouldn't have tried had I not hung out with
Yvonne.  Climbing a 20-story construction crane in the middle of the night
in the nude was definitely something I would have never thought of doing on
my own.  But here I was, stark naked at 2:00 am, climbing a ladder 20
stories above the city.

   The truth was that, as I got closer to the top, I was so exhausted I no
longer thought about being naked in full view of the entire downtown area.
I went very slowly, struggling to get my arms and legs to grip the next
rung of a ladder that seemed like it would never end.  Sweat was pouring
down my body and dripping onto my companion below.

   Yvonne didn't rush me.  I frequently had to stop during the final five
stories, but she never objected.

   "It's OK.  I'm just enjoying the view, so take your time."

   Enjoying the view...  I wondered if that meant her view of the city, or
her view of my ass.  Or probably both.  Anyhow, I noticed that she was
looking up at me every time I glanced down.

   Finally we made it to the top.  Yvonne was in better shape than I was
so, as always, she was much less winded.  I was jealous that she had so
much energy in her.  She installed the light bulbs while I caught my breath
and recovered from the 20-story climb.

   I knew that she'd want pictures of our crane-climbing adventure, and
that night she took a lot of them.  She came prepared: she had transferred
all the old pictures from her phone so she could fill her memory card a
bunch of new ones on the crane.

   I had recovered enough to feel exposed and vulnerable.  I was
frightened, but I also was totally turned on.  The adrenaline rush was
awesome.

   I could see why my friend was so into this.  A strange thing always
happened to me whenever we did a "hardcore" streak like that night we went
up the construction crane.  The fear, the exhaustion, and the excitement
was so intense, that when I finally got my breath back, I was soooo turned
on.  It was at those moments when we were out in public in some really
risky place, that I truly belonged to her.  I was no longer in control of
myself, or my of sexual desires.  And she knew it.  She kissed me and we
made out on the scaffolding of the construction crane's arm, 20 stories
above the city and with the wind blowing against our sweaty bodies.

   When we climbed down, Mr.  Galloway was waiting for us.  He needed to
lock up the crane's staircase and take the backpack with the burned-out
light bulbs.  When his supervisor returned the next day, he would take
credit for changing them, of course.

   Yvonne was still very excited.  She was absolutely shameless when she
was on a streaking high.  She handed me her cell phone and told me to take
some pictures of herself with Galloway.  Obviously the watchman was more
than happy to oblige, as he put his arm around Yvonne's sweaty shoulder.  I
ended up taking 20 pictures of those two together.

   Later, I asked her if she was going to post the pictures.  "The ones we
took with the old man, unfortunately no, 'cause they'd probably get him
fired.  But I'll send copies to his e-mail, and he can do what he wants
with them."

   I didn't think about it at the time, but my own inhibitions were quickly
going away thanks to Yvonne.  I didn't consider trying to cover myself when
I was taking the pictures.  I knew I would have looked foolish in front of
my friend had I shown any modesty after everything we had just done.

   To this day I wonder what my parents would have done had they known
where I was and what I was doing.  How would they have reacted if they knew
I was totally naked on top of a construction crane in the middle of the
night with a classmate I wasn't even supposed to get along with?  That I
had spent the entire night streaking and was five miles away from any
clothing that belonged to me?  Would they have cut short their vacation to
lecture me and ground me?  Or maybe they would have said screw it - we paid
for this trip and we'll deal with Christina when we get home.  I never
found out because, they never found out.  I guess ignorance really is
bliss.

   My only reality at that moment was Yvonne and the adventures she shared
with me.  My parents were off in another reality, separate from mine.  And
that was fine with me.



   Chapter 06 Patient Narrative - Christina Melendez - entry six: The
swimming pool

   My parents were due to return two days after Yvonne and I did our
streaking run on the construction crane.  We were both depressed about my
parents coming back, because it meant she could no longer spend the nights
with me.

   With me, being away from my friend, or lover, or girlfriend, or whatever
she was, was just emotional.  I'd miss her, but I didn't have to worry
about my safety or what stress waited for me when I got home from school. I
had a safe comfortable place to live and study.  Most important, whatever
their faults, my parents are decent and nice people, for the most part.

   With Yvonne, not being able to come over to my house was much more than
just missing my company.  Her home-life was nothing like mine and she
couldn't stand being there.  Over the first three weeks of our
relationship, I had given her a place to stay that allowed her to avoid
dealing with her "old man" and "that fucking whore".  From what little she
had shared with me about her home-life, and the intense bitterness in her
voice, I knew that whatever she was dealing with was pretty bad.

   When she left my house, she was wearing her skimpy tight shorts and a
sweat-suit top that covered her shirt.  She had a back-pack full of clean
clothes that she had washed in my parents' laundry room.  I assumed,
correctly it turned out, that she was going straight to her job and would
avoid going home as long as she could.

   My parents came back from the airport just 30 minutes after Yvonne left.
That did not give me enough time to make the emotional transition from
having my friend with me to having my parents with me.  They were their
usual selves after a cruise: badly sun-burnt, carrying bags of souvenirs
that would go into the garage and then be donated to Goodwill after a few
months, and somewhat drunk.

   I'm gonna tell you, I honestly don't get cruising.  For the most part
it's like being locked up in a closed building that's part casino, part
shopping mall, and part hotel.  Sure, it's nice to look out your cabin at
the ocean for about 10 or 15 minutes.  Then what?  Everywhere on the ship
it's crowded with drunk old rich people.  As for the food and drinks, I
stayed away from that shit as much as I could, because I've read some bad
stories about food handling and drink ingredients on those ships.  The
truth was, the one time when I went with my parents on a cruise from Miami
to Santo Domingo and San Juan to Trinidad and then back to Miami, I just
sat around watching my parents drink and was bored out of my mind.

   So, why do Mom and Dad do it?  What's the deal with them and cruises?  I
think with them, and especially my dad, it's about status.  He didn't start
out with much, but he likes to invest in weird shit like crypto-currencies
and a few years ago he got lucky with a couple of those investments. 
Because of that, my parents have more money than they really know what to
do with.  They definitely aren't country-club types, but cruising seems to
work for them as a way to show-off.

   *****

   Mom and Dad had told me that as soon as they got back, they'd have a
"big surprise", for me.  I thought: oh fuck, please don't have me go on one
of those idiotic cruises.  But no, their surprise was actually something I
would like, a swimming pool.  Starting the very next day, a construction
crew was coming over to install an indoor pool in the back yard.

   It turned out that Mom had decided that she wanted her own private pool
after using the crowded pools on ships.  So, that gave something for Dad to
spend some money on for a property tax write-off, a new pool.

   I knew what would happen.  Mom would use that pool about as much as she
used the hot tub and the equipment in the workout room.  However, a pool
would be a nice thing added to my life, something that I would be using,
especially when they weren't around.  And I couldn't wait to surprise
Yvonne the next time she came over.  We'd have not just a hot tub and
massage table, but also a pool to hang out in.

   *****

   Yvonne and I had to put our relationship on hold while my parents were
home and the pool was being built.  We hung out with our cliques and tried
to ignore each other at school.  That was so hard, all that pretending.  I
no longer really wanted to hang out with the girls who had set me up to
fight with her.  I knew that she felt the same way about her crowd.  And
yet, we really didn't know how to handle our situation.  Neither of us had
the courage to break away, give up our social status in school, and start
completely over with no one but each other.  And it's not like we could
have spent much time together anyway, because the only place we could do
that was my house.  My dad was gone at work most of the time, but my mom
was working from home on her laptop and watching over the pool installation
crew.

   Yvonne and I couldn't go out on the weekends because of her job.  She
worked Thursday and Friday afternoons and evenings, all day Saturday, and
part of Sunday.  And, my "friends" always wanted me to be with them.  There
was nothing else for me to do, so I went along with that.

   *****

   There was only one time Yvonne and I managed to get together when my
parents were back home.  She sent me a couple of selfies and finally texted
me that she wanted to meet me at Sutter's Park.  Yes, finally, I'd get to
see her.  Then she added a challenge.

   "You know how I'm going to want to see you.  I'm going be that way too.
And no cheating."

   I took a deep breath.  I should have known.  I'd finally get to see her
alone, but I'd have to run naked all the way to Sutter's Park.  If what she
was saying was true, she had committed herself to a much bigger challenge;
streaking all the way from Eastwood.  She'd somehow have to get past the
highway and run somewhere between five and six miles.  I only had to do
about a mile and a half.

   Still, it was the first time I ever went streaking alone.  I had to get
out of the house without Mom seeing me, run the usual route to the park,
spend however long I was going to spend with my friend, and then return
home and get back to my room without being seen.

   Fortunately Mom was on her laptop at the dining room table, wearing a
set of headphones and totally absorbed with the commission she was working
on.  I went into my room, took off my clothes and put on my shoes, grabbed
my cell phone, and peeked back out.  She was still working and not aware of
anything going on around her.  It was as good as it would get.  I quietly
walked behind her and slipped through the front door.

   It is hard to express how vulnerable I felt as soon as I stepped
outside. I realized how much I felt protected when I was following Yvonne.
She was not with me to protect or guide me.  I had to get to Sutter's Park
on my own and make my own decisions about how I would do that.

   As I ran along the shaded sidewalks and felt the cool night air on my
exposed skin, I picked up confidence that, if I was in my own neighborhood,
I could streak by myself just as well as I could with her.  I wanted to
show her that yes, I could do it, and I would do it, because that was what
she wanted.  I ran through the cul-de-sac, but fortunately it was empty.  A
car entered just as I made it to the path between the two houses.  That was
my closest call.

   I got to Sutter's park and crouched behind a large tree to look around.
My phone buzzed.  The text read: "Not too good at hiding.  I can see your
white ass all the way from Picnic Station 5."

   I had to run across the entire park to get to the picnic station.  And,
true to her word, there she was, sitting on a table and just as naked as I
was.  We hugged, then kissed, and then ran our hands over each other's
bodies.  It felt so good to be with her again.

   She glanced at her cellphone.

   "The park patrol will be coming through in about five minutes.  We'll
move behind those bushes until he's gone.  Then we're good for a couple of
hours.  He does the same route at the same time every single night I've
come here."

   We didn't talk much when we left our hiding spot and returned to the
picnic table.  There was a lot we needed to say to each other, but we had
no idea how to start.  Anyhow, the park was not the place to really talk.
We made out for a while, and then lay on the table together, looking up at
the night sky.

   *****

   My father had contracted services to take care of the yard, do routine
maintenance on the house, deliver groceries, and with the addition of the
pool, to take care of that as well.  For some reason my parents assumed
that I existed on "autopilot", that if everything in the house was taken
care of, I didn't need any maintenance.  And, I guess with me they lucked
out because, for the most part, that was true.  At home I studied, cooked
for myself, did a small amount of housework, and managed to keep myself
entertained.  I learned how to do a lot of things on my own and take some
responsibilities at an early age, because my mom was so distracted, even
before Dad's investments paid off and we were still poor.

   Even though I often had the house completely to myself and my parents
weren't around to see what I was doing, I was smart enough to not have
anyone from my clique come over, because I knew for a fact they would have
trashed the place.  I was with them and saw them in action at another
girl's place whose parents had left just for the weekend.  That was enough
to let me know I should never, ever have any of them over at my house, nor
let them know that my parents weren't home very much.

   It turned out that I was right about Mom and the pool.  She used it
twice.  Two days after it was finished she left with Dad to go on a
"business trip" which would include several hotel stays around the
Caribbean and another cruise.  I later learned that Dad used the trips not
only as entertainment and a way to show off, but also as tax write-offs. 
It was a legal way to scam the government, that allowed him to go
year-after-year without paying any taxes.

   "Sure you don't wanna come with us, Sweetie?"

   "Uh, Mom, it's the middle of the semester.  I've got term papers coming
up and mid-terms in two weeks."

   "Oh, yeah, Sweetie, I keep forgetting.  School.  OK, then you be a good
girl and let us know if you need anything.  And please, no more fighting,
OK?"

   "I promise, no more fighting.  The other girl and I patched things up."

   "Good to hear.  Better to be a lover than a fighter.  That'll get you
much further in life.  Always remember that."

   Better to be a lover than a fighter.  Yeah Mom, I got that figured out.
As soon as you leave, I'm gonna text her and she's gonna come over and
we're gonna run around naked and have sex in your hot tub, the one you
never use.  So you go enjoy your hotels and your cruise and getting drunk.
Bye.