Kiss & Tell

by Layce Gardner

“Beautiful,” Willy said.

  Allistair’s face turned the same color as her nipples. She motioned at Willy’s towel. “Are you going to…?”

  Willy gripped the top of the towel. “I guess I should…?”

  “You should.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  Willy stood staring at Allistair, not moving. Allistair stared at Willy, not moving. Several long seconds passed.

  “The towel?” Allistair prodded.

  “Oh, yeah. The towel,” Willy said. She closed her eyes, unwound the towel, and dropped it to her feet. Damn, she felt exposed. She didn’t know why she closed her eyes. Maybe it was because she didn’t feel as vulnerable that way.

  She opened one eye. She saw Allistair looking her up and down. She immediately felt like apologizing. “I don’t exercise much. I should probably start an exercise regime.”

  “You look great,” Allistair said in a tight voice.

  “I do?”

  Allistair nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

  “So, since we’re already naked would you like to fuck?”

  “Some things never change,” Allistair said. She turned out walked out of the tent as bold as you please. “Don’t forget the sunscreen.”

  Willy had seen her smile though. She had made Allistair smile. She was making definite headway.

  She threw the towel over her shoulder, grabbed a bottle of sunscreen, and walked out of the tent.

  Human Croquet

  “Human Croquet is played exactly like the real game of croquet except it’s acted out with humans. And everybody’s nude. The wickets are two humans holding hands above their heads, forming an arch. The ball is a blindfolded human who goes whichever way she is pointed until the human mallet tells her to stop. Got it?” Passion Fruit asked.

  Willy did not get it. It wasn’t that the rules were so terribly complicated. It was that she was nude and surrounded by a bunch of other nude people in the middle of a big green field and all the bouncing boobs and jiggly butts had over-stimulated her brain. She couldn’t concentrate. Allistair, though, seemed downright zealous about the game. She was taking to the nude lifestyle like she had been born nude.

  Well, actually, she had been born nude, Willy thought. This was an example of the fried-ness of her brain.

  “Got it!” Allistair said. “Can Willy and I be a team?”

  “Sure,” Passion Fruit said. “You have to think up a name for your team so I can write you down.”

  Jasmine Flower said, “We’re The Honey Badgers. Because we’re little and ferocious.”

  “And we don’t give a shit who we have to hurt to win,” Passion Fruit added.

  “I’m not very good at names,” Allistair said. “Can you think up a name for us, Willy?”

  Willy didn’t hear her. She was too busy counting nipples. So far she was up to sixty-eight. Which converted to thirty-four pairs.

  “Willy?”

  “Huh?” Willy jerked back to reality. She had lost count. Damn, now she’d have to start all over.

  “We need to think up a name for our team,” Allistair said.

  Willy said the first thing that came to mind. “How about ‘I’m in the Nude for Love.’”

  “Perfect!” Allistair exclaimed.

  Passion Fruit wrote down the team name on her giant clipboard.

  “Can somebody put sunscreen on my ass? I can feel the burn already,” Willy said.

  “I’ll do it,” A big man with hair on his belly volunteered.

  “No, thanks,” Willy said. She hid behind Jasmine Flower.

  “So how do you decide who plays what position?” Allistair asked.

  Willy was having a super-hard time keeping her eyes on Allistair’s eyes. She wanted to stare at her boobs. However, that was against the rules. She knew it was against the rules because a large sign posted on the fence had all the nudist commandments listed. And number six was: Do not stare or gawk. Easier said than done, Willy thought.

  “You have to flip a coin for the ball and mallet positions. No one volunteers to be the ball because you have to be blindfolded.” Jasmine Flower said.

  “I’ll be the ball,” Willy said.

  “You will?” Allistair said.

  “I know you don’t want to be the ball,” Willy said. She didn’t tell Allistair the real reason was that she wanted to be blindfolded. Willy figured the less she saw the better off she would be. Her brain was suffering from nude fatigue.

  Passion Fruit whistled and all the nudists gathered around. Jasmine Flower held up a battered black top hat. She pulled out scraps of paper to decide the order of the teams. She read the team names aloud, “Moons Over Miami goes first, followed by Bush Gardens. Next is Booby Trap, then I’m in the Nude for Love, and last but not least, The Honey Badgers.”

  “Let the wild rumpus begin!” Passion Fruit shouted. Everybody cheered.

  ***

  Eighteen humans joined hands and formed nine wickets. Moons Over Miami were two women who had the fullest moons Willy had ever seen. The woman who was the ball was blindfolded, slapped on the butt, and told to “Go!” She walked like a drunk who was trying to pin the tail on the donkey. Finally, the woman who was the mallet yelled for her to stop. She ended up a good twenty yards from the first wicket.

  Allistair snorted. “We’re gonna smoke ‘em. They play like crap.”

  Willy looked at her wide-eyed. “Are you seriously taking this game seriously?”

  “Of course I am,” Allistair said. “I hate losing.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so competitive.”

  “Honey, you haven’t seen nothin’ yet,” Allistair said. “You know the movie Urban Cowboy with John Travolta and Debra Winger?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember the part where Debra Winger rides the mechanical bull?”

  “I love that part.”

  “Well, I’m Debra Winger and this game is the bull,” Allistair said. “And I’m gonna hump the shit out of it.”

  Willy laughed. “I can’t wait to see that.” She liked this newly nude Allistair.

  Bush Gardens was up next. They resembled their moniker: two women who obviously believed in the au natural look. “I’ve heard that the seventies style big bushes are coming back into vogue,” Willy said.

  Allistair didn’t hear Willy. She was too busy studying the players. Bush Gardens came the nearest to the wicket but didn’t quite make it through. “We’re going to have to be careful getting around them. They didn’t leave much space to make it through the wicket.”

  Booby Trap was next. They were a man and a woman. They both had boobs. Big, floppy boobs. They were obviously a couple because the woman blindfolded the man and kissed him as if he were going off to war. Then she slapped his ass and sent him spinning. The woman yelled, “Stop!” The man halted inches short of the wicket.

  Willy and Allistair were next. Allistair whispered in Willy’s ear as she wrapped the blindfold around her eyes. “We’re going to have to roquet.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m going to bounce you off one of the other balls. Go straight when I say go. As soon as you hit flesh, immediately spin to two o’clock. If you can do that, you can squeeze through the wicket. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Willy said. Now she was wishing she hadn’t volunteered to be the ball. She didn’t know she was going to be bouncing bare body parts with strangers. “What team are you bouncing me off of?”

  “Booby Trap,” Allistair said. She slapped Willy’s ass and said, “Go!”

  Willy walked forward in a straight line. She went perhaps twenty yards—hard to tell exactly when blindfolded—and bumped into a mound of softness. That had to be a booby. She immediately spun clockwise and headed toward two o’clock.

  “Stop!”

  Willy stopped.

  But wait a moment. That wasn’t Allistair’s voice that yelled stop. It was a man’s voice.

  “Who are you?” Willy heard a woman shout.

  “Who invited c
lowns?” another woman asked. “And why do they have guns?”

  “Oh, my God! Run, Willy, run!” Allistair yelled.

  Willy ripped off her blindfold. The playing field was in chaos. Nude people screamed and scattered like balls on a pool table after the break.

  The two rodeo clowns from Ghost Town stood in the middle of the croquet field with rifles. They looked bedraggled, hot, and pissed off. Their make-up was smeared, giving them a Joker-like crazed appearance.

  “Where are they?” the first clown said, swinging his gun around. His wig was full of pine needles and his oversized pants were covered in dust and brambles.

  “They’re all naked,” the second clown said. “I can’t tell which ones are them.”

  The nudists couldn’t make up their collective minds which direction to run. They stampeded first one way, then another, creating a mob scene worse than Walmart on Black Friday.

  The clowns pressed their backs to each other while the whirlpool of sweaty human flesh swirled around them. The clowns waved their guns wildly into the mass of nudists. “Turn ‘em over or youse all die!” the first clown shouted.

  The nudists screamed and ran in panicked circles, curly-cues, and figure eights. Willy and Allistair blended into the mass of naked flesh.

  “I see one!” the first clown shouted. He aimed his gun at Allistair.

  Willy saw him take aim. Without thinking, she dove into the air and threw her body in front of Allistair’s, acting as a human shield.

  The last thing Willy heard was an ear-splitting blast.

  ***

  Allistair was thrown to the ground by the force of Willy’s weight. The momentum of Willy’s dive rolled them over and over each other. The guns’ firing had renewed the craziness of the nudists. Screaming, running, rolling, the mob overtook the clowns. By the time Allistair unwound herself from Willy’s embrace, she saw the nudists had dog-piled on top of the two clowns.

  Those poor clowns are buried in assholes and elbows, she thought.

  Allistair turned to help Willy get to her feet. But Willy was limp. Her eyes were closed.

  Allistair pressed two fingers to Willy’s neck. She thought she felt a pulse. “Someone call 911!” she shouted.

  ***

  When Willy woke up, she was lying in the grass and Allistair was holding her head in her lap.

  “Am I dead?” Willy asked.

  “No,” Allistair said.

  “Am I dying?”

  “No. You weren’t shot,” Allistair said. “They missed. You did get a pretty nasty bump on your head, though.”

  “Are the clowns still here?”

  “Yes. They’re right over there,” Allistair said.

  Willy turned her head and saw Jasmine Flower and Passion Fruit aiming the rifles at the clowns. The clowns were lying face down on the ground with their hands above their heads.

  “I just have one question,” Willy said.

  “What?”

  “Did we win the croquet game?

  At that moment, a gust of wind blew over the croquet field. Willy sat up and saw a black helicopter dropping out of the sky straight for them. Its giant blades chopped the air and nudists scurried for cover.

  “Looks like the cavalry’s here,” Willy said. “A day late and a dollar short.”

  The helicopter seesawed several times in the air before landing on its runners. Passion Fruit and Jasmine Flower’s long hair whipped about in the wind. They kept the guns aimed at the clowns, looking like natural born terrorists.

  The helicopter’s blades slowed and its engine shut off. A smiling Joe Hill leaned out the open helicopter door, looked at Willy and Allistair and shouted, “Nice costumes!”

  What Comes Around Goes Around

  “You all picked a helluva place to hide out,” Joe Hill said, shaking his head in obvious amusement. “A fucking nudist colony.”

  Willy and Allistair were wrapped in gray flannel government-issued blankets. The nudists had gone back to their tents, the clowns had been handcuffed and were being stuffed in the back of a police car, and Passion Fruit and Jasmine Flower had said their goodbyes, leaving Willy and Allistair alone with Hill.

  “I’m just pissed we didn’t get to finish the game,” Willy said.

  “There’ll be other croquet games.” Allistair said.

  “Yeah,” Willy said. “But will it be naked human croquet?”

  Marshall Maxey joined them after sending the clowns off in a police car. “Good work you two. I’m going to put you in for the President’s Medal of Honor.”

  “You might want to get some clothes so the President can have some place to pin it,” Hill said.

  “Smart ass,” Willy said.

  Allistair asked, “Who were those clowns anyway?”

  “Two of the most dangerous assassins the mob has,” Maxey said. “Thanks to your help, we’ve been able to do some major house cleaning. We got the big boss behind bars and five of his capos.”

  “Does that mean we’re free to go?” Allistair asked.

  “That’s exactly what it means,” Hill said. “We’ve arranged for you two to get back home to Seattle. You’ll leave separately and travel back separately. Allistair can ride with Maxey. Willy will ride in the helicopter with me. Then once you’re both home you won’t be on the government’s dime any longer.”

  “But what about us testifying?” Willy asked.

  Maxey smiled. “You won’t have to. We’ve got all those mobsters pointing fingers at each other. The clowns are already talking. They’re so eager to turn state’s evidence, we don’t need you anymore.”

  “How’d you know we were here?” Willy said. “How’d you find us?”

  Hill exchanged a long, strange look with Maxey. She sighed and said, “Well, we had a little help finding you.”

  “What kind of help?”

  Hill shook his head. “I never would’ve believed it, but it worked.”

  “What worked?” Willy asked.

  Maxey nodded toward the helicopter. “There’s somebody in there who wants to see you.”

  Curious, Willy walked to the helicopter, looked inside and smiled. “Hey, Ernest. I thought I’d never see you again!”

  Ernest jumped into Willy’s arms and began to make kitty bread on her chest. “Those two morons came to Ghost Town looking for you. I had to show them where you were, didn’t I? Hill’s brain was too dense to project my thoughts into, but Maxey turned out to be quite a good listener.”

  “Yeah, but how’d you know where we were?”

  “I overheard your thoughts, stupid. All I had to do was follow them as they got louder and louder,” Ernest said.

  “You were listening in to my head, huh?” Willy asked.

  “Mmmhmm. And if you don’t tell Allistair how much you love her, I will,” he said.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” Willy said.

  “What’s complicated?” Allistair asked.

  Willy jumped. Allistair had walked up behind her while she was talking to Ernest. “I was just talking to Ernest,” Willy stammered. “You probably think I’m crazy for talking to a cat, huh?”

  “Nah,” Allistair said. “People talk to their pets all the time. I think it’s sweet. So, it looks like we get to go home.”

  “Yeah. What plans do you have?”

  Allistair shrugged. “I don’t know. Go back to work. You know, like I was before all this happened.”

  “I guess 0699 will be missing you.”

  Allistair shrugged. “I guess so. What’re you going to do?”

  “Nothing much. Buy a litter box for this guy. There’s this bookstore I might look into buying. I’ve always wanted to own a bookstore.”

  “That sounds great!”

  Willy smiled. Allistair smiled. They smiled at each other.

  After several long moments, Allistair said, “So is this like…goodbye?”

  Willy shrugged. “I bet I win the award for the most horrible date you ever had, huh?”

&nb
sp; “It wasn’t all that horrible. I mean, parts of it were horrible, but other parts were…not so horrible.”

  “Okay, well…” Willy hemmed.

  “Well, so…” Allistair hawed.

  “I’m going to kind of miss you,” Willy said.

  Allistair chuckled. “Believe it or not, I think I’ll miss you, too.”

  “Allistair, let’s go!” Maxey called out.

  “So, I’ll see you around sometime?” Allistair said.

  “Yeah, sure” Willy said. She watched Allistair turn and walk toward Maxey and the waiting car.

  “You are such a ball-less wonder,” Ernest said.

  “I know,” Willy said. “Believe me, I know.”

  Two Weeks Later

  Allistair sat at her desk at The G-spot. She was sorting through the stack of mail when a letter caught her eye. It was addressed to Sister Allie. The return address was A Nudist Colony in the Middle of Points Unknown.

  It couldn’t be from her. Could it?

  She excitedly ripped open the envelope and read.

  Dear Allie,

  I met this girl I really like but I lost her. It’s my own fault, too. I thought I hated her. And she hated me back. We were forced to be together for a long time and I acted like a complete asshole. Now she’s gone and I don’t know how to get her back.

  She’s beautiful and smart and plays a mean game of croquet. I would give anything to talk to her again.

  The problem is that I don’t know how to get hold of her except through this letter.

  I want her to meet me at the same place we first met. Saturday evening at 7 p.m. I will be waiting for her at a table by the window. I will have a book in my hands.

  Sincerely,

  Wild West Willy

  The Bourgeois Pig II

  Allistair walked through the door of The Bourgeois Pig. She stood near the bar, scanning the tables by the window. Nobody was there. Not one single window table had anybody sitting at it. Her heart sank when she realized that she had been played for a fool. A hot rush of tears sprang to her eyes.

  She had been hurt before. She was familiar with the burning sensation in her chest where hope had once resided. But this time seemed worse. Much, much worse. She didn’t know how she was going to possibly get over this loss.