Jyllinge Part One
"Hi, my name's Mandy, I'm a character out of one of Chris's wonderful sexy pictures dating from Nineteen-Ninety-Five. When he saw me coming out of the drawing he was working on he thought I looked a bit like Marilyn Monroe and called the picture 'Marilyn is alright now but she doesn't know which one she is'. Yes I know he does go a bit over the top with those really long titles. Why couldn't he just call it something more simple like let me think now - I know 'Mandy'? Anyway I was quite flattered being compared to the great Hollywood bombshell, but I bet she wasn't half as wicked as me. Like my hair? Yes it's a bit tousled and please forgive me if I seem a little bit tipsy today. And I don't always dress like this in public exposing my breasts. You see I've just come back from a party - All right I agree it was seven years ago and I should have sobered up by now, but it was a very good and long party. Okay I admit it too; I think I might be a teeny weenie bit of an exhibitionist as well. Unlike yours truly of course, he can be a bit shy about himself sometimes and especially so when people start saying how wonderful his art is. He just goes red and says it's nothing really, they're just doodles. Honestly men, what shall we do with them? He asked me if I'd like to show you around this the new website of his little personal erotic empire, Jyllinge. Of course I said I would be only too pleased. In fact delighted… Don't you think I've got a nice little bum? - Just follow me please."
"What you really need to know is that although Chris has his home in England called Jyllinge, this is the Jyllinge of his art where we girls live in his imagination. It's a big old house nestled on a sunny shore of Lake Geneva and it has weathering yellow walls with shuttered windows and grand art nouveau style iron balconies. The inside of the building is wonderful too and even though it's full of naked beautiful women it's nothing like a seedy brothel. None of that sad wine red wallpaper or those moth-eaten heavy nicotine reeking curtains here thanks you. We like to keep everything looking spick and span the way Chris would like it to be so there are a few rules, but the girls who live here can do their own thing in their rooms. One girl Ulla who we all call The Commandant because her little gaggle of latex lovelies Utta and Una strut about the place like some sort of 'Fetish Police', she has even done her room up like a dungeon complete with sound-proofing to dull the screams or the sounds of whipping: And I'm certainly not going in there thank you very much. Yes, we get all sorts here but most girls come here for the quiet life, somewhere where they can walk about naked and not have to worry about men! It's a cross between a convent and an expensive girl's finishing school, so we all have to take little jobs, even if it's only part time. The more retiring girls do the cooking look after the house and garden, look after the website and make sure the art gallery is up to date and open twenty-four-hours a day. The rest of us like me go out working in the bars and clubs where they will employ nude girls. It's us though who want to be naked. None of the girls here are prostitutes or work professionally in the sex industry, but if it wasn't for Chris's art we all might have to: A sanctuary for women who haven't yet fallen. A worthy cause don't you agree. And there's always lots of music here because most of us play musical instruments of some sort… But all Mandy can play I'm afraid is the record player. Hee Hee. Some of the girls are so talented and on warm Summer evenings they form little outdoor string quartets and play to us, yet we also know only too well that we could make a small packet selling tickets to all the locals who gather around in the village square outside to listen; and I expect it would be even more popular if they knew Greta and Cathy were playing their violin and Cello's nude. I think the girls prefer playing their instruments like that, but it's a little tradition we have. Coming to think about it we seem to do everything in the nude or partially clothed. Perhaps really it is being naked that's the tradition. Sometimes all we seem to do is put clothes on so we can take them off again. Funny I suppose, but that's the trouble with living in someone's imagination you have no influence in such matters. However you'll agree I'm sure that we all have super lovingly drawn bodies. Hee Hee. The walls in here are so white and clean and there are giant leafed jungle plants everywhere and the big opening windows bathe the whole place in sunlight. Even the high ceilings dance with swirling floral patterns. Chris chose to place his dream villa here in Switzerland because he went to a very expensive school nearby up in a local ski resort, but he jokes to us instead saying he just needs this extremely secret address as a tax haven ready for when his art makes him rich and famous. Some hope! He has enough trouble feeding us as it is and we seem to spend the whole of our lives just munching salad rice fruit and nuts. He says it will keep us slim fit and healthy.
But it would be so very nice just once in a while to be taken out to dinner properly and to ride in a car with deep leather seats and to know that later they will be comfortable enough for us to make love in the moonlight before returning home. It would be so fantastic if he started to notice me a little bit and began treating me a fraction better than the other girls because that's what I deserve. Yes get him to treat me more like a proper lady because he must realise that I am an aspiring sex goddess. Hum, not that I fancy him or anything of course. When we went out to dinner, to make sure he knew exactly what I wanted him to do later I would put on some new sheer white nylons which rustle each time I cross and uncross my legs, my suspender belt and maybe just the tiniest most skimpy pair of silky transparent knickers. In fact you can take a quick peek if you want, they're the one's I'm wearing now. I bet you like them too, I'm sure he will. Over the top I'd wear my imitation white fox fur: Anyway I think its imitation it doesn't make foxy noises. Hee Hee…It would be a scream watching all the amazed people drop their spoons into their consume as the head waiter took it from me revealing my lovely bouncy boobs right there in front of them. Chris would be so very proud of me I'm sure. We'd have a lovely candlelit dinner and he'd tell me how much he loves me. Oh fiddle-sticks, I just wish he would notice me sometimes. You see, I'll get him some day and once he knows how wonderful I am in bed he'll be hooked like I am. That's the trouble with this place there's no one to make love to; well apart from girls that is. Watch this space, I'll get him! No, and he can't go on for much longer without placing me right at the centre of one of his drawings because he simply adores my breasts. He can even draw them perfectly with a blunt pencil and with his eyes shut. Often I wear a little string bikini when I'm out sunbathing because I know he likes just a hint of a bikini line. Oh Mandy shut up, you hardly know these people, and you've only just met them. Sorry, I'm talking to myself again and I'm sure the readers don't want to know what I'm thinking about all day. I must stop sipping from this bottle of free champagne they handed me in some strange bar for doing an impromptu striptease for them. I didn't even know I was doing it, it was just hot and stuffy in there. That's the trouble with living without clothes it's habit forming...But no our Chris absolutely surrounded by beautiful naked women doesn't even have a car for our convenience, instead like some overgrown kid he acquired the old noisy FBW Alpenwagon post bus he fondly remembered from his school days. He says it was the only good friend he had there apart from the driver. I don't really believe him. And they had all those international girl's schools nearby as well. At the same time lovingly polishing the chrome front of it, I remember him complaining bitterly the day he bought it saying most men just have to take one girl out at a time, he takes out thirty-six. And you won't be too surprised to read that we all eat for free as Chris is a bit of a cheapskate on the quiet and arranges our cosy private annual outing several months in advance so that the quiet little family bistro becomes a hot bed of activity having had plenty of time to advertise our imminent arrival with fly-posters pinned up everywhere. I know we're a bit special, but honestly you'd think those Swiss had never seen thirty-six beautiful naked girls alighting the bus in their village. Okay Chris might be a tiny bit eccentric, like myself and the other girls in his imagination, and still loves his buses and silly things like that but he's very nice: But don't tell him I said so. Anyway, at least he's not one of your stereotypical angry artists who always get home filthy drunk, who never cut their hair or change their underpants, and when the kids lose a tooth instead of finding the tooth-fairy has left them sixpence all they find under the pillow is a bloody ear. He He. Not all the girls are crazy party animals like me of course, take for instance the 'Surrealistic Non-Religious Naked Nuns', or to you and me just nutty Jan and Becky. They're the only Americans here as Chris thought at the time Europe had more than enough of it's own beautiful girls but he made an exception with those two because they did their heads in with drugs and sex at huge load new age hippy techno raves in the Mojave Desert. By the end of the Nineties they both had a total breakdown and started seeing things and although they weren't even religious they decided to lock themselves away in a convent and become nuns. Unfortunately they refused to wear any clothing because they've got a thing about tiny devil worshiping mites living in cuffs and that didn't go down at all well in their interview with the Mother Superior. So they found themselves with nowhere suitable to go till luckily they started turning up in Chris's drawings. If you ask me they're both a bit too weird even for here because even now they still believe they're part of some religious order. Of course you wouldn't immediately know that because I suppose even nuns don't look like nuns when they've got no clothes on. They definitely have a religious fetish though and when anyone mentions Chris's name they both whisper and repeat, "Praise him. Praise him". Really they are a bit sad for they spend the rest of their time either in the garden picking flowers or intensely studying Chris's drawings muttering "That's ace".
(End of Jyllinge Story - Part One

all pictures, photographs and artwork ©christopher leach