tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Reader is a Nudist

The Reader is a Nudist


Aspen checked the address twice when she finally reached the home located near the top of a low mountain in Northwest Arkansas. The wooden mailbox had the correct address, but the path from the road led to a beautiful multi-level home with large paneled windows in the front, a balcony with a small table and two chairs on the next level, and a double-door entryway. The only evidence that this was the home of someone with a disability was a ramp constructed alongside the wide wooden stair leading to a wrap-around porch. The path wound from side to side as it approached the entryway, and from the edges, Aspen could see the long blue lake about half-way down the far side of the mountain, sparkling in the early morning sun ahead of gathering storm clouds.

Aspen climbed the wide stairs to the entry and pressed the button next to the door. She wondered why there were cameras located at the upper corners of the front porch when the owner was blind. Any burglar who braved the climb up to these premises should be entitled to cart off something, but would probably be too exhausted to take much.

"Hello? Please identify yourself." The voice was deep, warm, and inviting.

"I'm the reader," Aspen said. "At least, I hope to be."

She heard a buzz followed by a snap indicating the door lock had been opened.

"Please come in. I'll be with you in a moment."

Aspen opened the door onto a tiled foyer. The first thing she noticed was the openness of the layout. Nothing would interfere with someone walking through the place. The next surprise was the number of windows, which lit up all the rooms and permitted her a view of the forests on either side of her, the boulders and cliffs interspersed, and the lake far below. The views were spectacular, and probably wasted, she thought.

From her left, she heard footsteps on the stairs from the landing above. A man with a white cane and dark glasses was descending quite confidently. His hair was salt-and-pepper black. He looked to be about six feet tall, and in very good physical condition. A white t-shirt covered his broad shoulders, wide chest and tapered waist, while khaki shorts extended to his knees. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he smiled a bright, inviting smile.

"Good morning. Aspen? Are you alone or accompanied?"

Aspen cleared her throat, and croaked, "Alone. But I have my cell phone."

He chuckled. "It's good to be on the safe side."

He swept his arm toward a table and chair arrangement alongside one of the large side windows. Aspen walked over from the tiled floor to the wooden floor and took a seat, followed by the man, whose cane did not touch the floor.

"May I get you some coffee or tea?" he asked.

"No, thank you." Her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat again.

He sat down across from her, his head turned slightly and bowed as if listening to her breathing, or noticing her perfume. He smiled again.

"Thank you for coming. I'm looking to hire someone as a reader for me. Just a few times a week should be sufficient, and only an hour or two at a time."

Aspen twisted nervously in her seat. She was glad he couldn't see her blouse or skirt, picked up just yesterday from Goodwill stores. He was so tan and fit, she felt embarrassed that she was so white and thin.

"Look, I really need a job, but I don't think this is going to work. I'm not used to driving on these mountain goat trails, and my old car won't make it more than once or twice. And, anyhow, why should you pay someone when the county will provide a reader for you for free? Or get some audio books. The readers on those are professional."

"I appreciate your honesty, Aspen, and your reluctance. But you made the trip here one time. You could have just called to cancel, or not shown up at all. So, I'm curious. Why did you come?"

"I need some job. I'm not what you'd call employable, generally. You've checked my references. You know I'm coming out of drug rehab. I'm a junkie, but I'm quitting. With help from a Higher Power, I mean. This place, this gorgeous place, is so remote, so removed from my usual temptations, that I thought I could stay clean here. But just the thought of that drive and climbing the path to your house twice a week makes me nervous and triggers my need. I'm sorry."

Clouds outside made the room grow dim as she spoke. A flash of lightning startled her although the man did not move at all. The crash of thunder shook the windows just as large drops splashed against the panes.

"Oh, great! I'll never get down the mountain on wet roads. This is a sign that this whole thing is a bad idea. I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

The man extended one hand to her. She nervously clasp it, and gave it a parting shake, but he didn't let go. Instead, he placed his other hand over hers. Her first instinct was to pull her hand away, but there was a gentle strength holding her. Aspen had been touched way to often by men not to be a little concerned, but his demeanor was so calm and soothing that she endured the contact. His thumb traced the back of her hand tenderly. Her breathing slowed.

"Your first impression was correct, Aspen. This is a wonderful place to escape and to avoid those temptations that hurt you in the past. It's remote, yes, but safe. I have this whole place pretty much to myself, and I would enjoy a little company."

"Forget it, buster. That's not what I want."

She pulled her hand free and stood up. He didn't move, waiting for her to decide. She stayed put. At the next clap of thunder, she sat back down.

"I don't mean to imply that you will be anything but my guest," he said. "I would enjoy hearing you read to me each day, too, but I won't require it. If you do read, I'll pay you handsomely for your time."

Aspen studied him. He did not appear to be menacing, and there was no one else around. She listened to any sounds above the pattering raindrops. There was nothing — no radio, no television, no music playing. She could see that this beautiful home might be quite a lonely place atop the mountain. It might also be just the solitude that she needed to finally kick free of her bad habits.

"Let me show you the room I have in mind for you. Just see it. If you don't like it, or if you still want to go, that would be fine."

He rose from his chair and approached the stairway again. At the bottom he paused, waiting for the sound of her following steps. Aspen followed him up the stairs to a broad hall way with four room and a large library area. He opened each door for her to allow her to peek in.

"Where is your room?" Aspen asked.

"In the back of the house, overlooking the lake. These rooms are the northern rooms with a view of the forests and the cliffs. Each has its own bathroom and sitting area. Each has its own lock for your security. Each has a television since they are guest rooms."

He walked with her to the back of the house and showed her the area that was set aside as his personal space. He did not open the door to that area, though. There was a button near the frame, so that someone standing out side the door could summon him.

They descended a second flight of stairs at the rear of the home, which led to a work-out area, with weights, a stationary bike, climber, and rowing machine.

"You should feel free to use my little gym when you like."

The gym, like the rooms and the bedrooms she had seen, was in immaculate order.

"Why do you have such a big place, if you don't mind me asking? Why all the windows? Who takes care of this? What is going on?"

He stood still for a few seconds, composing his thoughts.

"I got a great settlement for my injury — the blindness. I had been a firefighter and some tanks at a factory were mislabeled, leading to an explosion. I was lucky, because I lived. So, I took the money and built this place for my wife, my son and me. I thought she would love the views. I'm told they are spectacular."

"They are," Aspen said.

"But it was too isolated here for my wife. She took my son Lucas and left many years ago. I should have left, too, but I love the place. Not for the views, of course, but for the sounds of the woods, the scents and aromas. I can feel the wind and the sun more easily here."

"But it's so lonely!"

"Not always," he laughed. "Every Friday night, a couple of good ole boys come over to drink and play mountain music, bluegrass, folk, and country songs. Every Saturday, a landscaping crew and maid service come by to clean up the mess those fellows leave behind. And most Saturday nights, I may have a few discrete women visitors. So, it's not as empty as you might think."

The rain had slowed to a steady drumbeat that calmed Aspen. There was a freshness in the air brought about by the swirling rain. To the west, a few rays of sunshine darted onto the canopy of trees, and streamed across the lake.

"I don't have any change of clothes or my personal stuff," she said.

"Tell me what you need, and I'll have a friend of mine bring them by tomorrow. My gift to you. I have a few Arkansas Razorback sweat shirts and t-shirts you can use in the meantime to sleep in."

Aspen laughed to herself. What was she worried about clothes for? The poor old guy was blind. She could run around stark naked and he'd never know. It's not as if noone had ever seen her in the altogether before. In fact, maybe the problem was that too many people had seen her naked. She remembered how frail and washed out her body was, and couldn't imagine anyone wanting to look at her anyway.

"Okay," she said. "One week. Just to see how it goes."

"One week," he said. "My name is Brandon."

The first day was awkward for Aspen. She really had nothing to do. Brandon told her to roam the house, explore the grounds, even visit the lake. He only had two rules: Don't come into his rooms in the rear of the house, and don't move any of the furniture without telling him. He reminded her that the library was up the stairs, not too far from her room. She could go there and select a few books that she might suggest for reading. He apologized in advance that his library was not extensive except for the books in braille, which Aspen could not decipher yet. Then he told her he would prepare some tea to treat her raspy throat. She could drink it while she explored. He needed to work out.

The tea in a Razorback mug was delicious. There were hints of honey, lemon, and some other herb that soothed her throat. She harrumphed a few times, and noticed that her croaky voice was cleared.

She explored the house the rest of the morning, and began to explore the grounds in the early afternoon. The grounds were as well kept as the rest of the house. There was both a deck on the upper level and a patio in the back. She hoped she might find an in-ground pool, but it didn't exist. Considering the proximity of the lake, it was probably unnecessary.

By two o'clock, her rumbling stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten all day. Going without eating for long stretches was not unusual for Aspen, but today was different. She had spent a lot of energy wandering her new digs. Now she was hungry.

She found Brandon in the gym. He was doing pull-ups on a bar, wearing only his shorts. His chest and shoulders glistened with perspiration. His muscular legs were bent at the knees while he pulled his chin repeatedly to the silver bar. She saw him complete fifteen pull-ups before dropping to the floor. She had no idea how many he may have done before that. He bent over to catch his breath, but his stomach remained sleek and taut.

She knocked on the door to announce her presence.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Brandon. Could you point me to the kitchen? Is it too late for lunch, or too early for supper?"

Brandon reached for a white towel and found it on the rack of weights. He wiped his face then went to a table where his sunglasses lay. He placed them over his eyes before answering her.

"I'm so sorry, Aspen. I wasn't thinking. My meals are delivered each Saturday, and I've ordered extras for you this week. The food for the good ole boys is catered and will be arriving about six o'clock. I can make you a sandwich. If you don't want a sandwich, you can have anything that comes at six. How about some fruit?"

"An apple should tide me over."

"Okay. Wait here."

He grabbed the white cane and stepped quickly down another hallway. He returned with three apples, two oranges, a bunch of purple grapes, a few slices of bread carried in a large red bowl, and some iced tea in a large glass in the hand with the cane. He placed them on a small kitchen table in an area designed as a breakfast nook, and pulled out a chair for her.

"You're very generous, Brandon. I don't think I can eat all this." She sat at the table, and took one of the apples. It crunched and sprayed a bit as she bit it.

"Just take what you want. The party won't start until about eight tonight. I hope you're not a light sleeper. We'll be picking and calling until early in the nighttime."

"I'm looking forward to listening. I'm not dressed for a party, so I won't be attending, if you don't mind." She was also imagining that a horde of overweight, sunburned, tooth-challenged, bristly whiskered oafs might not be the best company for her tonight.

"Suit yourself. If you need ear plugs, you'll find them in the top drawer of the night table next to your bed. I know country music is not for everyone." He sat down across from her, and found a grape from the bowl. His hand rested on the table.

Aspen patted his hand as a thank you for the fresh snack he had prepared. She let her hand stay on his. When he turned his hand over, her smaller hand nestled in his stronger palm. His thumb moved across her knuckles gently. It had been a long time since anyone had touched Aspen with such tenderness. She thought she could get used to it.

"Did you find any books to start reading?" he asked.

"None that seemed appropriate. What kind of stuff would you like me to start with?"

He shrugged.

"Nothing too boring. Nothing too trite or trying too hard to be funny. I'll put some books out for you to choose. Do you have any that you would like to read?"

She shook her head, then realized he couldn't see her.

"No, I really don't."

She hated to admit that she hadn't read any books since high school, and she hadn't finished half of those assignments. She was pretty sure when he heard the way she pronounced even simple words he would cancel this whole thing.

"Well, I'll leave you to your snack. And don't be shy tonight. You are most welcome to attend, even if you only bang on a wash tub." He laughed at that and released her hand.

Her hand tingled where he had held it. She shook it to release the unaccustomed feeling. She looked at the clock — 2:30. She had quite a while to go. She was beginning to see why Brandon's wife decided that there was too little to keep her busy here.

Outside a breeze had swept away the morning's rainclouds. The late spring sun was hot on the patio, and the temperature was just over eighty-five degrees. Aspen found a chaise lounge and stretched out on it, letting the sun warm her face. It felt relaxing.

The sun on her exposed legs felt like little stingers. She knew it was hot and she might burn, but it had been so long since she'd been able to be outdoors, to lie in the sun, to enjoy the Higher Power's beneficence.

She turned on her stomach. She arched and looked around. There was no one that she could see. So, she slipped off her tacky blouse and the useless bra underneath. She lifted her breasts and positioned them on the chaise. As she did so, she had an image of Brandon's gentle hands caressing her breasts while she savored the feeling. She shook her head to clear the thought but smiled as she lay down.

She still had her skirt on, which would create a rather strange tan. So she slipped it off, leaving only her purple thong, nestling between her butt cheeks. The breeze wafted over her shoulders and the back of her thighs, causing small goose-bumps until the warmth of the sun calmed them down. She rose up again to look around. There was no one but her in this warm, comfortable area.

What the hell? She thought. The thong came off too, tossed onto the pile of old clothes. She settled back down on the chaise, her cheek resting on her arm. Finally, she felt at peace. Her legs were spread a little to allow the sun to tan deep into her crevices. Her toes curled and uncurled as she lay there. When the prickling of the sun told her it was time to turn over, she flipped with no concern whatsoever. Her tits were proudly high and pointed. The sun would reach the tops and the undersides of her breasts, and might burn the nipples if she were not careful. Her pussy was a wild forest. She couldn't remember the last time she had trimmed it. A long time ago, she remembered letting a boyfriend cut it into the shape of a heart. She had shaved his pubic hair completely off, which made giving him blow jobs easier.

As she reminisced, her fingers drifted to her moist slit. One finger edged inside, finding ways to make her squirm and wriggle. She raised her knees and the finger went deeper, until it grazed the nub of her sex, which made her gasp. The finger moved almost independent of her, the way a penis of a very considerate lover might, coaxing shudders of pleasure from her lower abdomen. She sighed as she continued. The sighs became louder and crescendoed into moans. Still, the finger continued. Her breath caught once, twice, several times. Finally, her hand rubbed furiously against her sex, and she yipped a cry of pleasure and collapsed back into the lounge. Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving with the effort to restore her even breathing. Her nipples were spiked upward and clenched tightly. She took a deep breath, held it, and expelled slowly, letting her entire body relax.

She opened her eyes.

Brandon was standing at the back entry, stock still. He cclaspshis white cane in both hands at a diagonal across his body. His head was bowed and tilted slightly to the side, listening keenly.

He hadn't seen Aspen. But he had certainly heard her enjoyment.

"Aspen? Are you alone?"

Aspen scooped up her clothing and walked to the door. When she was within whispering distance, she answered.

"Yes. I'm alone."

She brushed by Brandon, but not before one of his wandering hands confirmed that her ass, at least, was unclothed.

Aspen showered, found a white Arkansas t-shirt with a red razorback galloping across the front, and pulled it on. It fell to just below her ass which seemed sufficient. After gathering a sandwich from the party platter and three cans of cola, she went back to her room so she could sit at the table on the balcony. She propped her feet up on the other chair, a dangerous proposition given that she wore only the t-shirt, but she figured that the balcony slats covered whatever the shirt did not so that none of the guests coming to play music would be able to see her exposed. On the other hand, she could see every one of the guests arriving.

They were a motley collection of musicians who began arriving about 8:30. The music began immediately after that. She heard a fiddle first, then a guitar, and then a banjo. A few more guitars joined in, a mandolin, a zither, and what sounded like a steel guitar. Brandon must have owned a piano, because she heard the chords and trills adding to the music. The songs blended into one another so that the music didn't pause until about midnight. The laughter and raucous language kept up though. After a thirty-minute break, the music started up again, but in a more mournful mood. It was slower, and more soulful. Aspen liked the sad music better, because it fit her own mood better.

The sun had set completely by nine o'clock, but the lights around the cabin kept the grounds well-lit. Aspen found she could hear the music whether she was outside, in her bedroom, the sitting area, or her bathroom. However, the library area must have been insulated, because the sound was most muted there. She explored the books on the shelves, most of which were braille. She found five books on the table in the center of the room, with a note from Brandon:

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