Chapter 3

The next room turned out to be the bedroom Sheila shared with her partner, Lucia. The walls were hand-hewn pine planks decked out with bookcases and several artfully done watercolor portraits of lightly clad women.

A queen-size, four-poster bed covered with a beautiful handmade quilt took up one wall. Illumination provided by a handcrafted wrought iron table lamp beneath a stained glass shade provided most of the light for the room. The remainder came from a stone fireplace with several burning logs. A huge bearskin spread out on the floor before the fire along with several hefty throw pillows offered comfortable seating. The pleasantly warm room had an elegant and cozy feel to it overall.

Sheila retrieved an amber-colored bottle and two glasses from the bookshelf and sat down on the rug. She patted a spot next to her as she invited me to join her fireside.

“Dennis, would you care to join me in a glass of home-brewed brandy?”

“Only if you make it a double.”

I was tempted to ask for a triple, but I let it pass. A double would do for now.

Taking a seat on the rug next to Sheila, I made myself as relaxed as possible. I was no longer as flexible as I had been when I was younger. Moreover, sitting on the floor was hardly my preferred mode of relaxation. I took a taste of the offered spirits. Liquid heaven! It was as smooth as silk, and I could feel it filling me with a warm glow.

“Tell me, Dennis, how at-ease are you with public displays of nudity?” Sheila asked as she took a swallow.

I almost snorted the drink out of my nose as I coughed and choked in surprise. What was the hell kind of question was that?

“I don’t have a problem with public nudity.” I regained my composure. “I’ve visited plenty of nude beaches in my life.”

“Did you get undressed or just visit as a voyeur?” Sheila inquired.

“I got as naked as everyone else. Why do you ask?” I responded.

“Because our dress code most assuredly is clothing optional when we’re in the cabin. Most of us go skyclad when we aren’t working or cooking or if safety requires we remain covered up. I’m glad that you’re comfortable with this,” Sheila said, as she pulled her sweater over her head and exposed her braless chest.

I used to think I was pretty jaded and nothing would surprise me. Wrong. What do you say to a skyclad lady? I felt like I was playing a bit part on Candid Camera.

Neatly folding her garment, she rose to her knees, unbuckled her jeans, and slid them down to her ankles. My eyes widened in surprise. Sheila wore no underwear, and her un-clad body showed no trace of tan lines. My head was spinning.

The same dizzy feeling I had when standing at the edge of a cliff swept over me in a wave of cultural vertigo as I struggled to keep my mental balance. The normal social landmarks outlining the boundaries of acceptable behavior were either missing or obscured in this strange new world. She folded her jeans, placed them on top of her sweater, leaned back on the pillow behind her, and closed her eyes.

“Ahh, that feels much more comfortable. I’m getting to the age where I almost dislike clothing,” she said with a deep sigh.

I took the opportunity to examine Sheila’s exposed body as she lay exposed next to me. I was trying to engrave this moment in my memory for later replay. Maybe it would make more sense the second time around. Her breasts were still reasonably firm, and they showed few of the signs of aging or sagging, apart from a few stretch marks, which came along with advancing years.

Sheila’s nipples were about the size of the tip of my little finger, and her dark brown areolas were roughly the size of fifty-cent pieces. Her stomach was flat with just a few wrinkles above a thin patch of reddish-brown pubic hair. She was in better physical shape than most women half her age. Either that, or she was a very high mileage thirty-year-old.

Her face had the usual lines and weather-worn creases of someone who spent most of their time outdoors, and there was only a slight hint of a double chin. She opened her eyes and caught me studying her body.

“Do I meet with your approval?”

I was stone-cold busted.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I don’t often find myself alone with a naked woman,” I stammered. “This whole thing is way too weird. Talk about being beyond my comfort zone; you’re nude, and you tell me an entire gaggle of naked jaybirds is just beyond this door,” I searched around and waved my arms, “and then there’s all this, this cabin half-way to nowhere. It’s just everything. I don’t mind being outside my zone, but I still need the time to process it.”