Chapter 2: The First steps

Wind hit her bare legs the moment she stepped outside - cold, mean, not yet warmed by the sun. Campus was half-asleep still. A few students on benches, thumbing through phones; the rest drifting toward lecture halls. Heads turned. Someone smirked. Someone pointed. A phone went up - then another.

The towel sat under her arms, and her shoulders were bare - she wasn’t used to that. It made the shiver worse. Cold or nerves - hard to tell anymore. Tiny steps. Ridiculous, shuffling little steps, because anything wider and the towel would go. She stared straight ahead at nothing - eyes glassy, not really seeing. Past the small park where a handful of early birds tried to squeeze in a few pages of reading or grab a bite before class, past the library, toward the square. Of course Sara’s friends had planned the route through the busiest parts of campus. But it was early - not many people yet. That was the only mercy. The towel’s flaps kept splitting apart behind her with every step, and she didn’t want to know what was showing. The clips creaked against the stiff new fabric - tiny sounds, but each one crawled across her skin.

She would have happily sunk through the ground right there. The first people she encountered were morning joggers. They whooped as they passed, flashing thumbs-up signs. The library’s glass threw her reflection back at her - some half-naked girl shuffling along, barely moving. Behind her, the others trailed close. Whispering. Giggling. And between steps, a warm flutter stirred low in her belly - lower. Between her legs. A soft, treacherous throb right against her pussy. Faint, but there. Not from the cold. People were looking at her - and her body was responding. Her body doing its own thing - no permission asked. Her hands just hung there, nails gouging into her palms. Don’t think about slipping. Don’t. She thought about nothing else. Every step split the towel’s lower corners apart. Every gust made it worse. And each new gust made her flinch.

She glanced down. Her nipples - right there, poking through the fabric, obvious. Cold, nerves - did it matter? They were right there for anyone to see. Heat rushed to her face. She grabbed at her chest.

Sara, right behind her: “What do you think you’re doing? No touching the towel - that was the deal.”

Mia approached Anna with a sly smile.

“Put your hands down. We’ll fix things up.”

Anna let her arms drop. Mia fussed with the towel - tugged it tighter, clicked the clips back. Worse now. The fabric clung, tracing everything, and her nipples stood out sharper than before.

“There,” Mia whispered into her ear. “Perfect. Keep walking, let everyone see how they stick out, and don’t touch a thing.”

“Well, actually - why not?” Sara cut in, shouldering Mia aside. “If you want to cover up - go ahead, cover up.”

Mia stared at Sara, baffled. Anna didn’t wait for an explanation. Her hands flew up instantly.

Sara nodded.

“Now spread your fingers. That way everyone can see what a modest girl you are.”

Anna obeyed - grateful, even - and flattened her palms against the terry cloth.

“Good girl! Now press your palms against the towel and make small circles,” Sara continued, demonstrating the motion. “Nice and gentle. Right over those little nipples.”