Pastor Linda sat there, just a bit dumbfounded. What she had just read wasn’t sinful; or salacious; or even very sexy. But, it did catch her by surprise, and made her want to read more. She turned the page; it was blank. She turned to the next page, seeing some of the same text she had read earlier, but this had strikethroughs, and written notes in the margin. Obviously an earlier draft of what she had just read.

She quickly turned several more pages, seeing earlier printed drafts, hand-drawn arrows, more margin notes, and even hand written pages.

‘Oh, no!!’ she thought. ‘Isn’t there anymore?’

She finally reached a divider, and a page that had clean text. She turned a few more pages, and they, too, looked ‘clean’. She continued to read, aloud.

Paul re-read the sign: Magnolia and Moss, a Family Naturist Campsite. ‘Now what have I gotten myself into’, he thought.

Paul was an educated young man, having been through several years of college, and had always been a bit of a wordsmith. He knew the difference between a naturalist, a person who studies nature; and a naturist, a person who communes with nature, just more naturally. He knew that beyond the gate he was sitting at were likely to be people wearing nothing, at all, and thinking nothing of it, at all. He poked the button a second time. A familiar sounding voice came through the speaker.

“Hello, Magnolia and Moss! This is Martha! Is this Paul?”, she asked, as if she knew just how long it would take for him to get there.

“Yes, ma’am, it is.”

“Okay, the gate should be opening in a moment. Just drive up the path, slowly, and you can park anywhere in the outer lot in front of the building.”

“Thank you,” was all that Paul could say, the thought of what he was about to do, and possibly see, was beginning to become apparent to him. He took a deep breath as the gate started to slide across, allowing him to drive his car up the tree-shaded path. He went over a speed bump just inside the gate. His car bottomed out, and he heard a strange squealing come from beneath it. It seemed to lose power, so he gave it more gas. The engine revved, but his speed did not increase. He threw the gear shift into neutral, and allowed the car to drift, as he realized that he was going down a slight incline. ‘Maybe I can make it to the outer lot without having to do much more,’ he hoped. He looked at his gauges. The TEMP gauge was almost in the red now, and the oil light just came on.

“Wonderful,” he said, out loud, with exasperation. He turned to the right, seeing the building just ahead of him to the left, and aimed for a spot at the end of the lot, just outside an inner gate, across the lot from the building, and under a tree that looked like it would provide shade most of the day. Ironically enough, it was a fully bloomed Southern Magnolia.

He realized that he wasn’t going to make it all the way into the spot, and jumped out of his car while it still had some forward momentum. He pushed it all the way in, jumping back in just before his front tire would hit the curb, and pulled the parking/emergency brake.

He put his hands up onto the steering wheel. Out loud, and not realizing that he had an audience, he prayed, “God! Not sure what you want of me anymore, but I’m guessing you want me to do ‘it’ here, whatever ‘it’ is!”

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up into a pair of the grayest eyes he had ever seen. Widening his gaze, the eyes were firmly set into the face of an older woman, with grey hair, and a deep tan on her face and arms. She was wearing a long t-shirt that reached to mid-thigh; with the sun behind her, it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing much, if anything, under it.

She smiled. “Well, young Christian Brother,” she started, “‘it’ involves laying a poolside brick patio and pathway, and being a ‘Man Friday’ with deliveries as needed. All while completely nude, obviously!” She continued to smile, hoping to diffuse the situation this young man was finding himself in.

She held up a walkie-talkie to her mouth and clicked the ‘talk’ button. “George! Howard! That young man I told you about is actually here.” As an afterthought, she said, “Oh, and Howard? Bring some kitty litter for a motor oil spill.” Looking back down at Paul, she said, “Won’t you please come in?”

Paul got out of his car, not even bothering to lock the door. ‘Not like the car is going anywhere, and nothing much worth stealing from it, either,’ he thought. He reached in through the back window, and pulled out a clipboard from the backseat. On it was a copy of his latest resume, half a dozen references, along with previous addresses and phone numbers. He followed who he thought had to be Martha into the office.

The lady went around the large counter that separated the public space from her office space. She started to take her t-shirt off, thought about it for a moment, and decided not to, for now. She handed Paul another clipboard, this one with the usual employment forms that always need to be filled out.

“Just to reiterate, you do realize that this is a nudist venue? And that you will be required to work here, and live here, the same way?” she asked.

Paul answered while continuing to fill out the forms. “Yes ma’am! You’ve made that abundantly clear. I saw it on the sign coming in, and from your t-shirt,” he pointed at her, “I get it, like a load of bricks.” She looked down at her t-shirt. One of those “I’m naked under this T-shirt” Tee’s that they sold from time to time.

The front door opened. Two nude, and wet, older men walked in. Paul looked up, noticed that they were nude, swallowed hard, and continued working on his forms. They both grabbed a towel from a pile near the door, laid them on a seat, and sat down, waiting for Paul to finish. When Paul completed the last page, he stood to hand the clipboard over. Both of the nude men stood up at the same time. The younger of the two men held out his hand for the clipboard and the forms, and offered his other hand to Paul.

“Hi, my name is George. This is Howard.” Paul shook hands with both men. “You’ve already met my wife, Martha.”

Martha leaned over the counter, extending her hand. Paul shook her hand.

“Not sure why I didn’t do that before,” Paul said, apologetically.

Martha smiled again. It was infectious. “I didn’t give you much of a chance. Got you out of your car, into the office, and handed you a bunch of forms.”

George was still looking at Paul. “You didn’t laugh. Most people laugh when I tell them my name is George, and my wife is Martha.”

Paul smiled, but wasn’t taking the bait. “George and Martha are common enough names. Now, if your last name is Washington, then that puts a whole new spin on it, right?”

George laughed at that. “So it does. So it does!” He started to leaf through the forms Paul had filled out.

Martha interjected at this point. “As an employee, you’ll find out that most of our members will only tell you their first name. You’ll learn a few last names as you go. We also use titles for the older folks. No Misters or Misses for anyone under sixty, or us, for that matter, although some young adults who grew up here as kids still use titles out of habit. And if you ever see anyone outside the camp, don’t acknowledge them unless they acknowledge you first. It saves everyone from embarrassment or being uncomfortable.”

Paul appeared stunned. “You make it sound like I already have the job.” He looked at George and Howard; both were still reading through his forms. He almost hoped they might find something not to their liking and let him go.

George looked up at Paul. “Well, to tell you the truth, you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t do the jobs we have. Then getting in, past the gate, is a big hurdle, and standing here with us like this is an even bigger one.”

Howard interrupted at this point. “You meet all of our requirements, with experience in brick work. Delivery of commonly used consumables is, frankly, a no-brainer. Bonus for us is that you have current lifeguard and first-aid certifications. Your next hurdle is going to be the biggest and hardest: doffing your duds.”

Paul again swallowed hard. He looked over at Martha. She just smiled back at him, nodding encouragement. He looked back at the two men. ‘This should be just like the locker room at the university’, Paul told himself. ‘Just add the female factor!’

George pointed to a door. “Let’s get started, shall we? You can change out of your clothes in there. Then we’ll discuss the terms, conditions, and benefits of the job. Howard will take you on a tour of the grounds and facilities.”

Paul opened the door, went in, and locked the door behind him. It was a simple restroom, with a toilet, a small hand sink with a mirror on the wall above it, a large deep sink sunk into the floor, with a shower head mounted in the wall above it, but no shower curtain. He had plenty of room to get undressed. He looked at himself in the mirror as he took off his t-shirt. He swallowed hard again.

George stared at the closed door, and without looking at anyone, asked “Well, what do you think?”

Howard jumped in. “I’m hopeful! God knows I could use the help, but I wouldn’t put it past him to bolt right out of there, and never look back!”

Martha was more positive, so much so that she took off her t-shirt, standing there as naked as the men. “Well he can’t go far; his car broke down in the outer lot. I think he’ll come out nude, and be just fine. Maybe nervous, but weren’t we all nervous our first time?” At that moment the phone rang, and she turned around to answer it, “Hello, Magnolia and Moss! This is Martha!”

Paul looked at himself in the mirror. He heard the phone ring through the door, and Martha answering it. ‘Now or never,’ he thought, and pulled down his shorts and underpants at the same time, wearing only his Docksiders. He stepped out of the pants, and picked them up, folding them over once. ‘Oh, what have I gotten myself into?’ he thought. He laid his t-shirt on top of the pants, and, holding them in his hand against his thigh, he reached for the doorknob.

The first person Paul saw upon exiting was Martha. She had her back to the door, since she was writing some notes down from whomever she was speaking to on the phone. He noticed the tan she had on the back of her neck went all the way down to her buttocks, and continued onto her legs. He noticed the two men again, and noted that they, too, had all-over tans. He, on the other hand, had a conspicuous white band around his middle.

George and Howard had returned to their seats. Paul noticed a towel on the seat that he was just in. He sat down on it quickly, using his pile of clothes to shield himself from Martha’s direction. She turned around, her bare and tanned breasts just visible over the countertop. He swallowed hard.

“Excuse me, gentlemen!” She held her hand over the receiver. “I have someone calling about the job. What do I tell them? Is it available? Or taken?” She looked down at Paul, her gray eyes penetrating for an answer. “You’re the only one who has gotten this far. The others who called before you never made it past the outer gate. You’re the best candidate we’ve seen, so far! It’s your job, if you want it.” The two men nodded assent.

Paul quickly turned his attention back to the men, hoping he didn’t look too embarrassed. All eyes were on him, now. He tried to take a breath, but it seemed to get caught in his throat; his lungs felt full, like he hadn’t yet breathed out from the cycle before. He swallowed hard, again. His mind was a whirl of thoughts: ‘the car is busted, you’re stuck here’, ‘it won’t be that bad’, ‘this is the first opportunity for real work’, ‘it can, and will, get far worse if you don’t take it’, ‘they seem to agree that you’re already an employee!’

He closed his eyes. There were too many arguments for staying here; not enough to leave. Leaving would only compound his problems.

“Taken!” he croaked. “It’s taken.” His lungs finally released all of the air that he had been holding in. He took a deep breath, like he had been rowing a boat endlessly without taking a breath. His body relaxed, and a weight visibly lifted from his shoulders. ‘What have I gotten myself into?” he kept asking himself, though, and he swallowed hard for the umpteenth time.

Martha returned the receiver to her mouth, thanked the caller, said the job was taken, and hung up. She came around from behind the counter and stood next to her husband, shifting her weight to one leg, leaning into George with her hip, and placing a hand on his shoulder. There was nothing sexual about it, but she was deliberately posing, completely nude, in front of Paul. George knew what Martha was doing, and had to commend the young man for his composure. ‘Not everyone could sit still, and pay attention like that, first time out of the gate. He’s showing some real maturity!’

But Paul’s mind was again in turmoil. ‘Eyes!! Concentrate on their eyes. Look into their faces! Don’t let the eyes wander. Listen to what they’re saying. Read their lips if you have to. Wait? What?’ He realized that Martha was talking. He breathed deeply, and tried to calm himself.

“…things first. A few simple rules we live by here. One, it’s okay to look. Look! Not stare! Look! God made us pretty to look at, so it’s okay to look.” George was smiling as he looked up at the love of his life. Paul allowed his eyes to scan Martha from face to feet and back, nodded once, and tried again not to show that he was getting embarrassed, how many times now? Again!!

Martha wasn’t quite what he had expected. Average height, but not heavy, the way older women can get. Her breasts weren’t perky, but not saggy, either. She had a few stretch marks on her stomach; and the wide hips of a woman who has given birth. Her legs, however, were runner’s legs. Add the all-over tan, steel-gray hair, those easy looking gray eyes, and well, ‘Wow’!

He turned his attention back to the two seated men when George spoke. “Second, always, always, always, sit on a towel, wherever that is. If you sit at the poolside, or at the hot tub, you can get away without one for a few minutes, but, otherwise, always sit on a towel. On a chair, a lounger, at a picnic table, you know?? That’s why we put one down for you before you came out.”

Howard jumped in at this point, with a big smile on his face. “Third, if you ever pop a boner, the national associations say you’re supposed to cover it over with your towel, or jump into the pool.”

George put his palm to his forehead, and guffawed. Martha was aghast. “Oh, Howard!” she said loudly, admonishing the older man for his crudity. She turned to Paul, who for the first time finally cracked a smile, and chuckled. “As a young man, erections happen, though you shouldn’t worry about it if it does. Nothing here is sexually stimulating to that degree. Nudist etiquette is to flop your towel over your lap until it goes down. Or jump into the pool, as Howard said, if you’re close enough.” Martha looked over at Howard, shook her head from side to side, and rolled her eyes. “Really!!”

George took over again. “Martha and I are the caretakers here. She runs the office, and I respond to the members. We answer to a Board of Directors, and you’ll get a chance to meet them this weekend, for our summer meeting. Howard is Groundskeeper/Handyman, and you’ll be assisting him directly.”

“Initially, your job will be to lay a brick patio and walkway along the pool. Then, there are deliveries to our semi-permanent residents and the visiting members, whether they stay in an RV, a camper, or a tent, that don’t matter. Everyone is the same here. In nudity, there lies the ultimate democracy. You won’t know a white collar professional from a blue collar laborer. Everyone is treated with respect and consideration. But we still have fun. Everybody will have fun with you because of your white tail, understand?” George said, running his finger in a circle, pointing at Paul’s hips. “In a few weeks, you’ll be as tan as we are. There’ll be plenty of others coming in over the next few weeks that will have a driver’s tan, farmer’s tan, or no tan at all.”

“As for pay and benefits, this job is listed as paying twelve fifty an hour, or one hundred dollars a day. Of course, you aren’t punching a time-clock, and you’ll find you have a lot of brick-laying time, between running deliveries for the members. The semi-permanent residents, mostly retirees, usually get a few deliveries, and they should always get assistance with any repair work to their bungalows or help in some way. Howard is good with that.”

“You’re to fill firewood racks, and water buffalos, as well as deliver charcoal, ice, and food from the little snack shop around the corner. You may have to put up a canopy for special events, or help with setting up or taking down a tent. Weekends are our busiest times, so beginning noon Thursday and ending noon Tuesday will be your scheduled work week. Basically, you’re a Go-For and runner for the membership.”

As George was going over all of this, Paul was focusing on what was being said. The three longtime nudists noticed his whole demeanor change, from a ‘deer in the headlights’ to a young man listening to new job expectations. He seemed no longer concerned that the three older people before him were completely nude; they were his new employers. Paul was forgetting, for the moment, that he was completely nude, too. He was beginning to realize that it wasn’t a big deal, at all, to anyone.

George continued. “Now, we aren’t like a large employer. You’ll be responsible for paying your own taxes, and taking care of your health insurance. Do you still get that through the university?”

Paul had to think about that for a moment. As a graduate student with a scholarship, he was carried on a policy though the university. But now, with his status up in the air, he would need to make a few phone calls about that.

“Alright, then,” George said, “now, about where you want to stay. Forget the camper. We have twenty semi-permanent units here, eighteen are under contract. They’re small bungalows. Basically, a front door opens onto one room, a twin-sized bed and night stand on one side, a small kitchen with refrigerator, stove, sink, table and chairs, on the other. No frills, I’m afraid.”

“The alternative is a centrally located ten-man tent, not the six-man tent that was in the ad. It’s almost as big as the bungalow in floor space and internal volume. We can give you a twin-bed sized air-mattress, some sheets and pillows, a propane lantern for light, et cetera. Good thing about it, you’re centrally located, you have your own picnic table, a pole-mounted grill, but, you’re a little farther from the pool, and what we call the Pump House.”

Paul’s face signaled question to everyone, so George explained. “The Pump House is where all the water comes in and goes out of the camp site. All of the toilets, the open showers, deep sinks, the family changing rooms, the filters and other pool machinery; it’s all there.”

“Obviously, the tent isn’t a permanent structure. It’s less secure, but far less maintenance is required. You have to cook outside, but you don’t need to worry about theft. All the members have to fill out forms just as involved as these forms you just filled out. There are no criminals that I know of, amongst the membership.” Everyone laughed at that. ‘Where would a thief hide something they stole, anyway?’ was everyone’s thought.

“Any questions?” asked George, having finished his impromptu speech on just what they expected from the first candidate to come so far.

Paul thought for a moment, trying to process all that he had just heard. “There aren’t any showers or toilets in the bungalows?”

“No! Just the sink! There are several port-a-potties situated around the bungalows, but almost everyone uses the toilets at the Pump House. The showers are all fresh water, open to everything on the pool side; the ones on the inside of the wall are open to the sky, the rest rooms, and the changing area of the Pump House. Howard will take you past it. You’ll see!”

Paul sat silently for a few more moments. He had no other questions right now. “Perhaps I’ll find something to ask about as I go around.”

George smiled, “That’s the spirit!”

Everyone got up from their seats. George pointed to Paul’s seat, and Paul picked up his towel. He watched how Howard just draped his over his shoulder, and tossed his over in a similar fashion. While George went into the restroom, Howard started toward the front door.

Martha walked around the counter to her work area. She reached under the counter and picked something up.

“Paul!” she called out, and tossed an object at him. Paul, walking toward the front door behind Howard, easily snagged the brown plastic bottle out of the air. He looked at it. SPF 15 sun screen. “Make sure you put it all over you. Everywhere!” She pointed, and it was obvious to anyone where she pointed.

Outside Howard quickly walked to a topless golf cart. There was a towel still laying over the driver’s seat, and Howard tossed the new one on top of it.

“Paul, why don’t you put your clothes and things back in your car. You won’t need the clothes for a while.” ‘A long while, I hope’, he thought.

Paul looked at his things in his hands. Had he really gotten through that interview with nothing on? ‘What have I gotten myself into?’ he thought.

He walked over to his car, and saw where Howard had already thrown cat litter down onto the ground, where the oil leak was. He opened the back door of his car, threw his clothes in, and was ready to toss his clipboard in, when he thought he might make use of it. He walked back to the golf cart, laid his towel onto the seat, and sat down. Howard looked up at the sun, and suggested that Paul put his sunscreen on.

“What? Right here, right now?” he protested.

Howard was adamant. He even pulled his own bottle out from the open glove box, and slathered it onto his face, shoulders, chest, back, thighs, and between his legs. He even put it across his balding head, and then pulled a ball cap out from under the seat, and put it on. Paul was a little more hesitant, especially as he got closer to the middle of his body.

Howard shook his head from side to side. “We all have one!” he said “Or at least forty-eight percent of everyone in the world does! Besides, the last thing you want is a sun-burned willie!” Howard obviously had a problem with holding back.

Paul squeezed out some more sun screen, and wiped it over his penis and scrotum. He felt very embarrassed doing it, and it began to show as his face got red. He finished, got in, and sat down on his towel.

Howard had turned away so that Paul could have a bit of privacy, not that there was much in the outer parking lot. He turned back, started the golf cart, and depressed the floor pedal. ‘He’ll get used to it’, he thought.

When Paul sat down, he picked up his clipboard. He moved the loose pages to the back, and placed a blank paper on top. As they went through the inner gate, Paul began to draw a map of the area. Howard turned left through the inner parking lot, which was much larger than the outer lot.

“This is the main lot for the semi-permanent residents, the daily, weekly, and monthly members and the weekenders, of course.” He continued to the left, then turned right, and right again, heading in the opposite direction, straight down the central cross lane of the large parking lot. “Ahead of us, there,” he pointed, “is the back wall of Naked Laura’s Raw and Saucy.”

Continued in Part 2

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