The Great Outdoors
Bill Tubbs was standing next to the tightly closed door of his rustic log cabin. He had been standing there for several minutes, breathing slowly to calm himself. Bill Tubbs was completely nude. He blushed slightly at the thought of this, and his body tingled, just a little.
He was nude! He had done it! He was naked in his own private wood cabin, moments away from grasping the door handle to stride forth into the great outdoors as his creator had always intended.
It had taken him three days to reach this point. Day one had been glorious – off with his shirt and his vest, at wander topless in his private cabin before the horror glimpse of his pale fish belly tummy in the bathroom mirror had sent him diving for a thick towelling bathrobe.
But day four. He was going to do it. He was going to open the door to his cabin and step outside.
It’s at times like these that most other people would take a step back and wonder – just for a moment – whether accepting a job as the head of finance for the National Nudism Society was the best career move for a card carrying shy. Sure, he ticked ninety-nine out of the hundred boxes, and sure, it was a massive step up for him, career wise. But nude, in public? Bill went weak at the knees at the thought of this. He stumbled. He put out a hand to save himself. His fingers caught on the door handle. The door swung, blazing the light of the midday sun that dazzled his eyes and forced him to put up his other hand to shield his eyes from the glare as he sought vainly for the door handle.
Bill stumbled, naked and pale, till slowly he stilled with the wonder of it. He was outside. He was naked. No busload of Japanese tourists stared open mouthed at the sight. Bill was shy, but he was also a cautious man. It had been a work of genius to rent a cabin out here in the wilderness, dozens of miles from another living soul.
Bill was totally alone, and he began to strut. His therapist had advised Yoga, so Bill threw himself into Downward Dog.
A few days later and Bill was almost at one with nature. His natural fish grey pallor had been swapped for something approaching all over lobster. He had added a few pirouettes into his early morning yoga routine, almost giddy at the thought of his first day on the new job. In fact, Bill had almost relaxed enough to leave the safe in his room unlocked, before thinking better of it – what if an itinerant tramp should happen by whilst he was outside a-frolic in the early morning sun? Bill Tubbs had finally conquered most of his demons, but there was nothing wrong with being careful.
He galloped back through the cabin and hauled open the front door. He gambolled, gazelle like out through the door and so a-tuned was he to this solitary life that he quite failed to notice the police officer until he had gone through Downward Dog and into Autumnal Avenue.