The Reader is a Nudist

After a few hymns, the sermon began. It drew a parallel between Jonah, who tried to avoid his calling from God, and Jesus, who accepted God's challenge and spent forty days and nights in the desert. Jonah tried to run from God, ending up being swallowed by a large fish, before ending up answering God's challenge. Jesus didn't have it much easier. The devil came to tempt him, offering food for his hunger, offering a god-like love if he would just attempt suicide, and all the riches of the world if he would worship the devil. Jesus saw through the deceptions, and ultimately enjoyed the ministrations of angels. The point of the sermon, according to the preacher, was that temptation is a part of life; that refusing to accept God's challenges doesn't really change the path you follow; and that God would reward those who kept faith with Him.

Aspen took away another lesson — that sometimes one needed to be alone to face one's demons. She had been ready to leave Brandon and his remote cabin as too boring, but this sermon spoke to her. She realized that she needed the time to overcome her own weaknesses. After all, it may be lonely, but it was the perfect way to confront who she really was. So far, Brandon had proven to be a respectful and generous host. In return, she had done nothing to earn her keep, not even reading. She would give the setup a little more time.

They finished with more hymns and left the church with the rest of the congregation. Brandon stopped at the bottom of the stairs to greet many of the parishioners. He seemed to have the uncanny ability to recognize them by their voice alone, or sometimes by placing his hand on their shoulders. Many of the men had lined up to say hello, and Brandon was thoughtful enough to introduce Aspen to each of them. Not all of them could have been on the landscaping crew, and sure enough, Brandon introduced many as musicians who had played with him on Friday.

Layla and Ashley stood slightly apart. They did not have as many men greeting them. Aspen suspected that the men did not want their spouses or fellow congregation members to know that they knew two hookers.

"Not very Christian," thought Aspen.

The last man to approach looked like a younger version of Brandon. He was tall, his hair was jet black, he had a strong physique, and displayed a warm smile. Aspen was surprised that Brandon might have a son who looked about twenty-five. She regretted that she had not applied her makeup.

"This person looks like he could be your son." She extended her hand to shake.

"This is my son, Lucas. Lucas, this is my new reader, Aspen."

Lucas took Aspen's hand, but leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks.

Brandon hugged his son as though they hadn't seen each other in months.

"How's your mother?" he asked.

"She's happy, I suppose. She's still with your old doctor."

Aspen looked confused, so Lucas explained.

"After Dad's accident, he was treated by quite a few specialists. Dr. Roger Camden took a special interest in him."

Brandon was tightlipped as Lucas explained.

"We didn't know it, but Dr. Roger and my mother were thrown together quite a bit. And, you can imagine the rest. My mother decided that she would rather be a doctor's wife than be stuck on a mountain top with Dad."

"Tell her I asked after her, Lucas. I wish her well."

"I will, Dad. She won't care though. As long as Dr. Roger keeps her happy with prescriptions, she's the sweetest thing."

Brandon nodded, then sighed. He took Lucas's arm and pulled him and Aspen toward the pink Cadillac.

"You should stop by some time, son. We've got brilliant sunlight this time of year. And if you bring the steaks, I'll grill for you."

Lucas laughed and clapped his father on the shoulder.

"I'm still not convinced you can tell whether a steak is done just by your sense of smell, Dad. And I think I'll need more than brilliant sunshine to help make me see things any clearer."

"Then come to talk to Aspen. She's a brilliant conversationalist. And a wonderful reader."

Aspen shook her head. Brandon still hadn't heard her read, and she'd not spoken more than a few words to him. On the other hand, if he was encouraging Lucas to take an interest in her, she certainly couldn't object.

"I'm still pretty busy this time of year. You'd be surprised how much surveying needs to get done. A lot of the county wants to get developed and a lot of builders are anxious to accommodate. But I'll try, Dad. I'll try. I'm overdue for a vacation. Maybe I'll take my boat to the lake and spend the time with you."

"That's would be wonderful, son. You take care now."

Lucas hugged his father again, then turned and hugged Aspen, which she found she liked. Then he shuffled off toward the other side of the church and climbed into a green pickup truck with the name of a surveying company painted on the sides.

Layla dropped off Brandon and Aspen at the cabin's path, and wished them well. Brandon said he hoped to see them both next weekend. Before answering him, they both looked at Aspen as if she were competition for them. But they agreed they would see him again — if not at his cabin, then at church.

Brandon pulled out a couple of sandwiches. He drank beer; she snagged three colas, one for now, and two for later.

"Would you like me to read to you now?" she asked.

Brandon shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I would, but I have to work out some first. Could we make it at about three this afternoon?"

"Sure," she said.

Brandon went to his area of the cabin, stripping off his jacket as he went. Aspen felt reluctant to remove her yellow dress, but it seemed foolish to wear it when no one would see it. She thought the next opportunity might not be until Friday night with the musicians, or Saturday morning when the landscapers could see her through the windows.

The sun was warm, and she had nothing else to do really. This really was a desert as far as she was concerned. No wonder that Brandon's wife had eventually succumbed to the devil's temptation and left him here alone. She hung her dress in the closet, and grabbed a revealing bikini that Layla had insisted she buy. The white two-piece had only a small piece in the front held in place by laces over her hips and underneath. The cups were two small triangles joined by laces around her neck and her back. She carried it with her to the backyard, fully intending to put it on.

But first she would need some sunscreen. On the patio was a chest with sunscreen in a variety of sun protection factors, aloe, and bug repellant. She chose the sunscreen with a 15 SPF, which she suspected was too low. She spread it everywhere she could reach, which left some of her back vulnerable. She figured she'd have to be careful and tan her front side more than her back.

Once the sunscreen was applied, she reconsidered the need for her bikini. She took a towel to lie on, and left the suit laying next to her. She settled back and let the sun do its job.

As she lay quietly, she began to notice the sounds around her. First, she noticed the birdcalls and songs, some of which were repeated. The leaves in the trees made a rustling sound as the breeze sifted through them. Branches creaked and cracked, much deeper in the woods than near her. After a while, she heard the distant sound of motorboats on the lake. Occasionally, a yell or a laughing scream echoed up from the lake, indicating that people were having a great time.

She turned over after about thirty minutes, and turned back again after about twenty, worried that she might sunburn her exposed back. Perspiration beaded on her legs and shoulders.

She heard the back door to the cabin open. Her first instinct was to grab the towel. It was a hard habit to break, but she figured that with only Brandon around, she could break it. She lifted her head and looked to the door. It was Brandon. He was alone.

"Don't get burned," he called.

"I won't. But I could use some sunscreen on my back. Do you mind?"

Brandon settled down beside her as Aspen turned onto her stomach. She heard the lotion splurt into his hand. Despite it being warmed in the sun, it still felt chilly when he touched his lotioned hands to her back. She shivered at his touch, clenched her bottom tighter, and curled her toes.

"Sorry," he said.

His hands first spread the lotion evenly over her shoulders, her ribs and then the small of her back. He stopped at her waist. He used his strong hands to massage the lotion into her skin and to loosen her muscles. Aspen relaxed. He grabbed the towel to wipe his hands clean.

"Wait," she said. "Would you mind rubbing my legs?"

She straightened her legs and bounced them a little in anticipation. The lotion bottle made the splurt noise again. When he touched her thighs, she felt the same chill and shivered. She clenched her bottom again and curled her toes.

"Are you chilly?" he asked. "I can feel goose-bumps on your legs."

"I'm all right. It feels good when you do it."

His hands grabbed her calves and released, several times. He moved to her feet and rubbed them. She pointed her toes so that her bottom of her foot was curled. His thumb applied pressure along the length of her foot on both sides, and she could feel the effects in her center. He reapplied the lotion to his hands, and began to work his way up past her knees.

"I didn't feel any straps when I did your back. That makes me think you might be topless."

"Would it matter?" she said, then suddenly regretted it.

"No, I guess not." There was a note of sadness in his voice.

His strong hands were in complete control of her thighs, pressing, kneading, hitting a little, and rubbing. The muscles in her legs might have resisted at first, but had succumbed to his insistent touching. She felt a bit the same way, willing to submit to his virile hands on her body.

"You can go higher," she said, in a voice little more than a whisper.

His hands slid up to the top of her thighs, his thumbs brushing against her some of her pubic hair.

"You're bottomless, too."

"Uh-huh. Is that a problem for you?" Her voice was husky as his thumbs traced the bottom of her cheeks.

He answered by sliding his palms onto her ass, and squeezing, gently at first, then with increasing intensity. She tightened her buttocks until there were two scallops at the side below her hips. He rubbed these concavities with all four fingers of both hands. Aspen held her cheeks clenched until they began to tremble from the effort. He squeezed again, and she relaxed. He spread her cheeks as he pushed down. Suddenly, Aspen realized her little puckered asshole was exposed to him and his knowledgeable fingers. She remembered how sensitive that spot could be, and arched her hips to bring it a little closer to him.

The action must have shocked him, because he stopped rubbing her. Aspen sighed in frustration.

He took his middle finger and slid it along her crack. She shivered with delight. The tip of that finger found the ring of her anus. Each time he touched it, she gasped. Her hands grabbed onto the top of the chaise lounge, bracing for whatever he might choose to do next. Her nipples were uncomfortably pointed beneath her. There was moisture between her legs, and she spread them a little wider to be more comfortable.

Then it happened. Just the tip, the tip of his finger entered her ass. She groaned in pleasure and exhaled. All her muscles relaxed except the ones that stirred her vagina. They demanded stimulation before they could release. She liked where this was going.

"Wait," he said, and pulled his hands away.

Aspen grunted her disappointment. Her mind raced. Perhaps she had been too easy. Perhaps she had been too selfish. After all, she hadn't done anything to satisfy his desires. Letting him paw her body might be enough for a young man, but someone as mature as Brandon enjoyed stimulation himself. Why hadn't she touched him? She had been told how good she was as a lover. She could suck the pine tar off a baseball bat. That might thank Brandon for the thoroughness of his massage. But it was apparently too late now.

"Someone's coming," he said.

"What?"

She grabbed for the towel, but Brandon after using it on his hands had moved it out of reach. Instead, she clutched the scraps of her swimsuit and pressed one hand between her legs, and the other across her small pointy breasts.

She looked back to the cabin, but did not see anyone there. Had Brandon misheard?

Then she heard a voice from the other direction, from the side of the mountain leading to the lake.

"Hey, Dad! What are you doing?"

Aspen sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her head down. She didn't want to meet Lucas's eyes. Brandon stood up, between Aspen and Lucas, and hugged his son. Aspen recognized it as a gambit to distract Lucas a little so she could either pull on her suit, or make a run for the cabin. She stood up, and started to take giant steps toward the house.

"Don't go," said Lucas.

"I'm not dressed...at all."

"Good," he said. "Dad, tell her I'm serious."

Aspen stopped walking and turned to face Lucas. With great effort, she forced her hands to drop from her body, so that she was completely exposed. She leaned on one leg, and bent the other.

"Ah, you look as beautiful as Venus di Milo. I want to paint you. Please."

"What?" she said. "No!"

"I want you to be my model. I'm a painter. Didn't my father tell you? He's a sculptor, too."

That explained the artist's studio she had seen last night. The clay hand that she had so admired must have been fabricated by Brandon. He was talented.

Brandon held out his hand, and invited Aspen to come under his wing. As she came closer, he placed his arm around her shoulders. It wasn't much, but Aspen felt less exposed, even protected by him.

"I'm not a model. I'm not even a reader. I'm a recovering junkie."

Lucas stepped forward, looking at her from head to foot. He then walked around to look at her from behind.

"You're more than that," he said. "You are beautiful. I want to paint not only the beauty I see in your slender figure, but the pain and loss that shows in your eyes, and the disappointment that has shaped the lines around your mouth."

Brandon suddenly seemed interested. He made Aspen stand in front of him, and placed both hands against the sides of her face. With his fingers, he explored her forehead, her cheekbones, and her chin. He traced the narrowness of her nose and its straight length. With his thumbs he traced the bow of her mouth, not once or twice, but three times. He cupped her jaw in his hands, and finally drew his fingers over Aspen's brow.

Aspen lifted her hands and put them against his taut abdomen. She knew she would trust him, no matter what his decision might be, no matter what he might ask of her.

"Lucas is right. You are beautiful. If you would, please consent to be our model. I will pay you for your time. In addition to what I'm paying you as a reader."

How could she refuse? They were certainly wrong; she wasn't beautiful. But they must see something that escaped Aspen when she looked in the mirror. Still she was nervous.

"Will I have to be naked?"

Lucas looked at Brandon. Brandon didn't speak, so Lucas did. He turned to Brandon.

"I thought you said she was a nudist."

Brandon looked puzzled.

"Well, she is. She's been naked nearly the whole time she's been here. I wasn't sure I could get her dressed to come to church this morning."

"I'm not a nudist!"

Brandon's arm around her shoulder dropped to her waist, confirming again that she wasn't wearing any bikini.

"Okay," she said. "Maybe I'm not wearing clothes now, but that's only because there was no one around to look at me. At least until you showed up, Lucas."

"And, of course, the show you put on for the landscapers yesterday."

"I wasn't trying to put on a show," she said. "I didn't realize they were gawking through my windows. But is that my fault, or theirs? I would not exactly call them gentlemen."

"You've got that right," Lucas said with a wide grin.

Aspen hid her face against Brandon's broad chest. He closed his arms around her. Her bare behind was exposed, but if she were going to be a model, it was one of the things she would have to get used to. She shook her shoulders to rustle up some courage, and turned to face Lucas. Brandon's arm fell away from her. She felt completely vulnerable.

"Okay, I'm still considering. But why don't you use some of your other women? What about Layla, or Ashley? They both seem to appreciate Brandon's attention."

Lucas laughed and even Brandon chuckled.

"What?" asked Aspen. "I don't get the joke."

"They appreciate Brandon's attention, but I doubt they want to be on display for the entire county to enjoy."

Brandon nodded.

"I'm sure they would not want to pose. Layla is our Mary Kay Cosmetics lady. She's very good at it. You've seen her pink Cadillac convertible. She won that for selling trunk-loads of makeup to the women of the county."

"That still leaves Ashley. Why not make the offer to pose to her?"

"Ashley is an important lawyer in the county. She's well known throughout the state, really. I suspect that in a few years she'll be tapped to sit on the bench. No way she's going to risk that appointment or election."

Aspen shook her head, trying to adjust her initial impressions.

"I thought they were hookers. Especially when they tried to get me to join your little party last night."

Lucas raised his eyebrows and whistled.

"That would have been something to see. Dad, you old dog!"

Brandon shrugged. He turned his attention back to Aspen. But it was Lucas who made the final argument.

"Aspen, I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but you have a form and a figure that inspires me. I want to convey that beauty to the best of my ability. I want to study you, to learn from you. I promise you will like the art we produce."

Aspen couldn't remove the look of nervousness and skepticism from her face.

"Will I have to shave my bush?"

Both Lucas and Brandon laughed heartily.

Lucas went back to his boat to retrieve the steaks for dinner. Aspen took the time to strap the skimpy white bikini onto her tits and across her pussy. Her ass was still hanging out, but she felt a bit more comfortable. She set the table while Brandon fired up the gas grill. They each took turns preparing the sides — salads, husked corn on the cob, baked potatoes, and sliced fresh bread. By the time it was ready, Aspen's stomach had begun to growl in anticipation.

Brandon brought out some beers and some colas.

"You don't mind if we have some beers, do you, Aspen?"

She looked at the long-necked bottles, with condensation dripping slowly down their sides. She could almost taste the refreshing liquid. Her tongue touched her dry lips. She knew the consequences of taking a drink, though. She may not exactly be an alcoholic, but she had an addictive personality. Narcotics had ruined her life so far, with the small exception of the few days spent with Brandon. She took a deep breath, and reached for the cola.

"I'll be okay," she said.

Aspen couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed a meal so much. Clearly, Brandon had great affection for his son Lucas, and the love was returned from son to father. She had never experienced such a warm relationship. To her surprise, she didn't feel excluded from the circle of appreciation, but was included. They told stories to each other to make themselves laugh, and took the time to explain the nuances of the story to her, so that she could laugh along with them.

"You didn't eat much," said Lucas. "Don't you like my Dad's cooking?"

Aspen blushed.

"It was delicious. I just can't eat any more."

She couldn't tell them that her stomach was the size of a walnut after years of eating sporadically. The steak had tasted heavenly, but one bite was all she could choke down. Most of her calories came from the colas she sipped all day long. She sipped one now.