French Naturist: Contest

Finally, Léo. He shuffled to the podium, his arms wrapped around himself. He looked at the sea, the sand, the laughing, unclothed crowd. He looked at Gérard’s proud belly and Simone’s graceful wrinkles. And then, for the first time, he let his arms fall to his sides.

Third place went to a woman named Brigitte who had juggled oranges for Le Petit Quelque Chose (she got a 9.0 for whimsy). Second place was Gérard, for his unshakable good cheer. First place, by a unanimous vote, went to Simone—the old librarian who had turned silence into a prayer. french naturist contest

"Best contest I ever lost," he said.

First was , a retired postman from Lyon. Gérard had a magnificent, terraced belly that had been polished by the sun to a gleaming walnut-brown. His secret weapon was a pair of floral-patterned socks he refused to remove. "Ankles are private," he would say, winking. Finally, Léo