Unusually for late December, but fortunately for us, the weather the next day was mild and dry. Mike and I were up early, planning the day's photographic expedition, and putting together some documents to convince any nosy officials that it would be a waste of their time trying to stop us doing what we had every intention of doing – which was taking photographs of Amy naked in the middle of the City Plaza Christmas shopping frenzy.
"We might think we have the law on our side, but that isn't going to help us if the local police don't know that," said Mike sensibly. "It would be much easier if we get their cooperation up front rather than have to fight them off with lawyers later."
I had some of my press clippings and one of Greta's catalogs and some press clippings to prove I was a real artist, some pictures of Spencer Tunick's art installations, and a copy of the Supreme Court judgment in his favour spread out on the kitchen table. We figured that would be enough evidence to be convincing.
When Amy came down the hall looking for some breakfast, I had this weird sense of déjà vu as she went straight to the crisper drawer in the fridge. This time it was Mike's turn to look round and find himself staring at her bare ass for the first time. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what Mike was going to say next and that I could safely bet my left testicle on him saying those exact words. The moment I realized that, it simultaneously occurred to me that perhaps Amy was right, and Mike and I were more alike than I had ever imagined.
"Holy shit, Amy!"
Told you, I said to myself.
"Hey, Sam," said Amy, standing up with two carrots in her hand and shutting the fridge door with her ass, then leaning back against it with her feet a shoulder width apart. It looked like a natural and casual movement, but it also just happened to make sure that we could both see the full smooth and plump 'W" of her pussy lips at the top of her thighs. "Good morning, Mike."
"And good morning to you," said Mike, thoroughly enjoying what he she was presenting for him to look at, and making no attempt to hide his appreciation. "You weren't kidding about the dress rules around here, were you?"
"You're going to be taking lots of pictures of me later on today, so I think you should get used to looking at me naked."
"I think I'll need plenty of practice before I could ever get used to that," said Mike.
"I'll let you into a secret, son, you never get used to it," I said. "No matter how much practice you get."
"You're a smooth-talking pair of perverts, I'll give you that."
I knew Amy well enough to know that she was lapping up the extra attention her bare body was getting. She did her morning stretching-like-a-cat routine as she ground some coffee and fetched three cups and saucers from the cupboard and generally pottered about the kitchen. She did the same thing almost every morning and every morning I sat at the bench where today Mike was sitting watching her, so I knew it wasn't a special exhibition just for his benefit, but I always doubted that she would do quite the same thing if she was on her own without an audience of any kind.
The plan was that I should go early to the main police station at one end of City Plaza and explain to them politely that we were engaged in an art project that involved taking some photographs of a nude model in some of the shops and amongst the general public doing their Christmas Shopping along the pedestrian mall, so they would be co-operative and make sure we weren't harassed.
That was the plan.
"You must be frigging joking," said the solidly humourless police sergeant at the front desk.
"Sergeant, I'm quite serious. We are artists and we are within our rights to do this. I'm just telling you out of courtesy, so you will know about us if someone happens to complain."
"I don't care if we get a complaint or not. I'm warning you now, if your model strips off in my mall, I'll have her off the street and in here before you can say 'indecent exposure'."
"You can't do that."
"Watch me."
"I think I should talk to a more senior officer if you're going to deny us our rights."
As I watched the blood flood up from his neck into his face until it was livid all the way up to his forehead it occurred to me that my previous remark might have been a serious tactical error, but this somewhat overweight officer of the law brought himself under control and took a deep breath before he spoke carefully and with a semblance of calm.
"You can talk to the Commissioner of Police or the frigging pope for all I care. This is Christmas week, and one more wacko like you on my streets is all I'm looking for because I am in the mood to throw the book at someone. It might as well be you, pal. Go for it."
Reflecting on this conversation when I was standing back in the street outside the police station, I had to admit that it could have gone better. I left a copy of the documents on the counter for him, and I recommended that he read them before doing anything hasty, but after that I very quickly terminated our discussion before the whole of the rest of my day went pear-shaped and I found myself in the lock-up on general principle.
I was supposed make sure that Amy could strip in the plaza without getting arrested, then go home and pick up her and Mike so that we could go back into the city to take some photographs. Instead, by the time I got home I had made up my mind that getting Amy to walk around naked in City Plaza was not such a good idea after all. By then, I had something a little more ambitious in mind.
"Change of plan, guys," I said when I arrived home.
"it didn't go down too well at the police station, then," said Amy. "I thought it might be a mistake telling them first. Are we calling it off?"
"Not exactly. Do you still have that pleated skirt, and those amazing shoes?"
"Oh, goody. We're going to be really naughty."
"What are you two talking about?" asked Mike.
"Sam, do you want to tell him, or shall we let him find out?"
"Mike, I don't think this will involve you. Just Amy and me. And we don't need photographs."
Mike was disappointed at that, but still curious.
"I won't get in the way," he said. "Whatever it is you're planning, I could help you."
"I don't think you can, son. Not with what we have in mind. Thanks all the same." I was laughing at the idea of Mike not knowing what he was offering to help me with, but trying not to offend him by looking like I was laughing at him.
"Mike, can you use the video camera?" asked Amy. "Sam, you're right, there's not much point getting photographs, but a movie sequence could be something else entirely."
"Of course I can shoot video. You're looking at the Media Faculty's "Cinematographer of the Year", I'll have you know."
"Sam? What do you think?"
Amy was bright-eyed and excited at the idea of Mike filming us fucking in public. I didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm, but I was not so keen on the idea. I would have preferred almost anyone to be behind the video camera watching us rather than Mike. I was also concerned about not drawing attention to ourselves, and knowing a camera was watching our every move might make it difficult for Amy to be discreet about what we were doing. But I didn't say no straight away.
"What?" said Mike, looking at each of us in turn. "What?" His curiosity was killing him. Amy decided not to wait for me to respond to her, and she relieved his frustration.