Aftermath

Sunday morning, bright and early, and I could hear the church bells calling to me in my dream. Should I get up and go? No I told myself sternly; I had been in church only yesterday and twice in a week is too much for anyone. That was work I told myself severely, not the same, so it doesn’t count. Besides that you were naked, which is a sin. With that admonishment invading my turgid dream I woke with a jolt, covered in sweat. Seeking reassurance I reached for Emma, who lay naked beside me, still fast asleep. Why hadn’t the bells stopped? Finally some sort of reality seeped into my numbskull and it came to me the bells were my phone. On autopilot I reached for it. “Hello” I said, in a voice thick with sleep. There was nobody there. I was too tired to even rant at the cruel fate and fell forward onto the bed. Emma rolled as it sprung back and moaned. I played deep sleep; if she woke and thought for one millisecond I had been the cause my day would be ruined. The phone rang again, I grabbed it and stabbed at the buttons. The time on the display caught my attention, 6:35am, who the hell was phoning me at this time. “Do you know what time it is?” I mumbled feebly into the phone. “About half past six in the morning.” “This had better be good, some close relative will have to be dead to justify this call” I told the unknown voice at the end of the phone, “who are you anyway?” “Jack Olds, Swindon Times” “I don’t know you” I told him as I reached for the red button to cut the call. “I was wondering if you had any comment to make on the naturist wedding that took place yesterday” Suddenly I was very awake. I poked Emma in the ribs. She groaned and turned to me with murder in her eyes. “Oh and what naturist wedding is that?” I enquired innocently of Mr Olds. Emma shot upright, her small breasts pointing accusingly at me. “The one involving Max Hunter’s daughter that’s all over the front page of the News of the Screws” Emma heard that alright and her brown eyes suddenly widened in fear. “Don’t take that rag” I told him. “No problem, I just pushed a copy through your letterbox” Forgetting all modesty my naked wife raced downstairs. I hoped the curtains were closed as I had a nasty feeling that Mr Olds was just outside. “Why should I be interested in what happens on some Caribbean beach?” I asked him, desperately anxious to regain some composure. “Because it took place in Cottlestone Hall and the word on the street is your company organised it” Emma was back with the paper. She covered her own modesty with a spread of Greta and her family posing in the altogether on the terrace. Fortunately for Bob his inadequacy was censored by a large black rectangle, but for the bride there was no such mercy, her shortfall being plain for all to see and cruelly underlined by the sheer magnificence of her sister’s body. “There’s no mention of us, and nothing in the photographs” she whispered as she rifled through the salacious text. “I am afraid I cannot comment on gossip” I told the reptilian reporter icily, “and at A1 we never discuss our clients.” “So you did organise the wedding” “We never discuss out clients” I repeated. “I can quote you on that, can I?” “You can quote me on the fact that we never discuss our clients” I repeated, before abruptly cutting the call. All this time Emma had been peeking through a crack in the curtains. I watched her as she wiggled her bare behind. “There’s only him and one other man out there” she complained. “I told you from the very start this whole thing was a hoax” “Well if it was, it wasn’t against us, the Hunters seemed to have copped the whole load of manure in the face” My face fell, “I’ll bet they’ll try to put the blame on us, poor security.” “Oh come on Pete, you did everything you could. You were there for those pictures on the terrace, how could anyone have taken them” This had been puzzling me from the time I had first seen them. “I don’t know, most people had come indoors by then to escape the storm. Besides, everyone there was naked; there was nowhere to hide a camera.” My mind ran the film back, Carol darting here and there shepherding in the bare lambs, the short dumpy blonde who took a hailstone hard on her buttock. Who could have taken it? No point in crying over spilt milk, but there was a case to be made for mopping it up. “Will you come away from the window, Emma, before we do have our picture in the papers” She turned and threw herself onto the bed. “May I say darling, you handled that reporter magnificently, the way you put him his place. I sometimes wish you would put me in my place” she whispered, her hot pink tongue licking her lips. Further foreplay was abruptly curtailed by the ringing of the landline. I looked at the display before deciding to answer. It was Kathy, perhaps she could spread some light on this. “I’ve got the paparazzi all over my lawn” I shouted at her “What the hell is going on!” “Calm down Pete” she told me. There were three chances of that happening; fat, slim and no. “Don’t you tell me to calm down. We’re in deep trouble when Max Hunter finds out. We need an excuse and quick.” “He already knows” “Dammit, Kathy, how did I let you talk me into it” “Keep calm” she told me, but I was in the right and my blood was up. “I will not keep calm, I have been set up and it will be us in the paper tomorrow” “No it won’t” she told me firmly when I allowed her to get a word in, “ they've published all they have got” “How do you know” I spat back and without giving her opportunity to reply I lurched in another direction like a rudderless boat in a storm. “And what about Max, I bet he’s cancelling the cheque now” She waited till I grounded on the beach. “No he is not; he feels we did our best with security” “How do you know?” “He’s here with me now” Before I could utter an expletive Max Hunter’s melodious voice oozed out of my phone. “Hello, Peter, this is a pretty kettle of fish, is it not?” Whatever that meant I agreed with him. “I understand you are having a bit of trouble with a reporter. I must confess I am surprised. I didn’t think there as a newshound in the country who wasn’t was prowling around outside gates of my house” He seemed remarkably cheerful considering his whole family lay exposed in the morning papers for all to see. “I’m sorry to have got you into this” he continued; and with some generosity reemphasised that I was not to blame myself “It wasn’t enough” I told him, “if only I hadn’t disabled the cctv we might have been able to identify who did it” “Ah” he replied “so that little upper crust reptile Giles was telling the truth when he said he had turned the cameras off” “Maybe” I told him slowly, “he did promise to turn them off, but I had one of the Charioteers disconnect the main feed to his recorder. Just in case” “Underhand” he told me, “Just the sort of think I approve of. Have you spoken to any reporters” “Only to tell them I don’t speak to reporters” I replied. “Good man. We must meet to discuss this further. Can you come here?” “Are you sure? I thought you were surrounded by the press” “The house is, but we are at the club” “Oh” “Try and shake the hounds and come here. You do remember the way?” “No but the SatNav does” “See you as soon as you can get here, and bring that lovely wife of yours” He rang off and I turned to Emma who was looking at me curiously. “We’re off the hook, Sweetie. He wants a chat though?” “Where?” she asked. “The nudist colony” “Oh” she paused, “what’s the dress code?” “I think it had better be nude” “Good” she replied, “this is going to be fun” I shook my head. No, no it wasn’t. The phone rang again. “Mr Andrews? Jack Olds. Read the paper yet? Jog your memory perhaps?” The man spoke like a typewriter. “I have nothing further to add.” “I understand you were working yesterday?” “Really, from whom?” “Oh I have my sources” I bet he did, but I wasn’t giving in. “Then I suppose they told you all” “They told me you were at Cottlestone Hall. Doing the Hunter wedding” “Like I said, we never comment upon our clients” “Must have been a bit strange, naked bride and groom, and you all in your Sunday best” I knew it then, it was all bluff, he had nothing. “Are you planning on staying there all day?” I asked “only you’ll be upsetting the neighbours. “Why don’t you just give me the exclusive” he demanded. “There’s nothing to tell, all you have are some pictures of the Hunter family in the nude. There’s nothing to show it was a wedding.” “Plenty of guests to confirm that, Mr Andrews” “Then go and bother them” “I want the full story, how it was planned? Where you got caterers? Or was that your wife’s role. How you persuaded the Right Honourable Giles fforde-Psmith to allow his ancestral pile to be overrun by frolicking nudists? Where did you got the vicar, was he nude too? Or was it a she, there are some tasty women in the clergy nowadays. Oh there is so much to tell. Frankly it would be better to talk to me. I can keep the reptiles from the Nationals off your back and negotiate you a good deal. It will be worth your while” “Like I said, we never comment upon a job” With that I closed the connection. “He is still there” Emma confirmed peeking though the curtains as she wiggled her bare behind. “He’ll follow us you know” “I know” I said racking my brain. “Let’s race him off our tails, just like the movies. You can do it Pete, all that fast driving you do” “Mm, problem is it will look suspicious, and he might just not be that easy to shake off” Suddenly with no warning the idea sprung straight into my brain. I don’t know where it came from but there it was spinning like a diamond, perfectly formed and unbreakable. “ I'm going to the golf course” I told Emma “You can’t do that, you promised Max” “Meet me at the far end, the lane by the ninth hole. I’ll phone you when I'm on the eighth. If he follows me onto the course he’ll be miles from his car, and if he doesn't then he’ll be waiting hours in the car park before he knows I've done a runner.” Emma small breasts jumped up and down as she clapped her hands. “My little genius” She said as gave me a big kiss. “Off you go then” Half an hour later, I had shaved, showered and breakfasted. And so there I was, clad in my best check trousers and pale pink polo shirt beneath a diamond patterned jumper that was de rigueur on the golf course but fashion anathema anywhere kissing Emma goodbye on the doorstep. With a cheery wave to my new best friend, I loaded my clubs into the car and set off at a leisurely place towards Stratton Golf Club. “Don’t often see you here on a Sunday” remarked Jack Greaves as I heaved my clubs out of the boot. “Need a bit of exercise, Jacko” I told him as I watched Jack Olds climbing slowly out of his battered old car on the other side of the car park. “Who’s he, friend of yours?” “Some journalist, Jacko. He’s following me because he thinks I did that wedding in the paper” Somehow I knew that a naked wedding would not have slipped through Jacko’s wide range of reading material. “Whoa, top girls, Pete. Bit saggy the bride, but that bridesmaid, and hey the mother’s pretty good an’ all.” He dug his elbow into my side and winked, “many a good tune played on an old fiddle” After a pause his brain finally came back to my presence “so, did you do it?” “Oh come on Jacko, me prancing around in the nude” “Mm, pity, you could have introduced me” Indeed I could have, although I very much doubted that Sally Hunter went in for old golfing bores. Jacko mentally brushed himself down, expunged the thoughts of writhing naked female flesh from his free running imagination, and pointed towards Jack Olds “Oy! You! Boyo! Are you a member?” he shouted. “No, I’m a member of the press” he told him as he languidly strolled over reaching into his jacket for his press pass. “If you’re not a member you can’t park here” roared Jacko reaching into his bag for a number three wood. I scurried off before Jacko could return and ask me some more pertinent questions. There were a couple keen teenagers just about to tee off and they were quite happy for me to join them for a round. I thought I’d made a mistake as I watched them limber up. I knew I’d made a mistake when I watched the first of them, a spotty fifteen year old called Kevin who wore a Red Sox baseball hat backwards, whack the ball further than I had on the links course at Lytham with a howling gale behind me. Kevin held the record for the longest drive I had ever seen for a whole two minutes before his friend Josh took it from him with an enormous punt down the fairway. “It was humiliating” I told Emma as she raced along the empty country lanes. “Darling, you have just organised a naked wedding. Full frontal pictures of the bride and her family are been plastered all over the Sunday gutter press. For all you know we might be in line for tomorrow’s front page. I really don’t think you can call being outclassed by two teenagers at golf an humiliation.” Women, I thought myself bitterly, can never see the important things in life. Fifteen minutes later I was overtaken by a horrifying case of deja vu as we drove though the same picturesque villages time and time again, past the same biscuit tin picture postcard country pubs as the satnav tried in vain to home in on Sunnyfields Nudist club. Emma bristled with impatience as she brought the car to a jolting halt in front of a strangely familiar pub called the King’s Arms. She pointed to a stout woman weeding her front garden. “Get out and ask her the way” she told me. I groaned, this was the very same person Kathy had asked on the fateful day we met Sally Hunter. That day I had stamped my foot and made Kathy ask for directions, but Emma was more far more formidable and unlikely to accept any refusal from me, so I acquiesced to the inevitable and climbed out of the car. I dreaded to think what she made of me in my pink polo shirt and hideous checked trousers topped or should I say bottomed off by my white spiked golf shoes. Even worse was the thought that she would soon know I wouldn't be wearing them for long. “Excuse me madam, could you direst us to the Sunnyfileds Club” “The naturist club?” she bellowed. I winced and nodded. “Out of the village, first left onto a single track road. After half a mile you’ll come to a high gate. That’s what you’re looking for” she told me firmly with a grin. I thanked her and winced again as she told me she’d probably be along later herself. It was a two minute drive to the tall green featureless gates. “You have to speak into that box” I told Emma as she drew up. “Oh that’s alight, Kathy gave me the code” she told me as she punched the key pad. The gates opened slowly to reveal the deep green of that never to be forgotten sweet chestnut tree lined track. The gates clanged shut behind us with all the solemnity of the closing of a coffin lid. Without warning Emma stopped the car and got out. I was about to ask her what she was doing when her sun-dress landed on my lap. Naked, she climbed back into the car. “Come on hun, get them off” she told me. “They have changing rooms for that,” I explained “with lockers for your clothes” “Oh” she said “Drive on” I said The car park that had been empty on the occasion of our last visit was now full. Emma found a place to park, but it was some way from the changing rooms. “Oh for God’s sake Pete, I'm not hanging around while you trot all the way over there, just get them off will you” I sighed and quickly removed my shirt. I dropped my wallet and phone on the driver’s seat and wriggled out of the rest of my clothes. “No pockets” I called to Emma, “what shall I do with these” “Useless” she told me with scorn “give them to me” Just as she grabbed my wallet the phone rang. “Hello” I said guardedly. “Hi Pete, Jack Olds here. Just wondering where you were?” “Why?” “Well those two lads came back a wile ago. You haven’t run out on me have you” “Those two lads play off scratch, I've got a handicap of eighteen. They left me on the ninth stuck in the rough” “So when will you be back? We need a chat you know” he told me with all the false sincerity of an insurance salesman. “No, we don’t need a chat” I told him with all the true sincerity of a man guilty as charged. “You know I’ll be waiting.” “You’ll have to wait a while I told him. They do a nice carvery on a Sunday” With that I switched the phone off and shoved it in the glove compartment. “That can stay here.” Emma handed me a towel and a pair of flip flops. “There you go sweetie the full nudist uniform” I accepted them with tired resignation and we headed off along the cool green shady path that led the pool where Kathy awaited our arrival. “Emma” I said in the direction of my wife’s bare bottom. An exasperated “what” floated back to me. “What if we meet someone we know” She stopped dead and spun on her heels to face me, and, with hands firmly planted on hips, sternly told me “of course we are going to meet people we know, half the club was at the wedding. Remember” “But what if we meet someone who we know, who knows us from somewhere else. They’ll see us in the nude” “And we’ll see them naked too. Now can we get on” she said in a manner that confirmed that the matter was closed for all eternity. I followed her around the corner of John Smith’s office where the shade ended and the morning sun poured like wine onto a honey coloured path that was filled with the woman of my dreams. I hadn't seen her for fifteen years but I would never ever forget her. For one whole year she had filled my dreams. Every Wednesday and Thursday we would spend an hour together. Me in silence as she floated through the classroom talking about mountain ranges, population densities and the salty seas of the world. I hung on her very word as I watched her perfect body move across the classroom. She made Geography my favourite subject, so much so that I never once did my homework. Because that brought the surety of a detention, with the wonderful opportunity to spend an extra hour after school with Miss Perfect. Her real name was Miss Perkins, but we called her Polly Perfect, because she was. I just drank her in. The tight jeans in winter, and the short summer skirts that exposed those long slim tanned legs. I would sit and wonder how far that tan went, now I knew, it went all the way up to the proof positive that she was a natural blonde. Time slowed for me as we approached, I barely saw Emma pass her, all my concentration was on Polly’s perfect full, breasts each topped with cherry coloured nipple shaped like an iced whorl biscuit. I had dreamed of these all through that well remembered September when the fading summer heat allowed her to wear a low cut top where I would drown in the cleavage, praying for some small item to fall on the floor so she would stoop to reach it, and reveal more of the dark valley between those two smooth bronzed hills. And here they were, exposed in the bright morning light, floating towards me, bouncing as gently as small boat on a calm summer sea. It took all my of my will power not to stare as she passed, her long blonde hair floating behind her. I counted the seconds, preparing myself for the coup de resistance, that perfect backside. For a year of my young life I watched it in its many guises, squeezed in a tight skirt, pored into form fitting jeans or barely touching the back of a cotton summer dress as she wrote on the blackboard. I knew every nuance, how it would quiver as she scraped the chalk, I had watched it stretch when she reached up to write my name on the detention board. Never had a school child looked forward to a punishment more, well perhaps my old mate Jimmy Yates, who yearned for Polly as much as I. We would sit there together in detention as silent as lambs, while Miss Perfect sat marking at her desk. I knew every muscle in her face, her frowns when I failed yet again to do my work to her satisfaction, her winning smiles at my miraculous understanding when she stooped at the side of my desk allowing me to gaze deep into that cleavage, sometimes all of the way to her white lacy bra as she pointed out some contour line that I had pretended to miss on the map. “Enough time”, my mind told me, and I stopped my quivering legs and began a long, slow turn which ended before it began at the sudden sharp sound of my mistress’ voice. “Will you hurry up Peter!” My eyes returned forward towards focus on Emma standing impatiently before me, arms folded and lips pursed. “Yes dear” I told her with the resignation of a sleeper roused from a perfect dream. I was about to move on, knowing my chance of Polly’s pert behind had gone, when I was stopped again. “Peter Andrews?” That rich contralto, even now, fifteen years on I remember it well. I turned to face her. She was smiling, her face was older, but she was still stunning, the same piercing wide blue eyes above those high cheekbones. I was held enthralled, just like I used to be. “Hello” I stammered as I felt Emma’s hand grip my shoulder. “ Aren't you going to introduce us, sweetie?” asked Emma in that saccharine tone that signified her at her worst. Despite being over thirty, Polly was still stunning. She was lean, lithe and a clear threat in my wife’s narrowing eyes. “Oh sorry, er, Miss Perkins, this is my wife Emma. Miss Perkins was my Geography teacher in school dear” I explained. I felt the death grip loosen as Emma strode forward to shake Polly’s hand. “Pleased to meet you Miss Perkins” “ I'm Mrs Jeavans now but please call me Patricia, we can hardly be formal given our current state of undress” she laughed, it trickled like syrup into my ears. “Besides it has been many years since I taught Peter, I'm surprised he remembers me” Remember her, I would never forget Polly Perfect, and now that she was standing here, bathed in sunlight, as naked as the day she was born….. “Was he a good student?” asked Emma, who was always eager for a chance to embarrass me. Polly sighed, and placing one hand on her smooth hip she crossed her long legs at the ankles. I felt weak at the knees. “Well, let’s say it wasn't his strongest subject, he was always in detention” “Oh Petey, were you a naughty boy then.” “Oh gosh, no” she said “he was a perfect pupil, never said a word. Just never dia any homework” Emma beamed at me, and patted me on the head. “Are you members” asked Polly, “only I've never seen you here before?” “Oh no, just visiting” I told her “Max Hunter. I suppose you know him” “Oh yes poor Max and Sally. Plastered all over the Sunday papers like that.” She shivered “ I'm so glad we didn't go, can you imagine me having to face my classes Monday morning with the knowledge that they had all seen me naked” I smiled weakly, the awful truth of why we were there sinking back into my happy thoughts. “Well it was good to meet you” Emma said briskly, “perhaps we will see more of each other later” “I don’t think there’s much more to see” quipped Polly, “but I’ll be around about the pool if you want some more dirt on your husband’s school career” “Oh yes, I love to hear stories of his misspent youth” Emma replied gleefully. “Well, until later then” Polly said and turned to go. “There you are” called Kathy who had just come up the path and drawn my attention from Polly’s departure. I turned to catch that look of her bare backside, but it was too late, she was gone. It was a bitter blow. I knew I would wander the club forever until I saw it. “Who was that, you were talking to?” “That was Peter’s old geography teacher.” “Mmm,” Kathy said thoughtfully, “bet you paid attention in her lessons, Pete” “You had better believe it, the whole school had a crush on Polly Perfect. I can’t wait to see the look on Jimmy Yates’ face when I tell him I’ve seen her naked.” “And how are you going to tell him where you met her and what you were wearing at the time?” asked Emma as she turned to go. “Because if you don’t I will” “Ah” I said, and reluctantly followed them towards the function room where Max waited. As we walked into the glass fronted room I was hit by a wall of noise, followed swiftly by a blast of heat. The contrast from my last visit was stark when the room was empty and cold. Now it was heaving with the naked half of the wedding party. A hush fell as we entered the boiling room. All eyes were on us, but my two eyes were on the table where Max and Sally sat. The look on their faces reassured me, concerned, sadness perhaps, but there was no blame there. I smiled inwardly, we were out of the briar patch. The only other occupant of the table was a young woman with long ash blonde hair. Slowly Laura turned to face us with thunder on her brow and lightning bolts in her piercing blue eyes. Emma clasped my hand and squeezed hard. “Uh oh” she muttered.

The Reception

In a single glance I took in the familiar and the downright bizarre. The pastel walls and the fine architrave, the glittering chandeliers, the sound of cheerful conversation, were no different from the ambience of every event we held here. The table in front of me was also as I would expect, ebullient men in dark suits and puffed ruddy faces. Their fussy wives in bright dresses, busy dissecting the other guests with tongues as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel. I pretended not to notice as one of them carefully dabbed her white starched napkin at the stubborn stain of red wine that spoiled the once pristine table cloth. My gaze shifted to the top table where the bride should take pride of place, dressed in finely decorated virginal white lace with elaborate stitching. Current fashion dictated that the bride’s dress was cut low into the cleavage leaving her shoulders bare. No one could criticize Greta on that, but from there on down, Greta and current fashion, or any fashion really, took different paths. “Excuse me Mr Andrews” I turned to see the Chariot Club’s finest bearing the main course. Who was I to stand in the way of a row of naked female students? There was a sharp intake of breath from a severely annoyed lady in a cerise hat as my bare form moved behind her. She glared at me with the face of a pickled prune. To such provocation I have always found a sweet smile the best remedy. “Can I help you Madam” I asked with all the sincerity I could muster. She snorted, an opened her mouth to speak, but the words would not come for some time, “Are you the young man responsible for all of this” she huffed haughtily waving her hand towards the room. She finally found the word that she was looking for “debauchery?”. “Well my company organised it, if that is what you mean” I replied smoothly. “Hrrumph” she replied as her husband winced. “I think Max made it quite clear, my dear” he told her. Like a old rusty battleship she turned her turrets around to face her husband. “He said it would be a quiet naturist wedding and the top table would be nude.” She held up her hand “I knew about the nudist colony turning up in the altogether, but I rather expected them to be hidden behind a pillar. He certainly didn’t say that the guests would be flinging off their clothes like Roman emperors at bacchanalian feast” “Yes dear” replied her husband absent mindedly as he scanned the room. “Oh my good God” his wife exclaimed, “some people should really keep their clothes on” Her husband, who had been ogling the hockey team across the room, seemed taken aback. “What now, Beverley?” he said with a sigh “It’s disgusting Rupert” she continued in the manner of a maiden aunt watching a raunchy music video. “Have they no shame?” she dug him in the ribs, “over there” she told him, gesturing towards the large bay window from which the view of the storm was eclipsed by the considerable forms of John Smith and his wife. “Yes dear I can see they’re carrying a bit of weight but they would be er.. large even if they were dressed” He paused thoughtfully, “And let’s face it, if they can sit there in the nude so could we” Beverly went as red as a pillar box. “If you think, that I …..” her speech became unintelligible as her imagination blocked all rational thought. After a few brief seconds of foaming at the mouth she re-entered the atmosphere, “I still haven’t got over the fact that your daughter is parading around like some brazen hussy.. Oh my God I’ll never live this down” I decided that there may be some collateral damage so I edged a bit further away “She’s your daughter too my dear” came the even reply. I was beginning to suspect that Rupert was a beginning to enjoy this. “How could she?” Beverly continued close to tears now. “Why don’t you go and ask her dear” suggested her husband who was beginning to sail far too close to the wind. “If you think I am going to speak to Jennifer while she is dressed like that and surrounded by those naked brazen hussies from her university hockey team you are very much mistaken Rupert” she continued loudly “And what is wrong with her outfit?” There was going to be trouble soon. I gestured to one of Temi’s finest to serve the table immediately. Beverley leant forward to give her husband a full frontal assault when she got one of her own as a perfectly shaven vagina appeared directly opposite her. Whatever she was about to say froze on her lips as its owner presented her with her main course. “Bon appetite, madam” I muttered under my breath as I retreated to a far corner of the room to survey the debauchery for myself. To me it was the most staid wedding I had organised, as long as you could just ignore the minor detail that over half of the room had no clothes on. I shrugged, the whole thing was crazy, and how could I have got into this I asked myself. I decided to check on the storm. The warm stuffy air that had built through the day had been washed away. The world was fresh and new with just a fine drizzle which was faded before my eyes; the terrace glistened in a pale light that crept warily through the clouds. “Penny for them” asked Emma as she slipped her arm around my waist. I felt her smooth warm body push into my side. “I was just thinking it might just clear in time for the bride and groom’s departure.” “Mm” she replied, “it was raining when we first met” “Yes, I remember, you wore that tight lycra outfit” “It was the theme. Darling” “True, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination” Emma moved to face me, “How does it compare to my current outfit” “I think I prefer this one” I told her as she wrapped her arms around my neck. She pushed her hot body into mine “Not here, Emma” I hissed, “If anyone comes I won’t be able to hide it” “Hide what, sweetie” she whispered as she rubbed her breast against my chest. “You know what I mean” “Your interest wasn’t that well hidden in the Star Trek pants you wore on that day” she smiled, a wicked smile, I knew what was coming. “Do you think we could find a cupboard here, and relive that moment all over again?” she suggested. “I wouldn’t advise it” I jumped six feet into the air and landed in the rain, how the hell did Temi creep up on us like that. “Not for any prudish reasons,” she continued evenly, “I’m all for all for a bit of sex in broom cupboards, it’s never disappointed me I can tell you.” I looked down at her, with her red hair and mountainous breasts, “but everyone will be able to smell it on you afterwards, and you have to remember Emma, what goes up must come down …….eventually” She walked out into the drizzle and looked up at the tormented sky. “My father was displeased” she told us “so he sent the storm” “Your father, I thought he lived in Maidenhead?” Emma asked in a voice of someone who has lost the thread. “My father, almighty Zeus, the thunderer, saw the uninvited coming to the feast and lo he shook his dark aegis and threw down his lightning bolts to disperse the mortals” continued Temi as she stretched her arms towards the sky. A thin sheen of water ran down the arch of her bare back and trickled into the formidable gap between her large buttocks. “I am Artemis,” she shouted at the dark sky, “goddess of the moon.” “Is she some sort of lunatic?” whispered Kathy who had come out to find out what the fuss was about. She stood hands on hips, legs slightly apart with her pert pink nipples pointing accusingly at Temi “We need her inside; they are clearing away the meal and preparing for the speeches now” “Temi” shouted Emma, “we need you to organise the champagne for the speeches” Not really the way to address an Olympian immortal. Still Temi took it well, letting her outstretched arms fall to her sides where they met her not inconsiderable rear with a resounding slap. I watched her buttocks slosh like the tides in the ocean of two small moons. “Right, let’s go organise the team” she said, and the erstwhile goddess slid past us to be swallowed whole by dark recesses of Cottlestone Hall. We all looked at other in astonishment. “Perhaps it was for her” I ventured in an attempt at humour, “Perhaps Zeus sent the storm to remind her she is supposed to be chaste” “What” asked Kathy. I grinned at her, “Temi thinks she is the Greek goddess Artemis in charge of the moon and chastity. Her father is Zeus the thunderer.” “Her father is a chiropodist from Maidenhead” Emma informed us with just a hint of scorn. I slipped quietly into the banqueting room. The champagne was being served and the naked occupants of the top table were checking their speeches, all the while exchanging nervous fragments of conversation. All completely normal, yet so, so different to any wedding I had experienced up to now. Beverley was still there in her cerise dress with her pink hat perched above a permanent scowl of disapproval. Rupert had clearly drunk a little more while I had been away. Consequently and he was in the much better spirits. He had also acquired a naked hockey girl who stood rather shakily before the table, hand loosely on his shoulder as she remonstrated with our Bev. “Will you stop acting the prude mother, anyone would think you have never seen a naked man before” waving her hand towards the room which was as fully stocked with nudes as a toy shop before Christmas. I looked at her conical breasts with their smooth pink nipples perched on the end. I remembered her now, the girl who was scared her parents would see her naked. Well they were certainly getting an eyeful now. “Talk to her Rupert, explain how embarrassing this is for us.” “Embarrassing for you” she slurred. Clearly she had floated over to her parents on a warm sea of red wine. “I’m the one who is naked” she protested flicking her left nipple to emphasise the point. I idly wondered again on the inheritance of nipples and whether our Bev possessed a shiny pair too. One thing I knew, that was as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow, I wasn’t going to find out. “You’re drunk, Jennifer” her mother told her in disgust, “if you weren’t you wouldn’t be here. You would still be hiding over there with your cronies from the hockey club. I blame them for this” “I may have had a couple of glasses of Beaujolais, I will concede.” she hiccoughed and held tight to her father’s shoulder. He turned to face his daughter only to find himself at eye level with her rather bushy brown pubic hair. Quickly averting his eyes he tried to pour oil on the troubled waters. “Beverley, give the girl a chance, she is just trying to fit in” “Good God Rupert, your only daughter is standing in a wedding reception wearing her watch, a pair of earrings and her shoes. That is all.” “Yes but that is all the bride is wearing too, my dear” he replied smoothly. I suspected Rupert had had a few too, otherwise he had been more circumspect. “What difference does that make? Sally Hunter is naked too, but you don’t see me rushing to take my clothes off do you” “Well perhaps you should mother” “The very thought of it” “Now leave your mother alone, Jennifer, I’ll have you know she has a fine body, and I would be proud of her if she bared all” “Rupert, you are drunk” she hissed with venom, “and you are showing me up” “Oh I though that it was little old nudie me that was doing that” her daughter told her. Beverly held her head in her hands. “Jennifer, I though you looked a strumpet in that dress you came in. It was so short you could almost see your buttocks. And now look at you. Words fail me” If only they did I thought to myself. I wasn’t the only one thinking that as the other occupants of the table were carefully studying the remnants of their lamb cutlets during this family argument. Well the women were. Their middle aged, balding companions in their crisp shirts and dark suits with knife sharp creases were surreptitiously ogling young Jennifer’s bare form. Finally a large bosomed woman with red nails and dyed hair to match plucked up the courage to speak. “I think you were a bit harsh on Jenny” she commented, as she turned towards Beverley’s naked daughter, “I think it was very brave of you to bare all, dear. I just wish I had the courage myself. I’m sure you have found the experience quite liberating” “Well, yes it has been in a way, Auntie Mabel” replied Jennifer thoughtfully as she absent-mindedly ran her fingers though her hair, “It’s like plunging into a cold sea. After the first shock has worn off, you get used to it. I don’t think I could do it all the time like Greta, but I am sort of getting used to it” “Well your Uncle Ronnie certainly is dear” she remarked tartly as she dug her elbow into his ribs. Her husband’s lungs emptied with the wheeze of a dying accordion. “I don’t think he’s had so much naked flesh to ogle since that night the regiment hit Soho” “Eh well, bit of a rum do if I may say so. But if you are all going to romp around in the ruddy nuddy you can’t expect a red blooded old colonel not to have a good stare” “That’s all right Uncle Ron” replied Jennifer “it goes with the territory” as she lent over and kissed him on the back of the head. “I wish I had the guts to have done this at your age” Auntie Mabel told her with a rueful smile. “Oh I’ don’t know dear, there was that place in France” her husband reminded her. “Oh that’s right, I’d forgotten that” “Well you’re only one who has” Rupert told her, “Ronnie never stopped going on about your naturist adventures” Mabel began to get red in the face. “Well I didn’t know” said Jennifer who was well beyond a surreptitious strip on a beach full of bare foreigners. “Common knowledge” her mother said, “all water long under the bridge now” “Fancy another go?” asked Jennifer. Mabel looked at her husband. “What do you reckon Ronnie, one last show before the curtain comes down?” The old soldier took it all in his stride. “Too late old girl, Max is about to give us a speech” The traditional sound of a spoon tinkling in a glass broke through the conversation. Carol had everyone’s attention, her pale toned body shining smooth in the lights from the crystal chandeliers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please return to you seats and charge your glasses for the toasts” Jennifer smiled, “See you later” she told her father and turned to go. He held out his arm. “No Jennifer, I’d rather you stayed with us. I’m no too keen you sitting with those young men in your current state of undress” I gazed across the room The seating arrangements had returned to the original plan as, buoyed up on the false security of bravado, that had been topped up with wine, the hockey girls had returned to give their boyfriends a hard time. Or so they thought. Sitting in your best suit next to a naked girl is no man’s idea of grief. Clearly Uncle Ronnie felt the same as he gallantly gave up his seat for Jennifer. Fortunately for him there was a spare chair as a move to a different table would have spoiled his grandstand view completely. “I should have got out of this dress when I had the chance” his wife told a cringing Beverley who was gazing unhappily at her daughter casually sitting naked across the table. He short plump legs were loosely crossed and her dark, curly pubic hairs poking up from her crutch like wisps of smoke. Her humour wasn’t much improved as, with the tinkling of a spoon, Rex Hunter rose to address his guests. “Oh my God” muttered Beverley as his penis rose into sight like a pink submarine surfacing stealthily in a quiet harbour. “Friends” he began, “I’d like to welcome you all to a day I think all of us will remember for a very long time.” Laughter from most, whoops from the hockey girls, a muffled groan of pain from Bev. “Some of you may have known about our commitment to naturism already, but if it wasn’t clear before, then it is now. Although this” his hand swept towards the acres of naked flesh on one side of the room “is all my daughter’s fault. To be honest, I never thought it would come to this. I suppose we have to thank our planners Pete and Kathy, who, as well as finding this splendid venue, have also joined us in the altogether. Just as so many of you have done. I have to admit I never thought I’d see so much of some of you” “See mother” whispered Jennifer, “try loosening up” By the look on her face Beverley wouldn’t loosen up until doomsday dawned. Rex rambled on about his new son-in-law and told a few lame jokes. Then it was time for Bob and his cocktail sausage to rise above the table cloth. The groom’s speech is always the easy one, thanks to the guests, his new family, his wife “the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said to a ripple of applause. She would have been too if she was wearing white instead of buff, for the lack of a push up bra undermined his assertion. “Now ladies and gentlemen” he said with the happy smile of one who knew his speech had come to an end “I’d like you to raise your glasses and toast the Matron of honour, my new sister–in-law, Laura.” I watched them rise, some unsteadily, like Uncle Ronnie, some reluctantly, like Beverley who dearly would have like to be anywhere else. Not only was her daughter’s naked podgy backside hanging before her very eyes, it was also very clear that the owner of that well rounded behind was clearly as drunk as a lord. Beverley winced at the sight of her stark naked daughter hanging onto her inebriated father’s arm, glass in hand guzzling the champagne as if it was New Year’s Eve, 1999 all over again. Now it was the best man’s turn. For the last five minute Greta had been carefully and surreptitiously moving the bottles and flowers around the table so that when Gerry rose to his feet nobody could see if anything else had risen with him. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes; Bob’s tiny todger was not a thing of shame but a source of pride, an exercise in the utmost control under extreme provocation. I saluted him. Not quite in the way his best man had saluted his new sister-in-law; but then Laura actually had the body you assumed lay underneath Greta’s clothing “Ladies and gentlemen” he began in nervous deep voice that barely carried to far ends of the room “I have to admit I was nervous about this speech so I bought a book” he waved a well thumbed paperback in the air. “The first thing it suggested was to be prepared, make notes and stick to them” he waved some flash cards and theatrically dropped one on the table. Somehow I knew what was coming next. “The second piece of advice was to imagine the audience naked” It was a cheap joke that didn’t deserve the wave of forced laughter that swept across the wedding party “It’s sort of working, I can picture most of the room in the nude, although I’m having a little trouble with a few tables, like that one there” He pointed at the table in front of me where the only nude visible was the vigorously waving, completely plastered Jennifer. Mabel dug her husband in the ribs and whispered something in his ear. “Too late my dear” he replied. Any further conversation was curtailed by the best man continuing “there was nothing in the book about me being naked however” This got a mixture of cheers and laughs. “It’s normal for the best man to tell some risqué stories about the bridegroom in an attempt to embarrass him further, like, er did you know he went on nudist beaches..er.. well ….did you know him and Greta wander around naked at home..you might just have got an inkling of this, did you know that Bob had streaked ladies bowls club at Worthing?” “What” squealed Greta as the good folk of Sunnyfields Sun Club shook their heads in disappointment. I couldn’t believe it, spending all your leisure time in the buff was deemed acceptable behaviour, but giving a few old ladies a thrill in their closing years was the social equivalent of assuring a vegan that of course of the sausages on the Barbie were veggie. Speeches finally over, the happy couple swept across the floor to cut the cake. I turned to Carol to indicate to Temi and her bare crew were needed to hand the pieces out when the not inconsiderable form of Mabel rose to meet me. “I don’t suppose young man, that you could escort me to the changing rooms. I’d like to join the majority. There is time I assume” “Of course Madam, the bride and groom do not leave for another hour” “Coming, Bev?” the question hung in the air. “Let’s show these men what we’re made of, can’t have them ogling your daughter’s fanny all afternoon can we” Beverly winced at the crudity, although her daughter seemed not to mind, indeed she ran her fingers through her dark curly hair to emphasise her indifference. “Last chance Bev” Mavis said as she rose to her feet and smoothed the pale green dress she soon wouldn’t be wearing. “Never get this opportunity again you know, the chance to be naked in a large social function, in this old hall. Lots of people would die for just a sniff” The look on her friend’s face said it all. Beverley would rather die than shed a stitch. “Ok” said Mavis with bravado, “coming Ronnie” Her husband winced, “sorry Mavis, can’t expose the operation stitches” “Fine” she said in a voice that meant it wasn’t “Rupert?” she asked with all the hope of a one armed pianist asked to play a Beethoven sonata. “Come on Dad” encouraged his daughter, “it’s fun in the nud” “Well er” he said clearly wishing the floor would open allowing him to fall into a fiery pit which at the moment was infinitely more preferable that his wife’s murderous stare. The look of death bounced off her daughter’s bare hide. “You too mum, let all hang out, that’s what I say, we can be a nudist family too” She stared at her mother’s frozen image, as icy as a moon crater and sighed. “Oh well just little ol’ me then” she said in a resigned tone as she climbed gingerly to her feet, giving poor old Uncle Ronnie a close up vaginal view. “I’ll keep you company, Auntie Mabel, and just like my prudish mother I won’t be removing any clothes.” She looked down at her bare body. “Oh my God, my dress has vanished; people can see my breasts and my front bottom. I’ll die of shame” They were very quiet as I escorted them to the room. I hoped they wouldn’t be too long as I was getting a fed up with this, taking people who had never dreamed they would ever be naked in public, to shed their clothes. Not that I objected to women who wanted to wander around in the buff, in fact it was something I was warming to, I just wish they would all decide to strip at the same time. To be fair to Mabel, she was quick about it and in less time it takes to persuade a student to have another beer she was out of the changing room in her shoes and necklace. She had a magnificent body …..once. It was still there camouflaged beneath thirty years and many a hearty meal. “How long have I got?” she asked me in a nervous voice. “About an hour I would judge” I told her. “Not long enough, I’m afraid; still it will have to do. Come on Jennifer let’s go and upset your stuffy mother some more” And side by side, fat but firm buttocks swaying in perfect unison with an ancient crenulated pair they strode towards the dining room. A pleasant warm summer’s day. The terrace of Cottlestone hall throngs with guests awaiting the departure of the bride and groom who just appeared. They are dressed casually, ready for a long flight to the Caribbean. As they turn to leave the bride tosses her bouquet. It is caught by short dumpy girl, who staggers unsteadily on her stiletto heels. “Your next Jenny.” Squeal her friends as she holds the scented flowers high above her head. She turns unsteadily and addresses her parents. “I want a wedding here just like this one” she tells them her glance straying towards me standing on the old stone steps next to Kathy. As one, we and her parents shake our heads, “Oh no” I mutter as the girl looks up at us with puppy dog eyes. “Never again”

The wedding

That day long dreaded, the day of the wedding, that is to say the day of the naked wedding came at the end of June, a scorching month during which the sun had poured all its venom down draining the earth of all colour, hardening the soft green lawns, turning the tilth to dust and leaving the plants hanging lifeless in the still air. Kathy, Carol and I stood in alone in front of a baking Cottlestone Hall awaiting the onslaught. The stored heat emanating from the old limestone blocks warmed our bare backs as we watched a red double-decker bus approach through the mirage that shimmered above the blindingly bright gravel drive snaking through the yellow grass of the parched parkland. If there ever was a day to hold a naked wedding then this was it I thought to myself as we waited, as naked as the day we were born, for the guests to arrive. Bob and his best man were inside preparing themselves; Sally Hunter and her mother were still fussing over the flowers in the chapel while Emma and her able charioteers would have been sweating in a hot kitchen had they any clothes on. Yes indeed, this was the best day for a naked wedding. Under other, more sedate circumstances I would have been decked out in top hat and tails, that would have left me dripping like an icicle in a sauna; but as my wedding suit was my birthday suit, I felt no discomfort. Another plus point was our genial host Giles, who was sweating profusely, with dark wet patches spoiling his best attire. He would have dearly loved to have retired to somewhere shady with a long cool drink, but that would have meant forgoing the once in a lifeltime opportunity to drink in the heavenly sight of Kathy’s naked body. For such a vision Giles was prepared to risk the reputation of his stately home. The happy smile on his face gave me the impression it was all worthwhile. Sadly for Giles the bus was approaching and with one last, long, lingering look he dragged his wide eyes from the rapture of Kathy in all her naked glory, and, with a testy reminder to me about the absolute need for secrecy, reluctantly disappeared into the cool shadow of the hall. Alone now, the three of us waited with all the apprehension of naked savages standing firm on a beach as the billowing sails of an alien frigate sailed ever closer. Each of us was wrapped up tightly in our own private thoughts as the bus ground to a halt. As the noisy engine cut I sighed, certain in the knowledge that none of our lives would ever be the same again. The first to alight was John Smith and his wife, casually dressed in shorts and loose fitting shirts. “I see the tables are turned, Mr Andrews. Today I have the benefit of clothing” he said with a broad grin as he shook my hand, “Well I have to take my hat off to you, I never thought you would land a place like this for a nude wedding” I returned his smile “Oh it wasn’t easy, Mr Smith, the changing rooms are through there, unless you are with the textiles” “Never, Mr Andrews, never ever” The textiles were easy to spot; they were dressed for a wedding. The nudists were attired for the beach, and disappeared inside to remove the little clothing they were wearing. Kathy corralled the non nudes into a small area where tables had been set out in the shade. Temi, who was clearly an exhibitionist at heart, served them soft drinks, while I addressed them on the thorny problem of photographs. “Ladies and gentlemen” I said trying to be formal in spite my lack of clothing which clearly hampered any attempt to command authority, “The bride and groom have requested no photographs and because of this asked all guests to leave their cameras at home. They are however very aware that most mobile phones have an in built camera. As we have no network coverage here Greta and Bob would ask you consider locking your phone and other valuables away in the lockers provided in the gym changing facilities.” “Er, would we bump into the nudists” This came from a short girl wearing a blushing pink dress the shone like a beacon in the midsummer sun. I reflected upon the sad fact that, while some people are just born idiots, others acquire idiocy during their lifetimes and some have it thrust upon them. For her it was all three. Was I not standing in front of her in my birthday suit? Did she think there would be a screen between her and, what she would soon find out, the immoral majority for the whole of the day? “The nudists are using the main changing rooms, but the small mother and baby facilities have been kept free for this purpose” I replied evenly “Oh good” she said oblivious to the irony of her position, “I don’t want to bump into ….oh” She just had, in the considerable form of John Smith. “Oh my” she continued as she caught sight of his most prominent feature. The oh mys continued for sometime as the nudists began to pour from the shady hall into the sunshine. “Excuse me.” A warm contralto voice from an elegantly dressed woman. She was in her late twenties and was accompanied by an equally well turned out man who may have been her husband, or then again may have been her father. I suspected the former, given the position of his hand on her thigh. His eyes however were ploughing through the sea of bouncing flesh. “Yes Madam” I replied with all the dignity I could muster considering my position. “Is it too late to undress” Her husband’s attention snapped back faster than a mantis’ forelegs. “Only it is so hot today, and I just can’t bear to wear a thing” She smiled at her husband who looked uneasy and pale on the horns of a dilemma. “Of course not madam, we still have ten minutes or so before we need to enter the church, my colleague will show you the way” I gestured to Carol who smiled generously and held her arm out towards the hall entrance. The dithering spouse’s decision was made for him, “Come on darling, I’m sure you are dying in that stuffy suit” As he meekly rose another voice called out “Hold on a minute, can I join you” This I knew was one of Greta’s friends from college, a diminutive blond with a vivacious personality, “My boyfriend has done nothing but stare at that waitress’ bare arse since we got here” she called out very loudly, “so I think I’ll give him something else to look at” This brought raucous laughter from a podgy lad who had been sitting next to her as he pointed mockingly at a tall gangly young man in an ill fitting suit. The laughter died on his lips as his girlfriend got up to join her friend. “What are we going to do now Gary?” he asked. But Gary was lost for words. He was still dumb five minutes later when the two girls returned to their seats wearing nothing but triumphant smiles. “Well” they challenged to their mute fully decked boyfriends, but it was too late. The bride was ready and it was time to enter the chapel. I watched as their grey suits shuffled uncomfortably besides the birthday suits filing through the shadowy portal. With all the guests safely inside the chapel I was left with about twenty minutes to check everything was ready for the rest of the function. As if by magic Kathy appeared by my side, her rump still vibrating from the rapidity of her approach, “We’ve got company” she told me, gesturing towards an ornate, ivy covered tower that clung to on the West wing of Coddlestone Hall. “Giles?” I asked. She shook her head vigorously, setting up aftershocks in her breasts “Two of Temi’s watchers spotted a group of local lads heading across the fields. “Ah…..and” ”They sent out a group of heavies on mountain bikes” “Did that shoo them away” “Most of them except a couple of rowdy farmhands.” she sighed before continuing, “It just made them more persistent” ”Oh” I replied non-committally, I knew there was more, but it was a matter of waiting for Kathy. She always liked to spin things out. “So they captured them and brought them in” I swore quietly to my self. This is the last thing we wanted, the police snooping around “where are they know” “Tied up in the cellar” I had been wrong, a visit from Her Majesty’s finest would have been a pleasure compared to this. “Temi’s talking to them. Do you want to see?” I’d rather eat pencil lead, “Lead me to them” I was in a scene from a Famous Five novel. The two boys were tied to chairs with tape across their mouths. They had their backs to the door so they could not see us, not that they would remember our faces anyway. Temi stood before them, striding from one side of the room to the other wearing the type of theatrical mask used in Greek tragedies; and nothing else. “My name is Artemis” she told them haughtily, “I have had men torn to pieces by dogs for glimpsing me naked” One of the scruffily clad youths shivered in his chair. Artemis’ mask was inscrutable, “you will attend me at the feast tonight” she informed them “where I shall have my pleasure with you” They both winced. “Keep them here” she ordered her equally naked acolytes and swept out like the goddess she was attempting emulate. “I’ve a feeling those two are going to have a night they will never forget” I told Kathy “This” she replied sternly “is a day that none of us will ever forget” “Or regret?” She slapped her bare buttocks setting ripples in her flesh. The sharp sound echoed in the room “We’ll see” She glanced at her watch, part of the three piece outfit she had chosen for this auspicious occasion. The other two parts were open toed sandals. By the time we had climbed the ancient stone stairs the wedding was nearly finished. Kathy and I took up our places by the chapel door to await the exit of the happy couple. At the muffled sound of the wedding march we pulled open the heavy double oak doors and the organ recital swept out followed by a blast of hot air that would have melted lead. Bob and Greta were beaming from ear to ear as they led the exit from the sweltering chapel. They were followed by their smiling parents and a highly amused Laura arm in arm with Bob’s best man. He had the look of a man who had just had a nasty accident in the trousers he unfortunately was not wearing. I had a sneaky feeling of what might be the problem. Unfortunately the matron of honour had carefully positioned her bouquet to prevent me confirming my suspicions. The remainder of the wedding guests gradually filtered out. “Ladies and gentlemen” Katy announced, “Drinks will be served on the terrace while the bride and groom have photographs taken. May I remind you that only the official photographer will take pictures.” “Excuse me” one of the guests asked quietly. I looked at him, he was the young man whose partner had pulled a fast strip on him just before the wedding ceremony. He was clearly hot, and very bothered. In direct opposition his girlfriend standing next to him looked as cool as a cucumber. Perhaps the lack of clothes made all the difference. “I wonder if it were possible to get into the changing rooms” “I am afraid they are locked sir” His equally sweaty friend with an equally naked girlfriend took up the baton. “It won’t take long, we just need to undress” His girlfriend started to titter at the two nervous young men fully dressed in their stuffy morning suits. “Ah I see” I said with as much dignity as I could gather considering I was attired in my birthday suit. “This way gentlemen” As I led them towards the changing room I came upon Temi bearing a large tray of drinks, her breasts swaying pendulously above the sparkling wine. “Drink gentlemen?” she asked with a lascivious smile. They grabbed a glass each and, without pausing for breath, or removing their eyes from Temi’s large circular nipples, they downed their glasses in a single gulp. Watching them gulp down the Dutch courage reminded me of something. “Ah, Temi, the best man needs a beer, immediately” “What brand?” She asked, totally ignoring my two companions who where staring at her, eyes bouncing from breasts to vagina and back again like demented frogs trying to decide which fly to eat first. “Cold” I replied. She smirked. “I understand, Pete, leave it to me” I wasn’t too sure what she meant by that, I just hoped she would be discreet. “Would you like me to take your empty glasses?” she asked the gangly youths. I sighed as she shaw-shayed along the corridor, her large firm rounded buttocks rising and falling to her own particular drum beat. The two wedding guests could not have been more captivated had they met the Ancient Mariner “This way if you still wish to disrobe gentlemen” I reminded them as I unlocked the door the led to a very different way of life. They didn’t take long and were soon back again looking more than ridiculous in their shiny black shoes and cotton socks. I smiled as I watched their pale hairy bums waddle towards their naked girlfriends who stood laughing at the end of the corridor. It was an unfair advantage I mused, all women’s footwear looked good on them if they were nude or not and the high heels adorning those two young women emphasised their long legs and pushed their hairy pelvises seductively forward to emphasise their femininity and fecundity. I locked the changing room doors and made my way to the old entrance hall with its black and white tiled floor and alabaster statues that stood solemn guard over the sweeping oak staircase that led upwards to Giles’ silent lair. He was nowhere to be seen but his ancestors were all around, staring sternly down from the expensively papered walls. I was willing bet my fee that over the long years hanging on the pale alabaster walls they had never seen a sight such as this. Which led me to wonder about Giles, would he be able to resist a peek. He’d promised to turn off the cctv, but in his position would have I? All the same I would have liked to be in his shoes, rather than mine as I was damn sure they weren’t the only thing he was wearing. Satisfied all was in order in the hall I ventured out into the scorching heat of the afternoon. Greta and Bob were standing together on the terrace with a background to die for. The parched lawns lead the eye onwards to the shimmering woods and the hazy blue Malvern Hills on the distant horizon. Thunder was growing in the sky, dark clouds were boiling over the hilltops and rolling down the slopes towards us. The sun still shone on Greta and Bob as the photographer made haste to catch the light before the clouds burst. “The bride, groom and immediate family, please” called the photographer. Max and Sally strode confidently forward along with Greta’s grandmother, the matriarch of the clan and by popular renown a famous figure in the nudist movement, or naturist fraternity as she liked to call it. “Come on Laura” she commanded. Reluctantly her granddaughter stepped forward. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why Greta had wanted her sister to be in the nude. Every bride took more care choosing her bridesmaid’s dress then her own. The first, and only rule in their mind, was that nobody must upstage them. Unclothed Greta’s sister would upstage anyone. While Temi considered herself a goddess Laura actually was one. She had the body of Aphrodite lurking beneath her frumpy clothes. When you met the sisters dressed it was Greta who caught the eye, as she had all the packaging but Laura had the goods, and everybody seemed to know it but her. I watched the men in the crowd shuffle their feet to get the best view as Laura edged nervously into position next to her sister. One man was hiding his interest behind his girlfriend who had made up for her lack of clothing by immaculately coiffing her blonde hair into an elaborate tower held in place by a large tiara. “You can stop that now, Johnny Beavis” she told him angrily swiping blindly behind her bare behind and connecting with his own jewellery. There was on oomph as he bent over double. “Now look what you’ve done” she complained fiddling with her head dress. I turned away trying to contain my mirth. “How are we doing, Shane” I asked a burly, naked member of the local rugby team “All clear, Pete” he told me, “no fiddling in pockets or handbags” He nodded towards a small group of clothed people watching the proceedings with all the silence and incomprehension of a crowd of opera lovers at a punk rock concert. “Keep a close watch” I told him, “we don’t want to be porn stars” “Already am” he replied cheerfully. What else would you expect from a member of the chariot club? The first clap of thunder rolled around the terrace. I turned to face the storm, it was an awesome sight with towering clouds the colour of an old bruise that glowered angrily at me over the park land. Dark curtains of rain fell on the distant parched meadows. The light on the terrace was blinding, illuminating the bare bodies of the wedding party who were being moved around by the feverish photographer in desperation to finish his work before the deluge. “For God’s sake Pete, what are you playing at? We need to get these people inside now” I looked at Kathy. She looked back. “We’ll be hit by lightning, can’t feel the electricity in the air” “Well it’s a little close, but we have a while yet” “No we don’t look” she pointed downwards; my eyes accepted the invitation and moved to inspect her vagina, “my pubes are standing on end” I had to admit they certainly seemed perky, but then I wasn’t that great an expert of Kathy’s private parts. Ever since that close encounter in my office they had remained strictly off limits. “And it’s not just mine either” she told me. My gaze shifted to my own groin. She was right, all the little short and curly ones were puffed up. I was pleased to see that was all that was standing upright. “Why are you two staring at each other’s pubes” asked Carol who appeared without warning beside us. “If you had any then you’d know” Kathy told her. “Know what?” she said absentmindedly stroking her hairless labia. “The storm is upon us” Kathy said dramatically. “Mm” replied Carol, “I’ll start getting everyone inside” I watched her smooth, pale toned backside move through the crowds. “I’ll go and check the room is ready for the reception, you go tell Emma we are coming in now” Kathy told me as the naked and the clothed streamed past us two by two, fleeing the coming deluge. I could see Carol’s bare arms gesticulating at the bare camera man who was going for the money shot, Greta and all her family framed in sunlight with a boiling black sky for a backdrop. There was only one guest left to witness what could be the final act of our first and last naked wedding if we didn’t get off this exposed terrace very soon. “Hurry Miss” I shouted at the short dumpy, large breasted blonde who was too busy fiddling with her elaborate beehive hairdo. She turned and smiled, being young her plump curves were still rigid. That wouldn’t last, so I enjoyed them while I could. “The rain will ruin your hair” I shouted as an encouragement. She continued to try to hold it all in place as she waddled towards me, her huge breasts slapping into her chest like protectors hanging over the side of a boat. A sudden burst of hail spattered the old cobbles, rattling like old bones. The blonde let out a squeal as a large cold reminder slapped her ample left buttock with a dull thud. She surged past me and was gone, to be replaced by a hurrying wedding party followed closely by photographer and a very relieved Carol. “Being naked in a thunderstorm is no picnic” she complained, “that stuff stung” We stood and marvelled at the power of the storm in silence as it rushed across the grounds, sweeping away the warm humid air that had hung dolorously over the terrace. “Excuse me” The dumpy blonde was back. The storm had ruined her elaborate hairstyle which was reduced to a ponytail now. “Can I help you?” replied Carol. “Er yes, I got hit by a hailstone, I wonder if you can see if it has left a mark?” “Certainly, where were you hit?” She dropped her voice to a whisper, “on the bum” Carol went around the back of her and looked down. “There’s a bit of a mark but you’ll be fine later on” She smiled and waddled off, sporting a large red welt on her copious rump as reminder of the wrath of nature. We left the outside to the storm and re-entered the hall which was packed with, mostly bare, wedding guests clutching their drinks. Being naked I passed through the throng largely unnoticed, not something you say everyday! I was heading for the function room where Kathy was placing disposable paper covers over Giles’ imitation antique chairs to protect the plush red velvet covers from the uncovered rears of the majority of the wedding guests. I had nearly reached my objective when I was hailed by a fairly large contingent of the clothed minority. “Mr Andrews” I stopped hesitantly as I was acutely aware of my nudity amongst the smartly attired group. “Can I help you?” I enquired smoothly, hoping I could not. They were all young, probably school or college friends of the newly married naked couple. “Yes you can” a tall, strident blonde with a long angular face, said in a very authoritative tone. “We would like to be let into the changing rooms.” I looked enquiringly at her “I think you can guess why” she told me “Ah, yes, of course madam, this way” I replied a little hesitantly. I am not normally so flustered, but being the only one naked in that small corner of the entrance had got to me. Surrounded by darks suits and brightly coloured dresses, it was small comfort to me that I wouldn’t be the only nude on the way back. I opened the door and led the way into the larger of the rooms, with its white tiles and grey metal lockers. The girls tripped in first, their high heels clattering on the hard floor like an old train rattling into a tunnel. The tall blonde turned and held her thin arm across the door, firmly barring the young men behind her. “You wait there Tom” she told an equally long and thin man wagging a long finger in the first eager man’s face, “and the rest of you too, it isn’t a strip show you know” I couldn’t quite see the logic in that, as they clearly intended to walk out of the room in nothing but their high heeled shoes and expensive jewellery. “I’ll call one of my female colleagues to wait for you” I said and made to leave. “oh that’s alright,” a short girl with short black hair and a round pretty face told me, “it’s not as if you have any clothes on anyway” she continued as she stepped out of a tiny pink dress to reveal a matching g string and the most perfectly shaped pair of pert breasts. I didn’t need her to remove the rest of her underwear to prove to me that she had a hairless vagina, but she did anyway. “We’ve decided to go first to prevent any unwanted reactions” the blonde leader told me as she peeled off her long fuchsia dress. “Not like the best man” said a dumpy girl as she removed an industrial sized reinforced bra allowing the biggest pair of breasts I have ever seen to swing free. “At least he proved he was the best man” replied another girl with bullet shaped nipples sticking manfully out from breasts that could only be described as undulations. She looked down and picked critically at a few stray hairs that forced their way past the elastic of her sheer white panties. “If I’d know we were going to do this I’d have had a trim” she said miserably. “Oh cheer up, Imogen, nobody’s going to notice a few pokies if you haven’t got any knickers on” replied the dumpy girl. This silenced the whole crowd as it began to sink in they would be spending the next few hours completely naked. “At least your collars and cuffs match Immi” said the tall blonde, who was so thin her bones were almost visible beneath her pale skin. I could count every rib as she bent over to remove her diaphanous white lace knickers. Imogen sighed as she carefully hung up her gold lame party dress. “That cost me a fortune” she complained with a grim air of one who has surrendered to her fate. “It wasn’t working Imogen” her friend told her forcefully, “Adam hasn’t paid you the slightest attention all day” Imogen removed her knickers and idly ran her fingers though her pubic hair. “Perhaps my new dress will change his mind” she said thoughtfully. There was a loud crack as she slapped both hands on her firm thighs. “Ready Amanda” “Ever ready Immie, let’s go and blow their socks off” Amanda, who was clearly the leader of the little band stood on a changing bench, scrawny bare buttocks taut as tent in a hurricane as she addressed her troops. “Are you ready team?” They whooped like dervishes. She waited for silence. “We’ve been here before, remember the time we streaked the rugby pitch.” Muffled titters, “Don’t you laugh Melanie Milford, you’d never have pulled Brent if he hadn’t seen all of your womanly virtues” A plain girl with mousy hair and a killer body blushed red all down her ample chest as the captain of Greta’s old hockey team continued. “And let’s not forget the Belgium tour” They squealed in reflection of whatever they had done. “We made those old men’s final years very, very happy” Amanda confirmed with a knowing grin. “It’s all very well or her to go on” complained a short dark haired girl with conical breasts topped with perfectly smooth pink nipples, “my parents are out there” “Too late now, Jen” replied the red head next to her. Undaunted by this exchange Amanda continued with her pep talk. “Well let me tell you ladies, that was nothing; for I am fully confident that we are now entering a new galaxy and the next few hours will be St Jude’s hockey team’s finest hour.” And with that stirring, if slightly irrational, speech Amanda led the nudes of St Jude’s out of the changing room door where the ever thoughtful Temi stood with a tray loaded with flutes of champagne. I watched as Amanda rubbed her bony naked body against her boyfriend. “Don’t be toooo long lover boy” she told him huskily. “There’s cold showers in there if you need them” she told him to the obvious mirth of her girlfriends. They all stood motionless as the hockey team with the finest kit in the whole wide world pored passed them down the corridor. There they stood, ossified like the statues on the shore of Easter Island until the last rounded rear disappeared beyond the horizon of the far door. “Dunno about you chaps” said Tom with an evil grin on his face, “but I’ve just lost my nerve” Smiles spread like the peanut butter on a small child’s sandwich, and with a swagger they all strolled off to enjoy the best wedding breakfast of their lives. My only regret was my inability to join them. I had no idea how those young men would square their perfidy with their girlfriends who seemed a formidable bunch to me, and quite capable of exacting an agonisingly embarrassing revenge. For no reason I could think an image of my wife popped into my head, so I trooped off to the kitchens to check on her progress The kitchens were abuzz as Emma and her fleet of naked waitresses began the onerous task of feeding the wedding guests. They sailed out with the first course on silver platters; their only uniform a small white hat and a pair of sensible shoes. I watched their bottoms swaying in perfect rhythm as they clattered down the musty passageway I shot an enquiring look at Emma. She gave me the thumbs up and then told me to get out of her kitchen. I left the naked chef to it and ambled off towards the cellar steps. Time to check up on our uninvited guests. I opened the heavy oak door a crack, to make sure they were still facing away from me. I had no intention of one of them seeing my face. Neither had the Chariot club and the well upholstered young lady and the two burly guards who were watching over the two captives. The boys were wearing improvised masks made from black hats which covered all of the face with just two holes to see through. The girl had clearly come prepared and sported an elaborate black velvet mask that covered half of her face. Not that her captives were looking at her eyes. There were two plates of food on the table in front of them piled with Emma’s finest. “Now then boys, are you hungry?” the naked dumpling asked. One was too terrified to speak and just nodded. The other had more spunk in him “Untie me and I’ll show you how hungry I am” he told her suggestively. For this he was rewarded with one of her long stiletto heels on his foot, this elicited a long anguished howl. “Down soldier” she told him. “We’ll see what you’re made of later, but first you need feeding up. Now open wide!” Bending towards him her large breasts hung before his astonished eyes as she pushed the food down his gaping mouth with a silver spoon. This was promptly spat back at her. She tutted and wiped the food from her ample bare flesh, seductively licking her fingers one at a time. One of the farmhands groaned. “Do you want me to punish you again?” she told him raking her long red fingernails along his cheek. “No” came the hoarse reply “Good boy, now open wide for mummy” She leant forward again, pendulous breasts hanging from her chest. “She’s the best dominatrix in the group” whispered Temi who had crept up behind me in silence. “Look at the boys standing to attention” I switched my gaze to the naked guards making no attempt to hide their rampant interest. “Er, yes” was all I could find to say” “We’re going to have such a blast tonight” Temi told me. I was out of my well out depth and I knew it, the best I could do was to leave them to it and hope for the best. I struck out for the shore. At the top of the stairs I met Kathy who was coming down from Giles’ private apartment. “Where have you been” I asked. “I could ay the same to you” she replied tartly. “I’ve been checking our uninvited guests” I told her. “I think it best we let Temi sort that out” she replied quickly. “So where have you been?” I asked, not letting her get out of it. “Well if you must know I’ve been having tea with Giles” she told me. “Dressed like that!” I exclaimed. “No not dressed like this” she replied. I breathed a sigh of relief as I didn’t trust that aristocratic anachronism as far as I could throw him. “Because technically I am not dressed” she continued smugly. I pressed my hand to my eyes, this was becoming a trying quarter of an hour. “And Giles?” I enquired finally desperate for some good news. “He was as happy as a toddler at the seaside” “Yes but was he dressed as one” She smiled sweetly, “Don’t worry Peter”, she touched my arm consolingly as I feared the worst, “He was firmly buttoned up in his upper class best. I’d rather be nude alone than have him join me. What if he had shown an interest? How embarrassing would that have been!” “Kathy, you have just sat and had tea stark naked with one of our suppliers, can it get more uncomfortable than that” “Oh believe me Peter it can,” I understood. The thought of Giles’ little appendage taking in the fresh air popped into mind. She shivered at the image, “I got off lightly” A quick change of subject was called for. “How’s it going in there?” “I’m just going to check. Coming?” She nodded and we both headed toward the double doors that led towards the ancient ballroom.