Best Laid Plans: A Summer Camp Swingers Novel

“Don’t act innocent,” I said.

“Who, me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nude gardening, huh?”

“Sure. What did you think I meant?”

“You know,” I said darkly.

“What if I did mean the other?”

I didn’t think she was serious, but I played along anyway. “What about the rules?”

“Rules’re made to be broken.”

“Now you’re just messing with me.”

She paused for a moment but then laughed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Try harder.”

“I’m serious about the nude gardening, though. We’ll be much cooler.”

“Fine by me,” I said without thinking. “Um… although…”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Aw, what the heck.” I untied the drawstring on my sweatpants. I shucked them and my boxers in the same motion. I sat on the edge of the deck before Mom could say anything. Then I avoided her stare by concentrating on the sweatpants’ elastic cuff around my ankle.

“That’s a new look,” she said when she recovered.

“Um, yeah.” I tugged one leg free. “Christy likes me to shave.”

“Completely?” Mom said, although it was obvious.

“Well, it’s only fair. I like her to shave. So…” I pulled off the other leg and tossed the sweatpants onto a nearby chair. Then I stood in all my glory, hairless from the neck down. (I still had hair on my arms and legs, and a little patch around my navel, but that was it. My pubic hair was day-old stubble, no more.)

“You look even bigger without hair,” Mom said before she realized it.

I chuckled and decided not to tell her that I was semi-hard from all the innuendo and sexual tension.

“Sorry,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t stare. Especially at my son.”

“Eh, it’s okay. He kinda likes it.”

“He?”

“Mr. Big.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Is that what Christy calls it?”

“Him. He’s a him.”

“Oh, he is, is he? Well, should I shake his hand or something?”

“Probably not,” I deadpanned. “The rules.”

“Oh, right.” Her eyes glinted with laughter. “Those. Obnoxious things, rules. Always getting in the way when you don’t want them to.”

My eyebrows rose with mild disbelief.

She grinned. “Sorry. I’m still teasing you.”

“Yeah. But turnabout’s fair play, you know.”

“Oh, I know. So I’ll stop. For now.” She shot me a grin. “I have a bit of a confession. You aren’t the only one doing a bit of, ahem, creative gardening down below.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll see.” She kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans. She shimmied and slid them over her hips.

Her jiggling breasts caught my eye, so I didn’t notice her pubic hair at first.

“Your dad asked me to shave,” she said, which drew my attention like a magnet. “Not completely, like Susan does, but ‘just the undercarriage.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words. Then I took a good look at what she was talking about. Her bush was light brown and neatly groomed, as usual, but the triangle narrowed to a point above her slit. Her labia were bare, plump and pinkish-brown.

“Looks nice,” I said, the first thing that came to mind. “Not that… you know. I mean… the rules, right?”

“Right,” she agreed dryly. “The rules.”

“Well, I’d better put sunscreen on my legs,” I said as a distraction.

All of a sudden she laughed.

“What?”

“Better do your penis too. You don’t want it— Excuse me, him sunburned, especially without hair to protect him.” She couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah, right.”

So I covered my legs and butt with cream. Then I self-consciously coated my dick as well. He reacted predictably.

“I wonder if I should do my lady parts?” Mom wondered. “You know,” she added, “just in case.”

“Better safe than sorry.” I handed over the tube and pretended not to watch as she delicately spread sunscreen on her labia and between her legs. “Might as well do the rest,” she said. “I may tan easier than you do, but I can still burn, especially the first couple of times until I start turning brown.”

She covered her thighs as well, and I did my best not to stare as she bent over to do her lower legs. We’d seen each other nude more times than I could count, but we hadn’t been joking and making sexual innuendos those other times. Not most of them, at least.

“Ready to get back to work?” I said at last.

“Let’s do it.”

I shot her a look, but she hadn’t meant anything by it. I told myself I was imagining things and pulled on my gloves.

The cool morning was a distant memory, replaced by a hot and humid afternoon. I could already feel beads of perspiration forming, so I was glad I’d shed the last of the sweatsuit, which would’ve lived up to its name.

I followed as Mom headed toward the corner of the yard. The flower beds in back were much smaller than the front ones, but they were more crowded with shrubs and trees. We worked around them for more than an hour before we cleared all the weeds and loose brush that had accumulated over the winter.

“I think we’re ready for mulch,” I said at last.

“I think so. We’ll have to be careful, though.”

“Oh? Why?”

“We’ll have shovels and rakes and implements of destruction,” she said, “with all our tender parts exposed.”

“Nude gardening isn’t what it’s cracked up to be?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. It’s much cooler.”

“It is,” I agreed.

“And the view’s nicer.”