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Smut Club

Everything you ever wanted to say about sex but were afraid to tell your friends

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I heard an anecdote many years ago. To the best of my faulty recollection, here it is:
A student at a women's college was the only one in her dorm to stay on campus during spring break. One morning she grabbed her towel and soap, and walked to the showers naked. Why not? There was no one else there.

When she got out of her shower, she found that she had taken a little hand towel rather than the full-sized bath towel she'd meant to bring. She dried herself off as best she could, then started to walk down the corridor back to her room. As she opened the door, though, she saw that there, mopping the floor, was the custodian. What could she do? She had nothing to cover herself with...she could duck back into the bathroom and cower, but he might well be cleaning there next.

With a flash of inspiration, she wrapped the towel around her head and dashed blindly past the custodian, around the corner, and into her room.

This story--the source of which I've forgotten--illustrates that embarrassment comes not necessarily from what's exposed, but from having that exposure linked to a name and a face. So long as our faces are covered, our secrets--no matter how open--remain secrets.


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