Janice Worthy

© 2020 by author

This story encompasses 3700 words and 7 book pages

All Characters are age 18 or older at time of the story.

Few of my fellow classmates at Sunny Slope High paid much attention to Janice Worthy. Not that she was unattractive, she wasn't. Slim, five-seven maybe, medium high cheek bones, medium brown hair, skin and complexion that seemed to always have a slight tan, and poised, too. She never flirted, even the slightest, but the other girls did, so they got the boys' attention. Janice wasn't a loner, although she never really seemed to be with anyone, either.

Stuck up? Well, at first glance you might think so, although if spoken to, she always replied, but with a smile easily mistaken for that's nice, but no thanks.

Her parents owned and operated a small manufacturing business in our little burg that made a line of nick-knacks for car interiors. You know? Insignificant and un-noticed, like those little smelly things people hang from their car's mirrors to combat diesel and cannabis smoke? A dozen or so local wives and their daughters worked at the business, but none became very close to Mr. or Mrs. Worthy, except to understand the business paid its owners very well, better than most small businesses in our locale. Much of this overage the Worthys passed on to their employees at Christmas time.

No one I heard of ever got a hint as to where Mr. and Mrs. Worthy socialized, but other than the local Chamber of Commerce, J-C's, and other business-related obligations, it wasn't in Sunny Slope.

Janice chummed around with my sister some. Well, a little more than she chummed around with anybody. A few fellows asked her out, but she only accepted if it was for one of our school's major dances. No ball games, no Saturday evening social dances at the Green Meadows Grange Hall, no informal community events, no movies—No stay-at-home-DVD, theater, or drive in movies—Yes, we still had a drive-in. And certainly, since I wasn't the most actively sought male date in my class, I figured my chances with her weren't worth what effort it might take.

So, you can understand my surprise when, with no major dance looming soon the fall I turned eighteen, my sister out of the blue, said,"Janice likes you. You should ask her to the Snow-Ball dance this year."

Janice who? Had our school gotten another Janice? I guess surprise covered my face.

"Well, she's good looking, needs to get out, and you got no girlfriend since that Martha Whoever from over in Brayton dumped you. So ask Janice out, okay?"

One thing about Sis: Damned little finesse! But what can you expect from your twin sister?

So I did, after enduring Sis's nagging during the month-plus it took our school's Winter Snow Ball to roll around.

What a strain that double-date was! Sis set it up so I took Janice, and Sis went with a guy new to our town. Yeah, try that combination sometime.

Best I can say about it was I had almost the entire evening to myself. Janice seemed to pretty well ignore me except those few times we danced, talking what little she did the rest of the time with Sis. The new guy? He and I didn't hit it off, so we didn't talk much, either.

When I delivered Janice to her door, I was polite (I always try), but ready to write off the evening, Miss Worthy with it, and endure whatever Sis had in store for me. So, as Janice and I said our goodbyes at her door, imagine my surprise when she looked up and said, "Terry, please call me. I like you."

On her front porch with her parents just inside in the livingroom, what could I reply beyond, "Thanks, I like you, too," smile, and close the evening out while I thought about the whole situation?

Like most of us in those days, my car's doors didn't lock, so when I came out from my last class the following Monday, although curious about it, I wasn't surprised to find a small slip of paper on my driver's seat. Lots of times us guys left notes for each other this way so we didn't have to track each other down (This was the days before everyone got text and cell phones, right?). But when I unfolded it, it only said Remember! in big, underlined, hand letters, followed by a phone number. Had Sis done this? Put Janice up to it? Was this Janice's doing? Or Janice at all?

From home I called that number, and felt lucky to have her answer instead of one of her parents. I'd only barely met them—when I picked Janice up the previous Saturday for the dance—so my confidence didn't exactly bubble over at the thought of talking to one of them first.

"That you, Terry?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you come over?"

"I guess. What ...."

"Right now?"

"Yeah?"

"Good. Park in the driveway, okay?"

"Sure." Why? She didn't want neighbors to see my car? I mean, it wasn't much, but I wasn't ashamed of it.

"And come to the back door?"

"Yes?" Same question ... almost.

"Come right on in, okay?"

"Yes?" More of the same question.

"Good."

"Oh, yeah?" What did that mean?

"Yes. How long?"

"Half hour, maybe forty-five minutes."

"Fine. I'll be ready/"

Ready for what?

I did as she said when I got there, calling her name softly as I wandered first through their kitchen, then the dining room and living room looking for her.

"Back here, Terry. End of the hall, door on your right," a soft voice said. When I got there, the door was closed, so I knocked.

"Come in?"

So I cranked the knob, pushed the door open, and saw her standing there all but naked.

"Close the door? Please?"

I started to step back into the hall.

"No, come in, Terry. Then close the door. I promise I won't bite."

Like a dumbie I stood there, waiting for inspiration different from what stood before me.

"Janice?"

"Yes, Terry. This is me."

"But ....?" A sleeping puppy's breath could have knocked me over.

"Don't you like me? I thought you did at the dance, but I was too shy to let you know."

Too shy? My god, she sure didn't look shy now!

"See? Nudists are always shy with their clothes on. I wish you had yours off, too. Then we could relax and talk."

Oooh! "Janice, I ...."

"Of course, Terry. I know. I was shy at first, too, so shy I thought I'd never get over it. But a nice boy at the camp put a smile on my face so I wasn't shy any more, at least around him."

So she wasn't a virgin, contrary to what most of my schoolmates had speculated. But what was she getting at?

"You want to get over being shy with me?" she said, now looking directly into my eyes.

I guess I nodded, but I'm certain my jaw hung open.

"Momma and Daddy went to their meeting over in Waynesburg, so don't worry. Besides, they said you were real polite and nice when you came to pick me up for the dance Saturday.

Yeah, sure! I couldn't imagine them thinking me nice—or polite—if they came home and found me with their daughter, both of us naked and both of us barely eighteen—no matter what they found us doing!

***

Like most young guys, I'd heard about nudists, and likewise speculated lots about what nudism might involve. So, the following Friday, when I found another of Janice's notes on my car seat after school. I called her right up.

"Hi, Janice. Found another note in my car."

"Good. How come we don't have a date for tonight yet? Don't you like me?"

"Sure, I like you." I mean, how could I not? That girl was hot, even with her clothes off.

"Oh. I was afraid I scared you the other night."

"No. No. But that did take some getting used to."

"But you're used to it now, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. So you want to go to the basketball game or something? I promise to wear clothes." She chuckled.

"Sure, why not?"

"So? Six-thirty? I'll buy us hamburgers at Geno's if you buy the gas it takes."

"Six-thirty, and I'll buy both."

"Even better. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

So what the hell did that really mean?

By five minutes to Zero-Hour, I'd conquered at least some of my apprehensions about meeting her parents again, driven over, and parked in their driveway. For a full minute. I sat there corralling a second round of butterflies about meeting her parents ... and Janice. I kept telling myself, just don't get to staring at what you know lies under those clothes she's got to be wearing. Ah, hell! This should be just like a normal date, right?

The whole scene at the front door proceeded that way.

Her father, a man big enough to do me grievous harm if I got out of line with his daughter, met me a few seconds after I pressed the door bell.

"Well, good evening, Terry. Terry...uh...Boyce, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Please come in and have a seat. Janice should be out in a minute or two. She always waits 'til the last minute to put her clothes on. Can I get you a coke or something else to drink?"

"Just water, thanks." Why did my mouth always impersonate the Sahara Desert when I went to pick up a date?

He returned with a glass and more ice cubes than necessary.

"Janice tells me you're a senior, too, this year."

"Yes, Sir."

"So, what's next? College?"

"Hope so."

"Should be close to deciding where, right?"

"Junior college, up in Bell City. It's all I can afford."

"A four year school after that?"

"Hope so. Depends upon scholarships and summer work."

He nodded, as if to say, Good enough for now.

"And you've figured out the long haul?"

"Engineering, most likely."

He nodded again, just as Janice came shyly from the bedroom hall and joined us. For the joined us, she took care of by taking my arm, pulling me down and kissing me lightly on one cheek.

"Yup," she said. "The right guy again. Can I have him now, Daddy? He's taking me for hamburgers before the game, and we don't want to be late."

"Sure, Honey. Go enjoy yourselves. If you stay out as late as you said you wanted, your mother and I will be sound asleep when you get back."

What the hell did that hint about?

"Let's go, Terry."

So in a moment we were out the door, with Janice just ahead of me and looking oh so good in those jeans and her almost-outgrown top.

Janice's mother must have coached her some during the time since I asked her to the Snow-Ball. Now, as soon as we were alone in my car, she put a flirt on me that our local cheerleaders would have been hard pressed to equal. I guess my face took on a what's going on here look.

"Do you mind?" she said, after putting a kiss on my mouth that spun my head into high Earth orbit.

"I ...."

"Did I do that wrong?"

"No. I ... I love it."

"Then, here's another one. Then let's head for Geno's, okay?" The next orbit where my brain found itself was somewhere around Saturn or beyond.

But all that changed the moment we exited my car at Geno's—although the fit of her jeans and top weren't part of the change.

Likewise, as we entered the Gym, I'm sure several guy's expressions changed to Oh, look at poor Jerry Boyce. He won't get any tonight, not even close. But I could have cared less. Although Janice and I had yet to go the whole route, what Janice did when she put her full flirt on, outdid what most girls managed along the whole route.

We watched the whole game, the entire time Janice sitting as close to me as possible without actually sitting on me. But her flirt never became so blatant as to be obvious to anyone but me. Maybe I was a bit more sensitive to it than others?

Seemed as if every time our team ran the court for a basket, my hand, held in her lap, got a squeeze more erotic than had she been naked. Maybe it was the way she dragged her finger across my palm as the players ran down the floor?

"You need a drink?" I said during one of the time-outs during the last few minutes of the first half.

She gave my palm another finger massage, turned her face toward me, smiled, then nodded. Once I stood and separated myself from her, she took my hand again and squeezed it. "Hurry back, and save any conversation you have for me."

I nodded. I wasn't dumb enough to give away what I hoped might happen later.

Several hot-shot jocks gave me a ration as I waited at the refreshment booth for our Cokes. "Hey Jerry! Don't get her knocked up."

His buddy cut in with, "Ah, don't worry. Nobody's going to get Ice Cold Janice knocked up!"

Another added, "Hey Jerry? Is it true nobody's screwed her because she froze their dicks and broke them off? Careful. Don't lose your dick, buddy!"

Forget them. Just calmly pay for your drinks, get your change, and carry the lot back to your seat.

"Jerry? Don't be like that. We're just trying to protect your manhood," a fourth had said. That got another round of immature jocularity at my expense. But although my ears burned, I went on down to our seats without rebuttal.

"Thanks, Honey," Janice said as I handed her coke to her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Sure, there is. Now tell me what it is."

"Nothing, really."

"Jerry? Tell me,"

I shook my head.

"It's about me, isn't it? About us?"

I nodded, although I tried not to.

"Ignore them. That's what I do. What they say has nothing to do with us."

Once I sat down completely, she leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, "Jerry, I got a way to make you forget forever what those guys said—whatever it was. Besides, I know it was about me, not you, so there."

None the less, it pissed me off because it reflected negatively upon Janice. That made it worse.

***

So, when we returned to her parent's house, the lights were all off. My thoughts rocketed to her father's parting statement that by the time we returned from the game, they'd be sound asleep. Was there any connection of that to the fact that all the drapes were drawn?

"Good," Janice said soon as the front door closed and locked, and she picked up on the drapes' position. "Now we can relax and enjoy the rest of our evening together."

Yeah, sure!

"You use the bathroom first, Terry. I'll use my bedroom. You can come back out here once you take your clothes off, okay?"

Time had come for my bashfulness to rise again. But I grabbed myself by the collar and said to #1 boy, You had your clothes off with her before, what's different now?

The difference was me being pretty sure tonight would amount to lots more than kissing her face, lips, and neck like before. And continuation of kissing her breasts and nipples. I just knew tonight would end with us both traveling the Long Road, as my friend Tommy called it.

You've seen those silly old movies from the fifties, those where the guy can't convince himself to come out of the bathroom with most of his clothes off? That was me, but with all mine

off. You had your clothes off with her before, what's different now? Just as I thought this for the tenth time, Janice knocked on the bathroom door.

"I'm ready. How 'bout you?"

I mumbled something stupid, which was what I felt right then.

"I won't bite, you know."

Okay, down went my Jockeys and off came my T-shirt.

The door latch clicked and there stood Janice.

"Oohh!" she said. "Good looking man! Just like the other night."

She stepped back and looked at me. "You like me, too?"

I sure as hell did. And I guess it showed.

"Come on out, Terry. Let's go to the livingroom and dance and listen to some romantic music."

Yeah, I knew what that meant with Janice. I guessed: the Snow-Ball all over again, but naked. She took my hand, looked up into my eyes, and led me out. She must have planned this all ahead, because the stereo already had a soft, enticing Bosa Nova record cued up, ready for us.

As she came into my arms and held me tighter than just hi there, neighbor, she whispered, "Oh, Terry, tonight is going to be so nice you won't believe it. I guarantee."

Just as I'd hoped, believe me.

The music began the second cut, and Janice began. I don't know how much of what we did qualified as dancing, but I sure as hell didn't care one way or the other. Some astute observer once said Latin dances were a way to make love with your clothes on. Believe me, that applies to making love with your clothes off even more.

She and I made it through the first disc before she whispered in my ear, "I have a record from this set on my bedroom stereo. Shall we practice in there?"

So we did, dancing out the first play of a similar disc in vertical orientation, the second in a sitting orientation on a large sofa next to the bed, and the third sprawled on her bed. After that, I lost count, except that each song brought greater enjoyment and deeper understanding to us both.

The Rest of the Story

As one national news announcer used to say, here's the rest of the story.

Janice and I graduated highschool on schedule and spent the following summer playing evening and weekend nudist at every opportunity. Her folks didn't mind—why would they?--- and although my parents didn't know the whole situation, they twice reminded me of the facts of life as to where baby calves and baby humans came from. I believed Janice was clean and on the pill as she said, so what the hell? As I looked at it, there were lots worse options than getting shotgunned into marriage with her.

We both attended the junior college eighteen miles west, beginning that fall. Her parents helped us out with an apartment; they needed a manager for this sixteen unit block they owned, and gave us a basement apartment in exchange for doing what that required. As you might expect, we had to put up with occasional nude-time interruptions, trying to collect rent from the perpetual laties, performing occasional minor repairs and clean-up between tenants, and showing vacancies to prospective tenants. But our situation was a fair one; I came from a family that believed you shouldn't expect something for nothing. Obviously, neither did Janice nor her parents. So it worked out well all around

By time she and I graduated from JC, we had apartment managing down pat, so pat, in fact she was managing several apartment blocks owned by more distant relatives and two others who'd somehow heard our rents were paid more closely on time and damages and turnover ran far lower that typical.

So, as JC graduation loomed, we had choices to make: Call it good for school and get regular jobs there? Move away to finish at a 4-year with her parents helping more than I was comfortable with? Continue managing as we were and use one of the correspondence colleges for our degrees?

We chose to stay put, manage, and try the correspondence schools. The fact we—mostly Janice, I'll readily admit—by now had more property management clients than she could handle, and I had more maintenance than I could handle, meant we needed to change something if we were to complete our degrees on time. So, with her parent's coaching, she expanded her budding rental business to include someone to run the office and keep the accounts, and someone to share my maintenance, landscape, and clean-up duties. Our client list trebled and we still found adequate nude-time.

I finished my engineering degree and Janice her degree in small business management.

So, decision time arrived again.

I piece-mealed a Masters Degree in engineering though the state university correspondence system and extracurricular training provided by industrial firms and technical research labs. Janice plugged away with her business—now B & W Rental Management—growing at a sustained rate, and remaining profitable. She and I kidded around about holding one apartment block available for nudists only, but we never worked out how to handle the very real fact of children in a nude family situation. So that never came about.

After four years of adult, pre-marital bliss, we decided we'd matured enough to marry. We decided, too, time had come to start a family, a family we thought should include five kids. Before long we found ourselves confronting head-on that kids in a nude-inclined family question. When our first child reached a critical age, we retreated our nude time exclusively to our bedroom.