Nudist Camp Vacation

Live simply, love generously, care deeply and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God. ;)

Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 10

I slept through the night and was anxious to wake when I heard a soft knocking on the door. I had been dreaming about punishing self-motivated employees and I felt guilty that I was being unreasonably brutal in correcting them. I was thankful to have the dream end.

Dragging myself out of bed to answer the door, I took a brief moment in the bathroom to rinse my mouth with mouthwash and drag a comb through my hair. Since it was, after all, a nudist camp, I didn't bother with a robe.

When I opened the door, there stood a sad-eyed Tim in all his splendor. He said in a soft voice, "May I come in?"

I bade him enter, but he stopped at the first step, gasped, his eyes wide and hands over his mouth.

Startled, I looked down at myself and realized I had forgotten my spots, my bruise and my shaving. It still looked ghastly. I smiled at Tim and said, "That's nothing. You oughta see the other guy!"

He gave a small smile. It was a sad smile, but it was enough briefly to show his dimples. As he entered, the misery between us was palpable. "I came to help you pack up." There was a strained softness in his voice.

"Wait here. I'll get some clothes on. I don't want everyone to see my bruise." I walked quickly to the back and threw on some clean underpants, t-shirt and shorts, then pulled on my sneakers. When I returned, I said to Tim, "I appreciate your help. You're a good friend."

Tim looked at me, swallowed hard and nodded silently. He didn't need to say anything. His presence was killing me, emotionally. I could tell he didn't want to be "just" a friend, but his presence indicated a maturity far beyond his years. Last night I know what I said had hurt him. I rejected him and yet, he returned to give me a kindness. He wasn't obligated in the slightest, but he was here. I'm glad he's here, but I want to get it over with, quickly.

It didn't take long to flush the tanks and disconnect hoses and cables and get everything stowed, but it would have been difficult without Tim's help. Our conversation was limited only to the necessary communication to get the job done. When we finished, I turned to him to thank him, but he was already walking away. "Thank you!" I called to him. I watched him until he slowly disappeared around a corner. He never looked back.

I made my way into the bus and had to recover my nerves and emotions before I could drive. I wiped my eyes and face with a towel that was still handy. Then I looked at where the towel had been. It had been on the seat of the couch. I sniffed it. I know it was perverted, but it smelled of Tim. I breathed in his scent and committed it to memory.

I knew I was still in no shape to drive, so I went about carefully checking everything in the bus to make sure everything was where it should be and the bus was road worthy. When I completed the distraction, I breathed in deeply and sat in the driver's seat. I allowed myself yet another agony. I looked at the passenger seat and imagined Tim there. I felt as if I was pining for him.

I started the engine and let it idle for a couple of minutes then I pulled out of the space and drove to the visitor's center. Rita was back from church, attending the office and Tom was busy somewhere. Rita is a happy Botticelli woman, not fat, just full figured, with graying light brown hair and dark brown eyes, she's a perfect counterpart for Tom. I could see how the boys had become so strikingly handsome. Their mother gave them her fine features and their father his sturdy structure. I walked up to the counter and introduced myself. "Are you Rita Smith? I'm Alan Stewart."

When she looked up, her jaw dropped. "YOU'RE Alan? I've heard so much about you! I hope you'll forgive me, but I thought you'd be much older and not nearly so handsome! The boys are quite impressed with you. They talk about you all the time! Stevey, especially."

As she spoke, Stevey came blasting out of the room behind her. He must have overheard us talking. "ALAN!" he shouted as he ran around the counter and threw his arms around me. "Alan! How're you feeling? Are you okay?"

I smiled at him and smoothed his hair. "Yes, I'm fine, but I'm still tired. I've got to get home so I can rest." I hugged Stevey back and asked, "Did Tim give you my phone numbers?"

"Yeah, he did! Thanks!" Stevey winked at me. I laughed and squeezed him to me. It was strange that it was actually beginning to feel natural that he was naked and plastered against me. At least I had clothes on.

"Alan, I want you to know that there will be no charge for your stay. You've been so nice to the boys and I feel so bad about your heart attack! The boys tell me you're doing much better, now, but I want you to come back later for a real vacation!"

"Rita, I won't hear of it! The boys have been so nice to me! They've both given me something I've needed badly: a family of friends. It's been a wonderful vacation and I'll definitely be back. This place is wonderful! Now, let me pay for my stay." I released Stevey and stepped up to the counter with my wallet in my hand. Stevey kept his arm around my waist.

"No, and that's final! You just come back, soon!"

I could tell she was determined. I sighed and smiled. "Alright, you win. But I'll be back for a longer stay and I'll make it up to you!"

She smiled and showed me from whence the boys got their dimples. "You'd better be back, or I'll have two very unhappy boys, here!"

"Speaking about boys, is Tim around? I'd like to say good-bye to him."

Stevey volunteered, "He's in his room. I'll get him!"

Rita and I exchanged small talk about the facilities and grounds. I shared with her how well I thought they kept the place. I also complimented her on her rearing of two well-mannered boys.

Stevey returned with a concerned look on his face. "He says he's busy." He looked at me accusingly. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could swear he was disappointed with me. Whatever it was, he stayed on his mother's side of the counter.

"That's okay, Stevey. I'll see Tim later." I winked at him.

That made him smile and he came around the counter for another hug. I smoothed his unruly curls and said, "You call me whenever you want, hear?"

"Yeah! I will! You call me, too! Okay?"

"Okay!"

Rita was smiling at both of us. "Remember, I owe you a dinner! You better make it soon, though!"

I smiled at her and nodded. My throat was tensing. I was thinking about Tim.

We said our farewells and I mounted my land yacht for the trip home. For its size, it handles quite well. Thank goodness, I have a large garage for it at home. When I put it away, I looked around and decided nothing needed tending right away. I could get Nell to empty the refrigerator and everything else is a duplicate of what I have in the house, clothes included. The only thing I'll have to do is get Nell to change the sheets and wash the towels. For now, though, I'm one tuckered out cowboy.

The next few days I spent sleeping and working on my laptop in bed. I sent "thank you" notes to everyone who sent me flowers. I called the office of Dr. Prissypants on Monday and made that follow-up appointment he wanted for a week later. For the next several days I kept up with my email, worked by telephone and did some research on the internet.

Stevey even called to talk. He had called one of his friends from school and, with assurances from Stevey's folks, had arranged permission from the friend's parents for a visit over the next weekend. I sympathize with any new nudist! At least Stevey's friend is young and not expected to be able to control himself!

When Thursday morning came, I decided I'd enough rest. I feel as if I'm developing cabin fever and Nell needs a break from me being underfoot. Besides, she's been asking too many questions. I guess I'm still depressed about Tim.

Honestly, I can't understand why I'm feeling so depressed! I did set him free, didn't I? I want him to be happy! What he needs most is someone his own age; someone he can grow old with, not someone he'll be nursing unto death then mourning for thirty years! That's no life for someone as beautiful as he is! He has so much to offer in a relationship; his wit, intelligence, joie de vivre and that statuesque body are all assets he can use in finding the right person! That person is definitely NOT Geoffrey Alan Stewart! So WHY do I feel like SHIT?

So, I'm going to work to get my mind off myself for the thousandth time in the last three years. Since I kept up with my email while I was gone, all I have to do was go through a landslide of mail and paperwork. Lucy did well in separating it into stacks of junk mail, magazines, stuff I need to read and a small stack of stuff I need to answer. She is such a treasure to have prioritized it all for me! I was about half way through with the stuff I had to answer when Bill trotted into my office.

"Alan! You're looking much better!" He's always so damn cheery! Even early in the morning!

I had a permanent lump in my throat. I couldn't get Tim out of my mind. "Thanks, Bill. I feel a lot better." I guess I spoke insincerely, because Bill read me like a book.

He sat down across from me. "Alan, tell me what's wrong."

I looked at him with forced innocence. "Nothing's wrong! I've just got a lot to catch up on." I guess I scowled at him.

He gave me his one-raised-eyebrow, "I don't believe you" look then sighed. We both knew I was lying and we both knew that no amount of badgering was going to get me to talk about it until I was ready, if then.

"Actually, I came in to talk about our new employee, Tim Smith. Alan, he's just not working out."

I was shocked! He must be mistaken! "What do you mean? Tim's smart, energetic, innovative and motivated! What's wrong?"

"Obviously, we're not talking about the same person. I gave Tim a small project to start sinking his teeth into and he hasn't done a damn thing on it! At first, he seemed fired up, but that was Friday. Since Monday, every time I walk by his cube, he's staring off into space. In the last three days, I doubt he's done three hours work."

"Bill, let me talk to him. Maybe I can find out what's wrong." I already know what's wrong.

"I sure hope so. He seemed so promising." He got up and walked to the door. Looking back at me, he said, "Welcome back!" but his face belied concern.

I glanced up at him and managed a feeble smile. "Thanks."

Picking up the phone, I buzzed Lucy. "Lucy, ask Tim Smith to come see me, please."

Five minutes later, I heard a soft knock on my door. I turned my chair away from the door and looked out the window. My hands were shaking. "Enter!"

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. "M . . . Mister Stewart? I'm T . . ."

I turned around in my chair and smiled at him. He stopped in mid-sentence and turned as white as a ghost.

"Hi, Tim," I said softly and smiled. He looked as if he were about to faint. "Please. Sit." I motioned toward a chair.

"A . . . Alan? What're you doing here?"

I had to chuckle. "I work here. My full name is Geoffrey Alan Stewart, but I've always hated my first name. My friends all call me Alan."

"But, Alan . . . why?" His expression was excruciating.

I tried to remain calm. "I think I know what you're asking. I had planned my vacation to your camp several weeks before I arrived there. I received your box of chocolates the day I left. You see, I couldn't have known you were there. I didn't put you together with your resume until after I met you."

He hesitated. "Oh," he whispered.

He had a pitiful expression on his face. He was sitting wringing his hands. I couldn't stand it. I walked around my desk and sat in a chair next to him.

"Tim, do you see now why we can't be anything more than just good friends?" I was forcing myself to repress the huge tightness in my throat. I couldn't let him see my real feelings.

"No, I don't."

He's obviously confused. "Tim, I have a strong policy against office romances, so I can't be carrying on with one of my own employees. It would undermine every bit of my control. I'm not a control freak, but I've got to maintain order in the office. Otherwise it'd become a zoo and we'd never get any work done. You understand, don't you?"

He nodded agreement, but said, "No."

I sighed in desperation. He wasn't making this easy, but I couldn't blame him. I tried to make it simple. "Tim, I can't love one of my employees." That's clear enough, isn't it? But it was too simple.

Tim's emotions must have been on the edge, because he burst into tears. He dropped to his knees at my feet, threw his head in my lap and grabbed me around my waist. He blubbered, "I love you, Alan! I love you! I'll quit if I have to! I can't live without you! I need you!" He whimpered more, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I was crying, too, running my fingers through his hair and rubbing his shoulders.

"Tim, you can't mean that! You need this job! I need you to work here. I'll pay you more if you'll stay! Please, Tim! It'll get better, I promise. Just don't do this."

We were both a weepy mess. When his crying slowed, I got him to stand and hugged him. We held each other for quite a long time. Finally, he pulled back and looked into my wet eyes.

"I can't believe this! You're the one I've idolized all these years and I love you!"

I held his face in my hands, looked deeply into his eyes and said, "Tim, we can't do this! We can only be friends!" I forced my eyes dry. I tried to be strong for him, to calm him.

He looked sadly into my eyes. It was tearing me apart. He slowly nodded. I don't think he was agreeing; he was just accepting what I said. He backed away from me, keeping his lock on my eyes. Then suddenly, he turned and walked quickly out the door. I followed him to the door and watched while he walked away then I closed the door. I was dazed. I walked around my desk and stared out the window.

It was a nice view of the lake and the trees around it. I could see people rowing peacefully on the water and people running along the trails. Birds flew by seemingly without a care. But there was a storm in my mind and it was flooding my eyes. What had I done? Did I do the right thing? Or did I just destroy my last chance at happiness and hurt a most precious and vulnerable person in the process?

As I stood there, Bill came bursting into my office. "What did you say to Tim? Alan, speak to me!" He was demanding and furious.

Slowly, I turned to him. I couldn't speak. My throat was closed. The lump in my throat had swollen to the point where my vocal chords were smothered. I wiped my nose with my hand. My eyes were probably red.

"Oh, no!" he whispered. "Alan? Alan, what have you done?"

I took a deep breath. Somehow, I managed to talk in a whisper. "I told him we could only be friends."

Calmly, in a steady and even voice, he said, "You're throwing away a chance at happiness and destroying a young man in the process! Alan, you're a fucking idiot!"

I looked at him carefully. I nodded. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Okay, how about this: When he left your office he went back to his cube. That's where I found him, slumped over his desk, quietly crying his eyes out. He wouldn't tell me why. I had two guys drive him home. One drove his car and the other followed them to give the driver a ride back. How's that for starters?"

I whispered, "Oh, shit." It's times like this when my eloquence goes down the toilet.

"Alan, go home. Go home and decide what you're going to do, now that you've fucked up your life! Don't come back until you've got it worked out." He turned on his heels and marched out the door, slamming it behind him. If he weren't such a good friend, I might have been angry with him. But I know he's only concerned about me. . . . And young Tim Smith with all of his potential going down the drain.

I buzzed Lucy. "I'm going home." I didn't wait for her to respond. Leaving everything on my desk untouched, I left by my private entrance to the parking lot and climbed into my car.

I don't know how I got home. I must have driven, but I don't remember it. I was lucky I didn't end up in a ditch somewhere along the way. Not that I didn't deserve it.

Bill was right. I messed things up, in a big way. Was Tim really better off without me? Or, was I just too frightened to allow myself to love him? One thing is certain: while trying to make things better for Tim, I only made things bad for both of us. He is one determined young man. He's determined to the point of obsession. Nothing seems to dissuade him. My own determination certainly didn't.

The big questions now are: 1) do I love him; 2) do I want him; and 3) will he make me happy? If the answer to those questions is "yes" then can I make him happy? I already know he thinks he loves and wants me. He's made that clear. I have a pretty good idea we could make each other happy. So, what do I do, now?

I tried reading. I stared at a page, read it four times, and I still don't remember what it said. Television is an escape I don't need. Music usually helps, so I put on some big band music, then Nat King Cole, Harry James, Benny Goodman, Glen Miller, and the Andrews Sisters (see a pattern here?). It was getting into the early morning hours, but I couldn't sleep. Finally, I put on a Judy Garland CD. When one song came on, suddenly I began to understand my feelings for Tim.

You made me love you I didn't want to do it; I didn't want to do it You made me love you and all the time you knew it I guess you always knew it. You made me happy sometimes, you made me glad But there were times, Dear, you made me feel so bad

You made me sigh for, I didn't want to tell you I didn't want to tell you I want some love that's true, yes I do, `deed I do, you know I do

Give me, give me, give me what I cry for you know you got the brand of kisses that I'd die for You know you made me love you

Then, as if to cement it all into place, as if I needed confirmation, I flipped off the CD player and the radio came on. It was tuned to my favorite popular music station. I heard Johnny Mathis' dulcet voice singing:

Each time I look at you is like the first time Each time you're near me the thrill is new And there is nothing that I wouldn't do for The rare delight of the sight of you for

The more I see you, the more I want you Somehow this feeling just grows and grows With every sigh I become more mad about you More lost without you and so it goes

Can you imagine how much I love you? The more I see you as years go by I know the only one for me can only be you My arms won't free you, my heart won't try

I know the only one for me can only be you My arms won't free you, my heart won't try

While I listened to every word, I was in tears. This song describes perfectly how I feel about Tim. He helped me discover that I could love again. He showed me that someone could love me. How could I be such a fool? I hurt the best thing to happen to me in years.

It became clear to me that I loved Tim all along. I have the kind of love for him that could conquer any adversity. I thought about the difference in our ages. He made it clear it meant nothing to him. Independently, Stevey agreed. And Bill, bless his heart, had implied I was screwing up Tim's life by rejecting him. In the final analysis, there are no years between us. I've been such a fool and I've done such a good job of stomping on his heart, would he forgive me? Could he forgive me? Now that I know what I must do, how should I go about it? What could possibly convince him that I'm not just some flaky bastard that would continually hurt him? Whatever I do, it had better be good, or he won't be convinced.

Lord, how did I ever get myself into this mess? If I had just listened to my heart in the beginning, I wouldn't have screwed things up like this!

I wracked my brain for hours. Gradually, I developed what I thought might be the perfect plan. It just HAS to be!