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A bit of geography here: Located on the far southern side of the valley, Ventura Boulevard is the main east/west street running from the far western end to the far eastern end of the valley and

Topanga Canyon Road is the far western road going from the valley to Pacific Coast Highway.

Driving Topanga Canyon Road, as the crow flies, it is eight miles from Ventura Boulevard to Pacific Coast Highway, however, with numerous cutbacks, the actual miles are closer to twelve and having but one lane in each direction, though a beautiful drive through the Santa Monica Mountains, the time spent covering those twelve miles can become rather tedious.

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Topanga, California

Friday, May 9, 1986

Approaching a, not too large, but noticeable sign on the east side of the road reading:

 “ELYSIUM FIELDS

 814 Robinson Road”

“That’s a nudist park!” One of the guys said.

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ELYSIUM FIELDS: Part 2

“Really?” Someone asked, adding, maybe, jokingly, “How do I get in?”

“I’ve a friend that goes there,” the first guy said. “He says, you go there and for a few bucks they’ll let you in for a day to see how you like it.”

Really! I thought. Further thinking, I need a change in my life! Never too bashful, the thought of being nude along with a bunch of nude people, particularly nude women, Really! I thought.

So, after caravanning the house in Malibu, after returning to Country Club Realtors in Woodland Hills, getting into my car, I drove to:

“ELYSIUM FIELDS

814 Robinson Road”

Taking a left turn into the densely wooded area, driving about an eighth of a mile on a twisting, gravel covered two lane road, coming to a large opening, the road ended at a parking area before a wide, one story redwood structure.

Leaving the car, I looked about the flat, tree and grass covered area that covered, in my untrained estimation, one or two square acres.

Not really knowing what to expect at one thirty on a Friday afternoon, I did see a number of scattered blankets along with a number of, Really! naked people.

Entering the building, becoming somewhat excited, thinking, Am I going to see you naked? “Hi,” I said to the fairly attractive, oh, maybe thirty-five year old woman wearing a light colored caftan sitting behind the desk.

“’Afternoon,” she said in a friendly tone. “I’m Elsa, can I help you?”

“Uh, yes, Elsa,” I said haltingly, “I’d, uh, like to see how I might like, uh, being here.”

Smiling at my bumbling, “You’d like a one day trial   membership?” she asked.

“Yes.” I answered. “But not for today. Can I come tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Taking a pre-printed form from a drawer. “But we like to know who we’re letting in,” sliding it across the desk. “So if you’ll fill this out.”

Leaning over the desk, looking at the form: Name; address; phone number; marital status; reason for wanting to attend Elysium.

“This is private, isn’t it?” I questioned. “I mean, she doesn’t know I’m doing this, but I am married and want to try this first to see if my wife would like it here. But, no offense, but if I don’t think she will, I don’t think I’d like her, or, actually, anyone knowing that I’m even thinking of joining here.”

Having heard this before, many times before, smiling, “Of course we understand your reluctance, and absolutely everything you say,” gesturing to the form, “is one hundred percent private, and I promise, if you decide against joining us here,” now gesturing towards the doorway, “you’ll never hear from us in any way.”

Relieved because I really wanted to do this, I wrote my information onto the form.

Looking at what I’d written, “Thanks. Mitch. That’ll be fifteen dollars.”

Handing Elsa the money, “And I’ll be okay for tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yes.” Writing a receipt, she handed it across the desk, then, flipping one page in a loose leaf binder, opening to, “May 10”... “Mitchell Lipensky,” Elsa wrote beneath a number of

other names.

“Whenever you come, Mitch,” partially standing, leaning forward, reaching her hand across the desk, “just come here first so we can check you in.”

As she leaned forward, noting – by the swaying motion of her unencumbered breasts beneath the summer-weight material of the caftan – noting that Elsa was braless, shaking her hand, “I will, thank you.” I said, thinking, I can’t wait to see you naked!  

Woodland Hills, California

Saturday, May 10, 1986: 9:40 AM

 At this time being a rather avid bicycle rider, “Doing a bike ride today at the beach and don’t know when I’ll be back!” I spat out.

“Don’t give a damn if you ever come back!” Marsha spat back.

Going into the kitchen to make a brown bag lunch, “Fine! Maybe I won’t!”

“Don’t threaten, Mitchell, do it!”

                                                         ***

The lunch, along with a beach towel and my bathing suit snuggly packed into a pannier – a canvas bicycle bag made to fit behind the seat – the bike hung onto the bike rack over the trunk of the car,  my harshly said, “Goodbye!” met with silence, I left.

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       ELYSIUM FIELDS

    Topanga, California

 May 10, 1986: 10:33 AM

Feeling excited, but at the same time a bit queasy over what I was about to do, driving to the administration building, parking the car, I went inside.

 “Hi,” I said to the homely, exceedingly corpulent woman wearing a vividly colored, floral caftan that sat behind the desk.

Caftans, I supposed, being the uniform of the day for Elysium office personnel.  “Is, uh, Elsa around?” I asked.

“Elsa? No, she’s off today. Can I help you?”

Having absolutely no desire to see this woman naked, “I, uh, came in yesterday and paid for today.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lipensky... Mitchell Lipensky.”

Looking at the loose leaf binder... “Oh, yes, here you are! Give me your hand.”

“My hand?”

Removing a hand stamp and ink pad from the drawer, “Yeah, ultra-violet waterproof stamp,” the woman said, reaching for my hand, “This’ll get you into the parking lot. Also we have monitors that check for this to see if there’s any one here that shouldn’t be here... Also,” smiling, “the monitors make sure people don’t get too friendly, if you know what I mean.”

Wondering how, ‘being too friendly,’ might be controlled, nodding my head, “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“I’ve my bike with me.” I asked, “it’ll be safe in your lot?”

“Yeah, Moss... The attendent’ll sign you in as having a bike. Then cars leaving the lot with bikes are checked to be sure they came in with a bike.”

“Yesterday, did Elsa give you the grand tour?” the woman asked.

“‘Grand tour’? No.”

“Okay.” Swiveling, then laboriously lifting herself off the swivel seated chair, “I’m Gwen, by the way.”

“Hi, Gwen,” I said, following her outside.

“This building,” gesturing, “is both the office and housing...” walking to the side and alongside the long structure... “for two ‘live in’ families, and...” now behind the structure... “here’s our swimming pool.”

A typical Southern California spring day, the temperature at this time in the morning standing at near eighty. Sensing a twitch in my crotch...

“Morning, Gwen!” One of the women waved.

.... there were five people standing in the shallow end of the fairly large pool: three men and two women, all nude.

“Morning, Shelly.” Gwen answered back.

Backtracking, following the waddling Gwen, walking across the circular area before ‘Administration’, to a larger building,  “Here’s the bathrooms,” Gwen said, gesturing to a  ‘Men’ and a ‘Woman,’ with a doorless three stall shower between.

“And here...” entering the structure, “is our meeting and lecture room.”

Sitting on dark planked flooring, chairs and lounges scattered about, the large, knotty pine paneled room had a open beam ceiling and a huge, floor to ceiling rock fireplace.

Turning to the left, into a hallway containing three doors, “And here... shhh!” holding her index finger before her lips, two of the doors were open showing sun-lit bedrooms, while, the third door closed, rhythmic, telltale sounds of  the movement of bedsprings came from within.

Glancing at her watch, giggling, “Guess someone got started early today,” Gwen whispered.  “This is where people go when they feel themselves becoming very friendly; where they can have some privacy, because we... Here at Elysium,” she said sternly, “we want everyone to enjoy their day and have a good time, but we do not allow open displays of sexuality.”

Nodding my head once again, continuing the tour, outside now, facing the tree dotted grassy area, there must have been forty or more scattered people sitting on blankets individually or in groups of two, three or more people.

“I don’t feel like walking there now, but,” Gwen said, pointing south-westerly across the field, “See the flagstone walkway there?”

Following her pointing finger, “Yes.”

“That walk leads to a little incline where there’s a level area with a wading pool and a Jacuzzi big enough...” smiling again, “for a number of people at the same time.”

Thinking, ‘a Jacuzzi big enough to hold a number of naked people at the same time’? This is a way to keep people from becoming ‘too friendly’?

 “And there,” Going on, Gwen now pointed to the north-west,  “is our tennis and volley ball court.”

Looking in that direction, seeing two nude men, I could now hear the distant ‘ponging’ sound of a volleying tennis ball.

Walking back to ‘Administration’, “On the way up, did you notice the road leading to the right?”

“About half way down?” I asked.

“Yeah. That’s the road that goes to the parking lot. Just show Moss the stamp on your hand and he’ll let you in.”

                                                                  ***

Strange, now that I was here, my towel spread, thinking I wouldn’t, strange that I felt apprehension at the thought of undressing before a field of strangers, the closest, by the way, about twenty feet away.

Actually, apprehensive and excited at the same time, sitting on the towel, I kicked my shoes off and then removed my socks... Stalling, I guess, I then pulled the shirt over my head and off. Okay, now sitting, should I wiggle out of my – cycling – shorts or bite the bullet and stand as a man. Screw it! Standing – sure everyone within sight was staring at me – I lowered my shorts, and as I did sun warmed air and the slight breeze hit my penis and, sensing the “uplifting” sensation there, I quickly sat.

Sitting now, my knees drawn upward to partially hide myself, and my erection, I looked about and guess what? Not a person, no-one was looking at me, or even in my direction....

But now I’m looking.

©August 2, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman