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”