Page 3 of The Naked Cleaner

“Can you please… please put some clothes on.” I manage to hiss out, between trying to control what is probably going to be the most profound panic attack in the history of my panic attacks. Because this isnotgoing well.

“I don’t work well with textiles. Restrictive as fuck. I see you tow the middle line, but you don’t have to be a cotton-tail around me. I’ve grown up in the lifestyle, so nothing fazes me. That’s why I started this company, to cater for the residents in the Copenhagen Naturist Society who prefer to enjoy their freedom at home and not have to get dressed for their service personnel to come in. I clean, cook, and I am a trained nurse, so I even have clients who I can service with their medical needs. It’s been liberating for so many people, and for me… dude? Are you okay?”

NOOOOO!I want to scream. I amnotfucking okay. Instead, I sink down to my knees, and to be honest, my vision is blackening out a little around the edges, and perhaps I should have eaten today, and I can’t remember if I’ve actually made myself a coffee this morning or not, and then.

Then everything goes black.

Chapter Two

Louis

Fuck my life.

Yes. Okay. Maybe I should have asked a few questions. Yes, maybe I shouldn’t have trusted Jonas. But hey, he’s my cousin and he’s family and he knows goddamn well how I run my business. Damn him. Damn everything. And damn the guy who I am manhandling into the recovery position as I shout at Jonas down the phone. He’s nearby, thank God, and is blue lighting it over.

The dude is fine. Breathing. Moaning a little and drooling as I place my hand gently under his chin and check his pulse again.

A faint. With a nasty head bump as he didn’t even try to catch himself before his forehead ploughed straight into the wooden floor planks. That will bruise nicely. And he should really get himself checked out for concussion, even though I doubt he will have more than a headache and a bruised ego. Because he’s just like everyone else. Totally stuck up and full of himself and rude as fuck.

He’s all pale and his lips are blue, and I have a blood sugar kit in the van, but of course I didn’t bring it up with me. I tell Jonas to bring one and he just sighs loudly and hangs up on me.

So, this is Pontus.THEPontus. The dude Jonas won’t shut up about, and yeah. It is all kind of dawning on me as Jonas bursts through the door, immaculately dressed in his paramedic uniform, followed by Clara, his partner, who looks just as dishevelled as I feel.

“Hi, Weirdo.” She says flatly as she kneels on the floor next to this Pontus dude and grabs his hand to attach the blood oxygen monitor to his finger as Jonas is already getting the blood sugar kit up and running.

“My name is notWeirdo.” I say, trying not to sound pissed off at Clara. She and I don’t get on. Surprisingly enough, since we both adore Jonas. I mean I used to adore Jonas. Now he is pissing me off. Well, what’s new?

“I only know you as Weirdo.” Clara continues. “I don’t care what your real name is. Do you actually have one?” She’s always like this. Dry and surly. I don’t think I have ever seen her smile.

I just roll my eyes, and Jonas sighs as he gently slaps Pontus around the face. Not quite professional, but hey, they do know each other, apparently.

“Pontus, mate. Wake up for a second, will you?”

He moans. Pontus. Tries to roll onto his back, then Clara just pushes him back on his side and mutters, “If he pukes at least Weirdo here can clean it up. “

“My name isNOTWeirdo.” I say back. I don’t know why I bother with Clara. She doesn’t like me. I don’t like her. We’re both fine with that, most of the time.

“What the hell were you playing at?” I hiss at Jonas. “I run a professional business. Ionlydeal with members of the Copenhagen Naturist Society. I don’t run some gag company, or provide sexual favours, and Idon’tdo some kind of fucked-up Grindr hook-up dating service for your emotionally stunted friends, Is that clear?”

“If someone is emotionally stunted, it is you, Louis.“ Jonas hisses back, keeping his voice low, like he is pretending that this Pontus won’t hear what we are saying. He’s awake, I can tell, and his pulse is racing like crazy under the two fingers I have gently pressed against his neck.

“You are really starting to piss me off.” I snarl.

“Look at it like this, Louis.” Jonas is staring at me again, that intense stare he does when he wants to drill something into your head. He does that. A lot. “I have been trying to get you two to meet for years, and you put it off, constantly. You need someone in your life, and Pontus here, is such a fucking mess to start with, he needs someone to look after him and make sure he actually eats and breathes and sleeps like a normal human being.”

“I’m a nurse. Not a fucking prostitute.” I snarl back. Totally irrational, I know, but I am so bloody pissed off. I don’t need help to find a partner. I don’t need a fucked-up rude snarky half-dressed boyfriend. I need someone who understands me, who is part of the naturist lifestyle and who I won’t have to make excuses for every time I drop my pants. I tell Jonas that as well. He just sighs.

“You have grown up like this, I know, Louis, and I am not condemning your lifestyle choices, but you spend all your fucking time with all these pensioners, who are all naturists. You have no friends outside your family and clients, who by the way, don’t pay you most of the time. You need a proper job, and I keep trying to get you to sign up to this Paramedic exchange, I mean I would have you ride along with us any day. Having a volunteer nurse on board on a Friday night would make our shift a breeze. Wouldn’t it, Clara?”

I can tell Jonas is begging here, and Clara just hisses under her breath as she fills in forms on her tablet and takes Pontus’ vitals. I hope. You never know what Clara does most of the time.

“And anyway, if you just tried, you and Pontus would get along great. He is just as weird as you.”

Jonas winks and Pontus, the comatose rude human sprawled on the floor, actually speaks.

“I’m right here, Jonas.”

His voice is a little raspy.

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