Based on pictures of last year’s event she’d found on the internet, Tara decided the standard dress code was best described as “colorful hippie slutwear.” Accordingly, she attired herself on Saturday morning in a long blue skirt and a clingy purple top, both made of thin, diaphanous fabric that was virtually transparent. Before leaving the hotel room, she confirmed the latter fact by carefully looking at herself in the mirror from various angles. She wasn’t wearing any shoes or underwear—partly because the temperature was forecast to reach the high nineties, but mostly because she was a shameless exhibitionist.
If she stood as far from the mirror as she could get in that small room, she actually looked quite prim and proper, in an Art Nouveau sort of way. As she stepped closer, however, h
