Submitted by Lili, 22, New York

The summer night was tepid with moist, enveloping heat. Boston, Massachusetts was uncharacteristically caught in a heat wave in early July, casing throngs of college students who had elected to stay on in their campuses in its humid, sultry grip. I too was trapped, back in the U.S. from college in England to visit an old friend at Brandeis University (just outside Boston) and baking slowly to what felt like my death in a small, stifling, un-air conditioned dorm room.

To ward off the heat, students from around the square quad chipped in to buy a wading pool. But baking in the sun during the day left us no cooler, despite having our legs immersed in shallow cool water. The solution, it seemed, had to lie in bigger bodies of water outside the campus. We dreamed of swimmingly and cooling ourselves off on a daily basis. Public pools closed early and were often only open to community members, and the Charles River was far too grimy and foul to be considered a viable option. We seemed to be out of luck.

One particularly hot evening, a small party of us had been guzzling cold beer in the quad, engaged in typical college activities: drinking, playing the guitar, discussing cultural habits, philosophy and The Simpsons, etc., when at one point, someone called out: "Hey guys, I'm trashed!" I laughed out loud, only to realize as I reeled slightly and the ringing of laughter spun around me that we were all guilty of the same indulgence. What, then, to make of this golden opportunity of an evening? A loquacious boy from the neighborhood jumped up and shouted, "let's go skinny dipping!" I laughed and said, "Sure! But where? No way am I just stripping down here in the baby pool!" He then turned to us with a look of delightful devilry and proclaimed, "Ladies and Gents, tonight we are venturing into the forbidden. We are not only taking off all our clothes, we are swimming in the most illicit place of all time - the lake at Wellesley."

Laughter and shocked giggles escaped from some the girls, and a boy piped up, "You're crazy, man! What are you kidding? Wellesley is a fortress!" Indeed, being one of the oldest all-female universities in the country, it has traditionally been one of the most conservative and well-guarded private universities in the country.

Yet somehow, about 10 of us decided on it being a doable and good idea, and loaded into various cars and made our way down windy Massachusetts road to drive quietly into Wellesley campus. The gates were open, a sign which I took to be hilarious divine provenance, and we scrambling, laughing and whispering "Shhhhhh!." to each other as we ran to the edge of the lake from the parking lot.

Stripping by the lake, throwing our clothes and underwear in heaps and covering our mouths, which were bursting and filling over with guffaws and giggles, all of us jumped into the cool, even chilly lake. The moon was out, illuminating the dark calm waters, and the coldness was startling and wonderful. We swam naked, feeling the velvety water and smiling from ear to ear. My bare legs brushed the algae in the lake and I couldn't help but be thrilled by the enthralling feeling of being naked in a vast lake, looking at its beautiful rippling surface under the silvery moon, joyously observing the carpe diem attitude of my fellow skinny-dippers.

We cavorted in the water for what seemed like an eternity of bliss, soon getting used to the sight of bodies slipping in and out of the water surface. Finally after swimming out to the middle of the lake and back, I was ready to get out.

When we climbed up on shore again, in the midst of locating our clothes - strewn everywhere in the darkness. Suddenly, piercing lights exposed our naked flesh, and we froze. To our horror, two police vehicles were driving up to our parking lot, which was supposed to be empty at this time of the night. I gave out a little scream of alarm, grabbed what clothes were in my arms, and fled into the woods away from the parking lot and lake, running naked with bare feet. Another girl followed me, and we hid behind the corner of the nearest building, the sound of crackling twigs and leaves following our footsteps and our hearts pounding louder than any external sounds could ever be. Everyone had scattered, some were running, some were hiding like us. I was scared, as I knew we were trespassing and could easily be arrested, and yet so giddy and thrilled.

We scrambled to put our clothes on (I wasn't even sure if they were mine) hiding from the lights and feeling that at any minute the police were going to round the corner and catch us half naked and dripping with water and guilt.

As it was, the gods smiled on us, and the most peculiar salvation came in the form of two other car-loads full of joy riders, entirely separate from our gang, who chose at this opportune moment to come screeching into the parking lot, presumably also to attempt to swim in the lake and successfully distracting the police, who stopped them at the entrance to the lot. I looked my accomplice and we bolted around the corner and ran as fast as we could towards the cars as the others, seeing this unexpected opportunity to escape, did the same. We jumped into the cars, laughing and shaking with glee and fear, and roared out of the other entrance to the parking lot, away from the police, feeling at every second the great trepidation of pursuit. We made it out and were not chased. The relief was palpable, the exhilaration was complete. It was wonderful, wildly joyous, complete with muddy feet and straggling hair, mismatching clothes and an overwhelming sense of emancipation.

Lili currently lives in New York after many different homes in the US, China, and England. An avid dancer, chessplayer, viola player, music afficionado, and dinner-party host, she loves random adventures and seems to attract them often.

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(c) Lili Zhang
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