"Really?" she said, looking perturbed. "But I thought--it was just the
first day, till I got used to everybody being naked--"
"It isn't _us_ you have to get used to," I said. "It's you. Why don't
you go inside and take that off, and then we'll go down for a swim?"
She acted as though she had just been invited to have sexual
intercourse before 100,000 people in Soldiers Field. "Oh, no," she said
hurriedly. "I couldn't."
"You'll have to, sooner or later, you know. They won't allow you to
stay here if you don't peel."
"Just give me a few hours," she pleaded, nibbling her lips.
Well, I wasn't going to argue with her. I didn't run the place, after
all. But it was damned disturbing to watch her in the seductive bikini,
and I didn't like the idea of a pretty kid like this being so snarled
up with inhibitions. She still hadn't lowered her eyes within range of
my nudity. I pitied her. I figured she was going through hell as all of
her ingrained training fought with the rules of the new society she had
wandered into.
She started toward the lake, and I followed her at a few paces.
There was no one else around, at the moment, but I wished someone in
authority would show up. The play of her buttocks against the fabric of
her loincloth was unnerving me. The quicker she got that bikini off,
the less of an erotic excitement she would be, paradoxical as that may
sound. Right now I was eager to see what she had under the bikini,
and that was exciting me. But once I saw, I wouldn't _keep on_ being
excited by it. That's the reasoning of nudism, and it works.
My wish was granted. Elinor Richards appeared on the porch of her cabin
and called out, "Young lady! _Young lady!_"
"She's calling you, Naomi," I said.
Naomi turned and looked toward Elinor's cabin. As she turned she
inadvertently got a look at me and I saw her go crimson beneath her
tan. _Nine out of ten says this kid's a virgin_, I thought.
Elinor came trotting down from her cabin. As she drew near she said,
"I'm sorry, young lady. It's absolutely impossible for you to walk
around our grounds in that sort of costume."
"But--just for the first couple of hours--"
"Didn't my husband explain the rules when you signed up?" Elinor asked.
"Garments that might be erotically provoking are forbidden."
Naomi was beet-red now. "I--I know. But I--I just can't take everything
off!" she wailed.
"Would you like to leave?" Elinor asked kindly.
"N-no. That is, I don't want to. But--"
"Hold it, then," Elinor said. "I've got something for you to wear. I'll
be right back."
Elinor returned to her cabin and joined us again a few moments later.
She had a white terrycloth robe over her arm.
"Here," she said. "We call these 'transition robes'. Anyone who
wears one is automatically marked as a first-timer, and gets special
consideration until her inhibitions wear off. Go take that bikini
off and put this on--with nothing underneath it. You can wear the
transition robe until you feel comfortable without it."
Smiling gratefully, Naomi took the robe and headed back to her cabin.
I sat down in the grass to wait for her. A moment or two later, she
reappeared on her porch, wearing the transition robe.
She looked a little uncertain about it. It came down no more than two
or three inches along the thigh, and when she walked it rode up a
little bit, revealing a couple of inches of sweet buttocks and some
tufts of dark fleece. She knew that she was all but naked, even though
the vital areas were theoretically covered.
"You look fine," I said. "Let's go down to the lake and see how fast
you can shake off those embarrassing inhibitions of yours."
She smiled again, trying to look cheerful about the whole thing, but
her eyes were still avoiding my body. I showed her the path to the
lake. Nearly everybody was down there, because it was a hot afternoon.
Ted and Cindy Nichols were playing tennis, Ernie Bryan was taking
pot-shots at the basket, and just about all the rest were either in the
water or lolling on the dock. I heard Naomi gasp a little as the full
impact of sixty naked people of both sexes hit her at once. Averting
her eyes wouldn't work any more. Wherever she looked, there were naked
men going unconcernedly about the business of relaxing.
I said, "It's a shock at first. Like diving into cold water on a hot
day. But you get used to it right away. Just take the robe off and
you'll see."
"Not just yet," she said.
I led her out on the dock and introduced her to the people sprawled
out in the sun. She smiled at them, but she was evidently miserable.
For one thing, anyone lying on the dock could look right up under her
"transition robe" and see what she was so panicky to conceal. For
another, they were all naked themselves.
She took a seat on the dock, primly pulling the hem of the "transition
robe" down as far as it would go. By sitting with her legs straight out
in front of her, she managed to preserve her idea of decency. I decided
at this point that she would have to take the next step without help,
so I let her be and dived in.
I swam around for five or ten minutes. When I looked up at the dock,
she was still sitting there, covered up, talking to Bess Olin.
Abruptly Naomi stood up, making an attempt to keep herself decent as
she rose.
Suddenly she saw me in the water. She smiled and in one quick gesture
stripped off the terrycloth robe. Nobody said a thing. She stood on the
dock, looking odd with the two bands of untanned white flesh across
her breasts and hips. She had nice breasts, nothing sensational but
well constructed. She stood on the dock while everyone around her tried
to look unconcerned, and after a moment she made a neat dive into the
water.
She came up near me.
"Congratulations," I said. "It didn't hurt at all."
"I thought I'd die the minute I took the robe off. But it didn't
matter," she said in wonderment. "No one seemed to _care_."
"No one did care. There's nothing startling about a naked girl here."
I swam around for a while. She left the water before me, and I was
pleased to see her lying on the dock in the sun, using the "transition
robe" as a blanket to rest on. So she had made the transition after
all. From my vantage point as a veteran nudist of half a week's
standing, I was glad for her, because I knew what sort of struggle she
must have been going through.
It was getting late now, close to five o'clock. I had had a busy day,
and I was tired. I went back to the cabin, planning to stretch out and
read for a while until mess call. But fifteen minutes later there was
a knock on my door. I prayed that it wouldn't be Sandra or Bonnie or
Harriet.
"Come in," I said.
It was Joanie.
She didn't come in. She stood in the doorway and said, "Al, are you
busy now?"
"Not at all."
"Would you come over to the Richards' cabin, then? Something
important's come up."
"Sure," I said. I swung myself up off the bed and followed her out.
As we crossed the lawn, I saw Naomi coming up from the lake, the
transition robe jauntily swung over her arm. She waved to me and I
waved back. She seemed completely at ease now. I was glad she had made
the grade. I told Joanie, as we walked, of my part in helping her over
the hump. Joanie nodded, but she did not seem to be her usual cheerful
self.
She led me into the Richards' cabin. Dr. Richards and his wife were
waiting for me. They looked grim. There was no sign of Sandra, for
which I was grateful. But I was apprehensive. Had they found out about
my pre-dawn tryst with their daughter? Were they going to give me the
heave-ho on account of that teenage trollop? I started thinking of some
way to defend myself. But I knew I would have a hard time proving to
them that their young daughter had seduced _me_, and not the other way
around.
Dr. Richards said, "Al, there's been a very serious charge made against
you."
_Oh, oh_, I thought. _Sunland, goodbye!_ "What kind of charge?" I
asked, trying to sound relaxed.
Dr. Richards looked coldly at me. "The charge was made by Bonnie
Carter. She claims you raped her this afternoon in the library."
It was such a ridiculous charge--and I was so glad that it concerned
Bonnie and not Sandra--that I began to laugh. I chortled uncontrollably
for a few seconds, while the Richardses and Joanie watched me sternly.
"It isn't a joking matter," Dr. Richards said.
"No," I agreed. "But the idea of my raping Bonnie--" I laughed again.
"Look," I said. "I encountered Bonnie in the library. Right after
I met you with Naomi," I remarked to Joanie. "Bonnie and I had a
conversation, the gist of which was that she wanted me to go to bed
with her and I refused. Then she began making physical overtures to
me. I repulsed her. In fact, I shoved her away from me so hard she sat
down. Then I walked out. There's your rape, you see?"
The Richardses looked puzzled. Joanie said, "Bonnie _has_ been
bothering him. I've seen her running after him since the day he got
here."
"Bonnie and I had a little--ah--romantic episode my first day," I said,
turning red. "Since then she's had the idea she owns me. I've tried to
discourage her."
"She filed a complaint against him before," Joanie said. "The day
before you came. It was pure jealous bitchiness, and I took no action.
She's obviously out to get Al."
"I won't make love with her," I explained. "So she makes false charges
against me."
Dr. Richards was scowling. "Elinor, get on the phone and ask Paul to
come up here. And Bonnie too." Paul was the colony medic, Dr. Paul
Kristin. "I want him to examine her," Richards went on. "He can tell us
whether she's been raped or not. That woman's been a troublemaker for
years. If she's lying, she's going to leave. But if she was telling the
truth, Al--you know what that will mean."
_CHAPTER ELEVEN_
For the next ten minutes I sat around and fidgeted while Bonnie and
Dr. Kristin were rounded up. They showed up, finally, and after some
discussion Dr. Kristin took Bonnie into Sandra's room to examine her.
Bonnie made a big fuss, of course. She didn't want to be examined, all
she wanted was justice--meaning my immediate expulsion from the colony.
But she was hushed up and bundled off into the next room.
After perhaps fifteen minutes Dr. Kristin came out. He was a thin,
muscular man, a doctor by profession and a nudist by hobby, who had
been the staff doctor at Sunland for years.
He was frowning.
He said, "The woman hasn't had sexual intercourse in at least
twenty-four hours. I'd be prepared to swear to that."
"See!" I crowed. "Told you, didn't I? She was making the whole story up
out of spite."
Dr. Richards ran a hand reflectively through his hair. "Can you be sure
about this, Paul?"
"Positive."
"All right," Dr. Richards said. "Al, you can go. I think I'd better
have a private talk with Bonnie right here and now."
Joanie said warningly, "You've let that woman disrupt the camp for
years and years, remember, Henry--"
Dr. Richards shrugged. "Perhaps I've been too tolerant all these years.
But she _is_ an unhappy human being, after all. I'd best talk with her."
I left the cabin gratefully. As I went out, Sandra came in, wet from a
late-afternoon dip, and she looked at me queerly as though wondering
what I might be doing in the cabin of her parents. I went past her
without a word and back to my cabin to wait for the ringing of the
dinner gong.
Meehan had returned from swimming, now. He was sitting on the porch in
front of my typewriter--he hadn't brought his own---pecking away with
two fingers.
"Working?" I said.
"Transcribing my notes. If I wait too long to transcribe them, I can't
read what they say. Lousy handwriting, that's the trouble."
I peered over his shoulder and saw a page full of disjointed phrases,
random jottings, and pure gibberish. He seemed to understand it,
though. And--what the hell--somehow he managed to distill $50,000 a
year worth of material out of gibberish and jottings.