Tales from the 1970s counter-culture: Drugs, sex, politics and rock and roll
Another day, at Bromalset, ( a nudist lake) I noticed a woman who looked to be looked to be about 30 and extremely middle-class. She wore her work clothes to the lake, a formal dress, white with a brown floral pattern, high heels and fine jewelry, including a pearl necklace. She looked like she could be June Cleaver from “Leave It To Beaver.” She was of medium height, had dark, curly, well-styled hair and a nice hourglass figure. When she got naked she had a beautiful body with long tits with large dark brown nipples and very wide halos. She came almost every time I went to Bromalset. I finally got up the nerve up to talk with her.
“I’m just a middle class suburbanite who just happens to like nude swimming,” she said. “I like to come here right after work.”
Her name was Kate. I found her quite interesting. She had a five-year-old daughter who came with her, but always wore a swimming suit.
“She calls me her indecent mom,” Kate joked.
She also told me she lived in Topeka. After talking with her a few times I asked to visit her home.
“I’m presently looking for a job,” I told her. “I was thinking of spending the day in Topeka to check on jobs there. Can I visit you while I’m there?”
“Will you need a place to stay?”
“That would be helpful.”
“Is Doc coming with you?”
I could tell by her tone that she wasn’t fond of Doc at all.
“No,” I said. “It’s just me.”
“That would be fine.”
She gave me her address and gave me directions to her house. The next day I visited her after she got off work. She had a nice, two-story, green wooden house, in a middle-class looking neighborhood.
“Come on in,” she said as she answered the door.
The inside of her house was neat and clean. There were family pictures and nice new furniture. She had a cloth green couch and a leather brown chair. She had a black baby grand piano in the corner, with family pictures on it.
“All I have to drink right now is Coke,” she said.
“That will be fine.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Why do you hang around with Doc?”
“He’s interesting. He tells a lot of wild stories.”
“Really? I find that strange. When I see him, he’s so loaded he’s nearly unconscious. I’ve never seen him talk much about anything.”
“Well, he’s not always like that. Some days he’s not that stoned and he tells really funny stories. He once told me that he house sat for this friend of ours and while letting her cats in, a skunk followed them into the house. He just curled up in the corner with the cats. At first Doc tried to lure him out with some chicken. When that didn’t work, he cooked the chicken and that got the skunk’s attention. He had to cook chicken for a skunk to get him to leave the house.”
“That is kind of funny.”
I was only telling her part of the story. Not only was Doc a great drug connection, but hanging out with him scared a lot of riffraff away from me. His reputation as a dangerous person protected me. No one dared mess with me while I was hanging out with Doc. And I never told Kate about his murderous reputation or his real occupation. She already had a bad opinion of him.
Being in her house reminded me of my middle-class past. Except for holiday trips to my parents’ home, I was completely cut off from middle-class culture. That’s probably why I found her so interesting. She represented something I had once been familiar with, but I was now far removed from. We talked most of the night.
“I’m divorced,” Kate said. “He left me for a young college student where he worked. But I have this house and my daughter.”
Kate was at least ten years older than me. As the night came to an end, she went upstairs to bed and I slept on the couch. The next morning she came down to get ready for her job as a secretary for some government welfare agency. She was naked.
“I figured you’d sleep nude,” she said. “I just figured that since you like the nude swimming lake.”
“Normally I do,” I told her. “But when I stay over at someone’s house I usually just sleep in my clothes. I really didn’t think about it.”
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