There it was. At last! And what a journey to get there. Why on earth had that stupid woman booked me in this place. 'That stupid woman' being Mrs Treadworthy the redoubtable travel administrator for the ridiculous company I worked for. Mrs Treadworthy had the responsibility for finding suitable accommodation for the middle management when they were out on their travels.
For 'suitable' read 'cheap'. She delighted in finding the cheapest place to stay. She didn't of course take into consideration simple things like how near they were to the railway station. It had taken two bus rides and a mile walk to get to this place. In the steadily increasing drizzle.
'Why didn't you take a taxi' I hear you say. You obviously work for a different sort of company to me, and I wasn't going to fork out twenty quid for a taxi out of my own pocket. It was a matter of principle.
Anyway I was there now. 'As Nature Intended' - what a name for a guest house. Probably run by some sandal wearing hippy types. Trust stupid Treadworthy to have found this place. Presumably it was the cheapest.
I put my finger out to ring the bell when suddenly the door opened. Things were looking up! The girl opening the door was... Well cheekily sexy is I suppose the best way to describe her. Small, dark, slim with a sort of mischievous impish grin.
"Hi," she said, smiling broadly, "Welcome to 'As Nature Intended'."
"Hi," I answered rather nervously. I wish I didn't, but I always get nervous confronted by cheeky girls.
"Er.. I'm Mr......, er... booking for one night. From Garden Gnomes Ltd."
"Garden Gnomes!" she said trying to suppress a laugh. That's the usual response, but as long as someone wants to buy them, someone's got to make them!
With a supreme effort she suppressed her mirth, "Come on in," she said, "I'm Anita. This is my mother's guest house. She's away for the night and left me in charge. I'll show you to your room."
She turned round, and I had a view of a nicely shaped bum under her short tight skirt as she preceded me up the stairs.
"And what brings you to 'As Nature Intended'?" she asked as we reached the door to my room.
"I always try to find a place like this," I answered somewhat disingenuously, well she had a nice bum and I didn't like to admit that I'd been cursing the awful Treadworthy for sending me there.
"You like it then?"
"It's a very nice bottom... Er... No... I mean... I didn't mean your bottom I mean... Oh dear..."
Oh no! I'd meant to say bedroom, but my mind was still fixated on her bottom.
"What... You mean I haven't got a nice bottom?"
"No.. I mean yes.. I mean it's a very nice bottom but..."
"But what?"
"I mean I always come to er... Places like this..."
"You mean where the girls have nice bottoms?"
"No, I mean..."
"Oh I see," she answered, "a committed naturist eh?"
"Absolutely," I replied. If she wanted me to be keen on nature, who was I to object!
"See you at dinner," she said, "seven thirty sharp and strict dress code, or not, as it were," she added as she closed the door behind her.
Strict dress code or not? What on earth was that? I idly picked up a photocopied clipping from a local newspaper which had been left on the bedside table and my mouth fell open.
'Where guests go nude', it read, 'As Nature Intended is Britain's first naturist guest house. From seven in the evening to ten in the morning guests are in the buff....'
I looked at the Guest House brochure. There it was complete with discreet photos - Naked as Nature Intended. The country's first and best naturist guest house. I gulped.
Oh My God! What had the wretched Treadworthy done, and more to the point, what on earth was I going to do now! I couldn't stay in a nudist guest house, I mean I couldn't! Could I?
But what else could I do? Apart from having to trudge all the way back into town and then look for somewhere else, there was the embarrassment of going to tell Anita there'd been a mistake. I looked at the clock. It was past seven already.
I read the brochure some more.
'Welcome to As Nature Intended. The country's only Nudist Guest House. There is only one house rule here. Between seven in the evening and ten in the morning all guests must be completely nude in all the public area of the guest house. Dinner is served at seven-thirty, breakfast at eight. So yes nude for dinner and nude for breakfast. Any guest found breaking these rules will be asked to leave immediately..."
I looked out the window. A cold wet rain was pouring down. I couldn't risk being thrown out now!
My God, I was going to have to go down to dinner in the nude. Anita would see me in the nude. It was too embarrassing for words. What on earth was I going to do!
I sat and thought, lost in indecisiveness, and the longer I thought the harder it became to escape. Slowly the realisation came to me. I was going to have to go through with it. I was going to have to go down to dinner in the nude.
I looked at the clock. Seven twenty. Ten minutes and I'd have to be down there naked. I stood paralysed with doubt as the minutes ticked by, then suddenly. Bang. Bang bang! I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was the dinner gong. I was going to have to go through with it. I tore my clothes off, dashed to the door and out on to the stairs. There I stopped. I could hear voices in the dining room. There were more guests. Somehow I had only thought of Anita. I swallowed hard and crept down the stairs. My heart was thumping wildly. How had I got into this mess. Why hadn't I just walked out when I first realised what had happened? I had reached the bottom of the stairs. The dining room was just the other side of the door. They were girls voices and they sounded louder than ever. I turned and ran back to my room.
"Come on," I said to myself, "you've got to do it. Get a grip," if you don't go she'll come looking for you."
My heart was thumping ten to the dozen I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't going to cut an impressive figure. I was blushing beetroot red, I was covered in goose bumps, my willy was dangling pathetically and my balls (pardon my French) were as tight as a Scotsman's wallet. Sure signs of crippling embarrassment and nerves.
What are you so embarrassed about, I tried to convince myself. Everybody will be the same. It will be quite natural. Get a grip on yourself.
There was only one thing for it. No creeping about. Go out. March down the stairs. Open the door and walk straight in. No need to be embarrassed. Everyone will be the same. Don't try and hide anything. Just walk straight in. On the count of ten. I counted down... Ten, nine, eight... Three..two..one...
And off I set. Straight along the corridor, down the stairs. Don't stop to think about the voices. Across the hall. Grab the dining room door handle and march straight in...
*****
April the first. The day for practical jokes and I love practical jokes. You know the secret of pulling off a good practical joke is in the planning. Indeed half the fun is in the planning. Making sure that every little detail is right. Making sure that the embarrassment of the victim is maximised because they don't suspect a thing until the trap is sprung.
Oh yes. I love practical jokes. And maximising the embarrassment of the victim is always the aim.
The idea had come to me as soon as I knew my mother was leaving me in charge of our little guest house called 'As Nature Intended'.
"You're eighteen now," she'd said, "you can jolly well do some work for a change. And none of your tricks or you're not too old to get your bottom smacked!"
It was a favourite phrase of my mother's. You might wonder why mother was leaving an eighteen year old girl in charge of her guest house. Well she had an invite to spend the evening with her gentleman friend. If she came back with no knickers on she'd be in a good mood, if he hadn't got them off it would be a smacked bottom for somebody I was sure of that!
The phrase 'Naked as Nature Intended' will probably come to your mind, and it certainly came to mine if not to my mother's! I suddenly thought, wouldn't it be funny if I could persuade an unsuspecting guest that he had come to a naturist hotel by mistake. After all practical jokes involving nudity are always the best. It had to be a 'he' of course I wouldn't play such a mean trick on a girl! And the wonderful thing was, all the other guests were girls from the college girls netball club.
But everything had to be right. Everything had to be convincing. It took a little time to mock up the newspaper cutting on the computer and to produce a little hotel brochure by a slight manipulation of the real one.
Then it was just a question of waiting for the victim. The woman on the telephone making the booking had described him in some detail. He was the perfect victim!
And there he was, perfect, slim, good looking and rather nervous. Totally gullible. Just the sort to be taken in completely. It was so was simple. Waggle my bum at him to get him flustered. Give him a little comment about a naturist hotel as a convincer, sit back and wait for the fun! Yes simple. Cruel but simple. But that's what practical jokes are all about. Maximising the humiliation of the victim.
*******
I looked round the room horror struck. About eight girls were congregated in the dining room waiting for dinner. They were all normally dressed.
I'd walked into a room of normally dressed girls and I was completely in the nude. What was happening. Why weren't they all naked. Had I not read the brochure correctly?
"But... But.." I stammered.
I stood paralysed with embarrassment and looked wildly round for Anita.
She was standing behind me with her back to the door, looking as cheeky as ever with a big grin on her face.
"April fool!" she said.
***************
I could hardly wait at dinner. Would he fall for it? All the girls were down for dinner and he hadn't arrived. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and then retreat. It was so disappointing. He was going to back out.
Then suddenly more footsteps, the door sprang open and there he was.
There are some occasions when everything in a practical joke works to absolute perfection. When the embarrassment of the victim is so total it's almost a work of art.
