Prologue

ITAJUBÁ WAS AN ISLAND ON THE NORTH COAST of São Paulo, eight kilometers from Ilhabela and São Sebastião. Its total extension was 83 km², had an elevation of 900 meters and was completely deserted. It had two walls of vegetation that covered the coast on the north side, hiding the exuberant beach of fine white sand from the eyes of anyone walking by the sea. The winds blew in the region at a speed of 14 km/h and the relative humidity there was around 70°. It was a true paradise hidden in the middle of nature and its lands were worth a few million.

Celso was piloting the 27-foot Phoenix 275 Platinum when we docked close to the sand. I tied the boat's ropes to the pier built a few years ago for visitation and we disembarked. That was a sunny summer day, it was almost 32° and the beach floor was boiling. We got off barefoot from the wooden dock with two berths and walked a few meters towards the center of the island. My friend turned towards the sea, excited.

— This place is perfect, brother!

The smile on the dark-haired, dark-haired, robust-body, unshaven face was stamped, which soon infected me as well. I had already seen pictures of the place on my father's computer screen, but being there in person for the first time and feeling the tropical climate on your skin was not something that could be easily described.

— It says here that it's at least eighty kilometers long — Celso was holding a folder with documents of ownership of the island that I had obtained from the real estate office —, that's more than we need to start our summer venture!

I glanced around the paradisiacal setting and saw, several kilometers above my head, one of the walls that hid the beach. The vegetation was extensive, the trees and dense forest surrounded the territory, creating the exact natural protection for a naturist beach, the project mentioned by my college friend and current partner.

“Let's walk a few more meters and explore the area.

Itajubá Island was an inheritance from my grandfather, Roman Vecchio, to my father and for many years it remained in his possession without any type of usufruct. The old man had been an oil tycoon in the 1970s who had made a great fortune with oil platforms in Venezuela and who, after getting rich in the neighboring country, decided to spend the almost infinite money he had earned in Brazil. Of Italian descent, Roman was the only child of a very successful family of European immigrants who exploited cheap Brazilian labor and here, alongside his wife Dalva, he had, in addition to my father Júlio, two more children, my uncles Paulo and Cláudio.

After a fatal accident in one of his company's jets, in the second half of the 90s, Roman left an estate valued at almost half a billion at the time, which was divided equally in a will to his heirs. To my father, in addition to a house in Angra dos Reis, which alone was worth almost four million, grandpa had transferred the deed to Itajubá Island and all its deserted stretch of sand by the sea to his name. He was the eldest of the children, so he had done better in the division of assets - although my uncle Paulo had inherited the old man's 150 million Rolls Royce Phantom.

“Are you sure this whole island belongs to your family, Ralph?

As we walked along the coast, with the strong wind whipping our faces, Celso seemed more and more incredulous with the stunning beauty of what we soon dubbed “Paradise Island”.

— The deed is there in your hands, brother. Believe me, this island is all ours!

Seagulls strolled across the sky as waves crashed onto the sandy beach a kilometer away. Celso and I walked for almost thirty minutes inside the island and we had barely covered 1% of its total extension.

'How about we organize regular excursions every six months?' — He was panting, next to me — We sell tickets at affordable prices, fill up a couple of boats at the nearest port and bring the whole crew here, to enjoy for an entire weekend.

We were excited about the idea.

— We can set up some fixed tents in that space — and I pointed in front of me, about four meters away —, we bring supplies for about three days and we allocate the visitors.

We both stopped for a moment on the sand. Like me, Celso seemed to start to visualize the project in his mind.

"This is going to work out really well!"

We walked for some more time and when we returned to the boat that was also owned by Mr. Júlio Vecchio, we mentally sketched again the idea of creating on that island a kind of naturist refuge for our friends and their guests.

— Do you think Wagner and Nalanda will also embark on the idea?

The two of us were sitting on the bow, facing the blue sea in front of us. The boat rocked gently beneath us, still tied to the dock.

— I don't think so — I replied, taking a sip of water from a 500 ml bottle — I'm sure!

My friend then laughed out loud and rubbed his hands, imagining all the possibilities for profit and fun we could have with that place. Just as he had inherited the place from my late grandfather, one day, I would also inherit that island from my lord father and it was only fair that I start planning its use as soon as possible.

— It's a tremendous waste all this useless land here. We can prepare everything now for the next vacation period. I'm sure fans of good old naturism won't miss it!

I agreed with Celso.

— As soon as we plan everything right, we'll start advertising the excursions at our agency — I said, smiling —, we can ask Wagner and Nalanda to help organize everything. In a while, our "sexpoint" will be running at full speed and then, friend - I pointed my index finger high above our heads - the sky will be the limit!