Arcadia Pt. 04

I awoke annoyed with myself for not having taken the opportunity of the pitch-black rural skies to go outside to look at the stars during the night. Of course there would be plenty more chances; but I nonetheless felt vindicated, irrationally, to find the dawn of day hidden behind a solid layer of cloud. I left Lucy to slumber on, going downstairs to find Alice already in the kitchen making breakfast.

The morning ritual was no different from the evening's. Robert didn't appear until the meal had been laid, and we women waited patiently by the table for the master to take his place. After that, as at dinner, the conversation was uninhibited. Lucy, clearly not a morning person, was mainly mute but perked up in the wake of two huge servings of cereal, muffins and fruit salad, plus perhaps a jug of coffee. She's tiny, so must have a phenomenal metabolism.

Robert left for work at about eight o'clock.

It was Friday morning and Lucy and I were not due to return to the university campus until Sunday evening. So we accompanied Alice to the Civic Hall. The walk to the central hub of the Community took fifteen minutes. The weather was cool and overcast, and on the trail in the forest under the dense canopy wearing just a straw floppy hat and sandals and nothing else, I started to get the shivers. As with yesterday's goosebumps, however, I'm sure they were as much due to nerves as to the chill.

In fact, the temperature was most likely below the threshold allowing us to wear clothes. That we didn't was partly, at least in my case, to avoid the humiliation of being ordered to strip by some random male we encountered. More than that, however, I was proud to be able to bare my body despite the slight discomfort. Anyway, the walk warmed us up.

We saw a few other residents, on the track and on the three roads which converge on the hub. Nobody hurried. Most were females, some of whom had briefcases while others wore backpacks or carried shopping bags; all were naked; all were trim and tanned. Some had pubic hair (albeit neatly groomed), generally the older women, and since this included Alice it confirmed what I suspected, that married women in the Community were au naturel in both senses of the term.

(I later almost committed a faux pas by joking that hirsute pubes are a good substitute for a wedding ring. Then I discovered that some women emphasize their marital status with a ring through their labia to close the entrance, while an engagement ring is worn piercing one labium. The Arcadia Community has some quaintly charming traditions.)

The half-dozen men we encountered were, if anything, overdressed; two even wore business suits. Everyone shared nodded greetings with Alice, and the males gave Lucy and me a quick overall scrutiny; but otherwise nobody acknowledged what was to me so obvious. And it was a strange sensation, more even than what I felt that first night with the Arcadia Club. Mindful of what Alice had told us at the dinner table, I felt my nudity more intensely because of, not in spite of, the apparent indifference of the passers-by. We weren't bare-skinned just to look pretty. At the same time, the chill in the air made it impossible to forget or ignore my déshabillé state.

Lucy, striding ahead of me on the path, tried to maintain a pose of equanimity; but she was betrayed by her little fists and butt cheeks firmly clenched.

Inside the Hall was a crowd of people and a flurry of activity. The Community Council was convening, and as well as its members there were consultants, petitioners and spectators milling noisily about in the lobby. The gathering parted as Alice approached, but instead of formalities there were informal greetings and good-natured banter.

The Arcadians don't engage in dilettante role-play. Theirs is a real-life, bricks-and-mortar community. It is a body corporate which is administered internally by elected representatives of the shareholders. The Local Government Authority tries to stay out of its business; and the Arcadians are, in turn, good citizens who contribute more than their proportionate share of the shire's revenues.

Lucy and I joined Gabrielle, Hannah and Tim, who had arrived some time earlier, and were escorted to the gallery, which was simply a roped-off area at one end of the room furnished with two dozen chairs. At the central table were seated five men and two women. The men were in suits with open-necked shirts or in shirtsleeves with tie. The women were (it was by now no surprise) nude, and they waited respectfully for their male colleagues to be seated before taking their places. Yet when the meeting commenced it was Alice who took the lead. She was addressed by her first name rather than as "Madam Chairwoman" or whatever; but in fact that was the convention for everyone. Despite some necessary formalities, the proceedings were relaxed and polite, and decisions were mostly by consensus.

There were a couple of votes, on minor issues, and only the five males took part. Having read the Community Charter, I knew that elections are held annually, and that while both men and women are eligible to vote and be elected to the Council, only one sex exercises these rights. So I found it interesting that the two women, who are appointed members, are the CEO and Treasurer of the Community, in other words its senior management officers. I have learnt that while women are not qualified to be decision-makers, our knowledge, talents and skills aren't wasted.

Just before adjourning for lunch, the Council and their audience were introduced to the five new, probationary citizens. All prospective residents must be approved by a Council vote, but this is in almost all cases a formality, since they have already been vouched for. We stood to accept polite applause. But then Alice stated "for the record" that Lucy and I were under Robert's guardianship, Gabrielle and Hannah under Tony's. He's the husband of the other female Councillor, Helen. Tim, of course, doesn't need a guardian, having the requisite penis. Yet given that I have chosen to adopt the lifestyle of the Arcadia Community, I could hardly complain that a grown-up woman of (I am not too modest to affirm) well above average mental capacity requires the supervision of a male guardian. And though we possibly need a protector, the Charter specifies that my guardian has responsibility for my "welfare and discipline." Of course, just as our nudity is largely symbolic, our guardianship is more token than practical.

Anyway, at lunchtime the five of us newcomers left the Civic Hall to explore the Community on our own, strolling about in an essentially aimless fashion to get more of a feel for its layout, culture and lifestyle. It might have been any other small but prosperous town in the countryside, apart from there being no children and a mere handful of tourists.

I didn't expect to many visitors; but even taking into account the physical remoteness these were sparse in number and fairly easy to spot. The males didn't gawk or gape; indeed it was their tenacious effort to not do so which exposed them (so to speak). It was the same for the women. They didn't flaunt their naked bodies, and none tried to conceal anything; but they gave off a vibe of naughty self-consciousness. It might have been a "normal" nudist or naturist colony except for the one-sidedness.

I'm sure that I and the other girls had a similar demeanour, though we tried to be relaxed about our own state. Indeed, after less than twenty-four hours as a resident I was already feeling some amour-propre... which, naturally, made no sense considering that I had basically become an item of property. (I remember thinking, with haughty smugness, about one female tourist -- "You can prance about in your self-satisfied altogether, but when you go home you can put your clothes back on and be your own woman. I can't." What strange snobbery!)

The local women were understandably more casual, even blasé. I guess you can't walk around everywhere, go about your business all day flaunting and flirting. The local men paid attention especially to the new bodies; but with polite glances rather than lingering stares. Indeed, my perception is that most of the men regard it as a courtesy to show some attention; but behind this gallant civility is the stark reality that any man has the authority to order any woman to strip if she has not done so.

We stopped at the local coffee shop, the Blue Dolphin Café. None of us, including Tim, had thought to bring money; but the waitress told us not to worry because we already had a charge account. She knew who we were; word gets around quickly in a town of six hundred. We conversed for a while because there were no other customers at the time. Carmen is a vivacious, curvaceous woman in her late thirties with flamboyantly curled flame-red hair, luminous emerald-green eyes and a euphonic, insouciant voice which rises suddenly, sharply and rather comically when she calls out orders to her husband Joe in the kitchen. They are among the Community's more colourful couples. Her luxuriant pubic hair is dyed blue and clipped in the shape of a leaping dolphin. Below it, from the ring that pierces her labia dangles a pendant with a tiny portrait of Joe. She appeared to flaunt it as she stood beside us at the table.

Carmen and Joe have an interesting backstory that illuminates the Arcadian lifestyle (which is why I'm digressing). She's a long-term resident who owned the shop when she met and married Joe. As an outsider (a rather clueless one, I'm guessing), he was surprised and delighted to be told by his new wife that she, her home and her cafeteria now belonged to him. Every woman in the Community makes this commitment, and I have no idea what happens in the event of divorce. Unless they find new partners they will have to leave the Community, but I'm unsure of the legal ramifications.

In our table chat we learned more about each other, especially about our university careers. We are all doing science: Gabrielle and Hannah environmental engineering, Tim physics. That's nothing more than a coincidence, except perhaps for Tim. His specialization is atmospheric physics, similar to mine (albeit his at the undergraduate level). Most residents are connected with the university, which is no coincidence since that's where the Arcadia Club was founded and is based. But all fields of academia are represented in the population -- arts, law, education, commerce and economics, and so on.

Tim was, as I've mentioned, the youngest of us five and the only undergraduate. Lanky, somewhat dishevelled, tussle-haired and (as the cliché goes) bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he could not have been as callow as he appeared (and sometimes acted) at the time, since he must have been "apprenticed" in the Arcadia Club. I had never seen him there, and he's never mentioned it, so that will probably remain a mystery. However, he'd been well-tutored before arriving in the Community. Mindful of his status and privileges as a male, self-conscious that these were essentially unearned, he was ambivalent and even uncertain about his role. Lucy, the twins and I did our best to put him at ease, because as weird as this might sound to an outsider, adjusting to the lifestyle is harder for the males. I doubt that they can understand what we females are feeling; and though I also doubt that any would want to trade places with us, I think they fret, and perhaps even resent, that they're missing out on something.

In any case, after this interlude we continued our wandering. It was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, unadventurous yet informative. Afterwards Tim and the twins departed together, although I don't think they were sharing accommodation. Back at Alice's house, Lucy and I relaxed for a while in the backyard enjoying the natural scenery and talking about our lives, ambitions and dreams. It is, in a way, a challenge chatting with Lucy. Behind her almost unbearably cute façade and playful persona lurks a formidable intelligence. You forget how smart you are and hope you don't make yourself look dumb. At least, that's my reaction.

Alice came in after a while, and we went through the welcoming ritual of submission when Robert arrived. This being Friday, eating out was de rigueur. It was a cool evening and Alice told Lucy and me it was okay to "cover up." Of course, being in Arcadia, this meant just covering the torso -- nothing below the belly. Alice put on a snug-fitting aqua shirt with collar and short sleeves. I donned a teal sleeveless top and Lucy a shocking pink t-shirt decorated with an embroidered Betty Boop type character astride a rocketship (not subtle imagery). It was an odd sensation, being bottomless like that, feeling more exposed and intensely erotic than if we'd remained completely naked. (Robert wore corduroy trousers and a natty, non-plaid flannel shirt.)

It seemed as if the entire population, including a handful of visitors, had congregated downtown. There are a couple of eateries besides the Blue Dolphin. We ate at the Elysium restaurant which is actually smaller than the Café. It was full -- crowded or intimate, depending on your preference -- and the clientèle appeared to be exclusively locals We managed to secure an indoor table so we ladies took off our tops. The women sitting at the sidewalk tables kept theirs on, but the waitresses braved the cold night air.

Alice insisted on giving us a short lecture on the history of the place and thus on the economics of the Community. Most of the businesses are run by women (who make up about sixty percent of the citizens). Anywhere else they would be owner-managers. Our maitresse d', Valerie, is legally the proprietress. She isn't married and lives with her partner Suzanne. So she needs an associate, a man that is. He has no role in the operation of the establishment and I don't think he shares in the profits. It's just one of the quaint conventions of the Community that it's his name on the sign by the door.

After dinner, Alice announced that we were going back to the Civic Hall for the regular Friday night Musicale. There is an outdoor auditorium attached to one end of the building. It's covered with a large canopy that provides shade in the daytime and keeps out the rain while letting in light; but there are no walls. Because it was night-time as well as cool, we females kept our tops on. But my backside was still bare. Only a couple of women I saw were wearing knickers. The seats were not cushioned, and so each member of the audience was given a disposable towelette. The males used these to wipe the small accumulation of dew off the seat, while the ladies used them to sit on. The material was flimsy and porous, so first contact with the ice-cold metal sent a momentary shock through me.

Once my body heat conducted through my butt had warmed the seat, the concert was a congenial way to end my first whole day in the Arcadia Community. The performances were excellent, and during the interlude we had coffee and cake and conversation. At some stage I lost track of Lucy. At the end of the show I walked home with Alice and Robert. Just before we reached the porch, Alice quickened her pace to be at the front door before her husband. I did the same, so that we went in first, took off our shirts and prostrated ourselves for the master's entry. I copied Alice. Instead of just kneeling, once on our knees we bent forward, with our hands behind our backs, until our foreheads touched the carpet.

This seemed to me a rather trivially gratuitous act of obeisance, and I continue to wonder how much of this protocol is playacting. That's the way I feel, and sometimes it's hard to avoid breaking into laughter at the absurdity. Nevertheless, even if it's a charade, when you're on your knees with your backside in the air and your nose touching the floor in front of a man's boots, the self-abasement is real.

I wanted to go straight to bed, but my roommate was already there with a young guy on top of her. I turned to go but Lucy, pinned under her partner and convulsing rather violently with his thrusts, whispered something and gestured with her free hand, inviting me to join them. Seized by a sort of wilful impulse, I lay down beside them on the mattress. After a while Carlo (whose name I learned the next morning) shifted sideways, out of Lucy, onto and into me. He didn't bother to hold any of his weight off my body, and I'd hardly managed to suck in a breath and spread my thighs when he plunged in.

If I hadn't been habituated by my experiences in the Arcadia Club, my wanton, abject submission might have felt debauched and shameful. A man whose name I didn't know, whom I had never seen before this moment, was inside my vagina. However, my only shame was that I couldn't climax, at least at first. There was no foreplay and I'd hardly sufficient time to be wet. Irrationally I was embarrassed, fretting that he would think I was frigid. Yet I wasn't concerned for his gratification. He was eerily silent, but the pulse of his penetration and the tempo of his breathing spoke loud enough. To arouse myself I began to move my body to the rhythm of his, thrusting my pelvis against his to drive him deeper into me, until the pressure made me gasp and groan. I didn't feel him spurt into me. Perhaps he was dry, had expended himself in Lucy.

At that moment I looked at her, lying next to me. Our eyes met; hers were moist and red, but they sparkled. Her lips were curled in a curious, crooked smile. Her nipples were still erect, her skin was flushed, and her left hand was stroking her crotch. While she was being fucked she'd been droopy-eyed and passive, perhaps from fatigue... I don't know when she and Carlo had left the concert. Now she was invigorated. It was clear that she enjoyed seeing me being fucked. Her right hand and my left connected; our fingers entwined.

The sex wasn't bad, but nothing more than physical stimulation, and I wasn't sure why I'd submitted, except that I found the submission to be arousing in itself. After all, this is why I had come to the Arcadia Community. Carlo probably sensed that I didn't have my heart in it; so he rolled off me and went once more into Lucy. His staying power was laudable.

Lucy's hand squeezed mine, then went limp. She was still jerking on the mattress next to me as I fell asleep.