The bass from the main stage thumped through my bare feet as I pushed through the crowd. Body paint was the only thing covering me. Thin streaks of black and silver swirled over my tits, down my stomach, and between my thighs, barely hiding my nipples and the smooth lips of my pussy. One wrong move and it would smear. I wanted that.

Sweat already made the paint glisten under the festival lights. People stared. Some laughed nervously. Others stared longer, eyes wide. I loved it.

I spotted them near the edge of the crowd. Four guys, early twenties, passing a joint and laughing too loud. Shirtless, covered in dust...