In which the heroine of Pillowbook utterly demolishes the serenity of a stuffy “naturist” camp with straight talk, direct action, and showering without a towel. An example of the straight talk:

The second thing I realised was that I had that familiar wet feeling between my thighs.

Well, all right, no point being bashful: not between my thighs, exactly, but between my cunt lips, and slick down my perineum to my arse.