The moral right of the author has been asserted. © "neonlyte"
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I suppose my ambition ever since school days was to see my teacher, Miss Peters, Miss Julia Peters, nude. As young schoolboys, we all had a crush on Miss Peters; she habitually wore short dresses and temptingly sat on the front edge of her desk, long tanned legs crossed. She thought we were hanging on her every word, in truth, we were just trying get a glimpse of her knickers as she crossed and uncrossed her legs rewarded with the occasional flash of white and the very rare glimpse of black. Tommy swore he saw blue ones one time, he was prone to bragging, none of us believed him.
I blame Miss Peters for my onset of voyeurism, I spent many years trying to catch girls flashing their knickers or undressing. All good things come to an end and mine came when I was caught peeping through a hole into the girls changing room, I was getting an eyeful of Vicky stripping off when the school caretaker caught me, viciously twisting my ear as he marched me off to the Headmistresses Office. She suspended me. Personally, I wouldn't have minded bending over and receiving my punishment, Mrs Saunders was quite sexy, for an older woman, no way in Miss Peter's league but I'm sure a few whacks would have given me a stiffy.
For a few long weeks, our small town was famous for two things, me - the peeping tom -and the annual Pageant. Word spread like wild fire about me and the peeping hole, none of the girls would talk to me, I became ostracised by virtually everyone in the town and moved away just as soon as I could.
Our town on the Welsh borders had a great community spirit bonded by a tradition passed down from before the Middle Ages; the bi-annual pageant, resurrected in an upsweep of all things Celtic by my Mother and ably assisted by the sensual Miss Peters, commemorated the slaughter of twelve hundred monks from the monastery at nearby Bangor-in-Coed, in the opinion of Æthelfrith, King of Northumbria, they were supporting the wrong side. Over the last two decades, the Pageant had become an almost national event covered by media and bringing numerous tourists to view the procession and visit the ruins of the monastery. Mum, by the time I left school, had effectively handed the organisation over to Miss Peters and was complaining to me during our weekly telephone conversation about how the cost of staging the Pageant had spiralled out of control; I was only half listening, my eyes caught by a small item in the newspaper, National Nude Day had taken place yesterday. Mum was saying how she didn't know how Miss Peters would raise the money to stage the next Pageant.
It is funny how ideas creep up on you. I didn't link the two events immediately, but something lodged in my brain and fermented slowly until one night I woke in the dark suddenly completely aware of how I would get to see Miss Peters in the nude; and not just her, but every snotty girl who called me a pervert and shunned me after the peeping episode.
I work as a photographer's assistant; well what did you expect, this way I get to see more nudes and believe me, I have seen a few. Life is grand, though I hanker to see Miss Peters in the flesh and Vicky, and Katie, and that little blonde honey Susan Miles who married that prick Tommy – God alone knows what she saw in him; I had a strategy, I just had to play it out and hope I could pull it off.
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Some months later.
"Molly? It's Julia, Julia Peters."
"Hello Julia, how are you?"
"I'm fine. Look, I've received a strange letter, can I call round later, and I'd like to see what you make of it."
"Of course you can dear, I'll expect you after school."
Julia spent the day teaching with her mind dwelling on the letter she had received, she knew of Spencer Turnik, admired his work in a perverse sort of way. She saw nothing pornographic in the naked human body, in all its multitude of forms. In fact, the idea of staging the Pageant naked appealed to the sensual side of her nature and she felt a small tingle between her thighs she would have liked to attend to, had she not been facing a class. The promise of money would solve a multitude of problems and ensure the continuity of the Pageant proper for the next decade. The problem would be how to 'sell' the idea to the town.
She arrived at Molly's and walked around to the back where she knew she would find Molly in the garden.
"Hello Molly. The garden looks wonderful."
"Hello Julia dear. Yes, it's looking lovely at this time of the year." Molly straightened from where she was weeding a bed of border plants and stood to face Julia. She was wearing a bikini and, at what must be close to fifty years old, she looked very trim.
"Well, you look quite lovely yourself! Getting a top up on the sun tan?"
Julia's mind flashed an image of pulling Molly's bikini pants down and burying herself in her muff. She had kept her sexual inclinations well hidden and dated just enough men for the town not to suspect her true desires. Now past her mid-thirties she knew just what she would like to do with Molly, given the opportunity. She heard herself thinking 'If I can pull this off, I'll see just what Molly's hiding in there.'
Molly blushed, "Well, make the most of the sunshine, we get little enough. What do you want to talk about dear?"
"I received this letter this morning, the long and short of it is a famous photographer wants to pay us a large sum of money for the rights to photograph the Pageant."
"Oh Julia. I am so happy for you dear. That is just what you need. How much is he prepared to pay?"
"Twenty thousand pounds."
"My gosh. It is an awful lot of money; the Pageant will be solvent for years. Well done Julia, I'm so proud of you."
"I didn't do anything Molly, the letter arrived out of the blue; but there is a catch to it."
"Yes, well there was bound to be for that amount of money. What does he want you to do, dance naked for him?"
Julia laughed, "You don't know how close that is. He is Spencer Tunick, he specialises in photographing groups of nude people. He wants us to stage the Pageant with everyone naked."
"Oh my."
"Molly, he is a perfectly respectable photographer. Internationally famous, it wouldn't be sordid or rude. And the money, I don't need to tell you how important the money would be."
"I'm not sure my Robert will want his little dinkle on public view; though personally, I feel as if I have been training for this for years. It's like the calendar thing the Women's Institute did. How exciting."
You don't know just how exciting, Julia thought, there is many a woman in this town I would enjoy feasting my eyes upon, if I can only persuade them, it will keep me on a high for months.
"Mr Tunick is proposing we do this as a purely private event on National Nude Day, he say's that will make it easier for people to participate. What do you think Molly, should we arrange for the committee to meet?"
"Yes, we should certainly discuss the proposal, the money alone will get people thinking. What does he plan to do with the photographs?"
"He says the photographs will form part of an exhibition of his work to be shown in a gallery in the autumn. I have a whole list here of other projects, including one at the Saatchi Gallery opening in 2003. Here, he sent some photographs of other events, very tasteful, nothing improper."
Julia handed a sheath of photographs to Molly and watched her eyes crinkle with interest as she leafed through the glossy black and white pictures.
"Oh these are very nice Julia, he captures the shapes of bodies beautifully, very artistic."
Julia shrieked inwardly at Molly's ineptitude. These were not 'nice' or 'artistic', but sensual exotic images expressing the sinuous curves of buttocks and breasts, just a tuft of pubic hair or a smooth cleft curving inward, here and there a flaccid prick looking for all the world like a worm the Robin had pulled up, penises were lost on Julia who feasted on plumb breasts, puckered nipples and round arses. She actually wanted to get home and relieve some of the tension that had been building all day; pity Molly couldn't help her, though I can always hope, she thought.
"I don't think anyone could object really, it is an art project and as you say Molly, very tasteful." Just as I am sure you would be if you gave me half the chance, she told herself.
"It's a good job my Bobby isn't around, after the dreadful Peeping Tom business, we must make sure not a word of this leaks outside of the town. If Booby were to turn up, I would be mortified. I'll phone around the committee members dear, and arrange a meeting, we can hold it here."
"Thank you Molly, I knew you would see this idea for what it is."
"Oh believe me Julia, I'm really excited about this, it is a pity it is not National Nude Day today, we could practice, I'm at least halfway naked already."
Julia noted the twinkle in Molly's eyes and wondered if she was being teased or led-on suspecting Molly, with whom she had spent a very great deal of time, was aware of her proclivities. As much as she felt an urge to explore this possible invitation Julia wanted the nude Pageant more and chose discretion over desire knowing middle aged housewife Molly would be crucial in winning round the opinions of the townsfolk. If she wants to explore, there will be plenty of time, and excitement, later.
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