Chapter 3: Senior Summer

Sam Kramer looked over the kitchen table at her adopted daughter, Greta, and admired the even golden glow of the teenager’s tan unblemished by strap marks or tan lines. “Just how much time have you been spending lazing by the pool, Greta? I ask with no purpose beyond pointing out the risk of sunburn and skin cancer; you can consider this the use an SPF 45 lecture the combined forces of motherhood and professional nursing wish me to express. And who else is with you? There are too many towels in the laundry room for just you poolside.”

“Brenda has been dropping by from around one in the afternoon til around four-thirty,” Greta told her mother, “Her job at the parks department gets done at half-past twelve every day, she walks over here from Rock Creek Park and we hang for the afternoon, no biggie, is it?”

“Nope,” Sam smiled,” I like Brenda and she is good company for you as well. Do you take her home on your way to your job?”

“Yeah, she climbs into the Blue Bomber and we leave here around four-forty. I drop her off by ten to five and I’m at the assisted living facility by five to punch in for my four hours.” Greta continued her placement at the assisted living facility beyond her mandatory community service period. The facility had added a part-time job to its roster for her as a recreation therapy aide, where she did everything from playing catch with a beach ball to helping with holding a pallet of paint for an artist who had lost the use of one arm due to a stroke.

Above her chest of drawers, hanging in Sam’s room, was the painting in oil on canvas of Greta, done by the physically challenged woman. Greta likewise had one of the woman’s pieces in her room, a still life of the facility’s resident cat, Marvelous Marvin, curled up asleep on a library shelf. Greta worked five p.m. to nine p.m. Monday through Friday and then nine a. m. to nine p.m. on Saturday. Even though her junior year community service obligation was over and that her voluntary submission to the naked in school all nude all the time facet of the Program had ended with the school year, Greta had chosen to continue the nude lifestyle; as she said, “At least through the summer, Sam, maybe come the cooler weather, I’ll consider Uggs and a long down coat this year.”

Sam had laughed at that, remembering her naked, shivering adopted daughter shoveling the three inches of snow that had fallen last March, determined to maintain her total nudity commitment despite her skin turning blue. Greta had spent an hour in the hot tub after that incident.

Greta finished her Junior year with a grade point average of 3.75 on a 4.0 scale. Normally a solid C+/B- student, her grades jumped by one full point for completing a full school year naked, twenty-four and seven. She had been approached by the school administration and the Program mentoring counselor about repeating her nudity through senior year. If she agreed, she would become a Student Mentor in the Program, helping to ease girls selected for the mandatory one-week participation in the Program from textile to nude lifestyle. She hadn’t said yes or no to that as yet, but it felt so natural to be without clothing now that she dreaded the thoughts of having to shop for, buy and then wear clothing. By law, the only thing she had to wear was a pair of sneakers or sandals while driving and a silver disc on a silver beaded neck chain that was engraved with DDEHS NIS on the front standing for Dwight David Eisenhower High School Naked In School program. The back was coded Jr-2, indicating she was the second female in her junior year to volunteer for the all-nude all the time portion of the Program. That medallion marked her as fully dressed in the eyes of the law and it would have to be returned on the first day of Greta’s senior year in September. She was reserving her decision until then. Greta’s best school friend Brenda Adams wore medallion Jr-1. One of the many things they talked about sitting by the pool was reenrolling in the program in the fall.

Brenda’s parents, though more liberal than most in the church crowd the family belonged to, were getting the nudges in conversation that wasn’t one year enough. Wouldn’t she look lovely in that style dress and crap like that? Brenda had reported the last time she had been over. “So I don’t know if they are going to allow me to sign up for next year.”

“What about the grade boost? That was your convincer last year, Brenda. Can you play that card again?”

“I heard that if you go, Student Mentor, the grade boost no longer is offered,” Brenda had replied, “So it would be back to good old C level me again. It was nice to see one final report card of solid B grades, though.”

The Program Mentor had spoken to Greta and Sam in Sam’s office at the high school just before the school year. “The government is thinking about revising the name of the Program from Naked In School to Naked In Society, and I think our Greta and Brenda are fantastic role models for such a change. Don’t you? As a Student Mentor, Greta would work out of my office. I see the Student Mentor’s helping with grooming, hygiene and poise and confidence issues for girls new to the program and the government is providing a stipend for the positions.” Jan Thayer was wearing only a gold medallion bearing the inscription Program Mentor on its front with Jan Thayer and the last four numbers of her social security number on the reverse. If Greta agreed to take the job, a similar disc would be her only garb for her senior year of high school.

“Yeah, Brenda, Sam mentioned her conversation with Thayer about that. Since the government is offering a paycheck, the school district felt it did not have to offer the grade point incentive. But, that is only if you go mentor, you can still do the program as a full-time volunteer, senior year, and I think the grade boost would still be in effect.” Greta had stretched in the sun like a lazy cat at that point and smiled at the thirty-something single guy who walked past them for the seventh time in the last half hour.

“Creepy,” Brenda muttered, watching the thong-clad male walk away from her, “why doesn’t he stop and talk instead of staring like that every time he walks by?”

“Because his boyfriend is jealous of us,” Greta giggled. “Sam told me. Joey really admires that females can legally opt to be nude in public and he looks on us as suffragettes for his cause and equal rights for full-time male nudity. Hal’s partner thinks if Joey spends too much time with naked girls, he’ll switch teams and leave Hal for one of us. Joey with Sam, I could almost see. They would be cute together. Joey with you or me, ew, what would we talk about? Oh, and I’ve seen him dance.” Rolled eyes and a giggle let Brenda know that was not a pretty sight.

Sam looked at Greta as she finished her teenage gush of a typical afternoon by the pool with Brenda and said, “You told Brenda you thought Joey and I would make a cute couple! That will take as long as her two thumbs to punch out the keys on her cell phone to be texted all over the world,” Sam chuckled. “I guess I’d better be ready for all of the beard jokes.”

Turning serious, Sam said, “Gramma called. She wants us down to visit her last week of July through the first two weeks of August. Can you clear it with the facility?”

“They have already asked me for a vacation schedule, and I said I wasn’t sure,” Greta responded,

“I’ll try to arrange it. But I admit I’ll miss them when I’m away and feel kind of guilty to not be there.”

“Check it out so I can give Gramma an answer,” Sam changed topics to, “Going for groceries in a bit, do you have a list?”

“On the fridge,” Greta responded, putting her dishes in the dishwasher, “I’m going to get into the shower, now that a certain drainer of the hot water tank is done and it has had a chance to refill itself.”

“Hey, it takes a lot of lather to get this,” Sam twirled around like a dancer, “all baby smooth.” They both broke up laughing.

The mess, as Greta called it, hit her four days before she and Sam were to leave for Gramma Kramer’s on vacation. Sam had put Greta on the once every six-month cycle of birth control when she entered the Naked In School full-time Program portion. Sam did not believe that Greta’s resolve would hold and she would eventually give into a boy wanting vaginal sex. Greta never kept her knees glued together, yet she was still a virgin insofar as still having an intact hymen. She had learned quite well how to perform hand masturbation for both males and females and had oral sex giving and receiving from both genders as well. Yet, the thought of a penis penetrating her vagina was so distasteful to her that she warned her dates that NO meant NO for that.

Greta felt the rumbling in her stomach before she saw the flow. She had been lightly cramping for two days but had passed that off as having strained herself lifting supplies off of the shelves at the assisted living center. The leak started as a few drips on the third day and then by mid-afternoon, blood was everywhere.

Sam was on hand with Midol and soft, warm towels to hold against Greta’s tummy, but after being nude for ‘forever,’ Greta’s problem was how to handle a flow that would not be contained with tampons. She literally did not own a stitch of clothing and the concept of buying something to wear just for the week to ten days she would flow bothered her. At least she wasn’t in school and Brenda still was there to keep her company, though the pool and hot tub were off-limits. Two five and two, Sam had said, two days of cramping coming on, five days of flow, and two days of light spotting on its way out. Sam had padded Greta’s bed with disposable chucks pads and everywhere she sat, there was an old folded beach towel. She used sick days at the assisted living center and was truly sick with aches, cramps, and misery.

When the flow had eased, Sam gave Greta the injection that would be good until late December, ‘Oh goodie,’ Greta had said, ‘I’ll definitely be home for Christmas.’

Greta called Gramma Kramer in one of her less cramped moments and rather than using the little girl wheedle and voice she asked Sam’s mother point-blank if she could bring a friend. “A boy or a girl,” was all Gramma had asked.

“A girl, my best friend Brenda, Gramma,” Greta had responded.

“Well, fine, she can share your room. I was afraid if it was a boy, I’d have to clean out my office so he could use the pull-out couch bed,” Gramma stated, then added, “Are you two a couple or just friends with benefits?”

“GRAMMA,” Greta blurted two octaves higher than the normal tone of voice, “She is the other girl who went full-time with the Program, Gramma, and we kind of bonded over the experience, but we ARE NOT LOVERS.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Gramma chuckled on her end of the phone. Greta actually blushed in a full-body pink flush just thinking about the look currently on Gramma’s face.

Brenda had cleared her schedule to allow for the trip both with her parents and with her summer job. Greta was due a one-week vacation and was given the other two weeks off without pay. Sam, of course, was off on vacation all of July and the first three weeks of August. School nurses worked on a ten-month contract. Sam had eight glorious weeks to bask in the sun, take CEUs at the college or online and to enjoy her adopted daughter.

Wearing identical t-shirt dresses, the three women, one a thirty-something and two teenagers, arrived at the domestic airline terminal to check-in for their flight south to Gramma Kramer’s farm. Sam was wearing a ginger-colored dress that perfectly set off her eyes and hair. Greta wore the same mint green dress that she had worn to fly down to Gramma’s at Christmas time. Brenda was wearing a pale yellow dress that hugged her curves and screamed ‘I’m naked under this t-shirt.” Which, in fact, all the women were, the dresses and sandals being the only clothing the trio wore. Purses and shoes through the x-ray machine, one at a time through the body scanner, and on to the first of two aircraft, this one would take them to Atlanta, where they would change to a smaller plane for the final hop to the airport near Gramma Kramer’s farm. It was a forty-five-minute drive from the airport to Gramma’s farm and then three weeks of relaxation.

Gramma was waiting outside the terminal by her Cayenne. Without luggage, the four women fit into the cross-over vehicle nicely. Sam was sitting in front on the passenger side while her mother drove and the two teenagers were sitting in the back seat. Conversation flowed freely between the four and it didn’t seem to be forty-five minutes had passed when Gramma’s house came into sight.

“Wow, your Gramma has all the amenities of a full-fledged resort right here in her farm house, Greta,” Brenda was awed as they toured the home, “I can see why you love to spend the holidays and vacation here.”

“Look at the fitness center,” Brenda gushed, looking at the free weights as well as the stationary bicycles and treadmills in what had once been a solarium. A large pantry had been converted to a sauna beyond that room, and a small four-person hot tub was also in that space.

The large enclosed outdoor activity area held a twenty-meter lap pool heated to a perfect eighty-eight degrees year-round and a beach volleyball court. A completed outdoor kitchen with Brendaecues and a propane-powered stove and oven combination unit along with a refrigerator and wine cooler resided on one deck. Along side that deck and slightly elevated from it was the sun deck with loungers and small tables and two outdoor chests made of a resin material for towels and seat cushions.

Brenda asked, “Does your Gramma do a lot of entertaining?”

Greta responded, “She’s very good to the people who work for her and their families. It is not unusual on a Saturday or Sunday to have thirty or forty people in the compound, as Gramma likes to call the back yard, swimming, sunning and eating.”

“Wow,” Brenda said again and then looked worried, “If she has company over, we don’t have any clothes or swimsuits.”

“Neither will the company, Bren, don’t worry about it. James, Gramma’s foreman, has twin daughters about our age. When I was down at Christmas, Lynn and Lena were here to play volleyball with Sam and me almost every day. It was like, hello at the front door, peel naked before they hit the solarium door and splash into the pool to do a few laps before we settled into the volleyball sets for the rest of the afternoon. They are mean wicked players, Bren, so you’re going to have to bring your “A” game if we are going to win even once against them.”

“You are the meanest wickedest volleyball player I’ve ever seen on the court, Greta,” Brenda replied. “If those two are that good, I’ll be embarrassed just being in the sand with them.”

“Besides Sam, who do you think taught me to play?” Greta asked her best friend and continued with, “It was like a clinic every day. You know college recruiters were looking at them trying to get letters of intent signed when they were high school sophomores?”

“Wow, if they can teach me some decent moves, maybe I can try out for our team this next year,” Brenda smiled, “Spring Beach Volleyball, not full court winter volleyball on the hardwood floor. Diving for balls naked on waxed hardwood makes me shudder every time I watch you play.”

“Sam shudders worse than you do. She is the one who has to patch up my floor rash and make the scabs and bruises presentable for school and social events,” Greta chuckled. “Thank heaven for body make-up and self-tanner.”

Gramma Kramer and Sam walked out onto the lower deck at that moment and waved the girls over to them. Both were naked and when viewed together, it was obvious they were family. Gramma had slightly fleshier hips and a bit of a sag to her breasts, but the two were physically peas in a pod. Greta thought it was cute that Gramma chose to leave her pubic hair in place. She had teased Gramma that it looked like ‘granny panties’ for the naked set at Christmas time. Sam was trimmed back to a one-inch wide landing strip above her vaginal region. Brenda and Greta were waxed completely and both girls were considering spending the money on full body laser hair removal.