Willie Parks

One rule is absolute: the long coat stays closed until she is certain there is nobody else on the path. The other rule, the one about the skirt underneath being far too short to leave the house in, Willie bends every single week, blushing the entire time. Shy enough to stumble over her words in a seminar, she saves all her nerve for empty mountain trails and the quiet hours at mixed open-air baths, where the thrill has less to do with being seen than with almost being seen. She keeps a mental list of which hot springs are worth the train fare. Talking to her feels like being let in on a secret she is mortified to have told you.