He found a secluded place. Someone would have to drive along the small road and see his parked car and then find us a hundred meters or so away in the shade of some trees. He spread out his blanket. It would really have been too small for all of us, even if Anna had been hoping we could sit closer together. We spread out our towels.
As I was still wondering about clothes, he began to unbutton his shirt, remarking with a smile:
"Don't think I always go nude, but after a few days, when I go back to work, it feels strange to have to wear a coat and tie."
Of course, we all also began to undress, smiling at him, as he began to open his trousers before he had taken of his shirt. Both blouses were off before anything else, Anna and Marge smiling as their breasts appeared, their nipples erect. He returned their smiles, adding:
"Oh, sometimes at home - now alone - on weekends I forget to get dressed until I have to go out."
"I do too," I said, remembering write emails to Anna with nothing on.
Even though we all had so much experience being naked together, it was still a little arousing to be immediately stripping of our clothes after a day among "normal people." My jockey shorts off, I automatically jostled my sack. I only realized what I had done when Anna smirked slightly. Nothing wrong with that, if we were all going to be nude again - and may not just nude?
Sans picked up his trousers and fished a pocket knife with a corkscrew out of a pocket. He had had another corkscrew before, wouldn't have missed the one he had brought to our place. While he opened the wine bottle - one of two, and again an unaccustomed sight - Marge unwrapped the cheese and sausage. He sat down with us, remarking:
"Forgot plastic cups; we'll all have to drink out of the bottle."
We all nodded. He held up the bottle and took a sip, handing it to Marge. As she drank, he opened his knife and began to peel and slice sausage. Marge passed me the bottle with a grin and began to break the baguettes. Anna was already grinning, when I passed it on to her. Sans was still slicing sausage, telling us to start, as he reached for the cheese. Anna offered him the bottle. He held it up again, looking around at us, and drank. We waited till he had put it down, Since I had paid for our repast, I said: "Bon appetit," and we all took something to eat.
Sans returned to slicing sausage and cheese. When he had finished, he took another drink, passing the bottle again to Marge, and then looked up at the branches above us and said:
"This is better than I hoped, with you, of course, but here, like this: 'A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou.' No book of verses, but the rest is appropriate."
"Very," Marge agreed, holding up the bottle and drinking.
"Omar Khayyam," Anna said with a pleased smile, receiving one from Sans - also from me, but she didn't notice.
I drank and held the bottle out in her field of view. We ate and drank for another round in silence. Anna said a couple of words in German to Marge, who nodded with a chuckle and said:
"A German expression when there is longer pause in conversation during a meal: 'a ravenous silence'."
We all chuckled, nodding. Sans nodded again and said to Anna:
"And you like older men, father figures?"
I thought she blushed slightly, but it may have just been my imagination; her tan wouldn't have revealed a slight blush. When I heard her reply, I didn't dare look to see if she blushed more deeply:
"Just 'older men'; I have him."
I looked at Sans, seeing him suppress whatever expression he felt. Anna added:
"They know," nodding at Marge and me, adding softly: "parents divorced."
I didn't look at anyone, wondering if Marge would try to fill in the silence. Sans did, very much to my surprise, murmuring softly:
"My daughter too."
I ventured a glance at him and then at Anna, who looked very relieved. Marge remarked softly:
"My brother too. He knows."
Anna hadn't, but glanced passed me at her with little smile. The three of us looked back at Sans. He snorted with a very wry smile and reached across and took the bottle and drank, smiling wryly again, looking at each of us. He murmured:
"Never told anyone that."
Anna smiled slightly and replied:
"After last summer. ... I hadn't thought till then that he - an older man - would still care, but then ..., well, then I did."
She gave me a smile, that I returned, continuing:
"It just happened. Hmm? I guess I helped it happen. Been nice for us both."
Sans smiled with a nod, replying:
"I can understand. It started the first time my wife was in a clinic. She had bad depressions. Oh, I wasn't entirely guiltless. Wrong word! Whatever. When she started to wear bras, I guess I said more about her growing up than maybe I should have, but she didn't mind, liked it, she later told me. Yes, we teased each other. No, I never saw her naked, just almost."
He snorted with another wry smile, suggesting that he could be recalling something. Then he continued:
When she was older, of course she was sleeping with guys. I don't want to know when she first did, probably younger than I want to think. Anyway, when my wife was in the clinic - she was at university, but then came to stay at home, still studying. Had we been teasing again? Don't think so. The second evening, she just asked me if I wanted her to sleep with me."
He looked up with another wry smile and then took another drink from the bottle.
"Why not," Marge remarked softly, and reached for the bottle.
Anna and I nodded while she drank and then passed the bottle to me. I drank and passed it to Anna, who had to tilt it up to empty it. We all snorted, ostensibly at her having emptied the bottle, but, of course, more at the unexpected revelations of three incestuous relationships. I felt obliged to say something and remarked:
"Mom was the only female in my family, and - love her as I did - well, you understand."
The others nodded. Sans smiled and said:
"We still do, but now she is married and has two children; few visits when we can. Hm-hmm! Part of my 'problem', liking younger women."
We all nodded with more relaxed smiles. Without asking if we wanted more to drink, he reached for the second bottle and his knife with the corkscrew. It wasn't a Swiss officer's knife, of course. I now recalled that I had seen it advertised in various versions: a French knife with a curved handle.
We all had drunk more or less than a quarter of a liter, he maybe more, when he admitted that he slept with his daughter, but it had been a hot day. We all drank more than a sip when the bottle was passed, still silent after his last remark.
Suddenly Marge snorted with a grin and said something in German, obviously to Anna, who then snickered, grinning back. Sans and I looked at them with quizzical expressions. Marge grinned again, nodding to Anna, who almost laughed. I asked her:
"Okay, what did that mean?"
Her nipples popped out - or maybe they had before. She giggled, looking again to Marge for support, and said:
"She asked if this isn't when the ... girls ..." Marge interjected: "Milkmaids."
" ... when the milkmaids on the summer pastures attack the first man they see."
We all laughed, almost too heartily, either from the wine or because it had been in the back of our minds all along. Sans smirked and asked with feigned innocence:
"Do they?"
