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.