There I was in a nudist resort nestled in a canyon near Los Angeles. The grounds were breathtakingly beautiful. The hot tub was perched on the highest peak and overlooked a view of the mountains that could make an eagle cry.
But it wasn’t nature that I was there to see, at least not that kind. I had been told that this resort was frequented by movie stars and other famous people, and by God, I wanted to know if the rich really are different from you and me.
Rumor had it that movie stars ranging from Tom Selleck to Helen Hunt hung out here (sorry, but the pun is intentional), and since I was visiting California I was determined to do what tourists do — see movie stars.
Now, I have to tell you. Nudism, to me, is no big deal. I’ve attended numerous nudist parks over the past thirty years and on most warm weekends my wife and I can be found at a nudist resort near our home. So I’m not one of your typical voyeurs. I’m a specialist. I was there to peek at naked famous people, not just your ordinary ones.
Let’s face it. The thrill of seeing ordinary people naked ends pretty quickly. Most of us sag, droop and flop like flags on a windy day.
However, I was in California, and there were some beautiful people there. Not many, but some. Sadly, they stood out (the pun is once again intentional and I apologize profusely), much as they do at any other resort.
I did overhear one interesting bit of dialogue that I figure could only have been uttered in California and apparently involved an almost famous person.
A young man in his twenties, tanned and naked, walked up to a fortyish-looking woman, also naked, and asked, “Aren’t you so and so of the blankety-blank agency?”
Now you have to remember, the woman, nude, is lying on her back and the young man is standing over her. Naked. “You interviewed me for the such and such project.”
I couldn’t hear all of the conversation, but the woman remembered him and these two totally naked people discussed business as if they were lunching at a local cafe.
It was all pleasant enough but apparently no famous people were on display, so I began packing my towel and tanning lotion when I spotted two young, blond women, pointing and smiling in my direction.
“I guess I still have it,” I said to myself as they walked towards me.
“Gutt ahftanoon,” one of them said in a thick accent I assumed was German. It took a while, but I finally realized after much difficulty that they were convinced I was Kenny Rogers. And they wanted a picture of me (aka Kenny) with them, so they could go back home and show their friends that they met someone famous.
So if you happen to come across a site on the Internet claiming to contain pictures of Kenny Rogers, naked, romping with two naked women, don’t get excited. It’s only me and my two new friends.
It was the least I could do for them, since I understood how thrilled they were at seeing a famous person in the flesh.
And I apologize one last time for the pun.