Arcadia Pt. 03

"It is certain that all things seem incredible to us in as much as they differ from our own customs." -- Sir Thomas More, 1516, Utopia

The most obvious sign that the Arcadia Community is unique and exclusive is that it's most easily accessible via a stomach-churning boat journey. The alternative is an hour-long road trip from the city, which includes a bumpy drive along a meandering, corrugated dirt-and-gravel track. Either way, just getting there is an arduous rite of passage. Located in a secluded cove at the end of a rocky peninsula, it would be within sight of the city across the bay if not for a craggy headland which blocks the view.

Since the Community is on private property, entry is limited for the general public. Approval must be obtained and is not readily granted. For obvious reasons the residents are publicity-shy. Sightseers and sensation-seekers are generally not admitted, while visitors with a genuine desire to experience the lifestyle are allowed in on a strictly limited permit system. But the intention is not just to deter gawkers. The Arcadians are as protective of the natural environment as they are of their lifestyle, conserving their resources and committed to controlled, sustainable development.

Although the water-taxi cut the travel time by half, once we'd left the comfort of inshore I was regretting it -- though less so than one of my fellow passengers. There were five us. Tim was the only male and appeared to be in the worst state. We were all newcomers to Arcadia, and everyone was already tense before the choppy waters took their toll. (The skipper's insistence that the passage is normally much calmer was of no immediate comfort.) I was feeling queasy, but by the time we made landfall poor Tim was turning a bilious green. I felt sorry for him. The nausea was bad enough without the additional blow to his masculine pride.

We discarded our lifejackets and carried our own luggage off the boat. The skipper and his assistant remained on board and cast off immediately our feet touched dry land. There was no one waiting for us on the jetty, so we stood about making idle conversation. We didn't say much about our reasons for coming here. We were all students at the university, and except for Tim postgraduates. Of course we'd had experience with the Arcadia Club, but our knowledge of the Community was hazy at best. That's how well its citizens have safeguarded their privacy.

Eventually a small shuttle bus pulled into one of the parking bays. The driver climbed down onto the bitumen and came over to introduce herself. The five of us stared in awestruck, slack-jawed silence. Sabrina is slender, athletic and almost impossibly gorgeous, with short-cropped, razor-cut, jet-black hair, piercing dark eyes and barbed wire tattoos encircling both biceps -- the left one wrapped around a heart and the right one entangled with an "androgyny" symbol (combined Venus-Mars icons). From our viewpoint, however, there was no question of actual androgyny. She was stark naked -- no shoes, no jewellery, no make-up -- apart from her body art the very definition of au naturel. Her figure is sleek and taut, with not a hint of excess fat. Because she's so well-proportioned, from a distance she looks rather tall, when she is in fact quite small. Her breasts are petite but perfectly shaped. Her skin is evenly bronzed from an outdoor lifestyle which has left no trace of tan-lines. The only blemishes I saw were faint pink marks on her back and backside from the ridged fabric of her bus driver's seat.

That I have dwelt on Sabrina's sublime looks as much as I have no doubt exposes as much about myself as it reveals about her. But I would get to know her better than most women in the Community, because at the university she was enrolled in postgrad work at the Marine Sciences Institute, where I would be conducting my meteorological research. So we were virtually colleagues. (Her bus-driving duties were secondary. Most residents, and all women, have an ancillary job in the Community.) I soon discovered that, despite her somewhat formidable façade, Sabrina has a lively, free-spirited nature combined with a profound intelligence, a keen inquisitiveness and a sharp though sometimes caustic wit. She is, as advertised on her arm, bisexual -- "flexible" is her description -- but eschews close relationships. Intimacy is, for her, physical but never deeply emotional.

Sabrina gave the five of us a moment to accustom ourselves to the full-frontal reality of Arcadia. We females studied her with admiration, as well as envy, for her impeccable features and uninhibited ease with her nudity. Tim was the first to avert his ogling, after a few seconds -- whether out of politeness or embarrassment at being aroused it was hard to tell. In any case, Sabrina seemed blasé about the attention. Familiarity with being on such full display, I would learn, breeds not as the saying goes contempt, but rather self-confidence and casual acceptance. Which was reassuring for the long term. However, as soon as the greetings were over she made a subtle gesture with her hands that I nearly missed.

Lucy, the young woman next to me, began to unbutton her blouse. Gabrielle and Hannah, who are twins, loosened and lowered their shorts. I shrugged and sighed, grasped the bottom of my shirt and pulled it up and over my head. As I reached behind my back to unhitch my bra, I could feel Tim's eyes upon me. He had moved closer to the bus, nearer to Sabrina, but most likely to get a better view of the four of us as we undressed. I glanced at him a couple of times as I tried to act nonchalant. His excited gaze was flitting back and forth, apparently unable to settle on any one of us. Whenever he made eye contact, he showed his unapologetic appreciation with a benevolent grin.

We stripped in silence, aside from a nervous giggle and some whispering between the sisters. Although I'd rehearsed this introduction to Arcadia over and over in my mind, and it was hardly my first experience of the Arcadians' one-sided nudity, I was not really prepared for this abrupt initiation. Yet it was undoubtedly the best approach. Anyway, we were now inside the Community and subject to its laws and customs.

I stacked each discarded item of my clothing in a tidy little pile on top of my suitcase. When I'd stepped out of my knickers and reached down to pick them up, I unbuckled my sandals. All four of us chose to emulate Sabrina in removing everything including shoes and accessories, so that we were completely denuded. It was late afternoon and the sun shimmered orange-gold on the rippling waters of the bay. A fresh breeze caressed my bare skin. I felt the tingle of goosebumps, which were only partly due to the cool air. I could also feel my nipples begin to rise and was mortified for a second, until I noticed that Sabrina's were hard and erect, and I was comforted by the fact that she was not at all jaded. It was heartening, if also a little daunting, to realize that the sensual stimulation of being a woman in the Arcadia Community never loses its intensity.

We took our belongings aboard the bus. We didn't use the luggage compartment underneath, instead leaving our bags in the aisle. The seats all faced inward rather than forward, so when we took our places we were seated opposite each other, Tim, Gabrielle and Hannah on one side, Lucy and me on the other. With our gear taking up much of the space, Tim was sitting directly across from me, still dapper in his crisp beige slacks and brick-red polo shirt. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the window behind me but his gaze inevitably drifted over my body. I avoided crossing my legs, which would have made me appear timid or ashamed, but pressed my knees together. I kept my arms rigidly at my side to resist the impulse to cover my breasts. Somewhat to my surprise, I felt my nipples waning.

Before lowering my butt onto the seat I'd had a strong urge to wipe it down, but decided it might be rude to imply that the upholstery hadn't been thoroughly cleaned. Still, I could not help but squirm when my flesh touched the vinyl. It was cool and slick at first, but quickly turned warm and clingy. It was a weird sensation, at once titillating and unpleasant. The thrill was as much a product of our exhilaration and apprehension as the physical contact. Lucy beside me gasped; the twins flashed awkward smiles. Tim allowed himself another grin, a sheepish one.

Nobody spoke. Our mood was one of quiet introspection. The ride up and over the hill took a few minutes. The road is hemmed in by dense evergreen forest. The houses scattered along it are nestled amongst the trees. We spotted a few residents. The women were, of course, naked. One was mowing her yard; another was walking along the narrow footpath carrying bags of groceries; two were strolling hand-in-hand wearing shoes and broad-brimmed hats with nothing in between. A man and woman were sitting on a park bench eating their lunch, and he was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a gaudily floral shirt. All the males were, as I expected, fully clothed.

The Community has a permanent population of around six hundred, which increases on weekends with part-time residents and the handful of visitors. Most citizens are employees (mainly academic staff) or students at the university, almost all aged in their twenties to forties. It is a prosperous community but with very little conspicuous affluence. It is divided physically into three residential districts separated from each other and the compact business hub by the forest. Although these are linked to each other and the jetty by paved roads (and we were passed by two commercial vans on their way to the dock), the quickest route is on foot along scenic trails that weave through the trees.

The houses are similar in design and decoration, expensive but blending harmoniously with their verdant surroundings. Most are arranged in clusters of five or six grouped around a cul-de-sac. We entered one of these and stopped at the end.

Lucy and I disembarked with our bags. Sabrina told us to wait and drove off with the others. Almost immediately a woman came out from the nearest house -- a tall, slim, very attractive brunette, aged in her early forties, like Sabrina's her body athletically streamlined and devoid of tan-lines. She introduced herself and the name was familiar. Alice is a professor at the university whom I'd seen on campus but never met. She invited us inside and led us upstairs to our room. There were three bedrooms but Lucy and I were to share. Our quarters were spacious enough, with an en-suite and a small balcony, but sparsely furnished. There was a single, queen-size bed, fitted with deluxe satin sheets and duvet. Lucy and I stared at it and at each other. She winked.

"Right or left?" I asked.

"Top or bottom?" she replied.

I couldn't tell if she was being serious. Both questions went unanswered.

We did not bother unpacking. We would only be here a short while, and knew we wouldn't have to worry about what to wear. We went back downstairs and found Alice in the kitchen. She was preparing dinner, now wearing an apron though nothing else. We assisted, and she told us, unsolicited, that she likes to be at home to greet her husband when he arrives. And at that moment, as if on cue, the crunch of car tyres on gravel heralded his advent. Alice turned down the heat on the stove, discarded her apron and headed for the front door, motioning for Lucy and me to follow. In the small foyer she knelt on the polished wood floor, lowered her head and placed her hands behind her back. Lucy and I joined her, on our knees. I took a quick upward glance as the door opened and Robert entered. Tall, handsome, fair-haired, he was wearing spotless bib-and-brace overalls on top of a clean white shirt.

Robert gently stroked Alice's head and then put his hand under her chin to beckon her to raise herself. She did so, keeping her eyes downcast. He kissed her lips and neck while his hands clenched the flesh of her buttocks to draw her into a tight embrace. She lifted one knee to graze her bare thigh along his trouser leg. They never exchanged a word; but abruptly they separated. The formality was over, and after Robert bade Lucy and me to rise with a simple "Welcome," the scene became slightly more domestic. Alice sent us back to the kitchen while she and her husband went to the living room. I could see them through the servery window. As he made himself comfortable in an leather armchair, she poured him a whisky then knelt before him as they discussed their respective days. Though she was nude and kneeling, she no longer averted her eyes and they seemed to be talking normally. But then she removed his boots and socks and replaced them with slippers, and she performed her task with such reverence, fondling the scuffed leather and silky velvet, that it was almost a sexual act. If she had bent forward to kiss his feet and suck his toes I wouldn't have been surprised.

The noise Lucy had been making behind me stopped and I realized that she was watching as well. Suddenly Alice looked up, in our direction, smiled and shook her head. We returned to our chores, but there was not much more to do. The four of us ate dinner together. We women set and cleared the table and waited until the master was seated before taking our places. We were still naked; but the dinner conversation was free and easy, the tone informal. Robert seemed genuinely, not just indulgently, curious about Lucy's and my academic research. I described my work in planetary climate modelling and his eyes did not glaze over (in contrast to the reaction I usually get from people when I talk about astrophysics). Lucy is a former child prodigy now completing her postgraduate degree in the exotic field of photonics and nanoscience.

Alice told us that she has taken a year away from her career to "do local work." This turned out to be a modest understatement. She's the chief executive officer of the corporation which manages all the assets and operations of the Community. Robert is employed as a technician at the power generation and water purification plant.

During the conversation I became ever more aware of the fascinating paradox in their marriage. In most of their interactions Alice comes across as the dominant partner. In other words, she shows more initiative and seems to have the greater input in their decision-making. This came out a couple of times during the meal. Robert generally defers to his wife's judgement. It's not on account of his being weak or wishy-washy, but because he's laid-back and easy-going, and recognizes his wife's talents. As well, one cannot ignore their professional lives. At the university Alice was a high-ranking academic; now as the corporation CEO she is effectively her husband's boss. It's obvious that in their relationship it is she who wears the pants, if only metaphorically.

So the impression is that her unreserved show of obeisance towards him has an element of theatricality. Nevertheless, it's genuine. Their devotion to each other is complementary even as it takes different forms. He accedes to her acumen and prudence, and in return she pays homage to him as her lord and master. Whether it's an equal or even a fair exchange is irrelevant. But that still raises (at least for me) the question -- is this a performance? In that case, where lies the dividing line between role-play and lifestyle, make-believe and actuality, fantasy and reality? I have yet to discover that for myself, without trying to figure out with other people.

During dessert, a scrumptious tiramisù, Alice explained the arrangements for Lucy and me over the next couple of weeks, and the most important rules we needed to know. There was nothing we weren't already aware of. We would be staying with Robert and Alice for three nights, during our orientation, then would be accommodated in other Community households and on campus in group housing.

One of the things that Alice stressed was that in the Community, when indoors in a public setting women must be naked at all times. (Inside the home, of course, that is an issue for her and her master.) For outdoors there is a complex formula -- in brief, when the ambient temperature rises above twenty-four degrees Celsius in the months of April to September, twenty-two degrees during October to March, female nudity is mandatory. Nevertheless, at any time of the year, day or night, when any male resident orders her to strip a woman is obliged to do so.

It is actually more complicated, but that's the gist. A few weeks after my arrival, I was walking towards the city centre when I saw Sabrina with her brother, Nicholas. He had just become a resident of the community. Although good-looking, in all other respects he is the antithesis of his sister, who is a couple of years older. He's not exactly obnoxious but more egotistical and condescending than he has any right to be... but I may be biased because of my initial impression. They were with Sabrina's girlfriend. (She also had a boyfriend at the time. The three-way relationship was an interesting situation that I may get around to explaining.) It was a cool and blustery day, and while he was well covered the two females were naked. They passed two women, Tess and Rita, who are among the Community's veteran residents. They have lived here for two decades. Nick had been in the Community for just a few hours, but he was very much aware of his privilege of the penis. The women were not exactly overdressed, but like me (fortuitously concealed behind some shrubs across the road) wore just enough to keep out the chill. Nick approached them, words were exchanged and they dutifully stripped.

Nick tried to keep a straight face. He enjoyed giving the order to these women, long-term residents twenty years his senior, and having them obey without question or hesitation, and he couldn't totally hide his self-satisfaction. Their own expressions were of mildly amused forbearance. They didn't put their dresses back on even after Nick and his girls (who'd stood watching with looks of been-there-done-that stoicism) had disappeared around the corner. The women of Arcadia take the rules seriously. You don't flout them as soon as the master is out of sight. But that's the point. Our nudity is not just for display. It serves as a reminder to both sexes of "what we are and what we are not" (a phrase I was now hearing a lot). So while being naked is in its way empowering, especially when you feel good about yourself and your body, its compulsory and asymmetrical (female-only) nature is a deliberate and effective evocation of the sexual tension latent, and sometimes explicit, in everything that happens within the Community. You are always conscious of... well, there's that phrase again.

Alice reviewed some of the other regulations. There are lots, like whom to obey, in what circumstances and with what priority. She stressed that, as females, we would be constantly subject to these rules, some of them petty but all with a purpose, in public as in private. Above all, males are treated with unconditional deference -- all of them in the Community, both residents and visitors. On the other hand, no one likes extravagant shows of servile devotion.

"It's a fine line, sometimes." Alice stared across at her husband, who hadn't contributed anything to the exposition except for some nods and grunts of agreement. "But that's the joy of living here. This is your independence -- deciding what you can do and when you can do it, judging what not to do, from moment to moment, from one situation to the next, how far to go, where to draw the line. The men don't have these constraints, but that's the joie de vivre of our community."

She smiled self-consciously at the grandiloquent flourish to her little speech. It sounded rote or rehearsed. It probably was.