Four Naked Women

Another one who doesn’t want me! I’m confused and tired. I’ve been dating for about three years now. Each woman has her own reservations. I don’t know what they want! I pay taxes, a mortgage, I exercise occasionally, I don’t smell, and I still have my hair. I think that’s not too bad. I run home, wanting to be alone. The woman from today went too far.

“She just feels that way!” I shout at passersby.

How did she figure that out? She saw me for twenty minutes. She didn’t give any rational reason. She definitely knew I liked her, I sent about three hundred nonverbal fireworks. Strong facial expressions and clear gestures, just like the guidebook. I ran my fingers through my hair, played with my earlobe, licked my lips, and... nothing! I dash into my apartment building.

If some Quasimodo came by, I’d understand, but me?! Even my kindergarten teacher told me forty years ago that I was a handsome boy. I climb the last flight of stairs.

I need to let this out, or I’ll go crazy. Out of habit, I start scolding all the things in my apartment, but it’s not helping. The dresser hasn’t spoken to me since our argument yesterday, so I try calling a real person and search for a contact in my phone.

“Hello, Helen?” I contact my childhood friend.

“Yes, Vincent? Long time no hear. How are you?”

“Crap! I need to meet up!”

“Wait, wait, under these circumstances, I’m not meeting you!” she declares firmly.

“What circumstances?! You said I could call if I ever needed something!” I raise my voice.

“Vincent, that was five years ago, okay?! But that’s not the point. You’re radiating negative energy, and I... I’ve recently gone through a cleansing. I was unhappy, and now I’m cheerful. You should try it too, it helps...”

What nonsense is she talking about? I put the phone on the table, take a deep breath, and count to ten so I don’t say something I’ll regret, just like my therapist advised. Once I’m calm, I put the phone back to my ear. She’s still talking.

...you’ve always been like this. Always overthinking. Give it a try.”

“Okay, Helen. Thanks for the advice. I have to go now.”

“I’ll text you a link to the travel agency if you change your mind. Good luck, Vincent.”

I put the phone down and reach for the TV remote.

As if today wasn’t bad enough, the TV is broken. There’s no sound. I try in vain to guess the plot of the movie. I switch to my favorite porn channel, everything is clear there; sound isn’t necessary.

The tense silence is broken by a text.

Not bad, I think after looking at the travel agency’s website, which offers extraordinary experiences and dreams come true. I’ll check it out tomorrow.

“Hi!” a red-haired man greets me, throwing his arms wide and running toward me.

“Good afternoon,” I freeze, noticing he’s naked.

“What can I do for you?” he smiles.

“Well... actually... maybe a vacation? You’re a travel agency, right?” I confirm I’m in the right place.

“Absolutely!” he snaps his fingers and wiggles his hips.

I avert my gaze and glance at a colorful sign for a trip called Vacation with Emma.

“Do you still have this one?” I point at it.

“Absolutely! You’ll love it,” he claps his hands.

A large hut in the middle of the woods wasn’t what I expected. I hope they at least have a shower; otherwise, I’m heading back home.

“Hi,” a blonde woman greets me.

“Hi,” I smile. Her nudity doesn’t surprise me. The travel agency is probably for naturists, and Helen was just messing with me. Never mind. This woman is really attractive, and I shamelessly stare at her breasts.

“Please undress,” she says calmly.

“I don’t mind, but won’t I get cold?” I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Definitely not,” she smiles.

This is going to be a great vacation, I think, quickly stripping off my clothes.

More women step out of the hut.

A redhead, a Black woman, an Asian, I scan them, catching my breath.

“Welcome to Emma’s village. You have a whole week for self-discovery,” the redhead greets me.

“No, I already know myself. I’d rather get to know all of you better!” I run my hand through my hair.

“If you don’t understand yourself, you can’t understand others,” the Black woman interjects.

“I’m telling you, I know myself!” I grab my earlobe.

“Go ahead and lick your lips, and you’ll be perfect,” the Asian woman quips. I sense a hint of sarcasm.

“Start with yourself! You’re broadcasting on a Casanova frequency. How’s your receiver set up?” the blonde asks.

What is she rambling about?! I feel like yelling, but her expression cools me down.

“What receiver?” I ask meekly. I switch strategies. If being a charmer doesn’t work, maybe a submissive wimp will.

“Every emotion has its own vibrations. Whatever you feel, you broadcast into the universe,” the blonde explains.

“I get it,” I bow.

“Stop overthinking everything! Emotions matter more!” the redhead scolds me. She seems to dislike me.

“Come on in,” the Asian woman invites me.

“Pick an outfit for today,” she gestures to an open wardrobe.

“But... I don’t see any clothes,” I cautiously feel the hangers.

“You’re not supposed to,” the redhead laughs, caressing her sides.

“We’ll teach you emotional depth. All disruptive influences, like clothing, are eliminated,” the blonde explains.

“Dress in joy, and you’ll spend today with me,” the stunning Black woman suggests.

“Pick sadness, and you’ll understand its depth,” the sensual Asian woman counters.

“Hold on, there’s enough time for everyone,” I try to wink at her but stop myself.

“I’ll try all the... emotions in the wardrobe.”

I’m back from vacation. Rested and full of emotions. I let them guide me. I’ve thrown away my dating manuals, canceled my porn subscriptions. Clothed in joy, I walk through the city, broadcasting...