Mr. Carruthers' Garden

Bryony knocked at the painted green door and waited for an answer. Mr. Carruthers had answered her advertisement for gardening services. Well actually a lot of people had answered her advertisement and it looked liked business would be good. She had come to have a look at his garden and see what he wanted her to do; she also wished to see whether she wanted to work at his garden; he had sounded nice on the phone but she also liked to give her customers the 'once over.' Bryony was twenty-two, a solidly built girl, particularly now she did a lot of digging and barrowing, dark haired with a round face and laughing eyes (as her friends said). She had always wanted to be a gardener, loved plants, their scents, colours, textures and uses. She was as happy as a sand boy digging, planting and weeding. She had been like that since she was a little girl, always with grubby knees and dirty clothes - the despair of her mother - but she had turned out well. She was happy and, now following college, likely to be successful in her chosen life.

She looked at the house surrounding the green painted front door. A wide red brick house with wooden sash windows. A large wisteria grew up and over the door; its mauve flowers set against the green leaves looked a picture. It needed some hard pruning thought Bryony but not at this time of year. Not much of a front garden. She turned to look at it. No real work required to look after what was little more than a strip - though she liked the cottage garden feel, particularly the tall hollyhocks. A little bit of rust here and there but that was to be expected and not a lot she could do about that without changing the varieties and...

"Miss Brackshaw?" A voice behind her disturbed her pleasant gardening thoughts.

"I...hallo yes, Mr. Carruthers? I was looking at your hollyhocks."

"Ah yes, lovely, they self seed, they have always been there."

Bryony sensed that meant a very long time. Mr. Carruthers himself was old, perhaps eighty Bryony judged but he could be more."

"Do come in."

It was cool inside. Standing on the doorstep in the full sun had been warm. Not that Bryony minded. She was content in all weathers, sun, rain, sleet or snow she would be outside.

"Come and see the garden."

The heat of the sun and the scent of the garden hit her in an almost physical way like walking into a wall. She stopped dead, her pulse rate rising and she breathed in deeply.

"I have always liked a perfumed garden," said her future employer after a moment and with a hint of a smile."

Bryony did not really hear him as she stared at the most wonderful garden. There was no question; she just had to work here. She had not appreciated, from her view of the front of the house, just what was behind it. The garden was enclosed covering a couple of acres or more and entirely walled to about eight foot high in old red bricks. It truly was a secret garden. Neatly gravelled paths radiated between neatly mown lawns from a central pond and disappeared behind hedges and shrubs. She walked towards the pond with its splashing fountain almost in a trance. The pond was circular, stone edged with water lilies and, in the cool water, golden orf darted this way and that in the sunshine.

"You like the garden?" said Mr. Carruthers following her down the path and leaning on his stick. The scent of the flowers seemed to grow stronger and the sun hotter.

"It's lovely," said Bryony, "I..."

Shall I let you wander and see - there's no one about? I'll be sitting over there when you've had a look." He walked back towards the house and sat down on an old wooden bench and watched Bryony.

Bryony wandered delighted, discovering fresh surprises at every turn. Plants, shrubs and trees she knew well and others she had not encountered before. Seats strategically positioned to catch a particular view. Statues peeping out from recesses in hedges or placed to terminate a vista. Stone statues, lead statues, some big, some small. All of naked or partially clothed figures both male and female, Bryony noticed the lack of clothing but that was not unusual for garden statues. Nothing tasteless. No little boys peeing into ponds or anything like that. In fact quite the opposite. Very good classical and other work indeed.

She made her way back across the garden to where the old man sat in his linen suit and straw hat. He watched her coming up the path and stood as she reached him. Bryony had not noticed the lemonade beside him but now he poured out two glasses.

"Wonderful weather. The garden is looking just perfect at present. I sit in it often, well most of the time and just look. I like to see the changes. I like simply to sit and watch the garden. This time of year the garden is perhaps at its best. The scents are so strong."

"I have never smelt so strong a scent on the air. I can't place it."

"Ah!" he said, getting up and walking stiffly across to a bush bursting with vivid orange coloured blossom. He picked a spray and brought it back. "This will be it."

Bryony put the spray to her nose and breathed deeply the heady scent. She felt a little lightheaded; it certainly had a strong and lovely scent.

"I..."

"Drink your lemonade, now tell me would you be interested in working here?"

"Oh yes, very much, it would be such a pleasure."

"Ah, yes such a pleasure. I am sure it will be. What are your terms of business?"

They discussed days and remuneration.

"So why did you decide to become a gardener?"

"I've always loved plants, small ones, big ones, trees, shrubs, perennials, annuals. Seeing tiny little seeds sprout and develop. I like to see things grow."

"Yes, the many wonders of nature," said Mr. Carruthers with a smile, "there will be plenty of opportunity for you to make things grow in this garden."

"Are there any specific tasks or things I need to know about?" Bryony put the spray to her nose and sniffed again. The heady feeling came again. "What is this?"

"I've never been quite sure. It just grows. I brought it back with me from a long way away. Now things you should know about? Well let me see, I suppose I'd better tell you this is a naturist garden."

"Seems more of a formal garden than a natural garden'" said Bryony a little puzzled, "I could certainly put in a natural area but that doesn't really seem the theme. Is there land beyond the wall that can be natural?"

"No, no what is walled is the entirety of the garden and no I didn't quite mean that. I said naturist. You see, normally people don't wear clothes in the garden."

"Oh, I...I see. It's certainly very hot for clothes today but..." Bryony thought. She did so very much want to work in this garden. " Presumably I don't have to take my clothes off?"

"Oh no, no of course not, unless of course, you wanted to. It's just that I, and my friends may not always be clothed and I didn't want you to be embarrassed or shocked or anything. I thought I should tell you. It's been my, well, my hobby since... a very long time anyway. I am sure it will not worry you at all."

The scent lingered in Bryony's nostrils. She could not see a problem and no she would not be embarrassed.

It was rather a different matter when Bryony arrived for her first day two days later. She was not so sure about this nudity thing and, whilst it was a lovely garden... still she had agreed to the job and if she didn't like it well she could give it up. She knocked at the green door. Mr. Carruthers, contrary to her concern, was there in his linen suit as before so that was all right. Bryony went out into the garden and set to work. It was hot and what with watering, weeding and other work she was soon in need of a refill for her water bottle. Mr. Carruthers had said she could use the kitchen at any time and she went in search of a glass of water. She walked up the gravel path admiring the plants and enjoying the heady scents. She came up to Mr. Carruthers almost without seeing him there. He was sitting in the seat he had sat in when they had drunk lemonade two days before but this time apart from his sun hat he was completely naked. Bryony went red. He was sitting there calmly with nothing on at all. Bryony could even see his penis lying there on his thigh before she looked quickly away, "Hello," she said hurrying past with her eyes averted. The old man watched her scurry towards the kitchen and smiled.

Bryony continued to see him all morning occasionally moving about the garden under his sun hat. She tried to keep away from him but that was not possible. She was sitting by the orange blossom bush having just finished her lunch when he came up to her.

"Enjoying the scent? He reached out and broke some blossom off and handed it to her. It was difficult not to look at him as he was standing near her and talking to her. She looked up and inevitably her eyes glanced at his hanging penis and balls before looking at his face. She blushed; she had not meant to do that. She took the blossom and put it to her nose. Once again the giddy feeling came and passed.

"You are comfortable with me being naked, aren't you. It's just a custom in my private garden."

"Oh, no it's just a bit unusual at first but natural of course." It did indeed seem to Bryony that it was not a problem after all and his nakedness no longer seemed to worry her. It was not as if she was going to go around naked in the garden. No, she would stick to her tee shirt and jeans. She imagined herself wandering around in just a pair of Wellington boots and nothing else. That made her giggle. She stood, "Well, better get back to work."

Two days later she was working in the garden again. Mr. Carruthers had given her a key to a side door through the wall straight into the garden so she did not have to disturb him when she arrived. It also meant she could start early before the heat of the day built up. It was lovely walking around the garden with the dew still on the ground and the dawn chorus, or at least its latter stages, still to be heard. She was surprised to see Mr. Carruthers was already up and sitting close to the house eating his breakfast, naked without even his hat. Bryony set to work in the greenhouse watering and potting. The rising sun steadily increased the temperature in the greenhouse. The scent of the orange coloured blossom drifted in. Sweat ran down Bryony's face and her arms. Her bra felt hot and constricting and she wished she had put a skirt on. Jeans were practical to a point but not cool. She wriggled her shoulders and looked around. The old man was not to be seen. She reached round and up into her tee shirt, undid her bra strap and slipped the whole thing out of one armhole and into a back pocket. That felt a lot better, her breasts swung in unison in her tee shirt as she worked. She glanced down, "Very Charlie Dimmock," she thought wryly and smiled.

The lack of a bra was not missed on Mr. Carruthers when he came into the greenhouse a little later. They talked about the plants and what and where Mr. Carruthers would like the growing plants planted.

She had become used to the old man's peculiarity of walking around naked. It did not worry her. After all given his age she hardly saw him in a sexual way. He was probably past all that anyway. What she was not prepared for was the man cutting the grass. She had heard the sound of the lawnmower for some time but had not thought to go and see who was cutting the lawns and certainly she had not expected to find a naked person cutting the grass. In retrospect she realised this should not have been a surprise, Mr. Carruthers had not, after all, said he would be the only naturist.

Bryony came up a path with the lawn mower getting louder, she turned a corner and there was a man she had not seen before pushing an Atco cylinder mower. If maleness can be equated with hirsuteness he was maleness personified. Standing six foot tall with a great mass of black curly hair above an enormous black beard was a man with the hairiest body Bryony had ever seen for real or in pictures. Black curly hair covered his chest, his arms, thighs and, she expected, even his back. Bryony did not miss the mass of black curly hair at the junction of his thighs or miss the impressively large penis swinging as he walked along behind the mower.

Bryony made to leave in a hurry but he looked up from the mower so she had to say something, "Oh...hallo," said Bryony, "I'm the new gardener, Bryony."

"Jones, Craig Jones," he said and turned the mower, revealing his back was indeed thickly covered in black hair, and walked away from her cutting another straight line across the lawn. Even his small muscular bottom was not uncovered by black curly hair. The scent of the orange coloured blossom came strongly towards her. "Almost decent without any clothes with that hair," thought Bryony, "well apart from his very obvious thing." She scurried away surprised and unsure whether she quite accepted this naturist concept. She walked a circuitous way around to the house for a drink. She came upon Mr. Carruthers who once again had lemonade. She sat with him. The scent of the orange-blossomed bush was very strong where he was sitting. After a while he mentioned Craig.

"Have you met Craig, he's cutting the grass?"

"Yes, I was a bit surprised by..."

Mr. Carruthers smiled, "Well, I did warn you, it is very hot and, well it's what we do here. I hope you didn't mind. It did not offend you?" The scent was strong; Bryony took another sip of her lemonade. No she wasn't offended or upset. It was natural after all.

Despite a sudden downpour and a generally wet weekend it was still hot in the garden when Bryony let herself in through the side gate the next week. She had put on a denim skirt this time and felt much cooler as she dug in the flowerbeds, her sensible brown work shoes pushing the spade in. Towards lunchtime she passed the orange-blossomed bush on the way to the greenhouse. The scent seemed if anything stronger after the rain and Bryony almost tripped, it was so overpowering. She would have to try to take some cuttings from it in the autumn. It was hot in the greenhouse even with all the vents open. She slipped her bra off again but it was still very hot. She worked on, a waft of air, a cool breeze drifted in but it brought the scent of the orange flowers. Bryony paused and looked around. Well nobody was looking and anyway in this garden of all places it hardly mattered. She pulled the tee shirt over her head and carried on with her work. Her hands were dirty and covered in compost which contrasted with the cleanliness of her now exposed breasts as they gently moved from side to side as she worked. The feel of the sun on her nipples caused them to harden a little, small buds in circles of brown.

The old man passing the greenhouse saw her and was pleased. His garden was having its, not unexpected, effect on her moulding her to his preferences.

Bryony did not put her tee shirt back on again when she went to work outside the greenhouse. She had forgotten about it and only became conscious of her bare chest as she came towards the house. Mr. Carruthers was not alone. He was taking tea with a number of other old gentlemen all naked. He waved pleasantly at her and his friends turned and nodded to her. She was embarrassed but they seemed unconcerned as if nakedness was nothing to remark upon, though all took in the fullness of her breasts with their dark brown nipples.

"What could I have been thinking of?" she thought the next day when working in a different garden. She would not have dreamt of taking her shirt off here. What would old Mr. and Mrs. Ludkin have thought? Mr. Ludkin would probably have had a heart attack and the look of disapproval from Mrs. Ludkin's sour face would be worse than usual.

Letting herself in by the garden gate, Bryony looked happily around the walled garden. How she enjoyed working here. How she loved the garden. About eleven o'clock she came up to the kitchen for some coffee and a biscuit. Two pretty young girls were on one of the lawns setting out tables and chairs. They were laughing and joking together and waved at Bryony.

"You must be Bryony, the new gardener. I'm Becky and this is Jessica. We do on-site catering."

"Hello, yes that's me. So, Mr. Carruthers has a bit of a party today?"

"Just a lunch for his friends. He does that a lot."

"And he likes you to be naked?"

"Oh, well we didn't at first but well, we've sort of joined in with the Rules of the Garden, it just felt right; didn't it Jessica?"

Jessica giggled and turned red.

Bryony got her coffee and sat on a bench near them and watched. They were both pretty girls. Becky perhaps a little plump with a long blond pigtail down her back neatly tied with a pink ribbon. Its end stroked the dimples at the top of her bottom as it swayed when she moved. Her ample breasts similarly bobbed and bounced when she lent forward or moved. Her sex was shaved so she looked like a little girl down there. Jessica was a redhead with a mass of flame coloured curls tumbling over her shoulders. She had small breasts with coral pink nipples, an impressively flat stomach and tight flame red curls below.

Bryony did not know what to think. She was a bit surprised but there again she had gone around all one afternoon bare breasted. The scent of the flame orange flowers blew over her. How she loved this garden, it always felt so peaceful, so happy and so warm here. The sun beat down. It really would be more comfortable without her tee shirt on. Becky and Jessica moved about laughing as they set up the tables, their breasts bobbing as they moved. A garden sprinkler was playing on the lawn nearby throwing a fine spray this way and that. Becky pulled at Jessica and pointed and they both went and stood in its spray for a few moments, before returning to the tables, water droplets shining on their skin. "It's very cooling," called Becky to Bryony. The scent was strong. Bryony longed to do what they had done. Reaching up she pulled off her tee shirt in one decisive movement with her bra quickly following into her skirt pocket. She got up and walked into the spray. It was indeed cooling splashing not only up onto her back, her shoulders and breasts but also on her legs and up inside her skirt and onto her thighs. She spun around letting the spray cool the whole of her body.

"Lovely," she called to Becky and Jessica. Of course she was rather damp walking back down the garden to her work but nonetheless lovely and cool. Damp limbs on a hot day are cool, a damp skirt does not much matter as it will quickly dry but wet knickers were not so pleasing. In the greenhouse she took them off.

Half way through the afternoon Becky and Jessica brought her a mug of tea and they sat and chatted in the shade. They talked about the garden, about Mr. Carruthers and then the talk turned to Craig. Becky and Jessica were sorry to have missed him as he was not cutting the grass that day though he would be at work again the next day. Their talk turned to his body and Bryony was quite surprised by their rather lewd comments. She got the impression they had done more than just look at him.

Bryony was surprised at herself when she let herself into the garden on the following day as her eyes immediately darted about not looking for Mr. Carruthers but for Craig. She rather liked the idea of seeing him again, she had had an idle daydream of being somewhere secret and able to watch him without him suspecting rather than simply making furtive glances. She shook her head; it was men who were meant to ogle girls not vice versa. She walked across the garden past the orange flowered bushes. Their scent was subdued in the early morning but their flowers as flame orange as ever. Mr. Carruthers was standing by the bush with his back to Bryony.

"Good morning, Mr. Carruthers."

He turned, "Good morning my dear, I was just admiring the garden. You are keeping it well. Are you enjoying your time here?"