The article came from a gossip website. The headline read, "Silva-Taylor sex tape: Football champion Val Silva and Hollywood star Marina Taylor caught with their pants down, again."
My mouse pointer hovered over the link to the full story. I shouldn't click the link. No, I really, really, really shouldn't.
I clicked the link, wincing at my inappropriate curiosity. Was it inappropriate? He'd sort of suggested I look up his infamous behavior. He must want me to see the tape.
The article talked about Val's history of stripping down during football matches, usually after he'd scored the winning goal. I skimmed through the description of his athletic achievements, including the fact he'd led the Brazilian Olympic team to a gold medal and had been the star player of his professional football club. Later, he'd been instrumental in his national team claiming three World Cup wins. Every time, Val had scored the pivotal goals.
Then I got to the part about the video.
All I saw was a still image from the video with all the sensitive bits blurred out. Val sat in a chair with a woman straddling him. Her head was thrown back, and his eyes were closed. According to the text, the sex tape went on for fifteen minutes, with Val enjoying his lady friend in various positions and giving her several "happy endings." His video sex partner was the movie star Marina Taylor, according to the article, though I'd never heard of her, since I paid little attention to celebrities. The story went on to explain Marina had become as infamous as Val was for her scandalously risqué behavior in public, and the two of them had even received their own celebrity couple nickname, Valarina. The couple had also sprinted across the stage—naked, of course—at the Oscars, but nobody bothered to press charges for the incident. It was Hollywood, after all, the land of outrageous behavior. Marina was quoted as saying, of their sex tape, "Val and I have nothing to be ashamed of. He's a god in bed, and I'm blessed to have enjoyed the pleasure of his company."
His company? She'd been lost in ecstasy in the image from the video.
Val had given no comment on the tape.
The fact I'd never heard of any of their escapades was hardly surprising. I avoided social media, tabloids, and gossip shows.
I browsed a bit more of the search results and glanced at magazine spreads he'd posed for since retiring from football. Damn, but he was photogenic. Not that the fact surprised me. In person, he was drop-dead hot and sex incarnate. In photos, he made every other male model look like an amateur. I searched for his sex tape too but couldn't find it.
Okay, enough snooping. I closed my web browser. Now I knew why Val had said he was infamous. He had flaunted his nudism in public and starred in a sex tape with a famous actress. Mystery solved.
Again, I tried to get back to work.
My mind wouldn't let me. I fantasized about being the woman in that video, about all the things he might do to give me multiple happy endings.
I gave up and went outside to check on my guests.
Ollie and Sylvester were playing checkers, their board lying on the grass though they sat on towels, while behind them, other guests played volleyball. Ruth sat beside Sylvester, observing the checkers game.
When Ollie spotted me, he patted the grass beside him. "Sit down, Evie. Take a load off."
I accepted his invitation. For the better part of an hour, I watched Ollie and Sly shifting the red and black disks around the playing board, each of them winning several games. We all joked and laughed and talked about what to do tomorrow. The Pioneer Days festival was up and running, so we decided that might be a nice change of pace. Yes, the nudists would need to wear clothes, but they were cool with that. The rest of the gang agreed it sounded like a fun outing.
Eventually, Val came up the path from the woods, alone. He smiled at me, then joined the volleyball game.
I tried soooo hard not to stare at his penis, the way it bounced whenever he jumped up to hit the ball. Really, I tried. But every girl has her limits, and eventually, I allowed myself to grab the occasional glance. That man had the best ass I'd ever seen, not to mention the best dick.
After the checkers marathon ended, Ruth and Sylvester retreated into the guest house, taking the checkers board with them. Val had disappeared into the guest house with his fellow nudists.
I got up and stretched.
Ollie stood too. He twisted his lips this way and that, scratching his nose. "Do you know where Val's from?"
"He lives in Los Angeles, but he's originally from Brazil. Didn't he tell you?"
"I didn't think to ask." Ollie folded his arms over his chest. "I know I've seen him somewhere before."
"Well, he used to play professional football. His teams won the Olympics and the World Cup."
Ollie's brows cinched together, wrinkling the skin above his nose. "Football. Val Silva." His eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers. "That's it. He's the soccer player who kept ditching his clothes during games."
"That's right. I'm not sure if he wants to talk about it, though."
Ollie gave me an oh-please look. "I'm a naturist. I know how to be discreet. But nobody should ever be ashamed of taking their clothes off."
"I think it's a crime to do it in public, at least in the US."
He flapped a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Only because the authorities have sticks up their butts."