The Rose Maiden
From prude to nude: an English Rose learns to bloom beneath the northern sun in The Rose Maiden, by Mary Thomas
Editor’s note: This story by author Mary Thomas originally appeared in Adventures Without Clothes, a collection of naturist fiction benefitting Doctors Without Borders. In alignment with the project’s mission, the author’s fee for this publication has also been donated to Doctors Without Borders.
You can buy Adventures Without Clothes right here.
Chapter one
She was a typical English Rose with a peaches and cream complexion. Her children had flown the nest. Her husband had died some years ago and Rose passed her time by lovingly keeping her home in order, tending her beautifully manicured garden, baking delicious cakes for the regular string of visitors who came for a cosy afternoon tea and chat. She attended church regularly and knitted blankets for various charities, visited the sick and quietly had a most agreeable routine which suited her situation.
Rose had decided it was time to sell her late husband’s classic car which had been languishing in the garage since before he had died. It was a machine that thrived constant loving attention. Rose reluctantly advertised it for sale. Enquiries came from all over the world - Spain, India, Australia and….Sweden! A message on the answerphone “Hello. My name is Sven. I am interested in the car.”
Rose melted as she listened to his deep, rich and seductive voice. Oh! Why? Oh! Why hadn’t he left a contact number? Two days later he called again. That voice! Rose could barely concentrate on his questions. Her knees were weakening at his sensuous tones. Three weeks later he arrived to collect the vehicle and she melted again at the sight of his strong frame and rugged but attractive face. How was she going to cope? In a fit of generosity she had offered him bed and board to split his journey. Now that she had seen him, it might not have been such a good idea. On the other hand, it could make for an interesting evening.
Trying to control herself, she fired a string of questions at him over the supper she had prepared for them. They talked for hours. Rose found she just couldn’t get enough of listening to him. Sven delighted in telling Rose about his love of yachts and how, after many years, he had sold his last boat in order to buy a car. The timing was perfect, he told her. However, it was clear from the conversation that sailing was his real love. The freedom, the combination of sunshine and wind on the face, the ‘getting away from it all’ peace, the oneness with nature and the sea. Yes, sailing was the real love of Sven’s life.
And so it was that the following morning, after breakfast on the patio in the morning sunshine, Sven prepared to depart. He placed his overnight bag on the passenger seat and engaged first gear. Rose leaned in through the window to gently placed a kiss upon his cheek. He smiled at her and with a wave of his hand, he pulled off the drive and disappeared into the distance.
Rose was left with a feeling she had never experienced before. She wanted to see Sven again, get to know him better, even throw her arms around him, but that was never going to happen. He had come into her life like a butterfly through a window. Now he was gone. Were they really just two ships passing in the night?
A week later Sven called to thank Rose for her kind hospitality and once again she felt her heart thump loudly at the sound of his voice. And once again, as the call ended, Rose wondered if she would even hear from him again. She pottered in the garden for the rest of the day in an effort to put Sven entirely out of her mind. Accept that she was too old to even think about a new relationship. Of course Sven was older than her. Besides, he was more interested in cars and boats and probably trains and planes too. So much for clearing her mind.
Eight months passed when, out of the blue, Sven was on the end of the phone again.
“Rose! I’ve done up the car. Would you like to come over and see it? Stay a few days and I’ll show you my part of Sweden.”
Rose couldn’t board a flight quickly enough and as she left the arrivals hall and stepped into the crisp, fresh air, she saw Sven masterfully standing next to a very shiny motor. How proud he was. As he drove to his house in a remote village, Rose looked around trying to absorb every lake, mountain, tree and snowflake that passed her eyes. Winter had come early but that didn’t deter either of them enjoying each other’s company. Sven was smiling happily as he drove and Rose was overwhelmed by the austere beauty of the landscape. Tomorrow he would take her on a mountain trail through the forest.
“I’ve heard that all the Swedish women are tall with long blonde hair and usually walk naked through the forest. Is that right?” Rose asked, nerves making her blabber.
Sven nearly swerved off the road, “I don’t know where you’ve got that idea from!”
“Well that’s what we Brits think. You mean you don’t all walk naked in the forest?” Rose asked rather abashed.
“You can. If you really want to. You can walk naked in the forest. No one will stop you. In fact I think some of my neighbours might like it, especially the men,” came the reply.
They sat silently for a while. Rose suddenly felt rather foolish. She could sense Sven smiling inside from head to toe.
“This is going to be an interesting few days,” he said as he turned onto a small country road lined with ‘picture book’ snow-dressed trees and a sprinkling of typically red Swedish wooden homes.
The house was warm and welcoming with a log fire already lit for their arrival. Sven was clearly very domesticated. Rose was impressed. Sweden had been egalitarian for many years and Sven’s home and domestic competence made that abundantly evident. They drank hot spiced wine by the fireside. The soft glow of the flames flickering over Rose’s delicate skin. She caught Sven observing her movements with his tender eyes as they talked about the plans for the next few days. Much later they left the dying embers of the fire and retired to their separate rooms. Rose sank down under the warm duvet and, despite feeling very much at home, secretly wished she was in the other bedroom.
Morning came. Despite the snow having deepened overnight, Rose insisted that Sven took her on the promised forest walk.
“Just remember, if you see a bear, don’t run! Just turn your back on it and walk slowly away.”
“WHAT!” said Rose, “Are you serious?”
“Well, yes I am. I mean I’ve never seen a bear here but that’s what they say you should do.”
Suddenly the forest walk wasn’t quite the experience Rose was expecting. She was now terrified and tried desperately to keep as close as possible to this man who was so at ease with himself and, by all accounts, relishing in acquainting himself with all the local wildlife. And he meant ALL the wildlife - bears, foxes, moose, wolves. He loved them all.
“Doesn’t he realise I’m a little English suburban lass? Doesn’t he realise this is outside my comfort zone?” she said to herself.
“Well of course he doesn’t! He’s a bloody Viking!”
Day two was much the same as day one but with a more relaxing street walk around the village and the added bonus of a visit to the weekly ladies session at the village sauna in the evening. She knew, empirically, her body wasn’t too bad for a woman over sixty and her breasts were a respectable size even if they weren’t as pert as they once were. She needn’t have worried. The Swedish women were just the same as the English women in as much as they came in all different shapes and sizes. However, Rose was amazed to discover that, despite the stereotype, none of them resembled the tall, slim beautiful blondes that she was expecting. In fact she secretly thought that her English body and fair complexion was reasonable competition for any Swedish one. Well it must be something about being exposed to the harsh winter weather conditions she thought. How right she was, for the next minute Rose was invited to join the ladies to take a plunge in the lake a few yards from the sauna house. It was minus eight degrees and Rose was expected to walk through the snow barefoot and naked with just a small towel to wrap around her delicate body but, even worse, take a naked dip. NO WAY! That was a step too far and she hurried back into the heat of the sauna as quickly as she could. These Vikings MUST be really tough to survive, she thought.
Day three involved a drive through the mountains up to a ski resort. Another new activity for the dainty English Rose. Poor Rose. She hated every minute of it and basically spent an hour sitting in the snow with her skis pointing in opposite directions. She tried to be courageous but it was never going to be. Five year olds whizzed past her screaming to each other in sheer delight. Rose wanted to weep. That is, until her Viking came to her rescue, stretched out his hand to pull her up and for the first time wrapped her tightly in his arms, put his face to her cold, rosy cheeks and whispered, “Let me take you home.”
The evening was spent enjoying a candle lit Swedish supper which once again Sven had prepared in his suave yet unpretentious manner. Rose felt quite inadequate against his Viking confidence. As they sipped the last of a bottle of wine, Sven surprised her by saying, “Well my little English Rose, you go home tomorrow but how would you like to sail with me next summer in the Stockholm Archipelago? We could hire a yacht and I could show you all my old haunts.”
“Well it can’t be as bad as skiing,” she retorted. “I guess I need to learn how to be Swedish,” she added with a smile. Their eyes met in a knowing acknowledgment of what was to come. He took her softly and admiringly by the hand and led her to his bed….
Chapter two
Over winter and spring Rose busied herself with learning all she could about how to be a good Swedish woman. She researched Swedish recipes and baked new creations which she shared with friends. She read about Swedish traditions, the political set up, the Swedish Royal Family, the Swedish church. Rose wanted, more than anything, to make Sven proud of her. After all, she was still the epitome of an English Rose and she wanted to impress him.
The plane landed on the warmest day of the year. Perfect for sailing.
“It’s wonderful to have you back after all this time, my English Rose,” the striking Viking whispered in her ear. “It feels like the sun returning after the winter darkness.” Rose’s worries melted away to the poetry in his words. “I hope you are ready for a new adventure, one I hope you will enjoy more than skiing.”
By sunset they had loaded the boat with all the rations and gear they needed, including some Swedish biscotti that Rose had baked especially for their adventure. There was still time enough for a night of renewed passion before they set sail for the first time together the following morning.
Rose quickly grasped the skills of navigation and needed little tuition in that regard. However, she had much to learn about handling the vessel and Sven patiently taught her as much as he could. Within a few days they were perfectly in tune with each other but for one thing which Rose struggled to cope with. Every morning Sven would dive naked into the water for a swim. Rose, ever the blushing English Rose, just couldn’t bring herself to do the same. Eventually Sven persuaded her to swim in her delicate pink, lace-edged bikini knickers and a thin T-shirt but although Rose did, she couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable about the thought of swimming naked and she knew that’s what Sven really wanted her to do.
To ensure Rose didn’t miss out on Swedish culture, Sven moored in small marinas on many occasions. Harbours where they could use the washing facilities and eat in a local restaurant often with musical accompaniment. Rose was shocked to see so many men standing naked on the back of their boat soaping themselves followed by dumping buckets of water over their heads. Did they have no shame? Young men, old men, barrel shaped men and wrinkly old women too. Naked bodies everywhere and nobody batting an eyelid. How would Rose ever fit into this culture?
Sailing was going well though and the two became far more comfortable with each other, working together in a confined space and, as they became more intimate and more familiar with each other’s bodies, their confidence in each other grew too. One morning, after mooring in an isolated bay overnight, Rose was persuaded to throw caution to the wind and bathe topless with Sven, leaving her generously cupped soft pink top ostentatiously draped over the instrument panel. The cool water flowing over her bare breasts awakened her senses and opened her horizons. She laughed in delight and the pair swam around each other like pheasants in a mating dance, enjoying every moment of every twist and turn of their bodies. Rose knew this to be a turning point and that sailing and the intimacy of sharing a small private world with her Viking would have a profound effect on her.
The day was perfect for sailing and they found another idyllic spot to moor that evening. They were completely isolated and tied up to a rock on the edge of a small uninhabited island. They made love on the open deck, the orange light of the evening sun danced on their naked bodies. They lay in satiated contentment until the golden glow was replaced by the silver shadows of moonlight shimmering over their glistening skin. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
At morningtide Sven finally persuaded Rose to bathe entirely naked as there were no other boats in sight. Tentatively Rose cast her clothes aside and descended the steps on the back of the boat one at a time until she was waist deep in water. Then, as if to embrace her new liberated self, she flung herself backwards into the water. Sven splashed and laughed as her rapture expanded, enveloping them both in her new found joy of freedom and emancipation.
They clambered out of the water onto the rock to explore the ragged edge of their little piece of newfound paradise. Rose, now at ease with having cast her clothes aside, pretended to be a seventeenth century explorer and mimicked herself planting a flagpole on her newly conquered land. Sven chuckled at her childlike excitement and the obvious thrill it gave her. She held an imaginary telescope to her left eye and, looking seaward, was astounded to discover that their peaceful isolation was about to be interrupted by a large yacht with an equally large crew, passing close by which had appeared from nowhere. There they were, their discarded clothes well out of reach on their boat, standing for all to see. Sven, cheekily laughing at Rose, asked, “So what are you going to do now, Rose?” She turned to him with a look of horror on her face, but observing his wide grin and laughing eyes, and appreciating that she had nowhere to hide, she simply collapsed into a fit of the giggles.
A new dawn saw a new direction of travel for the skipper and his first mate as the sun appeared well above the horizon. It was a fairly uneventful day on the whole. Sven took his regular early morning naked dive into the brackish waters (Rose refrained from doing the same) before they set sail on a new trajectory. The day was pleasant enough with just sufficient breeze to keep them under sail and they relaxed in the gentle rhythmic rolling of the boat over the rippling waves caused by passing vessels. Sven steered them through a narrow channel to a quiet hidden bay to moor for the night which he remembered from his early days of sailing. Together they prepared and ate a hearty supper accompanied by a bottle of refreshing white wine and retired early. Tomorrow they would be returning to civilisation and sailing back into Stockholm Harbour.
Following a restful night and being anchored in an idyllic spot, Rose felt emboldened to demonstrate her confidence to Sven who was sitting up on deck taking in the fresh morning air after his daily naked dip.
“Stay where you are,” she called up to him. “I’m going to bring breakfast up in a minute.” Rose had laid a tray with most of the remaining food that was still edible after their time on the waters, and a cafetiere of coffee. Perfectly disrobed she carefully carried the tray up through the hatch onto the deck.
“Oh! This is a pleasant surprise,” Sven remarked, admiring her alluring form. “What have I done to deserve this?” he enquired.
“I thought you might appreciate knowing that you have unleashed me from my prudish existence. But this is only for you. I won’t be sharing my body with anyone else.”
“I don’t know why not. You have a beautiful body, Rose. Most women half your age would love to have a body like yours. Don’t hide it, Rose. You are perfect. I could sit and look at you all day.” Sven’s eyes dreamily drifted over her pale flesh. Distracted by the view of the beautiful bare form standing in front of him, it was several minutes before he realised they were drifting into a reed bed in extremely shallow water.
“Rose, we have to move!”
“OK Captain! I’ll just go and put some clothes on and I’ll be right with you.”
“NO ROSE! I mean we have to move NOW.” Urgency filled his words. “No time for that, we need to act right now. You have no time. If we get stuck in the ground here we’ll be in big trouble. Now, grab the anchor rope and get ready to take the tiller while I sort things out. I’ll tell you what to do but just pay attention to me and act fast.”
Sven used all his strength to haul them out of trouble, calling out appropriate instructions to Rose which she carried out to the letter, confident in Sven’s leadership and experience. He was, after all, an accomplished sailor and had kept her safe throughout her adventure. Control of the yacht having been resumed, Rose was left on the tiller to navigate through the narrow winding waterway while Sven moved to the bow to prepare the ropes and sails for open water.
“Hey Rose,” came the shout from the foredeck, “Did you say you won’t be sharing your naked body with anyone else? I think you’re in for a surprise.”
Rose hadn’t bargained on having to carefully navigate in close proximity past a pleasure boat loaded with about two hundred hawk eyed passengers. She couldn’t let the rudder go. She had to keep on course. She had to be brave in her nudity. Despite her immediate thoughts of fright at her precarious position, she had begun to enjoy the sensation of being naked while in control of the tiller. There was nothing for it. She determined to simply hold her head up high and carry on with the job in hand and act as if it was perfectly natural, which of course it was. Sven later congratulated her on her courageous steps to becoming a Viking maiden.
Once out in open water, Sven raised the sails and Rose refused to give up the tiller. By now her self confidence was in overdrive. The hot sun was beating down on her bare back and the wind whipped around her like an invisible embrace. She proudly stood firm as the boat rocked in the strong waves. She was entirely fearless now. Exhilarated at the knowledge that every follicle on her body was living testament to the real beauty of nature in every sense. Rose was elated. ‘Rolling along on the crest of a wave’ was an understatement. Rose had never been happier. In celebration she requested Sven bring up her bra from the cabin below. He only understood why when Rose tossed the voluminous garment overboard. As they watched her undergarment gracefully float away and eventually disappear into its new home in the Baltic Sea, Sven placed his strong, sizeable hands on her petite shoulders, drawing her perfectly curved back into his solid Viking torso.
Still unwilling to hand over the tiller, Rose continued to steer them both into Stockholm. As they came closer to civilization, Rose was undaunted when a Tall Ship crept up on their port side or while a huge passenger ship cruised by on their starboard side. She didn’t flinch. She loved every moment and she didn’t care who in the world saw her. Sven looked on with evident pride. Rose knew that he had taught her far more than boatmanship. He had taught her to love her body as much as he now did.
Finally, now truly liberated and embracing the world of naturism, like Freydis Eriksdotter, the Viking Warrior Queen, Rose sailed courageously into Stockholm harbour proudly manning the tiller in fully exposed glory, having left all her clothes below deck. All, that is, bar her favourite delicate pink, lace-edged bikini knickers which Rose had triumphantly lashed to the ropes and ceremoniously hoisted them to the top of the rigging to fly above the mainsail. The battle against naturism lost, freedom now belonged to Rose. There was no going back. At last Rose sensed that she had reached the high echelons of a true Viking Maiden. As natural as God intended, her senses fully alive, naturism embraced, the journey from prude to nude completed, Rose was more than ready for her next adventure without clothes. 🪐
That’s a lovely story; thank you.
Terrific story and based on real experience!