It was partly Kathy's wild streak that I fell in love with, but, as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. I wasn't careful; I married her. I thought I could ride that wild streak forever, and it would keep me young. Now, I'm wondering if I can survive.
Kathy was raised in Australia, where the taboo against nudity is not so strong. She was always comfortable with her body, and not much worried about who saw it. When we got married and came back to the U. S., that didn't change. She would wander around the house stark naked, which was interesting when deliverymen and repairmen came around.
I remember the first time it happened. We had just flown back from our honeymoon in Australia. We were moving into the house I had built for us. I think it was the second morning we'd been in the house. Kathy got up to make some coffee about 8:30. It was warm and Kathy got up the way she slept -- nude.
I had forgotten that I was having some plumbers complete work in the kitchen that morning. About 10 minutes later, when Kathy called me for coffee, I got up and put on some shorts and a T-shirt, and I saw the plans I had left on top of my dresser as a reminder to discuss them with the workmen that morning. I took the plans with me to the kitchen, so I would have them when the plumbers showed up.
I walked across a corner of the terrace to the kitchen, and immediately spotted Kathy sitting at the glass-top table just outside the sliding glass doors of the kitchen. There was toast and juice and coffee, and she was sipping her coffee and reading the paper. And, of course, she was still nude.
As I sat down, I started to remind her about the workmen who would be invading our kitchen at any moment, so she could go put something on. Then I glanced through the sliding doors and saw the workmen in the kitchen - three guys in blue shirts with the company logo and their names stitched on the pockets. They were working around the sink. The coffee machine sat on the counter, right next to the sink.
I tried to be cool. "When did the plumbers get here?" I asked casually.
"Oh, they got here just after I got up," Kathy said.
So, she spent 10 minutes in the kitchen putting our breakfast together, 10 minutes nude in the kitchen with three plumbers. And she was still giving them an eyeful, sitting there at the table with her legs up on a chair, reading the paper and sipping her coffee. From the frequent glances they cast her way, I could tell they appreciated the view. I couldn't help myself. It was too much.
"Maybe you should go put something on," I ventured dryly. "I think you're distracting the workmen."
"I don't know about that," she laughed. "We've got three guys in there hooking up a garbage disposal. I think we're getting very good service."
It was crazy. She just sat there and drank her coffee, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is. Maybe it's my old-fashioned inhibitions that are out of touch. It's hard to complain. For one thing, Kathy just laughs it off when I do. For another, whenever she gets to be naked in front of strangers, it never fails to get her hot, and when they're gone, she takes it out on me. I'm learning to live with it.
Our new house is built around a broad terrace and pool. Kathy loves it for sunning and swimming. She spends much of her time out there, and, since we're quite secluded, most of the time she's nude. Beyond the pool, there is a beautiful view of the Pacific, so most of the rooms look out to terrace, pool, and ocean.
One day, I arranged a meeting with some investors who I hoped to convince to back my new software venture. Since many of them were local, I invited them to the house for the meeting. As it turned out, an emergency came up and I had to go into the office that morning. I didn't see any problem, since I could easily get back in time to meet the investors for lunch as I'd planned. I'm pretty sure I told Kathy about the meeting, but maybe not. I was in a hurry when I left that morning.
The morning was hectic, getting things back on track at the office, and then picking up a prepared lunch for my guests. As it turned out, I got back to the house just as the first of my potential investors was driving up. His name was Arthur Hale of Hale Investments, a major player in high-tech venture capital. He brought an assistant, George, a young and brilliant MBA type, to run the numbers. While we stood talking on the front steps, the two other investors showed up -- Bill Winston, who I've done several other deals with, and Eliot Norton, a new guy representing some European money. Norton also had an assistant, who could have been George's twin brother.
I showed them into the library, where they could sit comfortably at the big conference table and hear my pitch. I told them to make themselves comfortable while I went to get lunch. It took a few minutes to get the food out of my car and arranged on a cart, which I was about to wheel in, when I remembered the condiments -- mustard, ketchup, pickles, etc. I went into the kitchen to get them and almost swallowed my tongue.
As soon as I walked into the kitchen, I saw Kathy outside on the terrace, stark naked. She was lying on top of a white towel she had spread on the lounge chair, with her legs spread open and the sun shining on her oiled and glistening pussy. I had a good view, but the angle of her chair would give an even better view to my guests in the library. I knew the sun was too strong for her to see anything in the relatively dim interior of the house. I stood there, watching her, wondering what to do.
Kathy had no such indecision. She knew exactly what to do. Her hands moved gently over her breasts and down to her pussy lips, where she toyed with the sweet pink folds for a few moments, then plunged a finger deep inside. Her back arched as her finger began rhythmically moving in and out. Soon another finger joined the first. She was rapidly building to a climax, when she pulled her fingers out and began to rub her clitoris as fast and as hard as she could. In a minute, she was writhing around on the chair in the throes of a massive orgasm.
I stood there with a hard-on in my pants and a jar of pickles in my hand. There was nothing I could do. I put the pickles on the cart and wheeled it into the library.
