Chapter 2: Wage Slave

The next morning, a nice sunny Monday that promised an unseasonably warm spring day ahead, Marcy and Melissa were dropped off by her mother in the parking lot – already nude, aside from runners and ankle socks. I was waiting for them by the Resort's 1930's-era pickup truck, parked behind the registration hut.

"So, Melissa, ready for some fun?"

"Yes, Mr. Jackman. Do I get to swim?"

"Yes, Melissa. All day long, if you've a mind to. Have you put on your sunscreen yet?"

"Yes Mr. Jackman," the charming girl told me enthusiastically. "Mom made sure we did everywhere before we came here."

Marcy greeted me with a pleasant, "Keep your filthy paws off my little sister."

"Ah, the ever-charming Marcy. Ready for me to do not-nice things to your body?"

"Like slathering sunscreen on me?"

"No, I'd get one of the ladies to do that, and only between the shoulder blades. You can reach everywhere else without a problem.

I began their day at Barracuda Beach by taking them on the nickel tour. We started with the cottages which linked the parking lot at one end and the clubhouse and campgrounds at the other. "There are about 80 cottages for year-round residents. They're presently all occupied, but once in a rare while we get one come up for sale."

"There are families here?" Melissa wondered as she watched a couple of nude teen boys playing catch.

"Yes, about half the households have kids under 18, including my own, and half of those have at least one kid in elementary school."

Melissa's face was one of delight, while her older sister's was one of unmitigated horror.

I then took them by the elementary school and, opposite that, the convenience store. Melissa was fascinated by the concept of an all-nude elementary school. The big naturist resort near the state capital has an all-nude school, but it's used by the permanent residents there. The majority of students at Barracuda Beach Elementary are not from those families permanently resident in Barracuda Beach, but rather from the community of Manatee Bay itself, and the majority of those families are textile.

"Could I go there? I'm in Grade 5 in the fall."

"Well, that would depend. You live in King County right now. I don't know if you could get your mother to move into Manatee Bay, but that's about what it would take. Plus, she'd have to move to the Willow Lane district, as that's what this school draws from."

I could see the gears grinding as she assessed the tactics required to convince her mother to move from King County to Manatee Bay. I didn't rate her chances of success all that high - but stranger things have happened.

As we walked past the clubhouse, I pointed out the front of the building. "The deck around the outdoor swimming and wading pools, like the deck around the indoor pool, is a strictly clothes-free area," I advised them. I indicated a little shack off to one side. One of my staff was already setting it up, setting out the condiments and napkin dispensers, putting the bar stools out and unfurling the umbrellas over the tables. "There's the snack bar."

Inside, I waved at the billiard room and library on the second floor and led the pair through the restaurant, party room, souvenir shop and indoor swimming pool on the main floor. "We use the party room as a daycare facility. Melissa, you'll meet the other kids there as soon as we've finished the tour."

Suddenly, Melissa wanted to be finished with the tour right away.

Outside, to the far side of the clubhouse, I pointed out a row of efficiency units. "Not all of our visitors stay in tents or trailers, some prefer more motel-like accommodations."

We walked along a route that led behind the convenience store and curved back toward the camp grounds. Returning to the campsite area, I indicated an open-sided, roofed structure that resembled a picnic shelter. "The shower shack. The water is heated primarily by solar power." Marcy looked impressed.

"Putting green, petanque court, basketball court, volleyball courts," I showed them.

"What's 'petanque'?" Melissa wanted to know.

"It's sort of like English lawn bowling, or Italian bocce," I explained.

On the other side of a three-rail fence stood a large barn in a large field. Four tall, furry critters stood impassively in the field.

"Horses," I said laconically.

"You have horses?" Melissa asked excitedly.

"You have horses?" Marcy was far more dubious.

"We have horses," I confirmed.

"They have horses!" Melissa waxed ecstatic. She could see herself riding one of the beasts, I'm sure.

"They have horses..." Marcy was stunned.

With that, the tour was over. I turned to Marcy. "Let's drop Melissa off with the daycare people, get you a uniform and let you start working."

"Uniform?" Aside from her mother, Marcy hadn't encountered a singled dressed individual in the entire resort either yesterday or today.

I walked to the staff lounge behind the souvenir stand. "Uniform." I threw her a florescent orange baseball hat with the Barracuda Beach logo on it, above the word "STAFF" in big letters.

"Uh, where's the rest of it?" she wanted to know.

Wordlessly, I pulled one of the bottles of sunscreen from the staff supply and held it up in front of her face.

She looked down at her nude form. "Oh."

We turned Melissa over to the newly-arrived daycare staff, and I turned my reluctant new wage slave over to the pool staff, so she could learn how to clean up the pool deck and check the pH levels.

The daycare workers, who included my elder daughter Debra, were as delighted by Melissa as she by they and by her new playmates. She made a number of friends and had a wonderful time. At the end of the day, she was tired but happy, and looking forward to the morrow.