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.