The Venue

Eight

The Western wedding was a huge success. There was even an authentic bar room brawl at the end. Fortunately no one called the sheriff and I was not shot in the back for being in the possession of a side arm.

As we worked Saturday’s we always took the following Monday off. Emma never quite liked this as she suspected I arranged it with the sole aim of having the golf course more or less to myself. Sometimes she was right about me.

Bright and early Tuesday morning I dropped off my cowboy costume and moseyed down to the ol’ office.

Kathy was already in and at her desk when I arrived.

“Hi Pete, how was the golf.”

“Pretty damn good even if I do say so myself” I replied “what did you do yesterday?”

“Oh you know this and that” she answered evasively.

“Who is he?” I asked

“I do not have another man” she told me firmly. She had been unattached since she dumped her boyfriend of six years for the unforgivable transgression of being a dull engineer.

“So if it wasn’t another man, what’s the big secret?”

“There isn’t one” she said

But I could tell there was.

“I think I might drive out and see Giles” she told me gathering her things, “The personal touch might do the trick”

“Try and make him think of what he won’t be seeing” I said.

“Something like that” she replied in a vague manner.

Whoa I thought. Emma may be right.

Kath and I usually operated independently, meeting at least once a day to synchronise. She tended to smooth the clients and venue owners while I bullied our suppliers. We liked to present a united front to our richer clients and Greta and Bob certainly fitted that description. I had no idea how Kathy’s meeting with Giles had gone until the next day when we met in her office to catch up.

“He’s up for it” she told me

“What exactly is he up for?” I asked.

“The works, chapel, hall, grounds”

“Right, I’ll phone Sally and we’ll arrange a tour”

“What about a presentation?” she asked.

We usually arranged for a presentation at the clients’ house for all the interested parties, it was a slick public relations exercise allowing the two families to see the venues and get a flavour of the services we can provide.

“Well” I began “I don’t think so in this case”

Kathy interrupted me “You’re worried it will be at the nudist club aren’t you”

“No, not at all” I began, “It’s just, you how I feel, there is still a part of me thinks it’s a hoax.”

“Oh come on Pete, we’re too far down the road for that now, and anyway they’d have chosen some one with a bigger willy than poor old Bob and his cocktail sausage.”

“Not if they blank out his private parts” I retorted

“Oh come on, this is not the fifties. The days of posing pouches are long gone”

“Let’s see if they like it first” I told her. Procrastination is my only plan in desperate times.

Two days later on a crisp sunny morning Kath and I stood outside Cottlestone Hall chatting with Giles. The key to a successful meeting is to be there before the client and Sally and Greta were not due to arrive for another half an hour. I gazed along the gravelled drive to the blue hills beyond. On such a perfect spring morning the estate shone like a jewel that surely Sally and Greta would not be able resist. Giles knew this too and he positively drooled, his smug aristocratic features grinning in anticipation of all his dreams coming true at the same time. Loads of naked totty running around his ancestral pile, and added to this was the chance of a lifetime; an only in your dreams opportunity of seeing Kathy naked. And the cream on the latte was that he was going to be paid loads of money for the privilege. And privilege describes Giles to a tee. He had it all, the title, the land, the ancestral home, the connections and that aristocratic arrogance that opened many a door that was forever closed to the rest of us. What he did lack, however, was the money, which is why he was entertaining us on a sunny Wednesday morning.

“I know Max Hunter, ya know” he drawled, “We’re in the same club”

“Really” I replied, “didn’t have you pegged as a nudist”

“Golf club, Peter” he reminded me sternly.

We were sitting on the terrace drinking luke warm tea.

“Never met the wife or sprogs mind” he continued “Filthy rich of course.” He paused while he took a sip of tea. “New money” added scornfully.

“Better than no money” I said sardonically. Kathy kicked me under the table. She didn’t want Giles to go cold on the deal.

“It’s very good of you to let us use Cottlestone Hall for this event” she said smiling as she gazed across the grounds. I watched Giles’ gaze roaming down her body, mentally stripping off her clothes.

“Not at all Kathy, I do so love your themed events”

“I know, but this is something of a departure for us” she continued as I dunked a digestive into my tea to underline my republican credentials.

“It’s very brave of you to take it on” said Giles, licking his lips.

“Ah well, you know us” I said, “Always up for a new challenge”

“I do so love the way you throw yourselves into these speciality weddings, always dressing the part” continued Giles staring at Kathy’s chest and hoping with all his heart for the right answer.

She turned to look at him and smiled.

“Oh there’ll be no dressing up this time”

Giles was a true aristocrat and as such was slower than slug in winter.

“Oh” he said despondently

“If you know what I mean” said Kathy coquettishly, with a sly wink.

“Ah ha... er yes” began a very flustered Giles

“Will you be joining us Giles?” I asked him innocently.

Before he could reply Kathy broke in

“Here they are”

A large silver Mercedes was coming slowly along the drive. Resisting the urchin urge to slurp out of the saucer, I gulped down the rest of my tea, and followed Kathy and Giles onto the gravel forecourt where the car had crunched to a halt. Sally and Greta emerged and stood for a while taking in the house with its fake Palladian frontage, the mock gothic chapel to the side, all framed by a hazy backdrop of the distant Mendip hills. I knew in that moment that we clinched the deal. Giles however was drinking in the view of Sally and Greta. He was looking as I had looked two weeks ago in my office. Greta looked gorgeous. I knew what he was thinking, and I chuckled inwardly at the disappointment he would feel when he got to see Greta naked. Sally was dressed casually in such a way that oozed money. This was in stark contrast to when we had last met, but you can’t look rich in the nude.

“Kathy, good to see you again” said Sally with genuine warmth as they embraced and air kissed. This seemed overly friendly to me and I stuck out for a handshake. I introduced Giles while Kathy and Greta greeted each other like the best of friends. Mmm something was going on here.

The tour took about an hour, the house and grounds were at their immaculate best in the silver light of spring. Greta sang to herself as we showed her around, while Sally grilled Giles on his feelings.

“Kathy has told you of the nature of the wedding” she stated rather than asked

“Yes I am fully aware, Sally”

“We are not ashamed of being naturists, but if word got out then we may have some unwanted publicity”

“I can assure you Sally it is not something I wish to publicise”

Sally gave Giles a sharp look. But Giles’ expensive schooling at some the country’s most exclusive establishments was not in vain.

“Don’t mistake me, I fully understand and empathise with your daughter’s wish for a naturist wedding and while I do not worry about it taking place at Cottlestone Hall I am concerned with the event becoming public knowledge. My concern is that should prior knowledge of the event slip out we may invite unwanted attentions from the less salubrious members of the local populace, which would detract from your enjoyment of what is meant to be happiest day in your daughter’s life”

True class will out and all Sally could do was nod in agreement to that load of old aristocratic flannel.

“I’m sure Peter has security all worked out” he added.

I hadn’t, but I had been thinking of little else as I walked around the grounds. Not least because the awful truth was beginning to dawn on me that Kathy was going to take her clothes off, and a lot of pressure would be coming my way to join her.

An hour after it had arrived the silver Mercedes was rolling up the drive towards the main road. Nothing had been said but all three of us knew that this was to be the venue for our first, and if I had anything to do with it, only nude wedding. I was about to tackle Giles about security when he dropped his bombshell.

“How are we going to cater this? My staff won’t be happy with all those people roaming around in the buff”

Kathy and Giles looked at me.

“Oh no,” I said “No, no, not Emma”

Emma ran a catering business. This is how we had met. We had employed her company to provide the food for a modest Star Trek wedding, where all the guests had worn those unflattering lycra uniforms. As usual Kathy and I had taken part and I like to think it was my pointy ears and cool Vulcan logic that had attracted Emma to me. We still put some work her way, but most venues had their own catering these days. This was no great loss to her as she was usually busy feeding smoked salmon to self important business men at corporate courses.

Kathy smiled, “Don’t worry I’ve already talked to her about it, she thinks she can cope”

Yes, but could I? There would be no lycra between me and Emma this time. I stopped myself, had I really thought that. Me running around Giles’ ancestral home in the nude? Despite the warmth of the day I shivered.

NIne

I said nothing on the way back to the office. The sparkling spring countryside outside could not cheer me up. Dragging Emma into this madness had complicated what was already becoming a difficult position for me. How had it come to this I pondered? Two weeks ago I had never visited a nudist colony, never strolled in the countryside with naked women and a stark naked meal with my wife would have been an erotic fantasy. This was now small beer compared to the path ahead. How could I get out of this situation when everyone seemed to be tripping merrily along the yellow brick in a demented version of the Wizard of Oz. I couldn’t decide if I was the cowardly lion or the scarecrow without a brain. Up until now I had told myself this was a hoax and I could always walk away from the whole affair. Suddenly, and with out any warning it had swallowed my business partner whole. I strongly suspected she had been spending time at the nudist club. And now it was pulling my wife in. She was already prancing around in the nude at home and when I looked into the future all I could see was a naked wedding in Cottlestone Hall looming on a grey horizon like a twisted Emerald City. I certainly wasn’t in Kansas anymore and I had a dread feeling I wasn’t going to wake up to find I was dreaming.

“Penny for them” said Kathy as we parked outside the office.

“What” I replied

“Oh come on Pete” she said sharply, “you’ve barely said a word all the way back.”

“I was just thinking, that’s all”

“It’s about Emma isn’t it?”

“Well yes, did you have to bring into this?”

“Me” she retorted,” It was you who asked her to do the catering”

I just stared at her.

“If you will excuse me,” I told her, “I think I might just go and have a word with my wife”

I drove across town in a dream. The quiet sunlit streets slipped by unnoticed as I pondered Emma’s perfidy. Why had she done this, to keep an eye on me I supposed? She clearly hadn’t thought it through. Her company was quite able to do such an event under normal circumstances, but she faced the same problem as Giles, where were you going to get the staff?

I formulated my plan of attack as I turned into the small industrial estate where Emma had her offices, cold store and kitchens. Parking my car I whistled a jaunty tune as I strolled into the sparsely furnished ante room.

“My wife in?” I asked breezily of the raven haired waif sitting behind the desk . I looked her up and down, rather a big chest for one so small. Another indolent student that Emma hired on the cheap I suspected.

“Hello darling. What are you doing here?”

I went straight into a full frontal attack.

“Kathy tells me you are planning to cater for our special event”

“The naturist wedding” she said loudly and grinned wickedly as I winced. The little redhead had heard that as clear as a bell. Emma was already outflanking me. “Yes, it’s best keeping that all in the family, don’t you think?”

“Oh and are you planning to cook, serve the meals and wash up all by yourself? Because I’ll be too busy to help!” I shouted, playing all but my aces at one go before adding “in the nude” This did set her back a little.

“I know staff will be a problem” she admitted “but I may be able to persuade some of our regulars.”

“I think I can help you there” said a calm voice from the open door behind me

I turned to look at the busty redhead who was leaning seductively against the side of Emma’s office door. I could see now that she might just be up for it.

“I think, without much persuasion I could get you a full team from my club at college” she said.

“Your club, Temi?” asked Emma

“Yes the Chariot Club” she said.

“What sort of club is that?” I knew students were weird but Ben-Hur at the races?
“Well it’s not official, by any means” she replied in a hushed tone, “It’s well chariot; as in swing low sweet chariot, if you get my drift”

I got her drift alright, “we can’t have any shenanigans” I told her; “this is a reputable event” Temi looked at me seriously. I couldn’t believe myself. I had just described a wedding where the bride, groom and most of the guests were planning to be naked as reputable.

“Oh, don’t worry we’ll behave ourselves there, but afterwards…. Party, party” Her face was one wide grin. “We’ve a meeting tonight at the pub across the road from Uni, why don’t you come along and meet the gang”

I shuddered when Emma said yes.

I was still shuddering five hours later as we drove across the town to meet the “Chariot Club” in large barn of a pub that was once known as “The Royal Oak” but now rejoiced in the title of “The Advocate”. The pub was empty, but after a discreet word with a grinning barman I was shown to an upstairs function room. I knocked on the door. It opened a fraction and Temi peeked through the gap, before she opened it wide and invited us in. The Chariot club was clearly in full swing, there were about twenty in total, an equal mixture of young males and females all in various states of undress. The only exception was our host for the evening Temi who was stark naked. She had two large arrows drawn on her body, one leading between her ponderous breasts and pointing at her mouth, the other pointing down to her shaven vagina. Between the two arrows was written in large letters, ‘insert penis here’. I didn’t want to know what was written on her back. I think I had the gist of the club now, and somehow I knew that recruiting them as naked waiters would be no trouble. Keeping their minds on the job, however, now that would be a different matter.

Emma made the pitch and asked for volunteers. She was almost killed in the rush. Satisfied that we could now meet Greta and Bob’s requirements, we got up to leave.

“Why don’t you stay” suggested Temi, “the boys are going to do some penis fencing, you could join in Pete.” She licked her ruby lips with her pink tongue and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Emma smiled as I politely made my excuses. As we left Temi was organising the teams, her pendulous breasts swaying as she strode around the room.

“What sort of name is Temi, anyway” I asked Emma as we descended into the relative sanity of the pub.

“It’s short for Artemis.” said Emma “You know, the Greek goddess of the moon” She paused dramatically “and chastity”