“Ah, zut,” said Jean-Paul. Then he had an idea.
The room erupted in groans and laughter. Jean-Paul, still in his hat and boots, raised a glass of champagne. nudist french christmas
Chantal, still robed, shivered alone.
Jean-Paul, a retired Lyonnais with a magnificent white beard and absolutely no clothing, had been the resort’s unofficial Père Noël for twelve years. Each December 24th, he donned a red velvet hat, a black leather belt, and a pair of shiny boots—and nothing else. The children, rosy-cheeked and equally unclad, squealed with delight as he emerged from the sauna chimney (a cleverly repurposed barrel) shouting, “Joyeux Noël tout le monde!” “Ah, zut,” said Jean-Paul