When he opened his copy of ‘Naturist’ magazine at the centrefold, Lew fell in love with Aggie at first sight. She had curves in all the right places, an exciting lifestyle jetting off to Bali with her scientist friends for high flying conferences, and plenty of spare money for worthy environmental causes too. Lew wanted a piece of that action. He courted her from a distance at first. Reading more about her from what the journalists had to say, and the papers of the scientists who evidently worshipped her.
He became convinced she was right about her fears for the world’s future, and resolved to enter her, coterie.
But there were others who denigrated and vilified her. They picked holes in her arguments, and mocked her for wearing no clothes while her friends admired her. They said she had falsely implanted supports, and that she was all (imitation) fur coat and no knickers, just because she occasionally embellished the Truth to please her political friends. They derided her carefully applied make-up and presentation, saying she was mutton dressed as Lamb. It made Lew angry, and he vowed to fight against them using his expertise as a trick cyclist.
Lew knew he needed more training, so he rang the master of the Tree Ring Circus, Mickey Mann.
“Sure thing” said the Mann, “Anything that defeats the deniers helps me out”
So Lew, armed with the knowledge he gained from Mickey, devised a cunning plan. He would get his friends to answer one set of questions, and the deniers another. Then he’d mix up all the results as Mann had taught him, and use Mann’s ‘Principle Components AlGore-ithm’ to make the deniers look stupid. Then no-one would listen to them any more and Aggie would be grateful to him, and he might get to enter her, coterie.
Aggie had big problems around that time. Her secret memoirs had been spread all over the net by someone called Arsey, and skeletons had been found in her dirty laundry. So when Lew caught up with her drowning her sorrows at a bar in Copenhagen one unexpectedly wintry night, she needed a shoulder to cry on.
“Don’t worry Aggie” he crooned, “I have a plan to beat those nasty sceptic deniers.” And he told her all about it. Word got round and to avoid paper trail problems at his workplace, Lew got his lavatory attendant to send the invites to the sceptics while he contacted some of Aggie’s friends. Once he had all the responses he needed he finalised his methodology using more of Mickey’s advice. He set up some ‘rules’ which meant he might, or might not exclude some results, but no-one reading the write-up would be able to tell.
Lew thought he was so smart, and he was so confident that he could pull off the scam, and so eager to get into Aggie’s knickers, that he published the pre-print and got his journalist friends to splash the story before the paper was published in the trick-cycling magazine. But the sceptics weren’t as dumb as he thought they were, and soon they had found all sorts of problems with his methodology and professional ethics. Now Lew needed a shoulder to cry on, and he called Aggie, who told him to come over to her place.
She received him in her boudoir, the lights were very dim, but he could make her out, sitting on her luxurious Pachauri-passion class four poster bed.
“So hows the Lew Paper?” she quipped.
“It’s got some shitty bits that need scrubbing” Lew confessed. “Trouble is, it’s gone to press”.
“Poor Lew” whispered Aggie, as she drew closer to him, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, Lew got his first close up look at Aggie W. Without the flesh coloured body stocking she’d worn for the Naturist centrfold, he could see she had quite a few wrinkles, and some cracks were starting to appear. Her arse was red from the recent spanking she’d got from the sceptics too. But worse was to come.
She took off her hair and tossed it onto the big chair next to the bed. His eyes widened. So did hers as she popped one of them out and put it in a cup on the chair. He recoiled.
“Come on Lew” she said “I have to have a blind eye to turn, for the inquiries, you know”.
She started fumbling with what Lew had thought were her suspenders. Then her legs joined the eye and hair on the chair. Lew jumped up.
“You haven’t got a leg to stand on!” he exclaimed. Aggie calmly removed her bra. The decades of sunny conference beaches had taken their toll. There was no hiding the decline any more. The artificial supports Mickey Mann had made for her had crumbled with age, and her principle components with the cherries on sagged southwards.
“Come on Lew” Aggie said, “You got one of my Hughe Grant specials didn’t you? You’re not going to let me down now are you?”
Lew retreated to the big chair for the night. There was more of Aggie on there to keep him company anyway.
“Tomorrow” he thought, “Tomorrow I’ll make it straight with the ethics committee. This has all been a bad dream. Just a bad dream.”