Explicitly Sexy II An Erotic, Married Romance Novel

M. L. Rinehart Copyright 2016, Delaware Valley Publishing, LLC. Advanced Review Copy (ARC) 2, 20170321.

Brought to you by Delaware Valley Publishing, LLC, from the beautiful Delaware Valley, Pennsylvania, USA.

A special thank you to Goodreaders Barbara Tsipouras, Dawn and Gretchen without whom I might have thought my first try was good enough.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places or events is purely coincidental.

About the Cover Front: Full Sail, the painting, that Maxine made and gave to Louise as a house-warming present, hangs in Louise’s boudoir on the boudoir side of the bedroom/boudoir wall. The cover rose is the heart of that painting. Back: On the other side that wall a print of Titian’s Venus di Urbino smiles at Louise and Tom when they are in bed. Angela del Moro—model, probably Titian’s mistress —has smiled at Titian since 1538. Louise calls her “my friend Angie” and tries to master her smile. Free ES III

Click to join the Explicitly Sexy Reviewers' Group. Free! Benefits: • Explicitly Sexy III. Free Advanced Reviewer’s Copy. • Access more Explicitly Sexy outtakes. Reviews wanted. Please! Reviews are like oxygen in today’s book market. A review only takes two or three sentences. Picture a potential reader who just read the back-cover blurb (or the online description). S/he wants to know if the book delivers or if the blurb is BS. You were promised an erotic, married romance. Did Explicitly Sexy II deliver? Amazon is key (even if you buy elsewhere). Goodreads is a close sec- ond. Everywhere is appreciated. Send your author a link. (He’s the one who sends the ARCs.) MartinRinehart at gmail dot com. Explicitly Sexy II 17 Under Three, Over Three 187 18 Trips North 207 19 Her Gigolo 235 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 263 21 Lust Dust and Good Vibrations 289 22 Opening Night 299 23 Summer Ends 315 24 Plans and Rituals 329 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties 349 26 Plans and Accidents 361 27 Plans and Stories 375 28 Beginning Again 389 29 Going Home 403 30 Moving On 419 31 The Mistress Suite 433 32 Return to Miyamoto 441 33 House Warming 451 17 Under Three, Over Three

Summer had arrived much too quickly. Asphalt softened until the streets were sticky. The clouds had taken vacations. Air conditioning, in build- ings or vehicles, felt like a necessity. Farms and gardens were still thriv- ing but the farmers had already started to keep an eye on the western horizon (and on their computers’ weather maps), scanning the future for rain. Tuesday, June 29, 2004, 4:55 P.M. The Rose Café. Acacia seated herself at their usual table. She asked Ricky for water while she waited. She was embarrassed at how little she had to report. Not for the first time, she was angry at the Internet. It returned an amazing amount of irrelevant material when you wanted to find some

187 188 Explicitly Sexy II basic facts. Well, she’d just have to report what little she knew and hope for Louise to share another fairy tale. Louise and Maxine arrived. Acacia waved them in. Ricky suggested the new seasonal special, strawberry daiquiris. They ordered three. “I bicycled to Max’s and we walked from her house,” Louise explained to Acacia. “It’s almost too hot already.” She ran her daiquiri over her forehead, lowering her body temperature. “So tell us about nipples,” Maxine directed Acacia, again steering the conversation toward her favorite subject. “Wait a minute,” Louise interrupted. “Our horny friend may have a gallery showing her paintings, Ace.” She had briefed Maxine on the way to the cafe. Maxine was not sure she wanted her paintings displayed pub- licly. Maybe she was scared, Louise thought. Maxine was not totally enthusiastic about Louise’s success in finding a gallery. “Next they’ll be trying to tell me what to paint,” the reluctant artist said. “I’d rather hear about nipples.” “I have very little to report,” the wee one announced. “The Internet failed me. And your ‘hot’ colleen failed herself, too.” “That wouldn’t be at all like her,” Louise said. “I was looking for- ward to a well-illustrated report.” “Yes,” Maxine added. “With lots of details.” “Sorry, guys. This is what I know. Or maybe I should say, ‘what I don’t know’.” “First, men and women have nipples. You knew that. Women nurse babies. Men don’t. You knew that, too. Men’s nipples are some sort of evolutionary leftover. No real purpose. Sensitive, though. “When you try to find out about non-gentle treatment you quickly leave the sane area of sex behind. Welcome to the murky world of BDSM. How much abuse is safe or damaging I’ve no clue. The BDSM fans say the nips are indestructible. “They talk about how babies are vigorous when they are nursing. I guess that’s true enough, though I’ve never been there. By extension, if women’s nipples are indestructible (which doesn’t follow from the fact that women can nurse babies) then men’s nipples are indestructible (which doesn’t follow from the assumption that women’s nipples are indestructible). 17 Under Three, Over Three 189

“I’ve exactly zero medical opinions.” And she paused to take a swal- low of daiquiri. Her frown was not pretty. Louise looked at Maxine. “Our attorney does not look like a happy camper, Max.” “Alright, alright,” the attorney interjected. “Medical opinion. You should definitely breastfeed your babies. Not a single opinion to the con- trary. No opinions concerning possible danger to the nipples.” She took another swallow of cold, rum-soaked strawberries. “This is good,” Acacia said, noticing the drink for the first time. “Remember Roemer’s fields where I interrupted you and Tom?” Maxine asked Louise. Louise remembered. “He’s got a big strawberry patch. I bet that’s what we’re drinking.” Acacia resumed. “I have one bit of good news from the BDSM front.” Acacia knew how to grab a jury’s attention. She was urged to go on. “If you look in the online toy stores, you see all kinds of nipple clamps. Some look like they’d pinch and some look downright vicious.” She let that thought attract the inevitable question. Louise obliged. “Why,” she asked, “is that good news?” “Because,” the attorney explained, “it seems that the nipples are commonly used as a source of pain. If they fell off or something, I’d expect nipple clamps to be a lot less popular.” “Ah, I see.” Maxine nodded her head. “So the occasional vigorous squeeze shouldn’t be an issue?” “Perhaps not,” the attorney confirmed. “Hardly definitive, but cer- tainly suggestive evidence.” “Well,” Maxine was hopeful, “you have conducted personal investi- gations along these lines?” “I’m worse than the Internet,” their investigator confessed. “Remem- ber how I teased him?” Yes, Louise and Maxine remembered how she had threatened him but not followed through. “I just kept threatening. It’s worked so far, but if I don’t carry it through soon, he’ll figure out that I’m a total wimp.” Acacia went back to her drink. Louise and Maxine looked at each other. Louise pointed a finger at Acacia and mouthed one word to Max- ine. “Wimp?” 190 Explicitly Sexy II

“Nah,” Maxine rejected the thought. “Bitch Goddess. Couldn’t be a wimp. Not a chance. She’ll pull it together.” Acacia smiled at the compliment but shook her head at herself. “I hope you’re right, Max. While you’re waiting for me, you can pinch your vibrator and tell us what it says.” “Good idea. I’ll try it.” Maxine was giving up, at least temporarily, on male nipples. Would Frank like having his nipples pinched? What would she do if he did like it? “Anyway, Lou, got another story?” Louise made a wait-a-minute gesture with her finger as she took another swallow of strawberry daiquiri. Then she began. “Yes. It sort of concerns your paintings, Max. I bought some new clothes Friday.” “Louise, you are definitely the queen of the non sequitur,” Maxine said. Then she added, “Wasn’t Friday the first day of the heat wave?” “Yes,” the queen of the non sequitur agreed. “I guess that inspired me. I bought some beach clothes that I really can’t wear to the beach.” Responding to the questions her introduction invited, backed up. “I had bought some business attire that I wore into the city and when I came home. I gave him a little fashion show. I had traded my usual pantyhose for a garter belt and stockings. They made me feel sexier. Looking at him I was quite sure he felt the same way. “Then I modeled my new bikini. The top’s really just two little trian- gles and some string. Less than I’d ever worn. The bottom’s even less. Just one triangle and some string.” “A thong?” Acacia asked, wondering if she’d have the courage to wear one. “A thong,” Louise agreed. “It took so much self discipline.” “What do you mean? To wear it?” Maxine wanted to know. “Well, after the business clothes I started with a complete beach ensemble. Top, skirt, sandals, even a beach bag. Removed one piece at a time until I stood facing him in nothing but the bikini. It was so hard.” “What was hard? He was hard?” Maxine dug for details. “Well, I suppose he was, though he was sitting with his legs crossed, so I couldn’t really see. What was hard was turning around ever so slowly and then walking out of the room. I had to imagine the look on his face. Turning around to look would have really spoiled my exit, you know.” 17 Under Three, Over Three 191

“What did he say?” the attorney helped Maxine dig for details. “Not a word,” Louise answered. “He was speechless.” Maxine laughed. “Our sweet Louise!” she said to Acacia. “She’s really becoming a sexy bitch.” It was meant as a compliment. Louise took a swallow of her daiquiri, hoping to hide her blush. “Your sweet Louise,” the storyteller continued, “did her best to make her rear cheeks sway as she walked down the hall. He was frozen in place. When I turned into my room he thawed. He pulled me out of my room before I could take the bikini off. He pulled me into the bedroom where your sweet Louise was treated to quite a nice rape.” (She left out some of the details that Maxine wanted. Louise had insisted on the leisurely sort of rape a woman could enjoy.) Louise stopped telling the story to comment on the storytelling. “You know, sometimes I just feel so immodest when I talk about how he felt.” Louise was conflicted. Her companions were having none of it. “You tell the story as true as you can, Ms. Wilson. Truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth,” the attorney said. “Especially ‘the whole truth’,” Maxine emphasized. “Details are important.” “Well, I don’t like to brag. I’m just following in Acacia’s footsteps.” Acacia disputed this, though she was delighted to hear it. “Really, Ace,” Louise explained. “I’ve even got Tom wearing thin pants. You said that palms and asses were made for each other. And how stroking his ass is part of Thing One.” “Professors love students that pay close attention,” Acacia said, almost to herself. Louise’s praise was more than welcome. Maxine looked at Louise intently. So intently that she made Louise nervous. “Why are you looking like that, Max?” “Two reasons, girlfriend.” “Two?” “Yes. First, your job is to make me insanely jealous. The better your stories, the more I want to be just like you.” “And what’s the other reason?” Louise asked. 192 Explicitly Sexy II

“You haven’t told us the whole story, Lou. I think you wore that bikini again, didn’t you? I helped you make that plan. I’m guessing your better-than-Botticelli tits turned him on. Right?” Louise smiled. “OK, OK. There’s more. I used the plan you helped me make. But I think that story should wait until Friday. Summer’s long and my supply of stories is short.” The storyteller and her listeners agreed that Louise would continue on Friday. Friday, July 2, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. Strawberries ripen in late June, in southern Michigan. The Rose Café was still serving strawberry daiquiris and Ricky was bringing three to the table. Maxine toasted, “To Monica’s second job.” Acacia and Louise demanded details. “Michigan State,” Maxine explained. “Part time pro- fessor, Antebellum Period. Pretty much the same as her first job. And she wants us to join her for a pool party.” “Does she have a boyfriend?” Louise asked. Maxine didn’t think she did. “So should we bring our mates, or should we have a girls-only party? It’s been years since I last went skinny dipping.” Louise remem- bered that the pool was quite private. Maxine said she would ask Monica. The conversation moved from pools to bicycles. “Max and I had planned a serious bike ride for last Saturday,” Louise explained to Aca- cia. “We wanted to set personal records for three-hour rides.” “Yeah. Here’s to Sergeant Wilson,” Maxine toasted. Louise laughed and raised her glass. “Is somebody going to explain that?” Acacia asked, as she joined them. Louise continued where she had left off on Tuesday. “Let’s see. I told you about Friday evening. The bikini was put away until Sunday. I’ll tell you just a bit about Saturday, though Max already knows part of it. Maybe you’ll be riding with us soon, Ace? “Saturday morning was beautiful. Perfect for bicycling. Tom was going to be arranging some ‘laundry’ lines so we could hang sheets to make our patio private. I’ll start where we usually do, at the church lot.” 17 Under Three, Over Three 193

Saturday, 6/26/04, 9:00 A.M. The church parking lot. Normally, the ‘B’ group’s ride was 30 miles (50 km) at a moderate pace circling around the almost-flat farm country. With two breaks, the group would be back before noon. Louise and Maxine found the group leader and explained their intent, to ride ten miles (16 km) farther north, then back catching up with the group as it returned. He briefed them on the day’s route and told them to start immediately. Then he added, “And good luck catching us.” “Ready, Max?” Louise asked after their five-minute warmup. “My best friend, gentle and sweet. The bitch doesn’t look like a drill sergeant, but...” Maxine finished complaining. “Hit it, Sarge.” Louise pulled out next to Maxine and accelerated slowly. 18 miles an hour was going pretty close to the ‘A’ group speed. “You’ve got to help me with my plans for tomorrow afternoon, Max.” “You really are a bitch. Killer pace and you want to talk, too?” “It’s your favorite topic. I have to work up a plan to give Tom an afternoon he’ll never forget.” Maxine decided this was a worthy project. Louise told Maxine about the bikini. About the naked man brushing her hair. About the private fashion show. “So, Kinky, how long did you keep him stiff last night?” “If I had a dirty mind like yours, Sexy, I would have timed it. I got home about seven. Gave him a serious kiss after we went inside. It was dark before we even got to the bedroom.” “And pitch black when you lit the fuse on his cannon?” “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee. I didn’t know artists did metaphors. Whatever. I want to make tomorrow afternoon memorable. Tom thinks Bossy Louise is hot, so... I’m not really bitchy, you know. Just doing my ‘wifely duties’.“ “Lou, you’re positively saintly. You’ll have just as many orgasms as you can, all to please your man. You set an example for women every- where.” As they rode, they plotted. A suntan lotion massage for her. A break to rub lotion into him (leaving no skin unprotected). Another turn for her. And then they got creative. It would be memorable. 194 Explicitly Sexy II

Forty miles (64 km) behind them, they stopped talking and started to take turns in the lead. By ones and twos they were passing ‘B’ group stragglers. Under three hours would be a personal best for 50 miles, (80 km). American cyclists call it a ‘half century.’ They decided that over three hours tomorrow afternoon would be another sort of personal best. Saturday, 6/26/04, 11:55 A.M. Louise and Tom’s patio. Tom came to greet her in the garage as she put her bicycle away. “You did it. I’m impressed.” Louise was still breathing hard. She was proud of herself. “Thank you. Yes, we did it. About five minutes faster than our target. How was your morning?” “Come on in and take a look.” Tom led the way. They looked from the dining room out onto the patio. “Tom! This is fantastic!” Louise exclaimed. Three poles held the ‘clothesline’ which was holding up new sheets, still creased from the package. A new lounge chair (the kind that folds down flat) was waiting. A large tube of suntan lotion lay on the table next to beach towels for the sun bathers. Louise went out to inspect. She picked up the suntan lotion. ‘SPF 50,’ it bragged. “Good choice.” Then she turned her attention to the sheets. Clothespins held them on the new ‘clothesline.’ Better still, clothespins were holding each sheet to its sisters on either side, ensuring the sun bathers’ privacy. “Very nice,” she said. Last, she turned her attention to the lounge chair. “I think I’ll want this lying flat.” He showed her how. Then he spread one of the beach towels on the chair. She poked the cushion. Not too firm, but not too soft. The type, she thought, that a girl could lie on quite comfortably while her masseur did her bidding. “All done?” she asked. He pointed to the table. There were screw eyes, a small pulley and a cleat for securing the clothesline. “I’ve just got it tacked up. These will make a nice, permanent job. We’ll be able to put it up whenever we like.” Louise went to sleep (her quads needed to recover) while Tom fin- ished his work on the patio. 17 Under Three, Over Three 195

Friday, 7/2/04, 5:50 P.M. The Rose Café. “Oh, poor Max,” Louise apologized. “She’s listened so patiently and heard the part of the story she already knew,” “S’alright, Lou. You getting to Sunday soon?” “I think another strawberry would help.” Maxine did her part to keep the storyteller fueled. Ricky arrived quickly with three more strawberry daiquiris. Louise took a sip. “Good,” she pronounced. “I think I can start on Sunday, now.” For the next hour, Louise told about the shower and the post-shower quickie that had brought him to the edge and her to satisfaction. “I felt a little guilty, coming so hard while he just waited. But that was the plan. I probably shouldn’t feel guilty I guess.” “In my experience,” Acacia offered, “the time spent at peak arousal is the best time for the man. Orgasms are intense but they’re over in sec- onds. Keeping him at peak arousal is your duty to your mate.” “Looking back,” Louise offered her opinion, “I think that’s what Tom said, too. At the time it felt quite selfish, but he really didn’t see it that way.” Louise would continue her story the next time our threesome met, but only after listening to ‘Professor’ Donovan’s latest discovery. Tuesday, July 6, 2004. 4:50 P.M. The Rose Café. The Fourth of July had come and gone. The temperature was rising. Lawns were green, but not without help from sprinklers. Runners, such as Herman, were out at dawn. Our heroines converged for their regular meeting. Louise returned from a meeting in the city without time enough to stop at home to change. When she got to The Rose, she discovered that the strawberry season was a thing of the past. “Sorry,” Ricky explained. “Our farmer ran out.” She sipped an iced tea. Maxine arrived minutes later. “You’re early,” Louise observed. “I can’t wait to hear the rest of your story. You left your man and your listeners waiting.” Louise laughed. 196 Explicitly Sexy II

“Wait a minute,” Maxine said as it dawned on her. “Why are you dressed like that?” A broad smile brightened Louise’s face. “Gallery hunting?” Louise was wearing her best business-in-the-city attire. “I found the right one. It’s perfect for you, Max. Perfect. It’s in the art district with the other galleries. It’s huge. Used to be a car dealer, I think. Big, high- roofed one-story building. Polished wood floors. Polished wood beams, nice curved beams, holding the roof up. Way up. Your biggest paintings will fit easily. The ceilings are high. Track lighting all over. You can light any way you like, from any angle you like. And the owner really likes your work. It’s perfect.” “I thought we had a gallery.” “I tried one more, just for insurance. Glad I did. The first one would have had trouble with your biggest paintings. This one has the space you need. You’ve got to come see it. Your work will be perfect in this space.” “Here’s the wee one.” Maxine spotted Acacia approaching the door. “How about tomorrow?” Louise pushed. “George said he’d be there if I could drag you in.” “Who’s George?” “The owner. George Ubuntu. Ubuntu Galleries.” “OK.” Maxine said. “If you really like the place.” “You’ll love it, Max. Pick you up at 9:00.” Louise saw fear in Max- ine’s eyes. Most unlike Max, she thought. Acacia arrived in business clothes complete with attache case. Ricky arrived with a tray of margaritas. Maxine suggested that they get Louise started on a subject more interesting than art galleries. “Hold it, Max. I’ve got something else to discuss.” Acacia looked serious. “I thought we didn’t do business during drinking hours,” Maxine objected. “No. Not about business. About life.” “What?” Louise inquired, her curiosity piqued. “It seems your wee colleen didn’t know as much as she thought she knew. You remember I said I was an ‘A’ student when it came to Her- man?” 17 Under Three, Over Three 197

“Weren’t you?” Louise asked. “I’m thinking about ‘B minus’,” Acacia said. Maxine, who wanted to listen to Louise’s story, began to get inter- ested. “Did something happen?” “No,” Acacia answered. “Nothing happened. But something might happen. I’m talking about what psychologists call the ‘Coolidge Effect’.” “You mean ‘Coolidge’ as in President Calvin Coolidge?” Louise asked. “Exactly. I stumbled across this on the Internet.” Louise took Maxine’s hand. “Max, I think our story is going to have to wait a bit. Professor Donovan seems to have something important on her mind. Let’s learn from her again.” Maxine went along, reluctantly. “It begins with rats,” Acacia began. “They put a male rat in a cage with a half dozen females. He mated with all of them, repeatedly until he was completely exhausted.” “That sounds like a pretty nice arrangement for the male,” Maxine observed. “And once he was completely exhausted,” Acacia continued, “the psychologists put another lady into the cage. The male got it up again.” “And this means...?” Louise asked, not quite following. “This was back in the ’70s. Since then it’s been repeated. Rats, ham- sters, all kinds of mammals. Even humans. You know the human male’s refractory period after he comes?” Louise nodded affirmatively. “Well guess what. Give him a new partner and the refractory period comes to an end. “You can see why this is important for some mammals. A single bull will screw all the cows before he repeats with any of them. Same with a rooster and hens. A human male won’t repeat with the same partner because his new sperm would be competing with his other sperm already in the womb. But give him a new partner...” “You mean,” Louise said, asking another clarifying question, “that he’s lost interest in you, but he’d be interested in another woman? Even just after?” “Exactly.” 198 Explicitly Sexy II

“You mean,” Maxine said, making it more personal, “that promiscu- ous bastard Monica married wasn’t a sicko, he was just acting like a nat- ural human male?” “It would seem so.” Louise was upset. “When we leave the cave, Professor, with our cho- sen mate, we are acting out our biological destiny, I thought. We are get- ting ready to do our part to help the species survive. We attract a mate so we’ll have the kind of long-term help that it takes to raise more humans. You’re saying that all other things being equal, the male will impregnate the female and then promptly move on to the next female?” “Yes. Cheering, isn’t it.” Acacia’s sarcasm was not subtle. “Well,” Louise asked, “our friends the psychologists have discovered the problem. Have they found a solution to the problem? Some sort of anti-Coolidge bonding cement?” “That does seem like the obvious next step,” Acacia agreed. “You’d think that a species that has to nurture its young for as long as we do would need some bonding cement. What’s got me really mad is that I’ve not found a single What-Do-We-Do-About-This? study. Not one. It seems the psychologists think they’ve finished their work when they’ve identified the effect. Dozens more studies are made verifying the first one. “Here,” she went on. “I’ve made some notes.” She pulled an index card out of her case. “Here’s a study title, ‘Allocation of Attentional Resources During Habituation and Dishabituation of Male Sexual Arousal’.” “Translate, please,” Maxine asked. “That’s the late ‘90s psychologist-speak. Roughly, ‘If She’s New, She’s Hot. If She’s Familiar, She’s Not’.” “That’s not at all encouraging,” Louise commented. Her understate- ment could be like Acacia’s sarcasm. “Here’s one of my favorites, from just last year,” Acacia continued. “Effect on Ejaculatory Performance and Semen Parameters of Sexually- Satiated Male Goats (Capra Hircus) After Changing The Stimulus Female (2003).” “Translate, please,” Maxine repeated. “If he can’t get it up, show him a new babe,” Acacia translated. 17 Under Three, Over Three 199

Louise and Maxine looked at each other, and then at Acacia. Acacia looked back. They sipped their margaritas, though with little enthusiasm. Eventually, Louise asked, “What are we going to do, Professor.” “Damned if I know,” the Professor answered, unhelpfully. Maxine, having a mate only one day a week, provided a segue toward her favorite topic. “Why don’t we listen to Louise. She can lec- ture on The Allocation of Attentional Resources During Male Sexual Arousal. Maybe we can work out the general principles by studying a particular case.” Louise laughed. Acacia seconded Maxine’s motion. “Let’s see,” Louise began. “Our study’s subjects were preparing to absorb some sun light. The female in our study was definitely making a study of attentional resources during male sexual arousal. As I recall, the weather was hot. The male and female were also getting hot, though that may not have been from the weather.” “We were wearing bathrobes. His was closed, and mine wasn’t.” Acacia asked, “You were deliberately displaying your attractional resources?” Louise smiled. “I untied his belt and rubbed lotion into his tender parts. I think his cock looks best when it’s fully erect. Maybe you’d know, Max. Why do classical artworks show flaccid penises?” “Could be prudery,” Maxine guessed. “Could be because men made the art,” the attorney guessed. “Well, whatever,” Louise dismissed her own interruption. “I got Tom looking his best. At least in my opinion. “Then I disrobed entirely so he could rub lotion into all of me. I had my masseur work from my back, to my legs, to my ass, and then I turned over.” “Is that from your least to most attractional parts?” the attorney asked. “I thought that order would keep him looking his best, Ace,” the sto- ryteller agreed. “It’s also from least to most sensitive. I was getting a very nice massage, you know.” “My pussy should have been purring, but I’m afraid she has very lit- tle patience. I had to keep telling her to shut up. There were important 200 Explicitly Sexy II things to be done. He had to help tie my bikini on and arrange it’s little triangles carefully. I wanted just the right triangles in my tan after we left the patio. Reminders, you know. “And my masseur must have known how my pussy felt. He was very careful, slow and gentle rubbing lotion into my most sensitive bits. It wasn’t always clear who was teasing whom. But it was very nice. “To make it last, I took a turn as masseuse, rubbing lotion into him. Then he took another turn doing me. He was naked. It was quite sexy. “Finally I had to give in to my pussy, greedy little thing. He washed his hands and then tended to my G-spot and clit. That may not be the most relaxing way to get a tan, you know, but it does provide temporary relief.” Their second round was nearly gone. Louise’s story was headed indoors. “I think we could take a break here,” the storyteller suggested. “Damn girl. You sure have his attentional resources focused on your attractional resources,” Maxine observed. “Nothing pleases a teacher more than having her pupil surpass her,” Acacia said. She lifted her glass in a salute to Louise. “Thank you, counselor. But you’ve got me worried with this Coolidge thing. Your message is that maybe your Thing One prescription doesn’t cover all the bases?” Louise, who had listened closely to ‘Profes- sor’ Donovan, was worried. “There are species that mate for life,” Acacia responded. “Swans, for example. Turtle doves and our bald eagles, too. Even some vultures, which proves that it’s not just good looks. Some fish. It’s rare in mam- mals. The wolf pack is typically headed by a mated pair. The rest of the pack are their children.” “The wolf model doesn’t seem immediately applicable to homo sapi- ens families,” Maxine observed. “What do the others have in common?” “Mostly?” Acacia asked. Then she answered her own question. “They’re birds.” “Do you suggest we grow wings?” Louise asked. “I have not,” Acacia answered, “found any advice regarding growing wings.” There was silence around the table. It seemed no one had a construc- tive suggestion. 17 Under Three, Over Three 201

Maxine eventually spoke. “You weren’t really comfortable with that bikini Friday night, were you Lou.” She wasn’t asking a question. “No I wasn’t, Max. Was it that obvious?” “Your first thong?” Acacia wanted to know. She added, “And I don’t think Tom noticed the comfort thing. He was looking at your ‘attractional resources’.” “I hope you’re right about Tom, Ace. And yes, it was my first thong. I hadn’t had those cheeks naked since my diapers were changed.” “Let me take a guess about your story, Lou,” Maxine said. “I bet our same two homo sapiens are still together at the end of the day. I don’t think he’ll tire of your attractional resources all that quickly.” “Well, you’ll just have to come back for the rest of the story, Max. I’m not going to tell you the ending in advance.” The storyteller’s listeners both laughed. It seemed they anticipated a happy ending. Louise asked if Thursday would be OK. Her weekend with Tom—who would be her gigolo—started Friday evening.. Wednesday, July 7, 2004, 10:30 A.M. The Ubuntu Galleries, Detroit. Louise had traded her car for Tom’s SUV. As promised, she had met Maxine at 9:00. Maxine had picked three of her smaller paintings to ride in the back for the trip into Detroit. From the village, Louise had turned south on Main Street. It turned into La Pierre Rd. (state highway 24, running north/south). “You’re not taking the interstate?” Maxine had asked. “We’ll get on I-75 in Russet Hills,” Louise had explained her route. “This is a bit slower but it’s a lot shorter.” And she was scouting the route she would be taking Friday when she took Tom to dinner. The state highway had led them to the interstate in the suburbs north of Detroit. The interstate had taken them south into downtown Detroit. The Ubuntu Galleries were on a side street in the art district (an old area of commercial space available at minimal rents). They parked in front of the gallery. Maxine thought it looked like a car dealership, which it had been. She was favorably impressed, how- ever, by the overhead doors she’d seen on the side, suitable for trucks or very large canvases. 202 Explicitly Sexy II

Louise introduced Maxine to Doctor Ubuntu (gallery owner, collec- tor of African art and Professor of African History at Michigan State). George’s face was dark, near black, under short, salt and pepper hair. His dark skin framed a big, white-toothed smile that came easily. Louise had liked him and now Maxine did, too. Perhaps more important, he was very much taken with Maxine’s paintings. He led them into the center of the building where a photography exhibit was on display. Maxine’s eyes were roaming the ceiling. “Wow,” she said, simply. This was an impressive space. “These walls...” she began. They were not quite walls. “Movable. We push them around for whatever we’re showing,” George explained. “And this track lighting?” “It’s a modular system. Snaps together like toy bricks. Any way we want.” “What about sunlight?” “Not plentiful,” George answered honestly. “We can go with a com- bination of fluorescent and tungsten with filters. It’s a pretty good approximation of natural light. We worked it out for our African exhibits.” Maxine’s opinion of George was rising rapidly. “So how many canvases do you have ready to show, Maxine?” George inquired. “38,” she answered. “Number 39 is only a few days from finished.” “That’s quite an oeuvre. How long have you been painting?” “I started after I graduated. Ann Arbor. Art major. And don’t ask. It’s rude.” “You’re too young to worry about your age,” George answered. “Are the ones you brought your best?” “I brought the smallest. We had to fit them in an SUV. I give my big- ger ideas bigger canvases.” “I’d like to visit your studio. You must have quite a collection. I think we could do a fine show.” 17 Under Three, Over Three 203

“Do you have customers for abstract paintings,” Louise asked, “or do you have mostly African art collectors?” “I wish we had more African collectors, Louise. But I’m afraid they would not be enough to keep a gallery open. We cultivate relations with, I confess, wealthy collectors. Some of them depend on us for their tastes. And to answer your first question, they will buy abstract art if we can assure them that it will be admired, not laughed at. Let me hasten to add that some have grown up with art on their walls and have well-developed tastes of their own.” “What about my stuff?” Maxine wanted to know. “I’m sure your experience exhibiting elsewhere has taught you...” “I’ve never shown anything anywhere,” Maxine interrupted. “Really?” George was forming an opinion of Maxine that was rapidly changing. He first knew she was from La Pierre, farm country, but had an agent representing her. That was not typical. He had met her agent, a beautiful and well-dressed young woman who did not look like the farm country. Not at all. Then he studied the portfolio. He had expected Grant Wood. It could hardly have been less Grant Wood. Now he was assessing her economic class. Never shown anything? Not, appar- ently, the starving artist. “Really,” Maxine answered him. “Lou was the first one I ever let into my studio. She had to practically kidnap me to get me down here. Pushy bitch.” George laughed. “I’m glad she’s pushed you. Your style is fresh. Abstract with a bit of photorealism. Do you have a name for it?” “I paint what I feel like painting.” “Louise,” he said, “I see that you are the commercial part of this enterprise. We really must have a name for the genre if we’re going to market it successfully. Help me out here.” Louise was thinking that George’s big, cheery, black face disguised a very shrewd salesman. And he was selling her by asking for her help. She was impressed. “I think ‘Gulden Modernism’ would describe it accurately.” Maxine laughed. “Keep trying, Lou. Not even Picasso got his name attached to a painting style.” “What do you think, George?” Louise asked. 204 Explicitly Sexy II

“Well, her abstract shapes have a primitive feel, but the details are so sophisticated. The way she captures light off a curved surface...” “Oh, shit. Cut it out.” Maxine knew she was being stroked. And she knew how much work she put into capturing light off curved surfaces, too. At least he was stroking the right things. George had a good eye. When they left, George had an unspecified date to visit Maxine’s stu- dio to look over her work and plan a showing. Louise was excited. Max- ine was conflicted. The first three Maxine Gulden paintings to be shown to the public were left hanging in the Ubuntu Galleries’ lobby. The lobby faced north but its light was natural. Maxine had only agreed after Louise and George both pushed her. Thursday, July 8, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. The conversation had turned rather quickly to the Coolidge Effect when our three friends met again at The Rose. “Do any of those studies shed any light on the introduction of a new female to a male whose amorous attention is already focused on an exist- ing female?” Louise asked Acacia. “Not that I’ve seen. I’d guess that rodents go straight from aroused to copulating, without a lot of foreplay,” Acacia answered. Louise sipped her margarita, thoughtfully. “Seems to be an interest- ing topic for further study.” At Maxine’s urging, Louise continued her story. “Where was I?” the storyteller asked, rhetorically. “I think I was lying in the sun getting a quite decadent suntan oil massage from a hunky masseur. “I had really brought him to the edge while I rubbed lotion into him. At one point he had to look away from his masseuse to avoid coming. He’d been very stiff since we showered. He didn’t know it, but he was going to stay stiff for a while. I was trying to go over three hours. Louise continued to tell her story. She told it in detail, not wanting to disappoint Maxine, of course. From the patio they went into the shower where the teasing continued. Louise neglected to wear a shower cap. That meant her hair needed drying in her room. She stroked the insides 17 Under Three, Over Three 205 of his thighs while he dried her hair, and kept stroking while he brushed it. A thoroughly pampered (and thoroughly aroused) woman had led her man into the bedroom where she made him kneel while she stood. He ate her to her fourth orgasm. Her fifth and his first came in bed in the mis- sionary position assisted by her fingers on her clit. The couple chatted while cuddling in the after glow of nearly four hours foreplay and sex. He told her that the only way she could have made it better was to take it slower and come more often while she kept him waiting. Being a dutiful wife, Louise promised to comply with his wishes. Thursday, 7/8/04, 7:00 P.M. The Rose Café. At the end of the story, the two listeners looked at each other and at the story teller. Louise looked at her glass. A moment of silence seemed appropriate to all three, though for different reasons. Eventually Acacia raised her glass. “To the new queen,” she said, simply. “Oh, pish tosh,” the new queen demurred. “Such unbecoming brag- ging.” “Wrong.” Acacia was emphatic. “I worried about that myself this spring. It’s honesty we need.” Maxine was thinking about her vibrator. She was thinking that it wasn’t a good substitute. Louise stirred her drink with the bar straw, thinking about helping the ice melt. “I wonder if she’s on to something there,” Acacia said to Maxine. “I mean the clothes.” “Like a new study, ‘The Impact of Minimal Bikinis on Male Atten- tional Resources’?” Maxine asked. “Yeah. Stockings and garter belts, too.” Acacia was more serious than Maxine for the moment. “What are you saying, Ace?” Louise asked. “Wait a minute, Lou. Hold that question,” Ace postponed. “You know you’ve reached the medical limit?” “Medical limit?” Louise didn’t know. 206 Explicitly Sexy II

“Yes. Four hours is the most the doctors recommend for an erection. Something about the blood stagnating. Like leaving the milk on the counter. It could go bad.” “Oh, dear. We don’t want sour blood,” Louise agreed. “Not to worry. You can still go for more, but let him deflate. Send him to the bathroom to pee after three hours.” “Are bathroom breaks allowed if you want to set the Guinness book record?” Louise asked. Acacia laughed. “You’ll have to get a note from his doctor.” Acacia returned to the topic she had interrupted. “Now, about what I was thinking. We were talking about ‘new.’ If it’s ‘new’ that gets the male motor running, can’t we be new?” Acacia went on. “I mean, what made the clothes hot definitely included the fact that they were new to him. The underwear. The bikini. The woman wearing them.” “It was the same woman. He’d seen her before,” Louise objected. “Correct. But the clothes were new on the woman. She wore them. That’s a strong Thing One message. It says ‘Let’s fuck.’ More exactly, it says ‘I want you to want me. Look at me. I’m dressing to turn you on.’ I think ‘Let’s fuck.’ is implied by the clothes.” “Another way of stroking his two sex organs?” Louise asked. “What do you think, Max?” Maxine thought about next week. “You’re not all out of stories, are you Lou?” 18 Trips North

The ‘dog days of August’ had not waited for their namesake month. The temperature was in the low 90s (near 33C). The humidity was high. The air was thick. Clematis climbed on their trellises, proudly showing their red and purple flowers, but they would start to wilt if their gardeners weren’t generous with the water. People would start to wilt as soon as they went outside. Even our normally punctual heroines were slow in arriving. Tuesday, July 13, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. “Where is everybody?” Louise asked Ricky. She was the first at their usual table. The cafe was nearly empty. “I think everybody must have melted,” Ricky answered. “Should I risk asking Jerry to make three?” “Sure. Bring them. I’ll drink them all myself if I have to.”

207 208 Explicitly Sexy II

Before the drinks arrived, the missing two-thirds of the trio appeared in the doorway (as Louise had known they would). They were dressed as lightly as one could dress at cocktail hour. Maxine’s sleeveless cotton top draped loosely over her generous breasts. Quite sexy, actually, Louise thought. Drinks and women arrived together at the table. Pleasantries and complaints about the weather were exchanged. Maxine wanted more storytelling. “Tell us about sexy clothes and wagers, Lou.” “Before I start I wanted to ask Ace some questions. Do you think if we tickled her or something we could make her talk?” Acacia licked the salt on the edge of her glass and smiled. “Ask away, Lou.” “It’s about Coolidge and being new. What I told you about last time, I mean about the clothes, well...” She tried to organize her thoughts. “I really was trying to do something new. I’d never worn something so deliberately sexy as that bikini. I know it wasn’t very daring since we were totally in private, but the bikini was still new to Tom and to me, too. Same with the stockings. So what do you think? Can we be ‘new,’ at least to some extent?” “Damn good question. I’ve tried to find an answer, but if the answer’s online, it’s hiding from me. And I’m a lawyer, by trade. That means I spend a lot of my professional time digging on the Internet.” “Well, what’s your guess?” Maxine interrupted. “I was paying a lot of attention to how Tom reacted, listening to your story last week, Lou. The new clothes really got his motor running.” Acacia looked at Maxine. “Good point. We now have a statistical sample of one incident involving one man. Result is positive. Remember anything about statistics? Sample sizes?” Louise had been thinking. “Wasn’t ‘being new’ exactly what a cer- tain woman was doing with eye makeup a while back? I believe she used the term ‘Bitch Goddess’.” Acacia smiled at the memory. “I guess that was ‘being new,’ wasn’t it. You’re right, Lou. That doubles the sample size.” 18 Trips North 209

“I’ve got a story that goes back to before I’d ever heard of the Coolidge Effect, but I was ‘being new’ again. Should I tell it next time?” Maxine thought this was a wonderful idea. She urged Louise to spare no detail, particularly about the man’s reaction. Friday, July 16, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. The first warm weather is always welcome, especially after a hard winter. That charm is quite lost by the middle of July. The great outdoors becomes adversarial, not welcoming. Air conditioning to pump out the heat, and screen doors to keep out the bugs are triumphs of ingenuity over a hostile environment. Three margaritas (an invention from one of the hottest parts of the planet) and an equal number of women had arrived at their usual table, more or less at the same time. Without having discussed attire, all three women had chosen sleeveless tops. The only thing that was odd was that they had gathered to hear a story about gloves. Before the story began, Louise noticed a rod-like lump in Acacia’s left upper arm. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing. Acacia smiled. “The pill,” she said, cryptically. Maxine was looking, too. “Looks like a matchstick,” she said. Acacia decided to be more forthcoming. “Subdermal birth control implant. I’m part of the U.S. test. It’s been used in Asia since ‘98.” “You get a new one every month?” Louise wanted to know. “Every three years,” Acacia answered. “It’s the same hormones as in the pill, but it’s ten times more effective. That’s more effective than the pill taken with no forgetting. This eliminates forgetting, too. What do you do?” “The pill,” Louise answered. She looked at Maxine and forwarded the question. Maxine hesitated. “Condoms,” she answered. “Cheaper than the pill if he’s only home one day a week.” Acacia and Louise waited for Maxine to elaborate. “Let’s hear from Louise,” Maxine said, without elaborating. Acacia and Louise looked at each other, then at Maxine, then at each other. Acacia shrugged her shoulders. Louise began. 210 Explicitly Sexy II

“Tom and I have been together since we were sophomores in high school. I was a virgin until we went to college. I’m 26 years old now. But sometimes I’m amazed at how little we’ve done. We’re really quite boring.” Her listeners looked at each after this preamble. They agreed, silently, that it didn’t seem likely. Louise continued. “I’d never even given him a handjob,” she said to back up her claim. “I don’t know what got into me, but I decided that I really wanted to watch him come.” Acacia agreed that this called for a handjob. Maxine kept her opinion to herself. “So I told Tom that he was in for a treat. He didn’t really see it as a treat. More like a step backwards. So I bet him that I could make him beg for my hands. It was a nice, big bet. Winner would own the loser for the following weekend. “Tom didn’t think he could lose. But I thought a lot about winning. Went to Gymbals for black-satin opera gloves. Twelve buttons each. Very sexy and with new button holes, he really has to button and unbutton them for you. When you stroke him, you know, any place sensitive, the satin gives it a very nice feel. “I would have won the bet easily, but Tom’s very competitive. Even being stroked by satin fingers he resisted. So I cheated. I told him that if he lost the bet he could spend an entire weekend making me come. That was almost enough, but he’s really competitive. So I told him that I really wanted to come and couldn’t come until he begged for my hands. I knew he wouldn’t deny me an orgasm. Do you think that was devious?” Acacia was amazed. Amazed at how sweet and innocent Louise could be so devious, and said so. Maxine was eagerly looking forward to the story continuing with sweet and innocent Louise taking her gigolo out to dinner. “Great story, Lou,” she said. “You’re making me insanely jealous.” And then Acacia remembered. “Can it wait? Herman and I are going north. We’ve rented a cabin in the UP for two weeks. It’s on a lake.” (Michigan’s Upper Peninsula extends east from Wisconsin, separating Lake Superior from Lake Michigan. Its mild summers make it popular as a vacation retreat for southern Michiganders.) Maxine got even more jealous. “A cabin on a lake. I can’t imagine how you’ll find anything to do for two weeks. I can’t imagine.” She might have been imagining. 18 Trips North 211

“He’s going to practice cooking in the kitchen,” Acacia explained. “And his wife? Where will she be cooking?” Maxine asked. “You just do your best to imagine, Sexy,” Louise answered for Aca- cia. They paid and left the cafe. Stepping outside, the oppressive heat attacked them, immediately. They rushed what should have been a pleas- ant, leisurely parting. Louise asked Acacia a quick question about ‘being new.’ “Not to pry, but has the wee colleen made plans for anything that would help pass the time in this desolate cabin in the far north?” she asked. “I’m bicycling with him as he runs. Every morning just after dawn. It should be nice and cool.” Louise thought that sounded delightful, but it didn’t answer her ques- tion. “Anything for later on in the day? After dinner, for instance?” “That’s none of your business, Ms. Wilson.” Acacia refused to answer, but she refused with a very broad smile. “I might even have something in mind for tonight, before we leave. Let’s just say, more Bitch Goddess than wimp.” “Being new?” Louise asked. “Suppose your husband cooks. He makes an absolutely delicious meal for dinner. OK?” Louise asked Acacia to continue. “And then he makes the same dinner every night. Night after night. Well...” Acacia let the idea sink in. Louise liked to clarify. “You’re not necessarily talking about food?” Acacia smiled. “I think you could apply that concept outside the din- ing room,” she agreed. “Perhaps a woman should consider ‘being new’ one of her ‘wifely duties’,” Louise thought out loud. Acacia smiled and nodded ‘yes.’ “Maybe you can make Coolidge work for you,” she speculated. Louise and Maxine waved goodbye and wished Acacia a happy, and cool, vacation. “You remember we’ve got George coming, tomorrow. And are we still on for next Tuesday?” Louise asked, when they were alone. 212 Explicitly Sexy II

“Wouldn’t miss the rest of your story for anything,” Maxine assured her. “I think that story can wait for Ace to get back. I’ve got a hotter story for just your ears.” “Something kinky?” Maxine asked, hopefully. “Maybe I’ll lose my bi-curious virginity,” Louise suggested. “Maybe I find some sexy woman.” She looked into Maxine’s eyes. “I’d look for someone about your size. Raven hair,” she said stroking Maxine’s hair. “Dark eyes. Full lips,” she ran her finger around Maxine’s lips. “Sexy big boobs,” she said, lowering her eyes to Maxine’s chest. “Would you be the seductress, or would you get seduced?” Maxine asked, forgetting the oppressive summer heat. “I’m not sure. What do you think?” Louise asked, wondering how Maxine would continue her fantasy. “You’re a sexy bitch, sweet Lou. Tell me all about it Tuesday,” Max- ine said, encouraging Louise to go on but not helping her with the fan- tasy. Tuesday, July 20, 2004, 4:45 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise and Maxine arrived early. Rose took their order. (Ricky had not arrived.) Rose invited herself to join them as the cafe was, outside the kitchen, empty. “It’s so unusual seeing just the two of you here,” Rose commented, “like in the old days.” Louise explained that the attorney was stuck in the desolate north, likely shoveling snow in the UP. “But what do you girls talk about when the smart one’s not here?” Louise looked at Maxine and smiled. Maxine returned the smile. Louise took Rose’s hand. “We pretend that we’re lesbian lovers, Rose. Today I’m going to seduce Maxine, or maybe she’s going to seduce me.” Rose was flustered. “You two are quite impossible. Do you have any idea how horny you can make a genuine lesbian?” With that, she left them, perhaps to calm herself. Maxine looked at Louise and said, “You are one sexy bitch, Wilson. You want to start that story you promised?” 18 Trips North 213

Louise studied Maxine’s face for a moment. “May I ask a question first?” Maxine wanted to know what the question was. “Do you think Rose will ever guess that I was telling her the truth?” Tuesday, July 27, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. Monday, Louise and Maxine had each received an email from Acacia. The subject was ‘Coolidge.’ The content, in its entirety, was ‘Dopamine.’ “Did you get a strange email from the Ace?” Maxine asked Louise as they settled into their usual table.. “Do you mean ‘dopamine’ re ‘Coolidge’?” Louise asked. “Yeah. What’s ‘dopamine’?” “I looked it up,” Louise said. “It’s the chemical that runs around cocaine addicts brains when they’re high on coke.” “Was Coolidge a cocaine addict?” Maxine wondered. “Do you suppose that the desolate cabin in the far north has gotten to the wee one?” Louise wondered. “Could be,” Maxine said. “How deep do you suppose the snow is up there?” In fact, the mornings in the ‘far north’ were in the upper 40s (8 or 9C), which was a very pleasant temperature if one were going running or cycling. Mosquitoes (locals called them ‘the Michigan air force’) did not come out until the day warmed up. Maxine decided that the trio should get back together Monday, as soon as Acacia returned. She would email Acacia. Then she urged the storyteller to go on with the fantasy she was spin- ning about two women who bore uncanny resemblances to Louise and Maxine. (The fantasy women had been flirting and teasing. Louise had promised Maxine that she would learn this evening who was the seducer and who was seduced.) Monday, August 2, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. August had arrived. Acacia had returned. Our trio was resuming where they had left off. The wee colleen’s absence seemed like it had lasted 214 Explicitly Sexy II months, not just two weeks. There was much catching up required, all around. “OK, OK. Summary.” Acacia had been bombarded with questions. “The cabin was perfect. Rustic log construction, rustic decor, but modern plumbing.” Acacia had come prepared. Her vacation had been quite interesting and she was sure that she would be asked questions. No, she didn’t want to talk about dopamine. That could wait until tomorrow. (Actually it was very good news. Dopamine could counteract Coolidge.) “Wouldn’t you rather I told you about the sex, Max?” she had asked. “We were doing science. We thought that if the female can come repeatedly, serially, there was no physical reason the male couldn’t do the same. We’d learned that male orgasm and ejaculation are separate pro- cesses.” Louise interrupted. “Wait a minute. Say again. Ejaculation and orgasm are separate?” “Correct,” Acacia confirmed. “In ejaculation, the testes empty into the urethra. The semen pours out of the tip of the penis. An orgasm causes repeated contractions of the PC muscle, and sends jolts to the brain’s pleasure center. If they’re combined, the PC contractions shoot the semen out with some force, so it goes deep into the baby machinery. Survival of the species. Without the orgasm, the semen just dribbles out. “What we are looking for is orgasm without ejaculation. If it were decoupled, he could come repeatedly, just like we do. What my research had found was how to do ejaculation without orgasm. Useless, but it was a starting point.” “How do you make him ejaculate without coming?” Louise wanted to know. “You kill it, just as it gets started,” Acacia explained. “Actually, Lou, whether you call a killed orgasm ‘coming’ or not is debatable. The orgasm does get started. These are called ‘ruined’ orgasms. We’re work- ing toward pure ejaculation with no orgasm at all. But let’s begin at the beginning. “Friday night before we left your wee colleen had pushed herself outside her comfort zone. I’d abused his nipples. Not nice, but I’ll let you judge from what he says. I’ll start with us getting ready to leave, early Saturday morning. 18 Trips North 215

“The seventeenth was a perfect day for traveling. Before dawn, early birds were singing happily, perhaps trying to rouse the late risers. We had beaten the birds.” Saturday, July 17, 2004, 5:00 A.M. Acacia and Herman’s living room. Breakfast dishes were already washed and put away when the first birds began singing. Before supper yesterday Acacia and Herman had set out everything that was going with them. It lay in neat piles on the couch. All that remained was to transfer piles into suitcases. The piles were being given a final inspection. “Everything?” she asked. He scanned slowly. “What about your bathing suit?” “Wearing it.” “OK. Let’s go.” The piles went into suitcases, one hers and one his. Toiletries were packed in their own bags, then added to the suitcases. She added a small bag of bedroom toys on top of the towels in the ‘beach bag.’ Zippers were zipped and clasps clicked shut. The house was locked and they were out to the garage where her bicycle waited on the rack behind her car. The gas tank was full. Saturday, 7/17/04, 5:12 A.M. Acacia’s car heading north. Bags had gone into the back seat. People were in front. Acacia was driv- ing. As the garage door went up she checked her watch. She smiled. Three minutes early. “Mighty Mac by 9:00,” she announced. (Mighty Mac is one of the world’s longest suspension bridges. It crosses the Straits of Mackinac, straits that connect Lake Michigan to Lake Huron separating southern Michigan—the mitten—from its Upper Peninsula.) He chose a CD. Lou Reed advised them to “take a walk on the wild side.” They were accelerating up the highway’s on ramp. The only other vehicle was a truck perhaps a minute behind them. Predawn was a good time to be on the road. 216 Explicitly Sexy II

He lifted her right hand off the wheel, kissed her fingers and put it back. She blew him a kiss. They were both looking forward to two weeks together. “So how are your nipples, Stud Muffin?” “They’re sore, Bitch Goddess.” “Oh, poor baby. Did I abuse them last night?” “I’ll be fine.” “Somebody kept saying ‘more’ and ‘harder’ last night.” “I can’t imagine who would have said that.” “Poor baby. From now on I won’t listen to you. I’ll be gentle and loving.” “I’m not sure that’s what I want.” “Really? Do you suppose you were the one that said ‘more’ and ‘harder’?” With that she looked in the mirror. Still just one truck, a long way back. Her right hand went to his abs where it drew circles. Gentle, loving circles. “Yeah,” he said. “It might have been me.” He stretched and enjoyed the feeling of her hand on his abs. Her hand circled lower until it found something stiffening between his legs. She stroked it gently. “Did he have a good time last night?” “That was epic.” He smiled at the memory. “I love my cock,” she said. “And he loves you,” Herman said. “He’s glad I married you.” “I love making him stiff. Like right now.” “Maybe you should be driving?” “I am driving,” she said. “I love driving.” “I meant driving the car.” “Oh,” she said, as if she hadn’t understood the first time. The truck was still well behind them. She continued stroking him gently until they reached the outskirts of Steel. 18 Trips North 217

She turned north on I-75, not far from the mall. “We’ll be at the cabin when the mall opens,” she thought out loud. The cabin was about an hour north of Mighty Mac. The truck passed behind them, still head- ing west. A car passed them and then they had the highway to them- selves. Lou Reed came to an end. Herman replaced him with Bob Dylan, who was tangled up in blue. “You know what was really wrong with Dylan?” Herman didn’t know. “He never had a really good woman. Someone who took care of him.” “He’d become a big star by the time he wrote this.” “But it’s still about the single life. He needed someone who took her ‘wifely duties’ more seriously.” “Like you do?” “Exactly. Speaking of which, you haven’t seen my new bathing suit. What do you think I got?” She had stolen Louise’s bikini idea. In fact, she’d bought the same model. The thong bottom would expose cheeks that she had never bared in public. (The brochure said the bit of sand between the cabin and the lake was ‘private.’) She had not been sure she would have the courage to wear it so she had discarded her timid one-piece. She was wearing the thong to get used to it. A private cabin was no place for wimps. “Let’s see. What did you get? I’d say you got a Speedo tank suit. Black.” Then he thought again. “No. Red. Am I right?” She smiled. That was exactly what she would have bought if it hadn’t been for Louise. Acacia had made a mental note to thank Louise. “That’s good. You know me well. Except that it’s not a Speedo.” Then she added, smiling to herself, “And it’s not a tank suit.” “Did I get the color right?” “Actually, you didn’t.” “OK. I give up. What did you get?” “I’m wearing it.” “You’re wearing a shirt and shorts over it.” “I want you to imagine it. Pretend the shirt and shorts don’t exist.” 218 Explicitly Sexy II

“I think I’ll wait until we get to the cabin.” “If you guess what I got, I’ll give you a nice kiss.” She thought it would be fun to have him thinking about bathing suits. “How nice a kiss?” “As nice as you like. Any place you want a kiss.” This did get his attention. They would be most of the way to Mighty Mac before he knew more than the color, and the fact that the suit was rather skimpy. She kept returning to his nipples as they went north. “You know what I’m thinking?” He didn’t. “I’m thinking that I should really be kiss- ing your poor nipples. Maybe licking them gently.” “Please. Not while you’re driving.” “But that’s why I wanted to drive. I can talk about licking your nip- ples gently. If you were driving I couldn’t talk about that. It wouldn’t be safe.” And she went on, pleased with the result. “I could be kissing your nipples, licking little circles around their centers. And I could stroke your cock, too. Would you like that?” “Damn it, stop it. Or pull off the road.” “Oh, I don’t want to pull off. We’ll be crossing Mighty Mac soon. Then we’ll only be an hour from the cabin. I could be very nice to you once we get to the cabin. Would you like me to be very nice?” “You’re just saying that to get me stiff.” “Would I do a thing like that? Talk about sex just to get you stiff?” “Yes. You certainly would.” “Is it working?” “Yes, damn you.” “Well, you just wait until we cross the bridge. We’ll be off the high- way when we’re in the UP. Maybe I can do more than just talk, then.” An hour south of the bridge she reminded him that he was supposed to have a turn driving. (They both liked to drive.) “But if you let me drive the rest of the way, I’ll give you a peek at my bathing suit. Would you like a peek?” 18 Trips North 219

He couldn’t say no, of course. What kind of man would tell his wife that he didn’t want to look? He negotiated for more than just a peek. Unfortunately for him, he had married an attorney. She was an expert negotiator. Three open shirt buttons let him see the top of one triangle, covering one nipple. She closed one of the buttons when they came to the toll at the bridge. Across the bridge they left the highway, which turned west. They continued north on the two-lane state road. As they approached the lake they left the state road. To get to the lodge they left the pavement. They stopped at the lodge, registered, were given keys and pointed to their cabin. Saturday, 7/17/04, 9:50 A.M. A cabin in the UP. She tossed the keys to Herman so he could drive. He laughed and drove to the cabin, pulling off the gravel drive at their back door. The front of the cabin, a full-width screened porch, faced the lake. The cabin looked rustic. Built of logs, painted outside, stained and varnished inside. The bedroom held a king-sized bed, and had little room for anything else. The bathroom was quite modern. After dropping bags in front of the living room fireplace, Acacia went out to the porch. There was a bit of sand between the porch and the lake. She could see a canoe near the far shore. Someone, too far away to tell man from woman, appeared to be fishing. Otherwise, they were alone. The time had come. She unbuttoned her shirt and called for him to join her. She held out a hand when he stepped onto the porch. That pulled her shirt open. The thought of it had stiffened her nipples, making little bumps in the two tri- angles. His eyes widened. “Pretty, isn’t it?” she asked. She meant the lake. He looked up, then out over the lake and agreed. Then he turned back to face her. She had given him a peek, south of Mighty Mac. Now he saw both triangles. This was not a tank suit. “I didn’t guess,” he said. “No,” she agreed. “But if you’re nice, I’ll still let you have that kiss. Put your suit on.” She got two beach towels and headed outside as he changed. When he came out, the beach towels were spread and her shirt was off. He was naked, except for his Speedo. “Lie down,” she said, kneeling 220 Explicitly Sexy II on her towel. He stretched out on his back, staring at her top and the nip- ples it barely covered. She leaned over his chest and applied her mouth to his left nipple. She kissed it and licked small circles around the tip. “Poor baby,” she murmured. “Does he feel better now?” She saw her cock swelling in his Speedo. She wanted to stroke it, but the ‘beach’ wasn’t quite private enough to go that far. Anyway, there was something else to do. She stood facing him, unbuttoned and then unzipped her shorts. She slid her hands down her sides, pushing the shorts down. Below her hips, they fell the rest of the way down her legs. The bikini’s bottom triangle covered her sex, but it did nothing to draw his attention away from it. He whistled. “You like my suit?” she asked. He was momentarily speechless. Then he recovered. “Why don’t you turn around?” She smiled. He was certainly into it. She turned slowly. She could feels his eyes on her naked cheeks. The thong was explicitly sexy, truly slutty. She swiveled her head to watch him as she continued to turn. His eyes were glued to her cheeks. She finished her turn and knelt down. Then she stretched out on her stomach. She was facing him. His eyes were still glued to her cheeks. “You like my suit?” she repeated. He found no adequate words. “Why don’t you bring out my toy bag, Stud Muffin?” She could see that he was stiff. His Speedo didn’t hide much. “The toy bag has stuff you’ll like. It’s on top of the beach bag. Grab the tanning lotion, too.” He forced his eyes to leave her cheeks long enough so he could go into the cabin. Returning, he sat next to her with the toy bag and the lotion. “Why don’t you use some of that lotion. You don’t want my cheeks to burn, do you?” He opened the tube and squirted a puddle onto each cheek. “I don’t think just fondling would be proper, but a man ought to help with the suntan lotion, don’t you think?” “You’re making me stiff, Bitch Goddess.” “I can see. That’s what Bitch Goddesses do, you know.” 18 Trips North 221

He rubbed the lotion in, carefully protecting every bit of that never- before-exposed skin. He may have been afraid she might burn. He might have had another motivation. He squirted more lotion onto each cheek and repeated. When he finished and lay down, she rummaged through the toy bag, looking for something. She pulled out two pieces. “Here it is,” she said at last. “It’s a toy for you, Stud Muffin.” She pulled the two items out. One looked like an under-sized egg. “What’s that?” he asked. She rolled onto her back. “Are we alone?” He looked, but saw no one. “I guess so.” “This is for me,” she said. In answer to his question, she tucked the egg inside her bikini bottom. “It vibrates,” she explained. “I thought you said you had a toy for me,” he said. That may have been a question. “Here’s your part,” she said, handing him the other piece. He exam- ined it. Just large enough for a pair of batteries, he thought. It had a sin- gle knob that looked like a volume control. “What’s this?” he asked. Acacia turned over, exposing her UV-protected cheeks to the sun. She slid her hand inside the bikini bottom and wiggled the egg into just the right position. “Remote control,” she said. “Have fun.” She closed her eyes. He stared at her rear and then looked at the con- trol. He turned it carefully. Nothing. A little more. Still nothing. Then a little more and he heard a faint buzzing. He saw her squirm. He turned the control off. She opened her eyes, looked at him and blew him a kiss. “I love you,” she said. He smiled. “You’re the toy, aren’t you? I get to play with you for two weeks!” She could see he was delighted. “For life,” she said. “And that’s not all I brought. I’ll be playing with you, too.” And she blew him another kiss—a long, slow, sensuous kiss. He looked at her sexy cheeks and then started to turn the egg on. He turned slowly, looking for its lowest setting. He turned until he could see her mouth open just the slightest bit. It looked as if she were saying, “Oh.” 222 Explicitly Sexy II

“You know,” he began, “we could have a small fire tonight. I could nibble on your cheeks while you watch the fire.” She pictured it. Very clearly. She saw the fire. She saw the lips nib- bling on her cheeks. Then she felt the egg speed up. She inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly. If she had wanted to calm herself she had failed. Totally. He moved closer, stroked her face and whispered. “I love you, Goddess.” She squirmed again. His hand returned to the control. She didn’t know if he was turning the egg higher or lower. She didn’t know which she wanted more. “You never told me,” she said. “Told you what?” “If you like my new bathing suit.” She thought of Louise. He was staring. Staring at the cheeks the suit didn’t cover. He played with the control, watching her reaction carefully. The vibrator would not make her come at its lowest setting. He moved it steadily higher until it looked like it would take her over the edge. Then he slowed it. He had her squirming. “You bastard, make me come.” She was getting desperate. He was having fun. “You don’t like this?” he asked, turning the speed up. “Oh, yes. Yes! Don’t touch that dial.” She squirmed. If she could just get the egg to a slightly better position... He turned the speed down before she found the position that would let her come. “You know what we’ve got planned,” she threatened. “You’ll pay for this.” “You said you were going to keep me on the edge for two weeks. You don’t like it when you’re the one on the edge?” (He knew she loved it. He didn’t take her protests seriously.) “Roll onto your side, please,” she asked. “At least let me watch your cock while you play with me.” He complied. His Speedo didn’t hide much. She moved closer to him. She placed one hand next to him, Raising a finger she could stroke 18 Trips North 223 him lightly without anyone seeing what she was doing. Anyway, no one was around to see. She stroked slowly. Then her finger followed his shaft up to his frenum and continued stroking. He inhaled sharply. Two could play this game, and he had the remote. He turned it higher. She held still. She wasn’t going to let him see. Let him turn the damn thing higher and higher and think it wasn’t working. Fingering his frenum should keep him from thinking clearly. She felt the egg go higher. Lying on her front, her vulva muffled the sound. He knew her well. He wasn’t fooled. She just needed a little help. “I love your butt cheeks. Such a perfect shape,” he said. And he reached for them. He laid a hand on the thigh-fanny crease and rubbed gently back and forth. She looked at him. She knew that he knew. She smiled. “I love you,” she whispered. And then she came. Her rear bounced up and down ever so slightly. He knew she was coming. He turned the dial higher and slid his free hand up from the crease to rest firmly on top of her rear cheeks. She lost control. She bounced. It took every bit of control she had not to scream. She rubbed his frenum. And he came too. His cock throbbed with his own contractions, and shot semen into his Speedo. Good thing he’d brought two, he thought as he came down. “That was nice,” she said. “You know what did it?” “What?” “Your hand on my ass. Before you put your hand there I was just masturbating. But when I felt your hand, we were making love. You were making me come. Changed the thing entirely.” “I thought it was the egg.” “It was the egg all right. But that just diddled my clit. Your hand made me come.” “If you keep wearing that suit you’ll probably get my hand there a lot.” “I just might do that. Now let’s go inside. Your suit needs rinsing. And we’re not doing that again, you know.” 224 Explicitly Sexy II

Saturday, 7/17/04, 2:30 P.M. A cabin in the UP. They had gone shopping and were finishing putting the groceries away. “Ready for your first one?” she asked. “Will this hurt?” he asked. “Not a bit,” she assured him, wondering if what she said was true. “Meet you in the bedroom.” The idea was that he would be brought as close to coming as possi- ble, but would not be allowed to come. If this worked, he would ejaculate without orgasm. From there they would try to get an orgasm without ejaculation. It might be extremely frustrating for him. Or it would be two weeks of continuous foreplay. He preferred to think of it that way. Either way it would be a vacation to remember. “Strip, Stud Muffin,” she ordered. He stripped and stretched out on his back in the middle of their king-sized bed. She removed shirt and shorts, leaving bra and panties on. His cock was soft. Her plan demanded that he be stiff. She knelt beside him and stroked his balls gently. He stirred. She kept her hand on his balls and moved up. She lay beside him, mouth next to his ear. “We’re going to get my cock nice and stiff,” she said softly. “Nice and stiff and then we’re going to the edge. You tell me when you’re about to come. OK?” He nodded his head. She kissed him. Her tongue explored his lips. Then she bent over his nipples and continued kissing and licking. Her hand stroked up his shaft. He was stiffening nicely, she thought. She grabbed his left nipple with her front teeth and tugged gently. Then she pulled away until it slid out from between her teeth. He moaned. She repeated the tug on his right nipple, again scraping the nip- ple with her teeth as she pulled away. “You’re good,” he said. “Of course,” she said. “I’m a Bitch Goddess.” Her hand stroked his perineum, then his balls and shaft. Her teeth tugged on his nipples. This was too fast, she told herself. But never mind. They had two weeks. She would get slower. And then she would get slower still. This would be fun. Her fingers went back to his frenum. She licked a finger and used it to slide in small circles. 18 Trips North 225

“Oh, fuck,” he said. “I’m going to come.” She smiled as she tugged on a nipple. Then she grabbed the base of his shaft and pinched, thumb on top, fingers just above his balls. She felt the first contraction of his orgasm. But her fingers pinched his urethra closed. There was no way for the semen to get out. One more throb from his cock and his orgasm gave up. She was not touching him except for the hand pinching the base of his cock shut. She held it closed and lay down next to him. “You OK?” she asked. “Yeah. I guess.” “Can I let go now?” “Yeah,” he said, again. “That works, doesn’t it?” “Does ‘works’ mean it leaves me completely unsatisfied?” “You don’t like lying here being a Bitch Goddess’s fuck toy?” “I’m used to coming when she plays with me.” “Oh, poor baby. You’ll get to come. Maybe after a few more tries. Remember what we talked about?” “I remember you promising that you wouldn’t listen to my desperate pleas.” “Oh, I’ll listen. I think I’ll like making you desperate. Men are sup- posed to be very attentive when they’re desperate, you know.” “Aren’t I attentive enough?” “Oh yes. You’re very attentive. I stroke you when you wear those light pants and you pay attention. But ‘attentive enough’ doesn’t preclude twice ‘attentive enough’, does it?” He would become very attentive indeed. Saturday, 7/17/04, 5:00 P.M. A cabin in the UP. The sun was lower and the air was cooling. They both had changed into warm shirts and light pants. He asked if she were getting hungry. She was sitting at the table, reading. “Come here,” she said. When he was standing in front of her she grabbed his rear and pulled him closer. 226 Explicitly Sexy II

She fondled his rear cheeks with both hands. “Did I ever tell you I liked fondling your ass?” “I think you might have said that once,” he answered. “Oh,” she said, trying to sound surprised. “I’ll try not to repeat myself. But you make sure you bring this ass to me so I can fondle it, OK?” He agreed, though in truth he did not mind her repeating herself. She turned him a bit so one hand could fondle his rear while the other moved around to his front. She liked making him hard. She liked it in general, and keeping him hard was part of the vacation plan. She led him into the bedroom for their second round. Again she brought him to the start of an orgasm and pinched it off, closing his ure- thra so he could not ejaculate, not otherwise touching him so his orgasm died. She was pleased. He was stoic and he thought about cooking. Fresh- caught trout and fresh-picked garden vegetables. A little extra virgin olive oil, sauté some garlic with shallots... Saturday, 7/17/04, 8:30 P.M. A cabin in the UP. They lay in front of the fireplace, warmed by the fire. He played with the remote. The rule was that every time he made her come, he had to ‘come’ too. Three times she came to very satisfying conclusions. Three times she brought him to the edge and then killed his orgasm. Monday, 8/2/04, 5:55 P.M. The Rose Café. Acacia looked at her glass. It was empty. She looked at her friends. She had their complete attention. Clearly time for another round. Maxine held up three fingers when she caught Ricky’s eye. After the fresh drinks arrived, Acacia resumed. “Let’s see. Where were we. “I believe we were killing his orgasms, working toward having no orgasms at all, just ejaculation. Correct?” Maxine and Louise agreed. “We had tried pinching, which worked. Later on we would try cock rings, which also worked.” “What is a cock ring?” Maxine asked, fearlessly revealing her igno- rance. 18 Trips North 227

Acacia had come prepared. She pulled one out of her purse. “Like this,” she said, holding the rubber ring, stretching it slightly. “They come in various sizes. The idea is that they pinch the urethra closed so he can’t come. Really makes it much harder for him to come, although it doesn’t entirely prevent it. “We also tried a ball spreader, which worked, too.” Louise decided it was her turn to be ignorant. “What is a ball spreader?” Again, Acacia was prepared. She retrieved a sample from her purse. Two adjustable leather straps were tied together by a third strap. “This one goes around penis and scrotum,” she said, pointing to the larger adjustable strap. “This one goes around the shaft on the other side of the balls. The idea is that when he’s close the balls are retracted up and in. This keeps them from being retracted. Makes it very hard for him to come. I’d used the squeeze technique three times Saturday evening. Then we tried a cock ring and the ball spreader Sunday morning. “Oh, no!” Louise was shocked. “Doesn’t the poor boy ever get to come?” “We had got the orgasm down to a single, feeble spurt,” Acacia said. “The ejaculation was a long, slow dribble. Quite a waste of semen, if you ask me. But I should point out that none of this happens without a good supply of dopamine, so he’s enjoying the frustration. I’ll pick up the story on Monday.” Monday, July 19, 2004, 10:00 A.M. A cabin in the UP. “You know, Stud Muffin, you really were attentive this morning. More than usual.” “I like practicing first aid on your poor posterior after you have your ride.” “My posterior likes the first aid, too. But you could barely get your hands off me before the ride.” “Don’t get any ideas. This orgasm denial is strictly in the interest of science.” “It gets worse, you know. From now on we’re not even getting an orgasm started. We want orgasm-free ejaculations.” “You’re lucky your butt’s so cute. Otherwise I’d never put up with your crazy ideas.” 228 Explicitly Sexy II

It had been a cold morning but the day was warming up. She put on her thong bikini, grabbed her husband (in his Speedo) and towel and went out to their ‘beach.’ “Lie down. We’re going to reach that ejaculation in record time. You don’t want this to take the rest of our vacation, do you?” “Today would be good.” “You have to tell me when you’re close. I’m not going to stop just because your balls go into hiding.” They lay close together. She lay on her front and had him rub UV protection into her naked cheeks. When he was nicely stiff she told him to keep rubbing. She let her fingers wander up and down his shaft and occasionally stroke his frenum. The idea was to get the semen boiling in his balls so it would want to force its way out, orgasm or no orgasm. She thought that a little chat would help get it boiling and keep it boiling. “You like rubbing my ass, Stud Muffin?” He smiled, agreed and kept rubbing. “You like my fingers on your cock?” He smiled again, agreed again and kept on rubbing her rear. “How long do you think you can last before you tell me to stop? You’ve already had half an orgasm this morn- ing.” “You call that half? How about ‘a fraction.’ We don’t need to specify the fraction, but it was less than half.” “Don’t change the subject. Focus on my ass and the fingers on your cock. How long do you think you can last?” “OK, OK. Stop. I’m close.” “Good boy.” She stopped. “No, you keep rubbing my ass. I’m the one that stops.” He squirted more lotion onto her rear and resumed rubbing. “OK, now let’s try this again.” She resumed her rubbing, too. “I don’t think you can last very long at all. Not while you’ve got a Bitch Goddess in front of you. Next time you get close I’m going to work on your nipples. Are they still sore from Friday night?” She kept him on the edge, but he did not ejaculate. Her research said a week would be needed. But it did not say how long would be required if he was teased constantly. She wanted to see results in a day. Not more than two. 18 Trips North 229

After a break for lunch they returned to the beach. “I wonder if it would help if you had to watch me come, Stud Muf- fin.” She had brought the vibrating egg with the wireless remote. She tucked the egg into her bikini bottom and handed him the remote. “Now you follow orders, and no playing around. Turn it on.” She felt the egg vibrating. She adjusted it so it sat on her clit. She sucked in her breath as she felt her orgasm coming. “Higher. I’m going to come.” And with that she resumed rubbing his cock before her first con- traction. She came. He watched her rear bounce up and down with her con- tractions. And she rubbed his frenum as she bounced. “Stop,” he said. “No more.” Watching her come had almost triggered his own orgasm. This was a challenge of wills. Hers to come as often as possible. His to be denied. The sun reached its zenith near 2:00 P.M. The afternoon reached its highest temperature about 3:00. He ejaculated, without an orgasm, just before 4:00. She watched, smiling from ear to ear, as the wet spot grew on his Speedo. “I did it!” she exclaimed, selfishly. “Do I get any credit?” he asked, more politely than she deserved. She felt bad. She kissed him. Then she resumed stroking his cock. His cock was still stiff. “What’s this?” she asked. “That’s called an erection,” he said. “You, know. Boner. Hard-on.” “But you just came, didn’t you?” “Nope. I just ejaculated. Remember? That’s the point. Remember?” “And you’re still stiff?” “That’s not a gun in my pocket.” “This is exciting. How do you feel?” “Horny.” “Wow! Stiff and still horny.” “It’s been since Saturday morning, you know. Can I trouble you for a little relief?” “We’re keeping you stiff for a week, remember?” 230 Explicitly Sexy II

“You’re a bitch.” “Don’t insult me. I’m a Bitch Goddess.” “I’m still horny.” “Of course. You’re a Bitch Goddess’s fuck toy.” Monday, 8/2/04, 6:45 P.M. The Rose Café. “I’m sorry to report,” Acacia summarized the rest of the study, “that we were able to completely separate ejaculation from orgasm, but it was always the wrong way. We got ejaculation without orgasm when we wanted orgasm without ejaculation. “We kept the poor boy’s balls empty, but he was really denied for the entire first week. We gave it up after a week and had lots of sex to make up for his first week. “And I had some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. He worked won- ders with fresh fish and garden veggies.” “An entire week ejaculating but never coming?” Louise asked, quite astonished. “All in the interest of science,” Acacia excused herself. “Well, Max had a visitor from the south back when you went north,” Louise said.”George Ubuntu, owner of the Ubuntu Galleries paid her a visit. Maybe Max should tell us about it.” “This is not even one small part as interesting as your story, Ace,” Maxine said. “Just some shit my agent is making me do.” Her agent smiled. Saturday, July 17, 2004, 12:15 P.M. Maxine’s studio. George arrived fifteen minutes early. He liked to arrive early. Gave a man a chance to look around, he would later explain. The Victorian home was substantial. No doubt the residence of a prosperous merchant at one time, he thought. Well done of its type, though the type was definitely not his favorite. No one was home. He looked into the carriage house and saw the sky-blue convertible. Nice, he thought. One did not park a convertible on Detroit’s streets, however. The artist and her agent arrived, five minutes later, on their bicycles. They would have just enough time, they had thought, to change before 18 Trips North 231

George arrived. But there he was, in the driveway. Oh well. Cyclists’ spandex was quite flattering, if not business-like, on a fit woman. After cheerful greetings, George observed, “The pace of life is a bit more leisurely out here, isn’t it? Amazing what a difference an hour’s drive makes.” “Welcome to the country, George,” Maxine said. “You country girls make me wish I were your age again,” George replied. He was happy to be in the company of two such attractive women, even if they were young enough to be his daughters. Cyclists’ spandex was quite flattering, he thought, on some women. Maxine opened the carriage house doors. The ladies wheeled their bicycles inside and removed their cycling shoes. Maxine warned George to be careful about the splinters as they climbed the stairs. “You’re only the second person I’ve ever invited in here, George,” Maxine flattered her visitor. “This is a high honor,” her flattered visitor returned. “Better not judge that too soon,” Maxine cautioned. George, like Louise before him, felt the light before he reached the top of the stairs. It flooded the studio. Like Louise, he was astonished when he saw the huge window wall behind the artist’s easel. And even more astonished at the sight of the canvases, big and small, neatly stored under the raw planks of the roof. “This looks like more than just 38,” he commented. “You asked about what I had to show. There are a lot here that aren’t finished. Some may get finished. A lot are beyond saving. Ideas that just didn’t work.” Maxine lifted her current canvas off her easel and set it aside. She kept it turned to the wall. George was looking at the stored canvases, but he was discovering, as Louise had before him, that they were impossible to see until they were brought out into the light. “Show me something?” he asked. “Start with my best, or work up to it?” “What’s that one?” George asked, pointing to the canvas Maxine had moved off the easel. “That’s number 39. Not done.” 232 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh.” George thought about it. Artists were always so insecure about their newest work. Even the best of them. “I’d like to see one of your larger canvases, if that’s all right.” “Sure,” Maxine agreed. She walked down the row to the right of her easel, tapping the canvases as if they were old friends. “Here’s one of my favorites. Give me a hand.” She slid it out about a yard (1m). “Hold it here and here,” she said pointing to framing cross pieces one third and two thirds of the way between bottom and top. “Turn away from the easel,” Maxine directed as they entered the stu- dio’s main room. Maxine carried her end to the easel and George fol- lowed. The work wasn’t heavy. The frames were custom made so that the artist could carry them herself. But two people doing the moving defi- nitely helped. Together they raised the painting onto the easel. The can- vas was about 9 feet (2,7m) square. From the back, where he had been carrying his end, George faced the immense window. It’s light now illuminated the painting. He walked toward the window, deliberately not looking, letting the anticipation build. When he finally turned to see the piece he was astonished. “Wow!” He was repeating Maxine’s reaction to the gallery space. “I’m stunned, Maxine. This is magnificent.” He tried to take in the whole work at once, but failed. He backed up to the window wall behind him but the painting was still too large. He settled for scanning side to side and top to bottom. Then he moved closer to look at details. He held his hands behind his back as he leaned close to the highlight on a simple round ball. “This is exquisite.” He was referring to the muntins in the window behind him reflected in the surface of the ball. He had to look carefully to tell actual reflections from the painted reflections. Louise was being practical. “Is there a market for this, George? Not many people have a wall big enough for something like this.” George nodded his head in agreement. “That’s so true, Louise. Our job will be to convince the few that have the space. We’ll have to get them thinking that they each must be the one that owns something this fine. The supply of paintings big enough, and good enough, for those walls is really not large.” He continued looking. Sometimes looking from back at the window, sometimes moving close to a detail. He made up his mind. “Ms. Gulden,” he said, “do you think you could adjust to being a rich and famous artist?” 18 Trips North 233

“Do you really think she’s that good?” Louise asked. “Not a doubt in my mind,” George answered her. Maxine said, “Oh, shit.” Monday, 8/2/04, 7:10 P.M. The Rose Café. “This guy, George,” Acacia asked, “he knows what he’s talking about?” Louise bit her tongue. She wanted to hear Maxine’s opinion. Maxine asked if anyone wanted another round. It was late. They didn’t. “Yeah, he does,” Maxine answered Acacia’s question. Louise was pleased to hear it. She hadn’t expected such an unequivocal statement. “You feeling better about doing a show?” the agent asked her artist. “Hell no,” the artist answered honestly. “Maybe no one will come. Maybe no one will like my paintings.” Louise tried to reassure her. “George doesn’t do openings every day, Max. That free champagne is free to the guests, not to George.”

19 Her Gigolo

The ground’s heat rose. Warm, moist air floated up into cooler altitudes where water condensed. Weathermen called them ‘cumulonimbus.’ Farmers (amateur but serious weathermen) called them thunderheads. Mothers drove to the Little League fields to rescue their young baseball players. Our trio was reunited for the second time this week, protected while they stayed under their favorite rose bower. Tuesday, August 3, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. Acacia had more to report, so she was called on to continue after the margaritas arrived. “The first week turned cold. Below 50 (10C) in the mornings. Per- fect for running and riding. The second week was good for swimming, too.

235 236 Explicitly Sexy II

“Herman gathered fresh veggies and fresh fish from the local mar- kets and made superb meals. Three-star Michelin food. Sauces to die for. “I spent some time on the Internet while he cooked, but otherwise we kept the outside world away. Never turned the TV on.” “That sounds idyllic,” Louise said. “That doesn’t explain your email,” Maxine said. “Yes. Very interesting progress in my research. But first, what were you guys up to? And how did that weekend turn out, Lou? I was dying to hear that story.” “Sweet Lou saved the story for you, Ace,” Maxine said. “She made up some nonsense to keep me entertained while we waited for you to get back.” “We were quite boringly normal,” Louise summarized. “Bicycling on Saturday mornings and drinking margaritas on Tuesday evenings. Oh, yes, we’ve got a contract for Max’s gallery we want you to look at. It’s a standard one, I think. Sorry. No more business. “I had made up a new story for Max to fill in the time while you were away. So are you going to tell us about your life or your research?” “My life?” Acacia asked. “Your husband is cooking three-star food. I assume you wanted to make your own contribution to your partnership,” Louise explained. “Oh. Yes.” Acacia chuckled. She was reminded about her role as raconteur. “I stole a bit from you, Lou. Seems like a thong bottom is a good thing, especially if your mate’s an ass man.” Maxine interjected, “And the poor beginning cyclist probably needed her first aid from that nasty bicycle seat torture.” “That’s a fact, Max. It took quite a bit of ‘first aid’ to keep me rid- ing.” Then she changed subjects. “But I really want to hear about Lou’s weekend, so let me summarize my research before we settle in for her story.” Louise would have rather spent the entire evening listening to Acacia talk about her research. Maxine would have rather spent the entire evening listening to Louise’s story. Both encouraged Acacia to explain ‘dopamine.’ 19 Her Gigolo 237

“Biology.” Acacia began. “Not my favorite subject but we need to know a little bit. Like the different sorts of ways the body talks to the brain and the brain talks to the body, including other parts of the brain. Ready?” Her listeners were ready. Where was Coolidge? “Hormones are chemicals secreted by glands. Stomach is empty. Gland secretes ‘hungry’ hormone. Brain receives hormone. You eat. Neu- rotransmitters are like hormones, but they work at the gaps between nerve cells, mostly in the brain. You’re not happy. Squirt some neuro- transmitter goo between the pleasure center of the brain and the sur- rounding nerves. Suddenly it’s happy time. That’s one of the ways addic- tive drugs work. “Dopamine is a hormone and a neurotransmitter, too. The latter is the most important for us.” “I read that dopamine is the juice cocaine addicts crave,” Louise said. “Correct. It’s also produced by the body when the body wants to encourage a behavior. Nursing women get a shot of dopamine. That probably makes up for whatever pain the baby’s sucking and chewing on the nipples might cause. So women feed their babies. The species sur- vives. Life is good.” “And what has this to do with the Coolidge Effect?” Maxine asked. “Another thing that triggers dopamine production is sexual arousal. Get your mate turned on and you flood him with dopamine. At least until he ejaculates. After he comes he gets flooded with a thing called pro- lactin. It’s kind of an anti-joy juice. No more libido. Sleep time.” Maxine was getting annoyed. “Is all this connected?” Acacia was drawing them on. She could see that Louise was paying close attention. “Max, I don’t wander. Of course it’s connected.” She continued. “Dopamine’s powerful. Psychologists put rats in one side of a cage, food in the other side and an electric floor in between. They turned up the power so the floor was extremely painful. So painful that the rats would stay off it, regardless. The rats would have starved to death rather than cross the floor to eat. 238 Explicitly Sexy II

“Then they changed the reward from food to dopamine. The rats went for the dopamine. To hell with the pain. They wanted that dopamine.” Louise asked another clarifying question. “And we can provide dopamine for our mates, just by getting them turned on?” “Exactly. If his cock is stiff you are flooding his brain with dopamine.” Louise was getting the message. “You’re saying that if you get your mate excited you are doing the same thing that cocaine does?” “Correct.” “And if you get him excited regularly, he will be addicted to you, like an addict is addicted to a drug?” “Unproven, but quite likely.” “So when you say, ‘it makes a girl proud’ about a nicely stiff male member, we’re being drugs for our mates?” Acacia smiled. Louise was an excellent pupil. “Are you on board, Max?” Maxine understood perfectly. She did not, however, have any way to put this information to use at this point in her life. “My vibrator’s always stiff.” Louise was stunned. “Wow!” she summarized, somewhat inarticu- lately. Then she made another connection. “Our wee colleen must have been excited because this confirms everything she said about the sexome- ter and Thing One. Wow!” The wee colleen was beaming. “Very excited. I felt a bit like a fool when I discovered Coolidge. When I found out about dopamine I knew I had been going in the right direction anyway. The ‘Bitch Goddess’ was flooding her mate’s brain with dopamine.” ‘I can’t do this with Frank,’ Maxine thought to herself. “Can Louise get started now?” “Well, let’s ask,” Acacia suggested. “Does your story have anything to do with flooding your mate’s brain with dopamine?” Louise shook her head in wonder. She wasn’t answering Acacia’s question. She was amazed. 19 Her Gigolo 239

“Ace, you have never been more amazing. My story is all about flooding his poor brain with dopamine. I had no idea...” “I didn’t know about thong bottoms. Your turn to teach me some more.” Louise began to refocus. “Let’s see. He had won me for the week- end, but he had asked to be my gigolo for Friday evening. I was taking him out to dinner. Let’s start when he comes home. I was in the living room waiting for him. Not too patiently.” Friday, July 9, 2004, 5 P.M. Louise and Tom’s living room. Louise was indoors. She sat, idly turning the pages of The County Press. As Tom walked in she crooked her finger, then pointed to the couch next to her. He sat down. Tom had won her for the weekend. But for this evening, he had asked to be her gigolo. He liked her being bossy. Bossy was a new role for her, but she was learning to enjoy it. She turned the page and let him wait. Eventually she turned toward him. “Look at me, Tom.” He looked. Her eyes bore into him. “You don’t have to do this. It’s your weekend. Are you sure this is what you want?” He smiled. She was turning him on already. “Yes.” She let her eyes run down his body to his crotch. Her eyes paused, then ran back up to stare into his. “That will be, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ if you want to be with me.” He smiled. “You’re turning me on.” She shot back, “I said, ‘Yes ma’am’ and I meant it. Now!” “Yes ma’am,” he agreed. “Don’t forget. Say it again, so you remember.” “Yes ma’am.” “Good. I’ve laid out your clothes and made a reservation. Shower first, and don’t keep me waiting.” With that, she turned back to the paper. He got up, went down the hall, turned the shower on, then went to hang up his suit. He noticed slacks, a belt and a shirt on the bed, loafers below them on the floor. 240 Explicitly Sexy II

She leaned back against the couch, stretched and smiled. Tom was a hunk, a high-school quarterback still in playing condition. And he liked making her come. Her record (his record?) was seven orgasms in an afternoon. She was in good shape herself. Fit enough to break that record? She had decided to try. Isn’t that why a woman would keep a gigolo? She heard the water stop. He crossed the hall, drying himself. She got up and went to watch him dress. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, crossly. “I was just getting...”, he had a pair of briefs from the drawer already in his hand. “I said,” the gigolo’s mistress retorted, “I laid out your clothes. Do you think I can’t decide what you should wear?” “But...”, he sputtered. “Put them back in the dresser. Your clothes are on the bed.” “Yes, ma’am.” He put the briefs away, pulled on his shirt and began buttoning. “That’s far enough,” she said, before he buttoned it across his chest. He pulled on the slacks, tucked in his shirt and slid on the loafers. “Where am I taking you?” he asked as he reached for his keys and wallet. “I’m taking you,” she said. “Miyamoto. A quiet place in Russet Hills. And put those back. I’m driving.” Friday, 7/9/04, 5:20 P.M. Louise’s car to Russet Hills. As they crossed under the interstate south of the village, he noticed her dress. It was a simple blue wrap, cinched in front with a self belt, reveal- ing only a modest V at her throat. It covered most of her thighs so he was left wondering what she wore underneath.“Is that a new dress?” Tom asked. She smiled and said nothing. The state highway ran straight south half way to Russet Hills where it bent a few degrees to the east. “You’re wondering what I’m wearing under it, aren’t you.” She had made a statement. He waited for her to continue. She let him wonder. She was glad he had introduced the topic. Pleased to let him think about it. 19 Her Gigolo 241

In Russet Hills—an affluent suburb half an hour north of Detroit, half an hour south of La Pierre—the two-lane state highway became a four-lane commercial road known locally as South La Pierre. Miyamoto was not far off the highway, Friday, 7/9/04, 5:50 P.M. Miyamoto. They pulled into Miyamoto’s the parking lot. It was an upscale, Japanese restaurant. The headwaiter greeted them as they entered. Though the sun was still up, the restaurant was dark, seemingly lit by electric candles flickering on the tables. Excepting two businessmen sitting at the bar, they were the only customers. (It would be crowded an hour later.) “You have a reservation, sir?” the headwaiter inquired. “Louise Wilson,” she answered curtly. “Oh, ah, yes ma’am. Right this way.” The somewhat abashed head- waiter led them to a table. Japanese women were not this way. He reminded himself, once more, that this was America. In a few years they would have a Madame President, or at least that’s what people were say- ing. Mr. Wilson, if the gentleman was Mr. Wilson, smiled pleasantly. The headwaiter led them to a well-placed table. They were a very attractive couple. They should be seated where others could see. “I’d pre- fer to sit over there,” Louise Wilson said, indicating a table in an out-of- the-way corner. “Yes ma’am, as you wish,” the headwaiter said leading them to the table she indicated. He held a chair for her and then for him. “A private place in the corner?” Tom inquired as they were left with the beverage menu. “Yes. I want to talk. Did you notice how quick he was with his ‘Yes ma’am’s?” “Yes ma’am,” Tom answered. Louise smiled appreciatively. The waiter arrived to take their drink order. “We’ll have green tea, please,” she said. “And do you have a sushi appetizer?” “Sushi for two? Yes, of course.” She handed her menu back. Tom returned his. The waiter left to place their order. “So, Tom Wilson,” she began, “may I ask a question?” Of course she could, he agreed. “What do you think I’m wearing under this dress?” 242 Explicitly Sexy II

“I would guess Madame is wearing something sexy. She’s beautiful and she likes to turn her gentleman on.” “How kind. But why don’t you answer my question?” “What do I think you’re wearing?” “Yes.” And then she corrected herself. “No. Let me rephrase that. What do you wish I was wearing?” Tom was taken by surprise. Men didn’t think about ladies under- things when out in public. He shook his head and started to make excuses. She was having none of it. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer. Now look at me.” He looked. “Look into my eyes. Look deep. Now keep looking and picture me in everything that you find hot. Hot, and hotter. What is the sexy picture in your mind?” “I’m not sure.” “You’re not sure what you think is sexy, or you’re not sure you should tell me?” He sputtered. She leaned toward him. She spoke quietly. Tom could barely hear. “Tell me, Tom. You’re mine for the evening. And you’re mine, period. Tell me. Start at the bot- tom and work up. Shoes?” “I don’t know about shoes. I see your feet in stockings. You know, with the dark part at the toes and heels.” “That’s good, Tom. Here, give me your hand.” She held hers out to take his. “Now let’s work our way up. Calves?” “Wrapped in stockings.” “What color?” “I think they’re black, but you can see right through them, so maybe that would be gray.” She squeezed his hand. The squeeze said, ‘Thank you. Keep going.’ “That’s called ‘sheer’, Tom. You’re picturing sheer black stockings. That’s what I was wearing last night, remember?” 19 Her Gigolo 243

Visions of yesterday evening were interrupted by the arrival of tea and sushi. Louise asked the waiter to let them pour their own. “Yes, ma’am. Certainly.” When he left, she asked Tom to pour. As he did, she went on. “We were interrupted below the knees. What do you see above the knees?” “I see thighs. Beautiful lady thighs. Nicely muscled but still soft and curvy. The stocking tops go up near the top of the thighs. They’re a wide band of black. Not sheer. Lacy at the tops.” She picked up a bite-sized salmon roll. “Wasabi?” “Just a little,” he answered. She barely touched the spicy sauce with the sushi. She fed it to him when he finished describing the lace. “Sounds quite nice. What holds them up?” “A black lace garter belt. Four garters. But we skipped something.” “Good boy!” She kissed the back of his hand. “What did we miss?” “I think it’s a thong. I can only see the front.” “What does the front look like? What does it cover.” “It’s like a triangle of black lace, with ties at the top. It covers, uh, you know, it covers between, … I mean, above your thighs...” She smiled at his embarrassment. “Nobody can hear you. Nobody except me. Don’t be bashful.” With a quick look around, he added, “It covers your pussy.” She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Can you see the back yet?” “No. Maybe it’s a thong or maybe it covers your ass.” “Which would be sexier? This is your fantasy. Would you like my ass naked or covered? Or maybe covered, but with something sheer that you could see through?” “I think... No. I know. I saw one once at the mall. Like a thong but it had a little fabric in back. Kind of a ruffle that went maybe halfway down the cheeks. That was sexy. Half covered would be sexiest.” “What color?” “Black. It matches the garter belt and stockings. Black lace.” “I like black lace, too. I like wearing it. It makes me feel sexy.” 244 Explicitly Sexy II

With that, she picked up one of the two dinner menus the waiter had left. Tom reached for the other but she put her hand on his, stopping him on top of the menu. “Call the waiter, please. I’ll pick something light.” Tom caught the waiter’s eye and beckoned. Louise flipped idly through the menu. When the waiter arrived she asked for a suggestion for seafood. Something light, please. She settled on the seafood sampler for two. “Is that OK with you?” she asked Tom. He knew she was being polite, not asking a question. The waiter headed toward the kitchen. “May I say something?” he asked. She assented. “You’re my fantasy date. One hot lady.” “Well, thank you. What a kind thing to say. Where were we?” “I was picturing your ass, half covered, half naked.” “Yes. I think that would be nice. Were you getting hard thinking about it?” “P, p, please...”, he stammered. “Now don’t be bashful. You’re telling me what you think is sexy. Isn’t that what sexy things do to you? Aren’t I sexy?” “Yes ma’am.” He didn’t know what else to say. “Now, what comes next. Ready to go higher?” “Higher. I guess you’d wear something around your breasts. A matching bra. Yes, a black lace bra.” “How much does it cover?” “I’m not sure. It could just cover the undersides, like the one you wore last night.” “That’s called a ‘shelf bra.’ It did make you hard, didn’t it?” “Yeah. Especially when you had me suck on your nipples to make them stiff.” Her eyes rolled upward with the memory. “Yes, that was very nice. The sucking felt so nice. And the way you looked at them. That was nice. I like seeing you all overwhelmed by lust. I like filling you with lust. Do you like being filled with lust?” “Yes, ma’am.” And then he thought about it. “I mean, no ma’am. I don’t like it. I love it. I love being filled with lust for you.” 19 Her Gigolo 245

“Oh, you are sweet. I believe I’ll fill you with lust later on this evening. Would you like that?” The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the fish. “This is ‘nori’?” Louise asked, pointing to the green sheet wrapped around an eel filet. “Yes, ma’am. Unagi wrapped in nori. Americans may call it eel in seaweed.” “Your words are much nicer. Thank you.” Louise dismissed him. “Pull your chair a little closer,” she asked. “This is so interesting. Look deeper into my eyes.” She stroked his cheek as he looked deeper. “Now tell me more. Tell me more about what turns you on. Do you think corsets are sexy?” “Yes, ma’am. Corsets are sexy. Maybe you should have a corset instead of a garter belt.” “Ah. You’ve seen corsets. Where have you seen them?” Tom colored. “I, uh...”. “Tom! You’re embarrassed. Look into my eyes.” He looked. “You can tell me everything. Where did you see corsets?” Her eyes held his. “It’s OK if I like corsets? I mean, you won’t...” “If you like corsets, I might buy one. Or maybe you could buy me one. Would you like me to wear a corset?” He stammered. She took his hand and kissed it. “Now, look into my eyes and tell me all about it.” “Well, you know how Gymbals is on the south side of the mall and Roebucks is on the north?” She knew it well. She had bought her opera gloves in Gymbals. “Well, I like to park on the south, even if I’m going to Roebucks.” “This isn’t about getting a little extra exercise, is it? It’s good to walk as much as you can.” “I guess, but when you go in through the department store, you can go through the ladies wear on your way.” 246 Explicitly Sexy II

“You mean, through the department they call ‘intimates,’ Tom?” “Yes. Through there. Those mannequins have nice figures. They remind me of you. I kinda walk fast so I don’t look like I’m noticing all the sexy lady things.” “Is that where you look at corsets?” He confessed. “You know what, Tom? Next time you’re there and see something you like, you could stop and buy it for me. I can do more for you than a mannequin.” “Oh, I could never do that. That’s no place for a man. I wouldn’t...” “Yes you would, Tom. You can and you will. You know why?” He didn’t know. “You’ll do it for me. You’ll do it to make me happy. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” His head was shaking. “Don’t say ‘no’ to me. I know you want me more than that. I know that you’ll risk a little embarrassment to make me happy. Look at me and promise.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ‘no.’ I was shaking my head because I knew I’d do it for you. You own me, you know. Sometimes it amazes me.” “Wouldn’t you like to see me in a corset? I’ve got plans for you this evening, but Gymbals will be open at ten tomorrow. We could be in our bedroom by eleven, with me wearing a corset. Does that sound sexy?” “Yes ma’am. Being in the bedroom with you is already sexy. That’s double sexy.” “We’ll be in our bedroom soon enough. What would you like to do tonight?” “I’m yours tonight. Remember? Whatever you like.” “Of course I remember. And I’ve made plans. Quite bitchy in a sub- tle way. But you didn’t answer my question. “Look at me, Tom. Look into my eyes. Start your fantasy by calling me ‘Mistress.’ What would you like your mistress to do?” He looked into her eyes. She looked back. He felt her looking into his mind. He was scared. He didn’t know why, but he was afraid. Louise saw his fear. She took his hand again. “You know I love you. I love turning you on. I love making your cock hard. I love looking at 19 Her Gigolo 247 you and seeing you lust for me. Your lust makes me so hot. You want to make me hot, don’t you?” “Yes. Yes I do. I love making you hot.” “Is there anything better than making your mistress hot?” “No...”, he began, but she interrupted. “Why don’t you call me ‘Mistress’? Is there anything better than making your Mistress hot?” “No, Mistress.” “So tell your Mistress what your fantasies are? What would you like her to do?” She stroked his fingers. “Would you like a kiss?” “I love your kisses, Mistress.” “Lean closer, Tom. There. That’s good. Now tell me if you meant kisses on your mouth or on your cock.” He was getting too hot to sit quietly. He squirmed to adjust the bulge in his pants. “Talk to your Mistress, Tom. She loves to make you hard. You’re hard right now. I bet you’re thinking about kisses on the head of your cock. Would that feel nice?” His breathing was ragged. “Breath deeply. Look into your Mistress’s eyes. Tell her what a nice kiss on the head of your cock feels like.” “You’re so sexy, Mistress. You’re driving me crazy. Let’s go home.” “I know I’m driving you crazy, poor boy. Now look at me. Do you want me to stop driving you crazy?” He stared at her. She bent forward to kiss his fingers but her eyes did not let go of his. “Hmm?” she asked. “No.” “‘No’ what?” “No, I don’t want you to stop.” “You’re forgetting what you should call me,” “No, Mistress. No. Please don’t stop. Drive me crazy. I want you so badly. Make me want you even more.” 248 Explicitly Sexy II

She smiled at him and stroked his hand. She took a bite and watched him watching her. She smiled. Her vagina was dripping. “You told me you want me to kiss you. Tell me more.” “I’d like a kiss, just like you taught me. A gentle, just barely touching kiss on the mouth. And then more. More kisses on the mouth. And then our mouths would open and our tongues could go exploring. And then...”. He trailed off. She caressed his fingers. “That sounds nice. I’d enjoy that, too. And then what?” “And then I’d move down to your breasts, Mistress. I’d kiss your beautiful breasts. Gently. Then I’d lick them. I’d lick circles around your nipples, Mistress.” “Ooh! That feels nice. Tell me more.” “I’d lick around your nipples. They would get stiff. I’d lick them and then suck on them. I like sucking on them when they’re all stiff. It must be the same as you liking to see my cock all stiff.” “Are we in bed?” “Yes, Mistress.” “Then I think I’ll roll over. Would you like that?” “Yes Mistress. Your ass is so sexy. I’d hold it in my hands. Rub it. Draw gentle circles around it. Caress your thighs where they meet your ass.” “Your hands feel nice. Would you like to kiss it?” “Oh, Mistress. Yes, I could bend over and kiss your ass. I’d kiss one cheek, and then the other. Maybe lick circles around it.” “Should I part my thighs a little?” “That would be so sexy. Yes, Mistress, please part your thighs a lit- tle. I’ll stroke slowly from your ass, down to your pussy. I’ll play with your pussy. Stick a finger into your pussy. Gently tease around your clit.” “That would get me quite turned on. But maybe I would roll over. Lie on my back.” “Yes, Mistress. That would be so hot. That would tell me that your pussy wants more from me.” “More?” 19 Her Gigolo 249

“Yes, Mistress. More stroking with my fingers. I’d stroke gently around your lips, then around your tunnel. Then around your clit. I think your hips would start to float up off the bed.” “Sometimes my hips do float up. Could you make them float?” “Yes, Mistress. After my fingers I’d bend over and apply my lips. Kisses and then my tongue. I’d lick you slowly, up and down. I’d try to miss your clit until you needed more. I’d do just like you said. I’d keep licking slowly until the kettle started to boil.” “That’s very nice, Tom. I love it when the kettle starts to boil. But what about you?” “Me, mistress? I wasn’t really thinking about that. When I’m licking you I’m thinking about you.” “Thinking about?” “About making you come, Mistress. I want to make you come.” “That’s a very nice thought, Tom. You forget about yourself when you’re making me come?” “Yes, Mistress. I think about me coming at first. Especially when you’ve been playing with me for a long time. My balls ache. But when I get you going, like, maybe, uh, maybe when your hips start to float up off the bed... Then I forget about me and get all lost in making you come.” She kissed his hand, again. “What else should I know, Tom?” He thought. “What’s sexy? What do I want?” he asked. She agreed. “When you’re coming and you grab my head to keep me in place. That’s so hot. Yeah, your hands on the back of my head.” Then she asked, gently, “Is that when it’s best for you, Tom?” He was staring deep into the eyes of the woman he adored. “Yes, that’s the best, Mistress. Maybe when you’re coming or maybe just after. You’re so happy just after. I’m so happy, too. Maybe happier. I love to make you come.” He had never wanted her so badly. He wanted to lay his head on her chest. To feel her fingers in his hair. “I want you, Mistress. I want to please you. I’m addicted to you.” He had never felt so owned. So open. Something had just happened. She felt it but she didn’t understand it. She looked into his eyes. He looked back. She knew how honest he had been. She saw his need. He was hers. 250 Explicitly Sexy II

She smiled. “Thank you, Tom. I have plans for you when we get home. Not quite what you expect but I think you’ll be quite turned on. Yes, I’d say you’ll be quite turned on. Let’s finish our fish.” When the waiter arrived with dessert menus, Louise declined the last course and handed the waiter a credit card. “Tom, how much is eight times seven,” she asked. He shook his head. “That’s fifty-six, ma’am.” “Oh, yes. I thought so. And the capital of New York?” He remembered. “Albany was a compromise between New York City and the rest of the state.” “Like Lansing and Detroit?” “Exactly.” Then he realized what she was doing, and laughed. “Afraid I might have trouble walking?” “Yes,” she smiled. “Are you ready to go?” And they talked about the decor, the candles and how bright it would be when they went outside. She signed when the waiter returned, adding a generous gratuity. They both thanked the waiter. The food and the service had been exem- plary (though neither would remember much other than the conversa- tion). At The Rose, our heroines take a break to order another round. In her story, Louise will soon take another sort of break with her gigolo. Tuesday, 8/3/04, 6:10 P.M. The Rose Café. “You got him soaked in dopamine,” Maxine approved. “Sometimes I’m amazed at how smart you are, Lou,” Acacia said. “You got him telling you exactly how you can turn the heat up. I bet there’s a corset on your shopping list.” Maxine found Ricky and ordered another round. Louise was amazed. “I guess I was soaking him in dopamine. I had no idea. And you’re right about the corset, Ace. It’s in my story. First, though, I’ll have a really smart idea that sort of wasn’t so smart.” The drinks arrived and her listeners urged her to go on. 19 Her Gigolo 251

Friday, 7/9/04, 7:30 P.M. Louise’s car returning home. “That was a very nice chat, Tom,” Louise said as they got into the car. “Very nice. I’ll try to remember some of what you said.” It might be a long time before Louise would forget a single word. “Now what do you think I’m wearing under this dress?” “I guess I still don’t know, Ma’am. You know what I’d like you to be wearing. But...” “Yes, I would have had to decide before you came home. I have a few things you like. I might have bought something new, too.” He could not find a reply. “And one other possibility.” “What’s that,” he asked.4 “I might not be wearing anything at all. I might be naked under this dress. Would that be sexy?” He hadn’t thought of that. He considered it. “That’s the advantage of being beautiful, I guess. You don’t need to wear anything at all. You’re sexy.” The sun would set in an hour. He looked at her. “Wait a minute. Your legs aren’t naked. Those are probably stockings. Something’s holding them up.” “Tom, you’re so observant!” she exclaimed. She may have been thinking just the opposite. “But one secret you should know. Some stock- ings are made with little rubberized hold-up bits in the top. They stay up all by themselves. Anyway, I asked if being naked under a dress would be sexy. Would it be sexy not to wear panties?” “That’s sort of... No, more than sort of. That’s sexy.” “Why do you suppose it’s sexy not to wear panties?” “I guess that’s because...” Tom realized he didn’t know. Some things you just took for granted. Louise was a woman, he thought. She would want to know. Tom was right about Louise wanting to know. As they drove home, Louise seemed to always find another question. As she drove, she reached over and gave him occasional, gentle strokes. She was glad she had kept his briefs at home. It was easy to keep him focused. 252 Explicitly Sexy II

Tuesday, 8/3/04, 6:45 P.M. The Rose Café. “When we finally got to the bedroom I had a plan,” Louise explained. “I taught him how to tie clove hitches. I made him practice on me. Before he realized what was happening, I was tied, hands and feet, to the corners of the bed. Then I told him that he was in charge. “I thought it might be fun to be captured by a man who really liked to make me come.” Louise stirred her drink, waiting for a reaction. Maxine broke the silence. “You’re not going to leave us there, bitch. You’re tied to the bed posts, and then what?” “He used my lipstick to draw circles around my nipples and to make all my lips dark red. All of them. Then he kissed all the dark red parts. And he was absolutely devilish about bringing me to the edge and leav- ing me hanging, desperate to come.” Maxine pestered her with questions. Louise frustrated Maxine with summary answers. “Eventually he made me come. Several times, actu- ally,” the storyteller confessed with none of the details Maxine wanted. Acacia asked about the role reversal. Her questions were more pene- trating. She simplified. “Was submissive as hot as dominant?” “I thought about that,” Louise said. “I should really talk about that. But he did make me come hard. Often, too. Some of it was very nice, you know. I’m not sure I won’t want to go there again.” Tuesday, 8/3/04, 7:15 P.M. The Rose Café. “Oh dear. We’ve been here way too long,” the storyteller said as she noticed it getting dark outside. (The storyteller did not think that there were almost two more hours before sundown.) “You can’t leave us there,” Maxine protested. “It seems,” the lawyer responded, “that some, but not all, the women here have reasons to hurry home.” The women with reasons to hurry home won the debate. “There seems to have been quite a lot of dopamine in my story,” Louise said. “Does it work in women’s brains, too?” “I’ve not come across anything to say that it doesn’t,” the researcher said. “I’ve read about the lactation thing, so women certainly can pro- duce dopamine. I assume the response during sexual arousal is similar to men.” 19 Her Gigolo 253

“I liked your story, Lou,” Maxine said. Acacia thought it was a com- pliment that Louise deserved. A flash of lightning interrupted, rudely, striking near the cafe fol- lowed almost immediately by a thunder clap. Everyone jumped. The dark sky was turning black. Acacia forgot the conversation as there were more immediate concerns. They settled the tab quickly. Aca- cia made a dash for her car while Louise and Maxine headed to Louise’s car. Tuesday, 8/3/04, 7:30 P.M. Louise’s car. Louise and Maxine had not driven a block before the sky opened. Louise turned her wipers on high but still couldn’t see. They were slowed to a crawl until they finally pulled into Maxine’s driveway. There were no lights on in the house. Louise turned her car off and looked at Maxine. “Looks like we’re stuck here,” Louise said. “We’re all tied up, sweet Lou.” “You liked that? Me being tied up, I mean.” “That made my panties wet.” “I wish my car didn’t have bucket seats,” Louise complained. “You can still reach me, you know.” “What will your neighbors say, Max?” “They probably can’t see a damned thing. If anyone saw us drive up they’re thinking we’re waiting for the storm to let up.” “So I could just fondle those sexy big boobs and no one would know?” Maxine clasped her fingers behind her head and stretched, pushing her breasts forward. “If you like.” Louise turned toward her. There was just enough light so that she could see the outline of Maxine’s ‘sexy big boobs.’ Louise turned until her left hand could reach across the space between them. But her finger sought Maxine’s cheek. She drew a slow, sensuous line down the cheek. “I love you, Max,” she said. Maxine grabbed her hand. She pressed the finger to her lips. “That’s such a sexy thing to do. You’re such a sexy bitch.” She placed Louise’s hand on her chest and held it there. 254 Explicitly Sexy II

As Maxine pressed Louise’s hand into her chest, another lightning bolt struck. There was daylight for a fraction of a second. The thunder crashed before the daylight left. The crash shook the car. They were terri- fied. Maxine let go of Louise’s hand in the flash of daylight and grabbed the seat as the car shook. Louise found herself squeezing the steering wheel as if they were moving at high speed. The darkness closed in again. Rain beat on the car. “Shit.” Maxine was mad. She was mad at the storm. She was mad at the interruption. She was mad at the adrenaline flowing through her body and the frantic beat- ing of her heart. “Well that was certainly exciting, wasn’t it?” the queen of under- statement said. The lightning strike was in the past. Louise’s tender finger was in the distant past. Maxine laughed. “Do you know how fast my poor heart is beating for you, sweet love?” “Probably as fast as mine’s beating, but it may not be from love. It may be from being scared to death, you sexy seducer.” “You think it was the lightning?” “The lightning or the thunder. Maybe both.” They each listened to their own hearts calm down. Adrenaline seems to enter the blood more quickly than it leaves. “It’s a little like just after, isn’t it?” Louise asked. “What?” “Your hearts are racing. You have to wait for your hearts to calm down before you can even talk.” “Oh. If you think so. But orgasms feel better.” “Oh, Max. You’re impossible. Always horny.” “Lack of sex. You should try it some time.” “I tried it once. I didn’t like it. Sex is more fun. It’s the dopamine, you know.” “I’ll think about your finger while I use my vibrator tonight. You really are a sexy bitch.” 19 Her Gigolo 255

“Umm. ‘Sexy bitch’? I’m learning,” Louise said, thoughtfully. “Three months ago I would have thought that was an insult. But if it means I can make things grow...” “Or make panties wet,” Maxine interrupted. Louise looked at her and smiled. “Me? Your sweet Louise?” Then she turned serious. “I think the rain’s letting up.” Maxine looked out the window. She decided. She threw the door open, shouted, “See you Friday,” and made a dash for her front door. Louise started the car as she watched Maxine. She turned her head- lights on. Maxine’s Victorian front porch looked more than just decora- tive. Maxine was sheltered as she unlocked her door. Louise shifted into Reverse and waited. She began to back out of the driveway when the porch lights went on. She was thinking about stroking Maxine’s cheek when she came to the road. As she shifted into Drive she thought about taking her gigolo out to dinner. She had thought about the teasing finger while she backed out of the driveway and then she thought about the dinner when she was going forward. She didn’t understand the connection, but she felt it. She tried to shift her brain from Relationships to Driving. Wednesday, August 4, 2004, 10:00 A.M. Acacia’s office. Often in La Pierre, the worst summer storms are brief. Tuesday’s thun- derstorm was done before Louise got home. It had, however, given the entire outdoors a nice soaking. Farmers would have preferred a longer, gentler rain but they were happy to take whatever Mother Nature gave them. Wednesday morning, gardeners would pinch the old blooms off the tiger lilies to make the new blooms welcome. Everyone with a tree would pick up the twigs and small branches that had been torn off. Louise and Acacia, in Acacia’s office, were on the phone. “Professor Ubuntu?” Acacia paused. “Yes, this is Acacia Donovan. I represent Max- ine Gulden. Her agent, Louise Wilson, is here with me.” “Hi, George,” Louise said to the speaker phone. Her tone was more friendly than Acacia’s. 256 Explicitly Sexy II

Acacia continued. “I’ve been asked to look over the standard form agreement you asked Ms. Gulden to sign.” In Ubuntu Galleries, the professor sat up straighter in his chair. An attorney’s call was usually bad news. “First, Professor, the terms are basically highway robbery. Louise, however, tells me that this is standard in the business and Maxine has deferred to her in this matter. So I won’t be troubling you with further discussion on that point provided you’ll go along with one clarification.” George was already relieved (as Acacia had assumed he would be) and wanted to know about the ‘clarification.’ “I understand you have three of Ms. Gulden’s paintings in your gallery.” George confirmed this. “I’ve had a little discussion with Louise and Maxine about this. If Ms. Gulden’s work is valuable, it should be properly taken care of. I’m sure you agree.” He did. “I want to clarify the responsibilities. Very simply, Ms. Gulden will be responsible for the work while it is in her studio. The gallery should be responsible after it leaves her studio, transporting the work to and from the gallery, main- taining adequate insurance while it’s in the gallery and so on.” George, who had feared far worse, agreed. “I’ll add a paragraph to that effect. I’ll add it as an appendix. If your attorney has approved the basic contract, we won’t modify it so you won’t have to pay her or him again. Will that be acceptable?” George agreed. And Louise agreed that George could pay a regular, insured trucker from now on. Friday, August 6, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. By Friday the weather was perfect, or as close to perfect as one could expect in early August. Warm, but not hot. Low humidity. Blue skies with just enough clouds to be decorative. Two eager listeners and one story teller met to continue where they had left off. “Everyone got home safe?” Acacia asked. They had, and they returned the question. “I was almost home before the downpour. A day like today makes it hard to remember.” 19 Her Gigolo 257

Then she turned to a bit of business. “You sure that’s the right gallery, Max?” Louise looked at Maxine. Louise wanted to know the artist’s opinion. “I don’t care. Ask Lou,” the artist said, unhelpfully. “How much do I owe you for reviewing that contract?” Maxine added. “Did we spend five minutes on the phone with him, Lou?” Louise thought that was about right. “I’d say the artist should pay the bar tab.” The artist agreed. “No more business,” the agent insisted. And, setting the example, she asked, “Learned any more about dopamine? I can’t get it out of my mind. It explains so much.” “Like why sex feels good?” Acacia asked. “And why men are usu- ally willing to wait a bit longer when you ask?” “Like why I want a vibrator that understands foreplay,” Maxine interrupted. Louise laughed. “Poor baby,” she sympathized. “Wish I could find something solid about dopamine and Coolidge,” Acacia said, ignoring the banter. “Well, let me see if I can summarize,” Louise offered. “According to Coolidge, it’s hard to keep a good man down. But we have two possible strategies. We can try ‘being new’ so that he is attracted to us, not some- one else. And we can try flooding him with dopamine by keeping him stiff, which may make him addicted to us.” “Very cogent summary. You should have been a lawyer, Lou,” Aca- cia said. “The Louise Wilson theory of ‘wifely duties’.” Maxine began. “Go to the mall for clothes. Sexy clothes. Then make sure he’s stiff while you come a lot. This could be popular.” Louise laughed. Then she pretended to be serious. “Let it never be said, Ms. Donovan, that...” And then she got serious. “Sorry, Ace. We shouldn’t make fun. You’ve made a big difference in my life.” 258 Explicitly Sexy II

“Thank you, Lou,” Acacia said, with a wink that Maxine might not have seen. “We’ll just blame Max. Our theorizing is abstract if you can’t put it into practice.” “How about we let Lou illustrate these theories by telling us how she puts them into practice,” Maxine suggested. She did not sound repentant. “Yes. Practical applications. That’s what we need. Go ahead, Lou,” Acacia seconded. “Oh, all right. Um, let’s see. The poor woman in my story has been tied up and tortured by her gigolo, who is showing her no mercy. He is threatening to carry on.” Louise resumed her story of Friday evening a month ago. She told how the gigolo that she had tricked into tying her to the bed continued to take advantage of her vulnerable body, forcing her into repeated orgasms. She also told the true story of a woman who was getting exactly what she wanted but who became angry when she realized that he was really in control. She wanted to make her gigolo come but he would not be hurried. Her anger was eventually dissipated by his continued gentle massaging of her clitoris with his fingers and tongue. When her gigolo finally untied her, she resumed her role as Mistress. She made him fuck her slowly while she massaged her clitoris, not allowing him to come until she started first. She did not understand herself. Surrendering control to him, he had manipulated her skillfully, bringing her to the edge, keeping her on the edge and eventually bringing her over the edge, exactly as she had hoped. And she had wanted it to stop so she could make him come? And she had become angry? Friday, 8/6/04, 6:20 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise looked up. Outdoors was still bright daylight. She blinked. “This is what it looked like when that lightning bolt hit, isn’t it, Max?” Maxine was lost in thought. “Your stories keep getting better, Lou,” Acacia said. “That one was kind of dopamine soaked. At least at first,” Louise responded. “That was interesting, but that’s not what I was thinking about,” Aca- cia said. 19 Her Gigolo 259

“No?” “I was thinking about the control thing,” Acacia answered. “That was really honest. Where do you think that came from?” Maxine thought this was becoming very interesting. She was listen- ing carefully. “I don’t know,” Louise said. “I really got angry. And that’s not like me. I don’t get angry, do I?” “I’ve never seen it,” Acacia answered (being precise). “Any idea how I should handle it?” Louise asked. “Yes,” Acacia answered. “‘Bossy’ Louise suits you both. Floods his poor brain with dopamine. He said he was ‘addicted’ to you. That word should tell you what you need to know. As the saying goes, ‘Don’t fix what ain’t broke’.” Maxine made up her mind. “Listen to our lawyer, Lou. She’s a smart one, our lawyer.” Acacia thought Maxine was offering good advice. She continued. “I’d say you should just keep him addicted. Go to the mall for something sexy to wear, come home and flood him with dopamine. If it’s you against Coolidge, I’m betting on you.” Louise shook her head slowly. “No? Why not?” “I wasn’t saying ‘no.’ I was shaking my head because that’s exactly what I did. Before I’d even heard about dopamine or Coolidge.” “So are you going to tell us about it?” Maxine wanted to know. “Maybe next time. Tuesday. OK?” Acacia had been counting something on her fingers. “Let me see if I got this right. You made the wager on a Monday. You held the ‘contest’ on Thursday. You skipped the weekend of the Fourth, and did the gigolo dinner and evening the following Friday night. You’re going shopping the next day?” Louise nodded her head. “Yes. Off to the mall to buy a corset. And I’m going to drag him into the dressing room to help me try it on.” Acacia smiled at this. “Lou, I am definitely stealing that move from you. Pry his secrets from him over dinner. Get that dopamine flowing. 260 Explicitly Sexy II

Then you go to the mall. I assume you’ll be talking to him on the way. Then into the dressing room to try things on. Soaked in dopamine. Then you drive home, saving your new clothes for later. You should win a prize. Coolidge doesn’t stand a chance.” “I was just being self-indulgent, Ace. As you say, ‘It does make a girl feel proud’.” “Max, would you call that ‘self-indulgent’,” the attorney asked. “Seems to me that keeping him stiff is the essence of a woman’s ‘wifely duties,’ counselor.” To herself Maxine assigned ‘F’ as her own grade for wifely duties. “I thought so, too,” Acacia agreed. “Now that we know about dopamine, we know how true that is.” She took Louise’s hand. “Now, you listen to me, Louise Wilson. Just because something feels good doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do. Buying something sexy, keep- ing your mate stiff, coming a lot. These are ‘wifely duties’ no matter how good they feel.” “Thank you,” Louise said, seriously. “I’ll try to lose my guilt. This is not self-indulgent. It’s doing my wifely duties. You keep lecturing me.” “Can I add one small point?” Acacia gently changed subjects. “You wondered about your ‘silky hand.’ The answer is ‘yes.’ Look into Kegel balls.” “Key gull? Is that like sea gull?” Maxine asked. “Doctor Kegel,” Acacia started and spelled the name, “created exer- cises for the pubococcygeus muscle. You can call it the PC muscle. Sup- posed to be helpful for childbirth. I don’t know about that, but the exer- cises give you control of the muscle that surrounds anything that happens to be inside your vagina.” Louise’s eyes grew larger. “You mean I could learn to squeeze him when he’s...” “Exactly.” Acacia added, “He’ll probably go wild for it.” Louise turned from Acacia to Maxine. “This girl is amazing!” “Uh, Ace, do we have another study based on a sample size of one, here?” Maxine asked. “I run all my experiments on a single subject, Max. But there’s lots more evidence. This is an ancient technique known as ‘pompoir’ or 19 Her Gigolo 261

‘playing the flute.’ It’s taught in southeast Asian brothels. The girls that master the technique command better prices.” Maxine was impressed. She turned to Louise and said, “You’re right. She’s amazing.” “Herman and I divided our spheres,” Acacia explained. “He cooks in the kitchen.” “And you,” Louise said, again looking for clarity, “cook in another room?” “Exactly.” Then she added, “I do a lot of research while he cooks. That’s how I found Coolidge. And dopamine.” “You really take your ‘wifely duties’ seriously,” Maxine said to Aca- cia. The comment was half a question, half a compliment. “Absolutely.” Acacia agreed. At home she was determined to be a better cook than Herman, who was also studying cooking very seriously. “These Kegel balls.” Louise asked. “Where does one get them?” “Any adult toy store.” Louise made a mental note. A woman who could ‘play the flute’ would have a valuable skill, she thought.

20 Satin, Silk Persuasion

It had been the finest day of summer. A light rain had fallen before and during the dawn, washing the air and making the plants happy. Our fear- less explorers were reconvening to hear Louise tell about her shopping trip. ‘Shopping trip’ might be misleading. It is certainly correct when someone goes to the mall and makes a purchase. But when a woman brings her husband into a dressing room to help her try on intimate apparel... Tuesday, August 10, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise had driven. Maxine and Acacia had arrived on foot. After Ricky arrived with drinks, Louise proposed a toast to the superb weather. After they drank to the weather Louise added, “And here’s to the world-famous artist. She’s having her first show at the end of the month. A ‘major’ show.”

263 264 Explicitly Sexy II

“What’s the difference between a ‘show’ and a ‘major show’,” the attorney wanted to know. “I think ‘major’ means the gallery sets up a bar,” the reluctant artist speculated. “I’m working with George on plans. Free champagne,” Louise cor- rected. “This will be special. Max’s paintings run really big, so her show will be big, too.” Then she added, “Oh yes. I almost forgot. Here’s to Ace and Tom.” “Yesterday Tom and I were chatting,” Louise began. “I forget why, but I mentioned the name ‘Acacia.’ He asked, ‘Wasn’t that Ace Dono- van’s full name?’ I said yes, and then I realized that he didn’t know that ‘our lawyer’ was the same wee colleen he knew from high school. He told me to send his love. He’s really fond of you, Ace. Said he never could have passed his trig test without your help.” “That’s just like him,” Acacia said. “He was always the one.” “The one?” Louise asked. “Back then, when you guys were the ‘in crowd’ and little Ace tried to convince herself she didn’t care, there was just one that always had time for a friendly ‘Hi, Ace!’ when we passed in the hall,” Acacia explained. “I’ll tell you another thing about Tom,” Acacia went on. “Yes?” Louise queried politely. “There were exactly two people in the whole damn school who knew how smart he was.” “You and me?” Louise asked. “Don’t know about you. I was thinking me and Coach Schmidt.” “You know,” Louise interrupted, “I’d always thought about that. Tom was no scholar, but he seems to understand other things. Tell me more.” Acacia explained. “Fourth period study hall. Tom was staring at the textbook like it was written in Greek. I asked him if he wanted a little help. When I started asking him about sines and cosines, I knew he was in trouble.” “That’s what he told me, Ace. He said he was lost until you turned it into football.” 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 265

“That’s what I did,” Acacia continued. “I drew a pass play. Quarter- back, receiver, ball, yard lines on field. They made triangles. When he started completing the passes I drew he sucked up his trig like simple addition. We were at arctangents in no time. That’s when I realized how smart he was. “A couple fourth periods later he was explaining to me about reading defenses. Schmidty let Tom change the plays if the defenses weren’t right. That’s when I figured out that Coach Schmidt knew, too. “I was really jealous of the beautiful one, here,” Acacia said to Max- ine. “She had already claimed him.” The ‘beautiful one’ smiled. “I’m glad the wee colleen found Herman. Tom’s still fond of your freckled face, you know.” They drank to Acacia and Tom. Maxine asked Louise to get started. “Yes. Let’s see,” Louise said. “Friday night we’d had dinner and I’d been bossy. Then he tied me up and made me suffer unspeakable tortures, and then I was bossy again. We must have been tired. I slept so late I almost had to turn in my ‘country girl’ card. I’ll start when my day started.” Louise told her story, with enough detail to satisfy even Maxine. The mistress and her gigolo had slept late. After breakfast (she’d made oat- meal) she had treated him to a quickie so that he didn’t get too excited helping her try on corsets. (It had not worked. He got excited helping her try on corsets. Black satin, steel busks and half cups can have that effect.) The experienced saleslady had suggested that Louise try on the C-cup corset in the dressing room but, for at home wear, purchase the B-cup corset. Louise had taken her advice. Tuesday, 8/10/04, 6:35 P.M. The Rose Café. “Talk about amazing,” Acacia said. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. This was on the 10th of July, a month ago today. Right?” Louise nodded her agreement. “I didn’t stumble over dopamine until about two weeks later, when we were on vacation.” Louise nodded again. “Now let’s see. You get him talking about sexy underthings on your way to dinner, the day before. Then non-stop dopamine through dinner and back home. Right?” Louise was still agreeing, though she was blush- ing. “And then you take him to bed, where you go at it until some time in the middle of the night.” Louise was starting to get quite embarrassed. “Then you give the poor boy a break for a short nap and breakfast. After breakfast you talk about orgasms. Then off to bed to have some, right?” 266 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh, please, Ace. You make it sound like all we ever do is have sex.” “You’re interrupting. After your morning quickie you drag him to the mall, talking about corsets. Then into the dressing room to try them on. Then, on the way home, you talk about...” Louise was quite red. “We talked about how his wife might thank him for being such a gentleman,” she said. “You talked about having sex in the afternoon before you have sex in the evening, right?” “Well,” Louise tried to explain, “a girl does have to keep up with her ‘wifely duties,’ doesn’t she?” Maxine interrupted. “Oh, shut up, Ace. I want to hear about the way she thanks her gallant husband.” “Please, Max,” Louise said, “no more tonight. Let’s have another drink and talk about bicycles. How far were you riding, Ace?” Maxine caught Ricky’s eye. Ricky waved to Jerry and pointed to the ladies. “I think you must have set a world record for keeping him thinking about one thing, Lou,” Acacia said, refusing to change the subject. “The poor man was soaked in dopamine.” “Well, that was your idea, Ace,” Louise said, defending herself. “You used to say, ‘it makes a girl feel proud.’ Now how was your riding?” Louise inquired again, trying to change the subject. “And our husband and wife must have been discussing the male refractory period and how new clothes might shorten it. I think husband and wife were agreed on a quickie in the afternoon—following the quickie in the morning—before she wore the corset in the evening. And this before any mention of Coolidge.” “You did get to ride your new bicycle?” Louise asked, still trying. Acacia gave in. “Herman was alternating fives and tens (8 and 16km). I rode with him. Mostly on paved roads. The cabin was on a dirt road. All flat.” “The ‘C’ group’s Saturday ride is 12 miles,” Louise said. “We could ride with you.” “How long is the ‘B’ group’s ride,” Acacia asked. 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 267

“30 miles. That’s too far for you,” Louise answered. “Graduating from 10 to 12 would be sensible. Save 30 for next year.” “Let me go with the ‘C’ group on my own, guys. I’ll catch up with you soon enough. Herman’s become quite an expert at providing ‘first aid’ for a bad case of bicycle buns.” Maxine thought about their last discussion on this topic. “Does the cyclist recommend massages or gentle kisses?” The cyclist quoted herself. “Get the hell out of my bedroom.” Ricky came to her rescue with a fresh round of margaritas. Maxine returned to her favorite subject. “Let’s see, Lou. You have to thank your husband for his gallantry, right? That will get us through Sat- urday afternoon. And I insist that we be filled in on the effect of your purchases on Saturday evening. That will confirm or contradict our ‘being new’ theory. And then we come to Sunday afternoon. Do you have anything to tell us about Sunday afternoon?” Louise blushed again. “Actually, we had quite an interesting day on Sunday. He had, after all, won me for the weekend.” “At the rate you’re going, Lou, we’ll need the rest of the summer just to finish your weekend.” Maxine may have thought she was exaggerating as she said this. “I’ll have to check the chemistry,” the attorney interjected. “This woman might be consuming dopamine faster than the planet produces it.” Louise smiled as she blushed. “One’s ‘wifely duties’ must be taken seriously, counselor.” As they sipped their margaritas the chat turned to pleasant subjects, including the minor economic recovery La Pierre was enjoying. Acacia’s practice was keeping her busy. Tom was attending closings regularly. Louise was finishing the details of her artist’s first gallery showing. Her- man’s websites were in demand. For a ‘major’ show, the artist and her agent would need something to wear. A shopping trip was scheduled. And the artist was finishing another canvas. She said that Botticelli was due much of the credit, as was her model. Her new canvas wasn’t like any she had done before. 268 Explicitly Sexy II

Wednesday, August 11, 2004, 10:00 A.M. Maxine’s coupe to Steel. If you owned a convertible, the day was special. The temperature was low (by mid-August standards), the air was dry and the blue sky was dec- orated with occasional fluffy cumulus. The day was perfect for a drive with the top down. Maxine had already backed her sky-blue coupe out of the carriage house when Louise drove in. The coupe’s top was down. Maxine was standing next to it. Louise parked beside the coupe, got out and grabbed Tom’s suit jacket from the back of her car. “That doesn’t fit you,” Maxine observed. “No. It’s Tom’s. I thought I’d look for something to match the color.” They both got in. Louise stretched her arms up, enjoying the open top. “I only get the top down a dozen times in a good year,” Maxine said. “This is special.” And she headed north. The highway was south of the village. “Where are we going?” Louise wanted to know. “We’re going to my tailor. Moore’s Mountain, north of Steel.” “Don’t you usually buy the dress and then take it to the tailor?” “Lou, I’m a size 6 from the waist down and a well-filled 12 up top. I can’t wear ready-made.” “Oh.” Louise thought about this. Being ‘well-endowed’ did seem to have a down side. “What about me?” she asked. “We’ll have her make something for you, too. My treat.” Louise protested, but to no avail. Maxine was treating Louise to a custom dress. It wouldn’t, Maxine claimed, cost much more than ready-made when you added in the tailoring. “I almost forgot. You’ll never guess who called,” Maxine said, remembering last night’s surprise. Louise couldn’t guess. “Remember Jil- lian? Rose’s lover?” (‘My lover’ had been Rose’s phrase when introduc- ing Jillian.) “She wants to get back together with Rose.” “Didn’t she leave for the left coast?” Louise asked. “Yeah, San Francisco. But she’s back in Detroit now.” 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 269

“I think maybe we should make sure Rose comes to your opening.” “You’re a genius, Wilson. They could just ‘accidentally’ bump into each other there.” “Yes,” Louise thought out loud. “Just ‘accidentally.’ You make such a cute little Cupid, Max. 100 good karma points. Now maybe you won’t come back as a spider.” “Oh, shit. I wanted to be a spider,” Maxine said. “What dresses should we get?” Louise asked. “Should we get two the same, like sisters?” “Maybe we could do the same color, different styles,” Maxine sug- gested. “Our figures aren’t quite like sisters.” They enjoyed the weather, and talked about styles. A plan evolved. Modest necklines for both. For Louise, backless to emphasize what was in front. For Maxine, a high slit to show a leg. Wednesday, 8/11/04, 10:45 A.M. Maxine’s tailor. A small sign outside the modest bungalow said ‘Sewing.’ An elderly Bavarian woman answered the door, “Velcum. Velcum Maxine. Und who iss dis beautiful vun?” “Louise, meet Diedrika.” The front room, once the home’s living room, was Diedrika’s shop. A pattern lay on a table, pinned to the lace beneath it. Louise had brought the jacket in. They discussed the dresses they wanted. “So,” Diedrika said, “you go to zee vedding?” No, they were going to see a new artist’s opening at an art gallery. “Ah. Drinking zee cham- pagne mit all zee rich people.” “Off mit zee clothes. I measure.” Diedrika pointed to a screen behind which a person could undress. Maxine went first, stripping down to bra and panties. She stood on a small platform while the tailor measured and made notes. “You remember,” she said pulling her tape around Maxine’s waist. “69. And...” she measured the hips, “94. Very nice.” She wrote in her book. “Now,” her tape went around the breasts, “Ooo, zee men, they like. 107.” Louise was next. She stood on the platform. Maxine looked at her and said, “Uh, Lou. Didn’t we say backless?” 270 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh.” Louise was already flustered. One stepped behind a screen to modestly remove clothes, and then stepped out in front of the screen, in nothing but underwear. In her case it would have to be even less than underwear. This was immodest, indeed. She handed her bra to Maxine. Diedrika measured and made notes while Louise blushed. Maxine watched and grinned. After measuring, Diedrika turned on her computer, leading them to a catalog of dress patterns. Sheaths. Floor-length. They drilled down. Hal- ter neck for Louise. Modest V-neck for Maxine. The dresses took shape on the computer. Louise’s was backless. Maxine was told not to worry about the slit. Diedrika didn’t need a pattern for a slit. The tailor ordered a size 6 pattern and a 14 for Maxine, who protested. “Bigger I can make smaller,” Diedrika explained. “Smaller I cannot make bigger.” For Louise, she ordered a 4 and an 8. Louise asked if she was sure. “I look like I am not sure?” the tailor asked, sounding indignant. They agreed on almond. Louise picked a lustrous poly charmeuse but Maxine insisted they needed genuine silk. After Maxine paid a deposit they left for the mall. Shoes and bags were next. “What do you think, Modesty?” Maxine teased as they got in the car. “I think you were cruel, laughing at me like that,” the modest one answered. Maxine laughed again. “You’re right. I told you I wanted to come back as a spider.” Louise smiled and laughed too. The day was beautiful. And she had never had a dress made just for her. “Size 4 and size 8,” Louise wondered out loud. “Ever had trouble getting something to fit?” Maxine asked, some- what more sympathetically. “Never thought about it before, but almost always with dresses,” Louise remembered. “Now you know why.” Louise digested this thought. A bit upsetting, but quite pleasing. Then another stray thought drifted into her mind. “Did you get a discount because we didn’t buy sleeves, Sexy?” 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 271

As they approached the mall, Louise added another thought. “Did I say ‘thank you,’ you precious, wonderful friend? This is a first for me and I’m excited.” “I’m seducing you,” Maxine warned. Friday, August 13, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. The day was too beautiful for the middle of August. If you suffered from triskaidekaphobia you were worried. If you enjoyed superstitions but didn’t take them seriously, as Louise did, it still seemed a little too good to be true. At least until she entered the cafe. Their usual table was empty. The bar was nearly empty, too. She stopped at the bar and asked Jerry for a water while she waited. He scooped ice into a goblet, poured the water and added a lemon wedge. She carried it to their table. Louise sat down with her water. No Max. No Ace. Well, today was Friday the 13th, after all. She decided that the problems were on the mild side, considering. She sipped and daydreamed about custom dresses. Louise looked up when the door creaked. It was Maxine. Hurrying along not far behind her was a petite redhead. Friends seated, drinks ordered, weather praised, Louise was asked to continue her story. “You’d made oatmeal,” Acacia remembered. “Very nice little detail.” “Not as good as your oatmeal story, Ace,” Louise said, taking her first swallow. Then, “Let’s see. We’d gone to the mall. I dragged my poor victim, I mean husband, into the dressing room to help with the laces. We were coming home. I’d promised him a nice ‘thank you.’ Let’s see.” Saturday (July 10, 1994 continued), 12:30 P.M. Louise and Tom’s home. In the car coming home, Louise teased her husband (still half stiff from the scenes in the dressing room). He wanted her to try the corset on as soon as they got home. She thought it would look better by candlelight, after sundown. But she did think he deserved her thanks for braving the lingerie department. Her thanks, a pre-lunch quickie, were something a smart woman might think wise if she wished her husband to accompany her to similar destinations in the future. The ‘quickie’ was not rushed. 272 Explicitly Sexy II

Friday, 8/13/04, 6:50 P.M. The Rose Café. “Isn’t she sweet, Ace?” Maxine asked. “I mean getting him higher than a kite on all that dopamine and making sure he doesn’t waste it by coming too soon.” “Masterful technique,” Acacia agreed. “Are your paintings that good, Max?” Louise blushed. Acacia and Maxine were grinning. “No way, Ace. I labor over little details,” Maxine answered. “She does it effortlessly.” “Blessed with the best equipment,” Acacia pointed out. “You’re embarrassing me,” Louise complained, factually. Then she added, “That’s really unfair. I’ve learned to be quite a different person than I used to be. You gave me the courage to try, Ace. I was quite afraid, at first.” “What is it she says, Max?” Acacia asked. “Pish and tosh?” Then she turned to Louise. “I love how you give me all that credit, Lou. But I know who should really get the credit. And you are making it seem effortless, you’ve become so good.” “Oh, pish tosh,” Louise demurred. “I’d like more details about Saturday night,” Maxine suggested. “I’m not sure Lou really told us all about Tom’s reaction to the beautiful one in a low-cut corset. Talk about dopamine.” “It’s getting late,” Acacia said. Louise thanked Acacia. She wasn’t up to elaborating on the story. Changing the subject, she asked, “How is that new painting coming along, Max?” “Come on. Drive me home and I’ll let you take a look.” Acacia settled the bill. Maxine and Louise left together. Friday, 8/13/04, 7:05 P.M. Outside Maxine’s studio. Louise had unlocked the passenger door for Maxine, then let herself into the driver’s side. It dawned on her that she was alone with Maxine. And that they would be alone in the studio. She remembered the first time she had been alone with Maxine in the studio. 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 273

She remembered how the painter had persuaded the model to take off her jersey and bra so the painter could sketch her tits. Her naked tits. She remembered how the painter and her model had both finally admit- ted their physical attraction (admitted it to themselves and to each other). She remembered how the painter had scrubbed the bench with her cover- alls so she could lie on it. Louise was turning her car off outside Maxine’s studio when she realized that they had not said a word since getting into the car. She turned to Maxine who was looking back at her. “Have you been looking at me like that since you got in the car?” Louise asked. “I guess so. I was remembering the time I made the sketches.” “I was remembering that time too.” They looked at each other. Louise remembered counting the planks in the ceiling while Maxine drew her breasts. She wondered if Maxine felt the same tension she felt. “Let’s go look,” Maxine urged. “See what I’ve done with those beau- tiful tits.” Friday, 8/13/04, 7:15 P.M. Maxine’s studio. They both got out and Maxine led the way into the carriage house. “We had our cycling clothes on. I remember taking off my cleats,” Louise said. “And how you warned me about splinters.” “Yup. Be careful,” Maxine agreed. Maxine led the way up the stairs into her studio. There was a spring in her step. Louise followed slowly. Carefully. Almost reverently. This was a special place. When Louise got to the top, the late daylight was coming through the back window wall. Louise saw the easel and the frame in back of the canvas. She wondered what the light would show on the painted side. The model’s bench was between her and the easel. She remembered lying on it, counting the planks in the ceiling. Maxine was sitting on the bench with her hand held out. Louise walked to Maxine, but instead of taking her hand she knelt on the floor. She lay her head in Maxine’s lap and wrapped her arms around Maxine’s waist. 274 Explicitly Sexy II

Maxine was surprised. And she was happy. She stroked the blonde hair in her lap. Louise hugged Maxine. Then she said, “I’m scared, Max.” Maxine went on stroking the blonde hair. “Scared?” she asked. “What’s to be scared of? Splinters?” “No. I’m scared of you, Max.” “Afraid I’ll try to kiss you?” “Or afraid you won’t. I don’t know which.” “I’d love to kiss you, sweet Lou. Would you like to make love with me?” “Yes. Yes I would. That’s why I’m scared.” “Because you don’t do that kind of thing?” “I promised Tom.” Louise hugged Maxine more tightly. “You promised yourself, didn’t you Lou.” Louise knew that was true, too. “I tell you what,” Maxine said. “Just this once I’ll let you keep that promise, if you pay me.” “Pay you?” “Yes. I need someone to fondle my tits. Let go.” As Louise let go and lifted her head, Maxine stretched out on the bench. “Here,” she said, patting the bench next to her. “Sit here and fon- dle my big boobs.” Louise laughed. There was almost nothing she would rather do. She sat next to Maxine and reached for the breasts that she thought were so sexy. Her touch was gentle. Almost tentative. She pushed from the out- side, squeezing Maxine’s ‘sexy big boobs’ together. Then she let her hands slide over the points where the nipples were hidden by blouse and bra. She traced circles around the hidden areolas. “You like my big boobs, Kinky?” “I love them, Sexy. And I love you too.” Louise began to squeeze them one at a time, her two small hands fondling one breast, then the other. 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 275

“You’re so much better than a vibrator.” “You’re just trying to seduce me with that sweet talk.” Maxine lay on the bench, enjoying the two small hands on her breasts. Louise fondled, squeezed and caressed, sometimes one breast at a time, sometimes both together. Eventually, Maxine spoke. “Want to look at your tits?” “Do I have to stop fondling these sexy big boobs?” “You can stand behind me and hold my boobs while you look.” “OK.” Louise was curious. She expected more abstract shapes. Per- haps more distinctly breast-like shapes. Maxine got up, walked to a light switch and flicked it on. Then she stood in front of the canvas on her easel. The canvas was 3 ft. (90cm) square. Louise wrapped her arms around Maxine, taking a breast in each hand, ignoring the painting while she enjoyed the feeling in her palms. Then she looked. It made no sense. “What’s this?” Maxine said, “I’m calling it From the Heart of a Friend. Really it should be From the Heart of Louise but I thought a little discretion was a good idea.” Louise said, “Oh. Thank you.” And she looked at a painting that combined elements of classic still life and modern abstraction. The rela- tionship between the painting and her breasts was not apparent. Perhaps there was no relationship. “Not hitting you, is it?” Maxine asked. “Botticelli didn’t see it either.” “What did Botticelli say?” “He said I was crazy. But he had a full-grown woman being born out of a clam shell. Talk about crazy.” “Your draftsmanship is superb, Max. Like that vase with the reflec- tions. But I’ve just got no clue. I thought you were doing my tits.” “I am. I’ll be finished in a few days.” “Maybe when you’re finished...” 276 Explicitly Sexy II

“Or maybe a few days after. Maybe a few years after. No hurry.” Louise stared. Lilacs. Dried leaves. Abstract shapes with no hint of breasts. Oh well. Max wasn’t a realist. Not when it came to her painting. “I’ve got to be getting home, Max.” “You’ll have to let go of my boobs, Lou.” “Really? Can’t I take them home with me?” “No. You insisted I keep them, remember?” Louise remembered. “But they’re so nice to hug.” Maxine lifted one hand at a time away from her breasts. Then she turned to face Louise. “Could I interest you in a ‘good night’ kiss?” “I knew it. I knew you’d try to kiss me.” Their arms were wrapped around each others’ waists. “Yes,” Maxine said. “I’m going to hold you right here until you let me kiss you.” Louise lay her head on Maxine’s shoulder. “But after you kiss me you’ll send me home. I think I’ll just let you hold me. I don’t want to go home yet.” “It’s time, sweet Lou.” “Oh, all right. If you insist.” Louise lifted her head and kissed Maxine’s lips gently. Then she slid her lips softly across Maxine’s. She put a hand behind Maxine’s head and pushed Maxine’s lips into her own. Neither opened her mouth. Some- thing about the kiss said it wasn’t the time for tongues. They held the kiss while the rest of the world disappeared. There was nothing but a warm embrace with lips pressing together. Maxine finally raised a hand and swatted Louise’s rear. “I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said. Louise leaned back. “Do I have to go?” Maxine laughed. “Hell, no, bitch. Come on into the house and we’ll call Tom. Tell him I’m not sending you back for a couple days.” Louise laughed, too. “I love you, Max. I love you for not forcing yourself on me.” “Who was forcing what on whom?” 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 277

“You know that if you hadn’t settled for a nice boob fondling I would have ended up in your bed.” “You know that I said ‘just this once.’ I still want you in my bed. I’m an artist. I like beautiful things.” “Oh, Max. I’m not sure I’d like it. I mean, I’m sure I’d like it, but it might not feel right afterward.” “You’d better get out of here before we both change our minds.” Louise followed Maxine down the stairs and out to Louise’s car. Louise got in and turned the car on. She lowered the window. Maxine knew what would happen if she leaned over beside the window. She leaned over beside the window. A finger traced a line down Maxine’s cheek. A slow, sensuous line. “Thank you for inviting me in, Sexy,” a loving voice said. Maxine said good night and stood up. Louise backed out of the driveway. She tried to shift her mind from ‘R’ into ‘D.’ Tuesday, August 17, 2004, 10:30 A.M. Louise and Tom’s kitchen. First corn was waiting at farm stands. Beefsteak tomatoes arrived. Any- one with a sharp knife and a bit of lettuce could make a superb tomato salad. Just add vinegar and oil. (Extra virgin oil, of course. The lettuce was decorative.) And the true dog days had arrived. The temperature and the humidity were both in the 90s (32+C). But by now people had adjusted. Mid- August was summer, after all. Louise, however, would find the day required a different sort of adjustment. Louise had been thinking that weekday mornings were ideal for grocery shopping. The aisles were empty, the shelves were full and the checkout lines were non-existent. This pleasant reflection had been interrupted by the need to focus on carrying two grocery bags while negotiating the door from garage to kitchen. When she set her bags down, she saw the message on the machine. She punched ‘play’ as she put the groceries away. “Hi Louise. George here,” the now-familiar voice said. “Got a matter that’s quite important. Call me ASAP. Thanks.” 278 Explicitly Sexy II

What could he want? Louise was either at the gallery or on the phone with George quite regularly, arranging Maxine’s show. (George sensed Maxine’s ambivalence. He was quite happy to leave the delicate job of stroking the artist to Louise.) But what could be required ASAP? Louise decided that getting the milk into the fridge ASAP was probably more pressing. Then she returned the call. “Hi, George. Louise. What’s up?” Damn. The fridge door hadn’t shut properly. Open and close it again. There. “Oh! How nice.” One of George’s regulars had seen Maxine’s paint- ings in the gallery and wanted to buy one. “So what did you tell him?” Price, according to the standard agreement, was to be ‘mutually agreed’ between artist and gallery. “Say again, George?” She thought he had said $25,000. Telephone static? George repeated, slowly, “twenty, five, thousand, dollars.” And he added, as Detroit was on the border, “U.S. dollars.” Louise tried to recover quickly. George, answered her question. No, he had never thought a new artist could get such a sum. “I thought you were a good salesman, George. I think I underestimated you. I’ll tell Maxine.” George warned her that the artist’s reaction could not be predicted. He didn’t want to upset Maxine before their show. “Don’t worry, part- ner,” Louise assured him. “You take care of the buyers. I’ll take care of the artist.” Louise wondered about the artist. She decided that she should deliver the message in person. Perhaps even accompany the message with a dis- traction. She rang Maxine’s house. No answer. Maxine had given her the number in the studio, but she had never used it. This was the time to try. “Hi, Max. Can I come visit?” Permission was granted. “I’ll tell you when I get there. I’m on my way.” Instead of going out to the garage she went to her room and sat at her dressing table. She ran her brush through her hair. She tried to calm her- self. This was just a single sale, she thought. The show could still be a flop. Try not to be so excited. Breath in, all the way. Exhale slowly. It wasn’t working. Focus on Maxine. How would Maxine react? She got up and walked slowly, deliberately slowly, down the hall, through the kitchen, into the garage. I’ll drive slowly, she thought. 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 279

Tuesday, 8/17/04, 11:10 A.M. Maxine and Frank’s house. Maxine was standing in the carriage house doorway (she had just opened the door) when Louise drove up. “What’s up?” she asked. Louise had never called her in the studio. It had to be important. Louise stood in front of her looking very serious. “What’s up?” Maxine repeated. “Did I ever tell you I thought your boobs were sexy?” Louise asked, and then allowed herself a small smile. “I think you might have said that,” Maxine answered. “Did you come over here just to say it again?” “Would you like it if I had?” Louise parried. “Sweet Lou. You really are a bitch. A sexy bitch. Did you come over here to do more than just say it?” “I’m not about to show you what I want to do while we’re standing outdoors,” Louise parried, again. Maxine held up a paint-stained hand. “Come on into the house. I could use a sink.” She led the way through the back door of the house, into the kitchen. Scrubbing her hands, Maxine asked, “Did you really call because you couldn’t resist my big boobs?” “No, actually,” Louise said. “George called with good news. I thought that if I delivered it in person you might force me to fondle your sexy big boobs again. When I saw you standing there I remembered how much I’d enjoyed fondling them.” “You really like them, don’t you.” This was a statement, not a ques- tion. “We can go upstairs. I liked the fondling but that bench is pretty hard.” “Business before pleasure. George sold one of your paintings.” “Really? I didn’t know we’d put them on sale.” “He hung them in the lobby, remember? One of his customers came in, looked and just had to have one.” “Like you looking at my boobs?” 280 Explicitly Sexy II

“Pretty much, except he’ll get to take the painting home after the show. Anyway, I want both your boobs, not just one.” “You can take me home after the show.” “Aren’t you going to ask how much he paid?” “Oh shit. Am I supposed to ask that?” “No. I guess not. That’s what agents are for. We got a good price.” Maxine finished drying her hands. Then she kicked off her flip-flops and stepped out of her coveralls. Her studio was not air conditioned. Under her coveralls she wore just bra and panties. She approached Louise with a distinctly predatory look. “I like beautiful things, you know.” “I like your sexy big boobs.” Louise held out her arms. Their arms wrapped around each other. Their noses were almost touching. Louise kissed the tip of Maxine’s nose. Then she let her lips caress Maxine’s lips gently. Maxine tried for a real kiss. Louise turned her head, letting Maxine’s lips land on her cheek. Louise spoke softly in Maxine’s ear. “Turn around.” Louise opened her arms a bit. Maxine let go and turned her back to Louise. Louise took one breast in each hand and squeezed gently. Maxine let her head fall back on Louise’s shoulder. “That’s nice,” Maxine said as the small hands caressed her breasts. Then she added, “It hooks in back.” “Business before pleasure. According to your agreement, the prices have to be mutually agreed.” “Should I agree?” “You should agree to let me fondle your sexy big boobs. Even with- out taking your bra off.” “OK. But if you change your mind, the hooks are right in front of you.” “The price was fine, too.” “If I agree to it, will you kiss me?” 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 281

“You drive such a hard bargain.” And Louise finally relented. Trying to sound reluctant, she said, “OK. But just a kiss.” Maxine enjoyed the hands caressing her breasts. She was in no hurry to collect her kiss. Eventually, a hand left her chest. A finger stroked her cheek. The finger was slow, sensuous, teasing. A voice whispered in her ear, “Time for me to go, Sexy. Do you want that kiss?” Maxine turned to collect her kiss before Louise left. Tuesday, 8/17/04, 12:20 P.M. Louise and Tom’s house. When Louise got home she called George. “Maxine agreed with the price.” George was, of course, pleased. “Are artists always so touchy?” Louise asked. (Louise had chosen ‘touchy’ with care. She was quite sure that George would not picture the touching she could still feel.) George assured her that artists were seldom good business people. And he con- gratulated Louise on being so persuasive. After she hung up, Louise wondered about being ‘persuasive.’ She tried to be pleased with her success. She failed. Had she actually used sex, or the promise of sex, to ‘persuade’ Maxine? Or had she just used it to get another chance to fondle her boobs? Was this right? She had been secretly thrilled when Maxine and Acacia said she was handling Tom ‘effortlessly.’ She had handled Maxine effortlessly. With a tease. What kind of woman would do that? And she certainly did like fondling those boobs. Was she... No. She thought about Tiger, the calico cat she had grown up with. She had loved Tiger. When she had grown old enough to pet gently, not grab, she had spent hours stroking her. That wasn’t sex. But with Maxine, the fondling could easily have led on, couldn’t it? She had been so close to unhooking that bra. Fondling sexy big boobs could have become kissing sexy big boobs. A nipple could have stiffened under her tongue. She had never wanted to lick Tiger. And what about Maxine? Suppose her show was a big success. Would that make Maxine happy? Did Maxine want to sell her paintings? Did Maxine like having her boobs caressed? Or was she just enjoying the attention? Or the compliment? It must be nice to have someone wanting to caress your boobs. Like having someone wanting to paint your breasts, even if the painting didn’t look at all like breasts. 282 Explicitly Sexy II

I need to talk to someone about this, she thought. But who? Her talk- ing partners were Acacia and Maxine. Someone else. Tom? Did she want to tell him how much she liked Maxine’s boobs? But didn’t he already know? Did the idea turn him on? Wasn’t that what Maxine had asked? She was confused. Life was complicated. No it wasn’t, she told her- self. She had a husband she loved and a girlfriend she flirted with. Life was simple and good. Wasn’t it? (Louise had persuaded Maxine ‘effort- lessly.’ Persuading herself was proving much more difficult.) Tuesday, 8/17/04, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. Our storyteller had showered, dressed and arrived promptly, in spite of her confusion. Louise had waved to Jerry on her way in. “Three of them?” Jerry asked. The painter arrived just after Louise. The painter was happily spend- ing full time in her studio, save for brief (and welcome) interruptions from her agent. The attorney had closed her office at the stroke of 5:00 and started her three-block journey. Ricky arrived with three margaritas just after Maxine sat down, sec- onds before Acacia would join them. When the final member of the trio was seated they raised their glasses. For the first time, no one spoke. They looked at each other. Did no one have a toast? Certainly the weather would win no kudos. Finally, Acacia said, “To the dopamine queen.” Louise lowered her eyes, modestly. Maxine said, “I can’t wait to see her in that corset. I bet it’s hot.” Louise looked up and offered her own toast. “To things that are hot.” Acacia offered, “To thong bikinis.” Seeing Rose passing by, Maxine said, “And black Italian kidskin boots. Mid thigh. With laces.” Rose heard, of course. She detoured to Maxine’s side of the table, kissed Maxine’s cheek and whispered in her ear (loudly enough so every- one could hear), “I think of you every night, darling.” Rose was on her way when Acacia stopped her. “You’re just the per- son I need to talk to, Rose. Will you join us when you have a moment?” 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 283

Rose was just making her first tour of the evening. She agreed to stop on the way back. Louise and Maxine wanted to know what was up. “Researching. I realized that the Internet wasn’t always the easy way.” This did not, of course, answer the question. Rose finished her tour, picked up a wine spritzer from the bar and sat down next to Acacia. The attorney thanked her for joining them. “I assume you have a question about running a small cafe,” Rose began, “as that is my only claim to expertise.” “No,” the attorney said, succinctly. “I was researching vulvas.” “Oh!” Rose was clearly startled. “Well, I think we all have one.” “Yes,” Acacia agreed, “but it is a question of perspective. I wanted yours.” “If I can help,” Rose offered. “It concerns the hair, or possibly, the lack of hair. Some women wear theirs long and natural and at the other extreme, some women shave bald. If you could...” and here Acacia stumbled. “If I could what?” Rose asked, guessing. Acacia had embarrassed herself. “I mean, if...” Maxine laughed at Acacia’s red face. “She’s blushing, Lou. The Ace has gone all red.” “Oh, stop it,” the attorney protested. Maxine laughed louder. Louise joined her. Rose came to her rescue. “Are you trying to ask how I would prefer that my lover kept herself?” she asked. “Yes.” Acacia was grateful for the help. “Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s nothing to be shy about. Don’t men kiss their women there?” Rose’s frankness was winning. “Let me see,” Rose began. “I have probably had fewer lovers than you might imagine. But from my rather small sample, I’d say that hair is not as nice as skin on any part you might want to kiss. I would think that 284 Explicitly Sexy II a husband who is clean-shaven would get more kisses on his chin than one with a full beard.” Maxine and Louise were laughing uncontrollably. Rose waited for the laughter to subside. “Heavens,” she said, “we were just talking about kissing chins. Do your husbands shave?” Rose began to detail the possibilities. “Let’s start with long and natu- ral. I suppose that look goes well with tattoos and motorcycles. Not really my taste, but I try not to judge. “Then there is the neatly trimmed look. That’s much nicer. Still I wouldn’t think that hair is as nice as skin for kissing. I assume we would all like to be kissed, from time to time, wouldn’t we?” Two of her listeners giggled. Acacia encouraged her to keep going. “Then there’s the clean-shaven approach. I think it’s far more kiss- able, but that’s just me, of course. Some women like it all bald. Some prefer to leave a little, decorative bit just over the mons. Going all bald may be too girlish for some. Maxine could never look girlish, so she doesn’t have to worry. Acacia here, because she’s small...” Acacia coughed, as if a bit of margarita had stuck in her throat. Per- haps she didn’t want Rose to use her for an example. “Well, where was I?” Rose began again. “Oh yes. All bald or deco- rated. I’d say if you have any doubt, leave a bit of decoration. Easy enough to shave it off, but harder to grow it back if you start all bald.” “Of course bald doesn’t mean shaving. Waxing is better, but it does hurt. Shaving has to be done carefully. Going against the grain or using anything but the sharpest razor will leave you all bumpy. No one wants to kiss razor bumps.” Acacia grabbed Rose’s arm and kissed her shoulder. “I knew you’d know, Rose. You’re so much nicer than my rude friends.” “Thank you, Ms. Donovan. May I add one more thing?” Of course she could, Acacia told her. “If you have a partner, just ask her. Or him, I guess, if you go that way. After all, she’s the one that has to kiss it. Let her help keep it kissable. Jillian and I used to have a very erotic ritual where we would... Well, you can imagine. Let her get it all nice and smooth and she will certainly want to kiss it. I should say ‘her or him’ I guess.” Rose got up. Acacia thanked her. 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 285

Louise was thinking about erotic rituals. Would... Maxine wanted to know, “What were you thinking about when you asked that, Ace?” “Different things to do to ‘be new,’ Max. Didn’t you hear her?” Maxine wondered what, if anything, she had missed. “I think the phrase she used was ‘very erotic ritual’,” the attorney said. “Sounds like a way to drown poor Coolidge in dopamine.” Maxine nodded her head thoughtfully. Certainly an experiment she would like to try. “Speaking of dopamine, Ace, this afternoon I was thinking about the big calico cat we had when I was a girl. Do you think petting your cat releases dopamine? People do enjoy it so much. Even the word ‘pet’ does double duty. ‘Pet’ is what you do to your ‘pet’.” Acacia’s eyebrows moved toward each other as she pondered. “It sounds possible. I’ll have to be on the lookout. And I think the word ‘pet- ting’ has two distinct uses, also.” “Yes,” Louise agreed. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Maxine and Acacia turned to the storyteller. Her turn had come. The storyteller did her best to stop thinking about petting and erotic rituals and start to think about her story. “Well, before I get to the corset there was another shopping trip. I should really start there because it comes into the evening story. And it’s a bit embarrassing so maybe it will help me stay humble. Humility’s a good thing.” Her listeners weren’t so sure about humility, but they encouraged her to go on. “I had just given my gallant husband a nice ‘thank you’ and we had showered afterward, if I remember where we left last time.” Louise and Tom had asked a search engine how many calories sex burned. One site said that the average coupling lasted six minutes and burned 21 calories. They thought that was ridiculous. But they thought the accompanying ad for Sintilla’s (an adult toy store ‘for romantic adventurers’) looked interesting. They decided to investigate. Tom had driven. Sintilla’s was not far from the mall. And it was very respectable. Louise, intrigued by Acacia’s ‘purple plastic penis’ and by 286 Explicitly Sexy II

Maxine’s frequent references to her own vibrator, had picked out a pink, penis-shaped (complete with testes) vibrator. They didn’t have purple. Tuesday, 8/17/04, 6:30 P.M. The Rose Café. “I think I’d better stop there,” Louise said. “The next part is quite long and doesn’t really have any good places for breaks.” “Lou, you are just fantastic,” Acacia gushed. “Herman and I have shopped together online, but never actually gone to a toy store. What was it like?” “It was like a store. Like a bookstore or a shoe store. Aisles, displays, sales people. That sort of thing.” “Nothing slightly seedy or naughty feeling?” Maxine wanted to know. “Actually,” Louise explained, “I think they worked rather hard to avoid anything like that.” “More dopamine while you stock up on new things to try. Your cre- ativity is amazing, Lou. Where is this place?” Acacia wanted to know. “Just before the mall, north of the airport. And yes, I would say that they had a large supply of new things to play with. That’s where I got the Kegel balls you suggested.” “You were right about the vibrator,”Acacia added. “I thought every- one had one. At least one.” “Not quite everyone.” “Get him to try the fingertip kind. Turns a man into a magician.” “You are wonderful, Ace,” Louise said. “So many ideas.” Louise’s mental ‘to do’ list now had another item. “You haven’t told us how the Kegel balls worked, Lou,” Maxine wanted to know. “I’m practicing and haven’t let him know. I want to get good at ‘playing the flute’ so I can surprise him.” Louise was working hard at ‘effortlessly.’ Acacia smiled to herself. Maxine looked worried. “What’s the matter, Max?” Louise asked. 20 Satin, Silk Persuasion 287

“Ten days to my show,” Maxine answered. “People are going to ask me all kinds of questions. How many ways can you say, ‘I don’t know’ or ‘because I felt like it’ without people figuring out that you don’t have a clue?”

21 Lust Dust and Good Vibrations

The heat of the dog days was waning. Late summer was warm and humid. Farm stands were full. Tomato lovers who cooked, as Herman did, were experimenting with the different varieties for their tomato sal- ads. At The Rose, Jerry was squeezing more fresh limes into the ready- made mix. His margaritas were perfect for accompanying long stories. Friday, August 20, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. Acacia arrived first. Louise had met traffic between the city and Russet Hills. She had gone straight to Maxine’s, not stopping to change. The artist was laboring over the final selection of paintings for the show. Louise had hurried her out of her coveralls and into more suitable drinking attire.

289 290 Explicitly Sexy II

After the briefest greetings, Louise asked Acacia, “Can you help me with her?” She was looking at Maxine. “She’s worse than I am at the end of the school year. Can’t bear to part with her children.” “Oh, shut up, Lou. I should just give George the twenty worst and not worry about it.” “Anybody want to fill me in?” Acacia asked. “George Ubuntu?” “George wants twenty paintings for Max’s show. Max has twice that many that she calls ‘ready.’ She has lots more that she just doesn’t think are good enough. But if the show’s a success, some of her paintings will be sold. That’s the point, of course.” “And you don’t really want to part with them?” the attorney asked Maxine. “We’ve even promised her careful, reproduction-quality photo- graphs,” Louise explained. “Poster-sized. We’ll sell some as posters in the gallery and Max can hang some in her house. The paintings right now are in storage where no one can see them. Not even Max.” “Ruthless bitch,” Maxine complained. “I expect she’d sell her own children if she could get a good price.” “Help me out, Ace,” Louise pleaded. “I’m no art critic,” Acacia began, “but I can’t see any value in a painting that no one can look at. There must be spiders up in that studio. Do you think the spiders enjoy your paintings, Max?” Maxine scowled. Louise proposed the first toast. “To spreading the joy of Gulden Modernism throughout the world.” Acacia raised her glass. All eyes were on Maxine. Maxine looked from one to the other. She settled her gaze on Louise. “Was that corset really sexy, bitch?” “If you’ll promise to choose some paintings for me, I’ll tell you all about it. You know what we called it?” Maxine didn’t know. “We called it ‘lust dust.’ Now stop pouting.” Maxine joined in the toast, although she was grumpy. 21 Lust Dust and Good Vibrations 291

“Did you notice the fresh lime juice?” Louise asked. “Jerry was squeezing limes when I came in. ” “Oh, before I forget, Lou, we’ve got a 2:00 o’clock appointment tomorrow to try on dresses,” Maxine said, as if it were a hardship. “Am I going to need an evening dress?” Acacia asked. “Naa. We’re doing long dresses but some will be in jeans. George calls it ‘Grosse Pointe Bohemian’.” Acacia was glad to hear this. “Now,” Louise said, “my artist is going to be a dear tomorrow and choose some paintings before we try on dresses. Right now I’m going to tell her about my corset. If I remember correctly, the artist wants to hear about the man’s reaction to this corset. Is that right, Max?” This was an old salesman’s trick. Get the customer to agree to some- thing. Maxine agreed. Louise did her best to keep her side of the bargain. She began by talking about the helpful, experienced saleswoman at Gymbals. How she had suggested trying on the ‘C’ cup model but taking home the ‘B.’ Not too comfortable, but good for your mate’s reaction. She told how he had laced her in the dressing room, making the corset snug. And how she’d made him keep tightening at home until it was totally tight. How her waist was smaller than it had been in years. How the not-quite-large-enough B cups pushed up mounds of tender breast skin. The result had looked sexy, she thought, looking in the mirror. Then she checked her sexometer. She had never seen so many veins. That had made her feel totally sexy. “In the bedroom,” Louise said, “I let him make me come, while he waited. Once or twice I think. We’d also bought a vibrator. Our first. I used that while he was inside of me. The vibrator was nice but the way he stared at me would have brought me over the top any way. It’s always hot when his tongue is between my thighs and he looks up at me. But the look in his eyes when they came up slowly across my never-been-so-flat tummy and then got stuck on my never-been-pushed-higher tits... I’ll never forget.” Louise confessed that she didn’t really know how often she had come. She remembered three separate sets of serial orgasms. Her last set 292 Explicitly Sexy II had been with him inside her, also coming. It may have been his longest orgasm ever, in spite of it being his third for the day. “We called it ‘lust dust’,” Louise explained. “The corset was sprin- kled with ‘lust dust’.” Friday, 8/20/04, 7:30 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise stirred the lime mix in the bottom of her glass and then swallowed the last of it. She gave a small smile to each of her listeners, hoping that they liked the story. Maxine looked at Louise and then turned to Acacia. “Isn’t she a sexy bitch?” Acacia answered, “She makes him sound pretty hot, too.” And after a moment, added, “Sorry. You asked a question. Yes. I’d say she’s a sexy bitch. The dopamine queen.” Louise stirred her empty glass. Inwardly, she was smiling. Perhaps beaming. Outwardly she was being modest. Maxine was becoming a big fan of Louise’s stories. “Wait a minute. You’ve only got us through Saturday. He still owns you, right?” “For the whole weekend,” Louise agreed. “I can’t wait. Is Sunday kinky?” “Well, let’s just say he has his way with me. You’ll have to wait for next Tuesday.” “You had a pretty good weekend, Lou,” Acacia observed. Louise chuckled. “The horny one said I was supposed to make her jealous.” They paid and left. Outside, Acacia grabbed Maxine’s waist and hugged her. “How’s she doing, ‘horny one.’ Keeping your spirits up?” “Fuck,” Maxine swore. “She’s got me selling my children just to hear her stories.” Louise laughed. She knew for the first time that Maxine was going to choose some paintings. “May I be nosy?” Acacia asked Maxine. “How much did you get for that painting?” “What did you get, Lou?” Maxine asked. 21 Lust Dust and Good Vibrations 293

Louise paused. “A nice price. Twenty-five thousand.” She tried to make it sound quite normal. “That’s a high price, isn’t it?” Acacia asked. “George said it was unprecedented for a new artist.” Acacia turned toward her car. Louise and Maxine walked toward Louise’s car. This was the first time that Maxine had heard the number. “That’s a lot of money, isn’t it?” she asked her agent. “Too soon to tell. Could be just a fluke. We’ll see how your show goes.” The agent wanted to keep her artist’s feet on the ground. She wanted twenty paintings for the show. The artist had never lacked for money, but she’d never earned much, either. Were people willing to pay for her work? Being independently wealthy would be nice, too, she thought. She would pick out paintings for George. They weren’t her children, after all. Tuesday, August 24, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. By Tuesday the weather was perfect, or as close to perfect as one could expect in August. Warm, but not hot. Low humidity. Blue skies with just enough clouds to be decorative. Two eager listeners and one story teller met to continue where they had left off. Acacia sipped her water, waiting patiently. Louise and Maxine had just come through the door. (They had warned her they would be late as they prepared for Maxine’s show on Friday.) Acacia noticed that they were both looking a bit frayed around the edges. “How’s it going,” Acacia asked. “Details, details and more details,” Louise lamented. “I thought we were done when we got the paintings there, all safe and sound. We were barely started.” “I really don’t know how to work with electric lights,” Maxine said. George had put her in charge of lighting her work, sensibly. Perhaps shrewdly. “George promised that it could be done by mixing the lights and using filters, but he didn’t tell me how hard it was.” 294 Explicitly Sexy II

“I’ve never seen anybody so fussy about anything before, Ace,” Louise said. “She’ll try to decide which is the right filter, switching end- lessly between two that look identical to me. I’ve learned to leave her alone.” “And the artist’s agent?” Acacia inquired. “Well, the show is open to the public over the weekend. It’s private Friday evening. George is teaching me how to juggle Detroit collectors. You can’t have Michigan Motors coming at the same time as Modt and Crystal, you know. But we’ve got enough buzz so that we couldn’t leave anyone out. We have a second private showing on Saturday to keep them apart.” “Very nice invitations, by the by.” Louise dug into her purse. “Here’s yours and Herman’s. And give him a big kiss from us. The photographer he sent is wonderful.” As Acacia put the invitations away, Rose walked by. Acacia and Louise both told her to stop. “My goodness, I do seem popular tonight,” Rose said, turning from one to the other. “Me first,” Louise said to Acacia. “You’re on the VIP list for Friday, Rose. You don’t need an invitation. Just tell the person at the door your name and mention ‘VIP list’.” Rose thanked her, quite flattered to be on the ‘VIP list.’ “My turn?” Acacia asked, just a bit peevishly. Louise apologized. “If you’d like to join us, Rose,” Acacia said, “I wanted to bring up vibrators at some point. You might like to listen or contribute any insights you care to share.” Rose gave Acacia’s shoulders a friendly rub. “You think lonely old maids like me would know about vibrators?” she asked. She didn’t sound offended. “Hey,” Maxine complained. “I’m in that club too.” “You don’t have to be lonely, darling,” Rose said, switching to Max- ine’s shoulders. “Oh, cut it out. I’ve got heterosexual tendencies. Can’t help it, Rose. I was born that way.” Rose laughed and promised to return. “Vibrators?” Louise queried. 21 Lust Dust and Good Vibrations 295

“A larger topic than I had guessed,” Acacia explained. “Your story, Friday, encouraged me to look into it.” Then Acacia asked Louise, “VIP list?” Louise smiled. “Doesn’t that sound special? Don’t tell, but the truth is we ran out of invitations.” George had put Louise in charge of crises. Rose completed her rounds, got a spritzer from the bar and joined them. Acacia got started. “In the nineteenth century, many women suffered from ‘hysteria.’ Symptoms included irritability and anxiety. Doctors relieved the condi- tion by bringing on the ‘hysterical paroxysm’ through a ‘pelvic massage.’ Today we would say they relieved sexual frustration by bringing on an orgasm through clitoral stimulation. The procedure was quite popular with women, but less so with doctors, as the ‘pelvic massage’ could be quite time consuming. “Human ingenuity being what it always has been, the vibrator was invented as a time-saving medical device. Before electricity came to us through wires, doctors installed generators the size of refrigerators to run these devices. When homes were electrified, women bought these medi- cal appliances for self treatment.” Rose was amazed. Amazed by the information Acacia imparted, and amazed that Acacia would have such information. “Are you telling us the historical truth?” she asked. Louise and Maxine were also amazed, but they had become accus- tomed to Acacia’s ability to amaze. They assured Rose that their petite friend dealt only in researched fact. Acacia continued. “It seems that the home vibrator was available a decade before the electric iron or the vacuum cleaner. The good old ‘hys- terical paroxysm’ kept those Victorian ladies from having anxiety or irri- tability attacks. One can imagine that the idea of a non-irritable wife must have appealed to Victorian gentlemen. “Unfortunately, the medical device made its way into early porn films, where its use seemed unmistakably sexual, not medical. And the modern, battery-powered vibrator, partially or completely modeled after the penis, became the standard. “This is quite unfortunate. The vagina has very few nerve endings, except at the opening, the G-spot and maybe near the cervix, although the deep end of the vagina is not well explored, medically. The most 296 Explicitly Sexy II common use of the vibrator is to stimulate the clitoris which commonly results in the ‘hysterical paroxysm’ we all love. “Now lets talk about types. I brought my purple plastic penis vibrator to illustrate a lecture. That’s the typical vibrator. Penis-shaped. Battery- powered. And not waterproof, so you really shouldn’t put it anywhere it might get wet. “Mine has a dial on the bottom that varies the speed. Too slow and I get irritable waiting for that hysterical paroxysm. Too fast and it’s, uh, it’s too fast. Now, who’s next?” “I think you could have started with the Wand,” Rose suggested. “I’ve never tried one,” Acacia confessed. “The Hitachi Magic Wand, right? Always the top-rated vibrator in any survey. Is it as good as every- one says, Rose?” Rose rolled her eyes. “In my job you can’t afford to be irritable,” she said. “You’re saying,” Louise queried, looking for perfect clarity, “that it’s good at relieving hysteria?” “You have to leave the switch on ‘Lo’,” Rose explained, “and then don’t touch yourself directly. A bit off to the side at first. From there you sort of sneak up on yourself. You’ll be coming before you get too close.” “What makes it so good?” Maxine wanted to know. “It runs on house current, not batteries. 110 volts, not three. At least I assume that’s the reason. If a lover really lights up your life, maybe it’s best not to ask why. She just does,” Rose answered. “What kind do you recommend?” Acacia asked Maxine. “Mine’s like your purple plastic penis, except that it’s bullet shaped. Single speed, but it’s just the right speed.” And she added, “Your turn, Lou.” “We got one like the one Ace showed us. Pink. They didn’t have pur- ple.” “I loved the way you pulled him into that, Lou,” Acacia said. “A man can feel threatened if his woman gets a vibrator.” “Especially if it’s penis-shaped,” Louise agreed. “I don’t think I’d get one that shape if I were getting my first one, now that I’ve learned a little.” 21 Lust Dust and Good Vibrations 297

“I don’t want to get preachy, but the penis shape isn’t for everyone,” Rose agreed. “And by the by, do you girls always have such interesting chats?” “Only when you join us, Rose,” Acacia said, as Rose got up to go on about her business. “Isn’t she great?” Acacia asked, when Rose left them. “I’ve got to try one of those Magic Wand things,” Maxine said. “I want to try those fingertip things Ace told us about a week ago,” Louise added. And that made Maxine think of men, which made her think of Louise’s marvelous weekend, which made her urge Louise to go on with her storytelling. Acacia seconded the motion. “OK. I think I had told you about Friday evening and Saturday. Sun- day arrived and I was still honor-bound to a condition of involuntary servitude.” “Involuntary?” Acacia thought the word was imprecise, at best. “Shut up, Ace. Let her talk,” Maxine ordered. “Thank you, Magic Max,” Louise said, adding another name for Sexy, and she resumed her story. Louise told the story of her submission to Tom, Sunday afternoon and evening, with enough details to make Maxine happy. Once again she had been subjected to the cruelest of tortures, causing repeated attacks of serial orgasms. He knew her well. He would bring her to the edge and slow down to keep her on the edge. Or bring her release by pushing her over the edge. “Poor baby,” Maxine had said sympathetically patting the story- teller’s hand (while wishing that it had been herself, not the storyteller, suffering through all those orgasms). Again, Louise had discovered that she preferred being in control. Before the sun went down she had become his Mistress again. “And,” Louise assured them, “they all lived happily ever after. The end.” Tuesday, 8/24/04, 6:30 P.M. The Rose Café. There was a long pause. Acacia thought the pause was respectful. Maxine didn’t know what to say. 298 Explicitly Sexy II

After appreciative remarks, Acacia reminded them that they would be together in Detroit, at Maxine’s show, not at The Rose on Friday. Louise blinked, shifting her mind from Sunday in her bedroom to Friday in the gallery. “Oh, yes. For a little while I’d forgotten the show. That was a nice little break.” They settled the check and left. Acacia told them she would see them Friday at the gallery. “And try not to kill each other before then. Deep breathing always helps when you get emotional.” Louise and Maxine assured her that they would keep it peaceful. After Acacia left, Louise asked, “Ready for another day tomorrow?” “Yeah. I think I’ll have my last one hung late tomorrow, maybe Thursday morning.” (This might have been a triumph of abstraction over realism.) “You want a ride home?” “Nah. Nice night. I’ll walk. I think I’ll have a long talk with my vibrator when I get home.” “Sounded like you were thinking about vibrator infidelity.” “You mean that Magic Wand? You’re right.” “Your secret’s safe with me. Pick you up at 9:00.” They shared a rather tired hug and peck ‘good night.’ 22 Opening Night

The weather was still beautiful, cool and dry. This was a blessing as Maxine had made slow progress lighting her work. Louise was in charge of crises. (She would never again try to give Maxine ‘yellow’ filters when Maxine needed ‘medium yellow’ filters.) Thursday, August 26, 2004, 10:30 A.M. The Ubuntu Galleries Maxine was working on number 12. She understood Ubuntu’s available lights better than she had at first. If she made more rapid progress today than she had yesterday, she might finish number 20 before Friday evening. Louise, after consulting with George, tackled her hardest assignment thus far, finding a source of decent coffee. She had been inspired by a creative thought on the drive to the gallery. Ask a cop. Cops always knew where to get a good cup of coffee. Now, where does one find a cop? She

299 300 Explicitly Sexy II had been on the lookout since they got to the city, without success. Plan A having failed, she was on to Plan B. Find the nearest police station. Forty minutes later they heard the door’s buzzer. “George? Do we have petty cash?” Louise shouted. Shouting, she found, was effective if one shouted at the curved roof. “I’ve got it,” another shout came back. Louise got to the front in time to help set out coffee and pastries. She tasted. The coffee was as good as her percolator coffee at home. George was impressed. “If you ever want a job, Louise...” She thanked him and brought cups to Maxine and Maxine’s assistant (one of two college students George had hired to help with the show). Maxine looked at it, skeptically. “Not like last time?” “Try it.” Maxine tried it and was pleasantly surprised. “Almost drinkable,” she pronounced. “Now leave me alone.” Maxine was not in a good mood. “Try telling her dirty jokes, Betty,” Louise suggested to the student. “She needs a good laugh.” “Betty,” Maxine snarled, “throw your coffee at her if she’s not gone in five seconds.” Betty, who was not certain how much of this conversation she should take at face value, was relieved to see Louise leave. Just before 1:00 they heard the buzzer again. Louise was on the phone trying to find another filter for Maxine. George answered the door. The buzzer was for a customer, Gus Hellstrom, chief legal officer (Secre- tary and member of the board) at Michigan Motors. He was the man who bought the first Maxine Gulden painting. He had bought the painting for a simple reason. He liked it. “Come on in,” George said to Gus, “I’ll introduce you to the artist.” Women, as a general rule, are less inclined to receive visitors when their hands and faces are streaked with grime. Maxine was not an excep- tion. The men approached the artist, who was on top of a step ladder, leaning farther than was safe, trying to plug in a light. Hellstrom may have been assessing the artist’s physique, as men do. The size 6 parts were facing him, the size 12 parts were turned away. 22 Opening Night 301

“Maxine, there’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” George said, not fully appreciating the situation. “Oh, fuck you, George. Hold the ladder,” the artist greeted him with- out looking. The artist had not seen the customer. Neither George nor the customer had seen the artist’s hands and face. George grabbed the ladder as Maxine leaned even farther. George looked at Gus and asked, “Perhaps I could introduce you tomorrow evening?” Gus laughed. As Maxine backed down the ladder the men beat a hasty retreat. Maxine saw them disappear into the lobby after she stepped to the floor. “What a distinguished-looking gentleman,” Betty remarked. “It’s plugged in,” Maxine said, hinting at what she thought was important. Louise had seen George leading the customer across the gallery. She had followed them at a distance. She had heard Maxine’s ungracious manners and she had also seen the grime Maxine was wearing. That was just one more crisis, perhaps larger than average, but one for which she saw no solution. She stayed out of the way. “Who was that?” Louise asked George after Gus had left. “No one special. Just Maxine’s first customer.” “Oh, no.” Louise summarized the situation. “Right,” George agreed. “Important fellow at Michigan Motors. He likes to skip lunches. Takes little walks to clear his head, think and stay in shape. We’re a couple miles from his office downtown. That’s how he saw the painting.” “Oh, no,” Louise repeated. Then she looked at her watch. “Two miles, on foot? What’s his number.” “It’s in my Rolodex. Gus Hellstrom. Maybe under ‘M’ on the Michi- gan Motors card.” “Maxine’s going to call and apologize,” Louise said. “Don’t tell her.” Louise walked briskly back to George’s office, sat at his desk and spun the Rolodex to ‘M’. She dialed. “Is Mr. Hellstrom there?” (She knew he wasn’t.) “This is Maxine Gulden. I was just introduced to him but I’m afraid I was frightfully rude. I wanted to apologize.” The assis- tant on the other end of the line asked if this was the artist to whom she was speaking. How did Hellstrom’s assistant know this? “Yes,” Louise 302 Explicitly Sexy II lied. “Please tell him that I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow evening. And that I’m awfully sorry.” Louise could hear the assistant’s pen scratching on the notepad. “Thank you ever so much,” Louise said, and hung up. George was standing in his office’s doorway. His toothy grin had been missing for some time. Now his grin was bigger than ever. Louise was glad to see this, but she still had one more item in this crisis. Maxine. Louise decided to start with Betty. “Did you see that customer, Betty?” Betty confirmed that she had. “Was I right about him? Very distinguished?” “Very,” Betty agreed. “I don’t think Maxine saw him, though.” “Actually, he looked a bit like Tom,” Louise said. “thirty years older.” At this, Maxine turned around. “What did I miss?” “The man who bought the first Gulden painting ever sold.” “No!” “Actually, yes.” “Oh, shit!” “Don’t worry, Max. We’ll introduce you tomorrow night. It should be all right. You’ve already called to apologize.” “I have?” “Yes, you have. I was proud of you. That was a very thoughtful thing to do. By the way, you left your message with an assistant. He wasn’t back in his office yet. His assistant doesn’t know our voices.” Maxine processed this. “I guess I owe you one, Lou.” “No problem. You guys need sandwiches? Coffee?” Betty was glad she hadn’t thrown her coffee at Louise. George had been standing at a little distance. “Mighty cool head in a crisis, Louise.” “Thanks, partner,” Louise said. Then she added, as if nothing had happened, “Did you see Maxine’s face? We need some of those wipes so she can clean up a little. Those lamps are filthy.” 22 Opening Night 303

Friday, August 27, 2004, 12:00 noon. The Ubuntu Galleries. Maxine had sent Betty to get number 20. “There’s no number 20, Max- ine,” Betty said when she returned. “Didn’t we just hang number 20?” Maxine looked perplexed. “I could have sworn there was one more.” “There is,” Betty agreed, “but it’s not number 20.” Maxine walked back to the store room. One more painting was left, facing the wall. She turned it around. She saw From the Heart of a Friend. “How the hell did this get here?” she asked, as if Betty might know. Then she turned her head to the ceiling and shouted, “George! We’re done!” A minute later, George arrived to congratulate the team. “What’s that?” he asked, seeing Maxine holding a painting. “Not supposed to be here. It’s number 39. I finished it Monday.” She turned it toward him. He saw immediately that it was different. His curiosity was piqued. “Can we go out front?” He wanted better light. In the lobby, he hung it next to the others, stepped back and took a good look. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. “Maxine,” he said, “what is this?” “I call it From the Heart of a Friend.” George had thought it might be special. When he heard the name, he knew. Maxine had not named her others. “Is this something unique, or is it the start of a whole new direction?” “It was unique when I started, but now I really like it.” “This is poisonous, darling.” “What?” “I want to really look at this, but my first reaction is that you’ve gone way over the top. Is this as good as I think it might be?” “I like it.” “Is this the best you’ve ever done?” “Could be.” 304 Explicitly Sexy II

George stared. Eventually, Maxine wanted to know, “Did you say ‘poisonous’?” “If we show this, and if people react like I’m reacting, all our poten- tial buyers could decide they want to wait for more just like this. You could put Maxine Gulden, version one, right out of business.” “Oh. Yeah. I see what you mean.” Thinking about her paintings’ eco- nomic potential was still very strange to the artist. “Has Louise seen this?” “I showed her but she didn’t understand it.” “There’s something specific to understand here?” “Yeah.” “Ms. Gulden, may I steal one of your sayings?” “Sure.” “Oh, shit.” And then he took action. “Let’s lock this up in my office.” He headed for his office with the painting, talking as he went. “I want to take a good long look. But right now I’ve got to send you and Louise home to get all shiny and beautiful for this evening.” “Sure,” Maxine agreed. They found Louise in George’s office. “Coffee’s in your Rolodex,” Louise informed him. “Under ‘C’.” He set the painting down, being careful to turn it toward the wall. “Maxine says she’s done, Louise. Why don’t you two go home and do whatever women do to get ready for a special evening.” And then he added, “Oh, uh, Maxine?” “Yes?” “Could you be a little nicer to Gus? He’s got quite a good eye, you know.” “Oh, fuck you, George,” Maxine repeated. And then she broke into a big smile. He grinned. Louise, who was standing next to George, took hold of his arm. “Welcome to the family,” she said. “Be back by 6:30?” George asked. “Well fed. These openings are quite tiring, I’m afraid.” 22 Opening Night 305

Friday, 8/27/04, 12:15 P.M. Louise’s car to Steel and La Pierre. “You ready for this, Sexy?” Louise asked as they got into her car. “No,” Maxine answered. At 1:20 they arrived at the tailor’s house. They were delighted with the final results. The tailor was distressed at a tiny pucker near the center of Maxine’s zipper. By 1:35 the offending side of the zipper had been detached, resewn, pressed and declared fit for the ball. By 5:00 both women were at home in traveling clothes, with dresses and shoes in trav- eling bags. Louise picked up Maxine. The blue coupe was locked in the carriage house. One doesn’t park a convertible outdoors in Detroit. They stopped at The Rose Café on their way, per an inexplicable request Rose had left on both their machines. Jerry handed them a thermos, ‘for later on.’ “Watch out,” he warned, “there’s no ice in that.” By sniffing, it seemed to be a cold combination of cactus, lime and orange juices. Jerry received a ‘thank you’ kiss from both women. Friday, 8/27/04, 6:15 P.M. The Ubuntu Galleries. George’s request that they arrive by 6:30 had allowed a half hour (at least) for additional delays. (The invitations said 7:00 to 10:00.) Louise and Maxine were earlier than George had asked. Dresses were hung in his office. No one would arrive before 7:30 or so, George explained. He suggested not changing until 7:15. He intro- duced them to the caterer’s employee who would be pouring champagne (or soda, for those who abstained). Betty and her friend Allen, both in jeans, were on duty waiting. Absent crises, they would be paid for wait- ing until the end of the evening. “Is everybody nervous?” George asked. Maxine claimed she wasn’t, but she may have been lying. Louise admitted she was a little nervous, but sometimes she understated things. “Well,” George went on, “I’m nervous. Probably done a hundred of these, but I’m still nervous. I guess it’s good. Keeps you on your toes. “Lot of important people coming tonight. Some politicians. Our con- gressman. Couple trustees from DIA” (the Detroit Institute of Arts, a highly regarded museum) “and most of the biggies from Michigan Motors. Try not to spill your drinks on them.” 306 Explicitly Sexy II

“What are we supposed to say, George?” Louise wanted to know. “Oh, you know. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ and ‘such a nice dress.’ I wouldn’t talk about art too much.” “What am I supposed to say, George?” Maxine repeated the ques- tion, changing the pronoun. “Just pretend you’re yourself, Maxine. A few cryptic responses and a bit of swearing. Not too much swearing. Bite your tongue if you’re tempted to say anything too honest. “Oh, yes. There is one thing. You’re the guest of honor, Maxine. I’ll shepherd you around some, but mostly you’ll be on your own. Move from group to group. Don’t be afraid to excuse yourself and move on when someone bores you too painfully. “Louise. If there are crises just pretend you’re Louise. That’s worked so far. Your other job will be to spot anyone who hasn’t had a chance to talk to Maxine and promise to rectify that situation. Then rescue our artist when she looks trapped. “What are you girls wearing, by the way?” “Long dresses. Matching color but different shapes.” “Damn. That sounds nice but I was hoping to see you in those cycling outfits.” The ‘girls’ laughed. George excused himself to change first, as his office would shortly become the women’s dressing room. He re-emerged in his tuxedo, just before 7:00. Contrary to his prediction, the first guests arrived promptly at 7:00. They were Sam Gulden, Monica and Rose. The girl George had hired to collect invitations passed them on to George, who introduced himself. Hearing the last name, he asked, “Max- ine’s father?” “Yup. Father, here’s her sister Monica and last, not at all least, my partner Rose.” (Gulden was a silent partner in The Rose Café.) George sent Betty in search of Maxine. “Tell her she can change in a bit,” he instructed Betty. “Daddy!” Maxine exclaimed, happily, when she saw them. Daddy, Monica and Rose all got big hugs. Louise watched from a discrete dis- tance. She was pleased to see how much the group calmed Maxine. 22 Opening Night 307

Louise hugged the visitors, though she called the elder Gulden ‘Sam.’ “Here to see Maxine’s paintings?” “Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Sam said. “She never let us look before.” Louise took them into the heart of the gallery, by way of the caterer’s table. On the way, she had a mischievous idea. “Rose, could I ask you for a special favor?” Of course. “Could you help Maxine get changed? I’ll be along in a minute.” Maxine led the way to George’s office, now the women’s dressing room. “Now you restrain yourself,” Maxine whispered to Rose. Rose promised to try though, she said, it wouldn’t be easy. By 7:15 another party of three arrived, despite George’s prediction. The newcomers were Acacia, Herman and Tom. George was greeting his guests and doing his best to place each in his mental Rolodex. “Acacia? Why do I remember that name?” She gave him ‘Donovan’ as a reminder. “Oh yes! Pleased to meet you. The smartest attorney in the state, I’ve heard.” He told Tom of the many miracles his wife had worked, getting ready for the show, and thanked Herman for the superb photographer he had recommended. Maxine, showing a shapely left leg through the high slit of her dress, joined them as they got to the champagne. She led them into the heart of the gallery, smiling to herself at having left Louise with Rose. This was especially delicious knowing that Louise was backless (and braless). She remembered Louise’s embarrassment in front of Diedrika. The buzzer sounded again shortly before 7:30. It announced a party of five men and one woman, all working late on Michigan Motors’ legal business. George recognized Gus Hellstrom and his number two. The other four looked distinctly younger. He made a mental note to introduce Acacia. The ‘smartest lawyer in the state’ was probably, he thought, not a good way to introduce her to six other lawyers in the same state. Louise, with Rose’s help, had dressed. A full-length mirror would have been welcome. Instead she had relied on Rose’s eyes and opinions. Rose was kinder than any mirror Louise had ever used. She did ‘make a girl feel proud.’ “Come, Rose. We must entertain our guests.” George’s office door opened onto the main gallery area, command- ing a view of most of Maxine’s works. From it, Louise spotted Tom, Her- man and Acacia. Tom looked at ease in his open shirt and beige summer 308 Explicitly Sexy II suit. Louise joined them and twirled when Tom insisted on getting a good look. His opinion was similar to Rose’s. Much kinder than a mirror. Louise was beginning to think it might be a pleasant evening. She loved her dress. Her perfectly-fitted, draping not clinging, silk dress. Spying the unknown half dozen, Louise went on to play hostess. “Were you here yesterday?” she asked the senior attorney. He was. “I’ll be sure to introduce you to the artist. She’s nicer when her face isn’t cov- ered in lamp grime.” By this time, the door buzzer was making regular announcements. Betty found Louise. George wondered if Louise had a moment. (Such a gentleman, she thought. Not for the first time, she wondered about George’s background. He wore his PhD and his tuxedo comfortably.) George introduced Louise to Congressman Conyers who had arrived with two aides. She shook hands with the tall, light-skinned person of color (sporting a showy mustache). She was asked to show the congress- man the paintings. “I’ve never met a congressman before,” she said, tak- ing him by the arm. “No, no,” Louise said as he asked for her vote. “I’m from La Pierre. You know, up north. 10th district.” She noticed the friendly wave he shared with the Michigan Motors people, headquartered in his 13th dis- trict. When Betty called her again, Louise motioned to Maxine and handed the congressman to the artist. George gave Louise a new job, clearing the lobby. There was a traffic jam around the caterer’s table. Another table opposite the caterer’s, with a plentiful supply of pre- filled glasses, got both visitors and champagne flowing smoothly. By eight o’clock, the black-tie and evening dress people started to arrive in numbers. George would soon abandon his post in the lobby and enter the display area. Time to start serious selling. Louise was stationed in the lobby. Friday, 8/27/04, 8:10 P.M. The Ubuntu Galleries Louise was there in time to welcome the team from Detroit’s ABC televi- sion station. George didn’t know they were coming. Louise hadn’t believed they would come, but a phone call couldn’t hurt, she had thought. Here they were. She escorted them to the caterer’s table (no, thank you, they were working) and then in to the paintings. 22 Opening Night 309

George had never thought to invite TV coverage. He had never been on TV. He relied on his winning grin to buy himself time enough to adjust. After a brief interview, he got the TV team circulating, posing the willing visitors next to Maxine’s paintings, politely allowing the unwill- ing to step aside. Louise was thinking fast. She posed a quick question to the woman who looked like she was in charge behind the cameras. Yes, they cer- tainly wanted to interview the artist. If they carried on a bit, Louise promised, she would arrange it for them. Louise gathered Maxine, friends and family (for support) in front of number 16, one of the larger paintings. Then she approached Maxine and whispered in her ear. “Jillian’s here. I’ve got to sneak her into George’s office. Rose will stay here while you give your interview. Keep her busy. Buy me five minutes.” Maxine had played cupid. Daddy Gulden had brought Rose as Max- ine had requested. Rose knew nothing, except that she was on the ‘VIP list.’ Maxine had told Jillian and put her on the ‘VIP list,’ too. George’s office, aka the women’s dressing room, would let them meet in private. As Louise had hoped, Maxine, was thinking about Rose and Jillian, not about being interviewed on television. The plan was working perfectly. Now, if only Jillian had actually been there. Louise promised herself a lecture on the virtue of honesty, but it would have to wait. Back to the TV crew. The artist was waiting to be interviewed. To the reporter. “Yes, Maxine Gulden. Like golden, but with a ‘U’. From La Pierre. First public showing of her work. Yes they had already sold some. Very high prices. Very successful.” Back to the group around Maxine. Sam, Tom and Herman were recruited to keep the others in back. Let Maxine see the friendly faces surrounding the cameras. “Rose, you blow her kisses or make funny faces or something. OK?” Rose promised to do her part. Friday, 8/27/04, 8:20 P.M. The Ubuntu Galleries Louise breathed deeply and walked back to the lobby. A small miracle happened. Jillian arrived. Louise gave her a big hug, surprising Jillian who only knew Louise as a Rose Café customer. “No time to explain,” Louise explained. She handed Jillian a glass of champagne. “No. She’s here all alone. Uh, alone if you don’t count Max’s father and sister. Stay behind me.” 310 Explicitly Sexy II

Louise peered out into the gallery. The TV crew had those horrible glaring lights on Maxine. The reporter was saying something. Perfect. “Follow me,” Louise said, leading Jillian around the far side of the gallery to the women’s dressing room. “Wait here. Next time you see me I’ll have company for you. The rest is up to you.” And with that, Louise drifted slowly to the side of the crowd in the gallery. She watched Maxine, who looked like she was having fun. The reporter was laughing at something she’d said. The cameras seemed to be watching intently. She bumped into someone. “Excuse me. So sorry..” and then she saw that she had bumped into George. She grabbed his arm. She laughed. He laughed. “Where’d these guys come from?” George asked. “Promised them an exclusive if they came,” Louise answered. “Never dreamed they’d show.” He patted the hand on his arm. “Louise, you are beautiful.” Then he looked at her. “Turn around?” She did. “You know something else?” She asked what else. “You’re beautiful, too. Tom’s one lucky man.” Louise smiled. She enjoyed compliments. Then she thought about business. “How’s it going?” “Sales? “We were doing well before the TV crew interrupted us. I bet sales will be even better just as soon as they leave.” The tall man nearest Maxine had elbowed his way out of the inner circle. He passed near George and Louise, saw them and stopped to say hello. There were tears in his eyes. “She’s looking good, isn’t she Sam?” Louise offered. Sam put his arm around her shoulder and hugged. “It’s what every man who was ever called ‘Daddy’ wants to see. His little girl all grown up and so happy.” “You’re going to be OK with a daughter who’s a famous artist?” George asked. “Hell yes!” Sam affirmed. And he gave George a big hug, too. Louise watched as Sam made his way to the lobby. Fresh air? More champagne? She wondered. Though it was some distance away, Louise recognized Frank Bowers (Maxine’s husband) by his size. Six foot five (almost 2m) and 240 22 Opening Night 311 pounds (109kg), still athletic. It made the ex-football player stand out. He was chatting with his father-in-law. “I see you two have met,” George said, introducing himself. Frank introduced himself and added, “Sam’s my father-in-law. Runs five of the best dealerships in the country. He was the first dealer Michi- gan Motors ever had.” George updated his artist’s biography. ‘Starving’ didn’t seem to fit. “Well,” Sam (who wasn’t quite that old) said, “it was actually Grandpa Gulden who was the first dealer. My father expanded to five dealerships. And Frank here has started sending us cars that people actu- ally want to buy. Sure makes our job easier.” Louise remembered Jillian. “Oh no!” she said as she remembered. “Another crisis, George. Pray for me.” And she went to find Rose. She was too late, but sometimes things work on their own. She spot- ted Maxine and asked for Rose. “I just left her in the dressing room,” Maxine said. “Our part is done.” “Our part is done,” Louise said again, this time to herself. “How was your interview?” she asked Maxine. “And let’s make our way to the mid- dle. Your father and husband are looking for you.” “Stay here,” Louise said when they were more or less in the center. Louise went in search of Sam and Frank. On her way back to Maxine she saw that the three were already together. Louise noted the leg showing through the slit in Maxine’s dress. A well-toned, size 6 leg, she thought. A woman had a right to show off such a leg. She studied the crowd. The Grosse Pointe Bohemian set had started to arrive. Congressman Conyers was working the crowd. Did he have enough grace to not push in front of the cameras, Louise wondered. Or was the TV team skilled enough to keep him away? George was bending at the waist, almost bowing, to put his ear next to a man and woman in evening wear. Looked like quite an interesting conversation. But sales were not her conversation, Louise decided. Then she remembered the thermos. She knocked gently. The ‘dressing room’ door opened for her. Rose and Jillian’s faces were tear stained. “You guys OK?” Louise asked. They half laughed, half cried and hugged each other. And they kissed. Like lovers. Like reunited lovers. 312 Explicitly Sexy II

Friday, 8/27/04, 8:45 P.M. The Ubuntu Galleries Louise found the wipes she had bought for Maxine and shared them. “Here. Make yourselves all pretty again. I’m going to pretend this is The Rose Café.” With that she sat down in George’s chair. She poured a thermos cap full of Jerry’s finest, except that it had no ice. She took a sip. She realized how tired she was. Rose saw her slump. As always at The Rose Café, Rose rubbed her shoulders. Jillian knelt beside her and asked, “Can we ever thank you enough?” Louise looked at her and smiled. “No. You can’t. I don’t deserve any thanks. It was all Max. Go thank her. And don’t come back until you’ve got glasses with ice. This stuff Jerry makes is the best in Detroit.” Rose and Jillian left to find Maxine. Louise leaned on the desk. She held her head in her hands. Then she got up, walked to the wall and turned the painting around. She retrieved her thermos-cap cup and sat on the floor in front of From the Heart of a Friend. ‘A still life?’ she asked herself. Just what she needed. An unsolvable puzzle, and no reason to solve it. Maxine’s lilacs were real, she thought. So real you could almost smell them. No more crises. Not for her, at least. Not today. Margarita. Still cold. The fresh limes tasted good. She looked at the painting. She raised her cup and quoted Bogart, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” Time slipped by. It went by without her permission, without even asking. Louise sipped and stared at the painting. She remembered strip- ping for the tailor. She remembered the first time she’d seen the Ubuntu Galleries. She remembered lying on the bench while the artist sketched her tits. She remembered sitting in the car, in the storm, while Maxine stretched. She remembered looking at Maxine’s sketches and saying she could pick her tits out of a police lineup. And then she saw them. There were her tits! Twice life-size. Right in the middle of the painting. Only they weren’t pointing out of the canvas. They were pointing away. They were fantastic! She knew. They were her tits but from inside her, looking out. And then she remembered the title. From the Heart! These were her tits, viewed from her heart. How could Maxine... Where was she? Where am I? Oh. Yes. George’s office. The women’s dressing room. She looked at her empty cup. She looked into the thermos. Nearly half empty. How much had she had? Was she drunk? Did she see... 22 Opening Night 313

She sat down again. Yes. They were unmistakable. Just as clear when you saw them as they were invisible if you didn’t know what you were looking at. From the Heart of a Friend! She had to find Max. Outside, the last stragglers were leaving. The caterer’s table was folded, ready for the truck. Maxine, Acacia, Tom and Herman were sit- ting together on the floor in front of number 7. “There you are,” Acacia said. “We wondered what had happened.” “I was drinking margaritas at The Rose,” Louise didn’t explain. Then she said, “I saw them, Max.” Maxine had no idea what Louise had seen. “You OK, Lou?” “I think so. I saw them. You’re a genius. C’m’ere. I’ll show you.” Louise led the way toward the office. “It’s not really from the heart, is it. It’s a bit behind the heart, to the right.” And Maxine knew what she was talking about. “Lou! You did! You saw them!” And Maxine shouted, “She saw them! She saw them!” into the ceiling. The others had wondered if Louise might not have had a bit too much to drink. Perhaps that’s understated. Now they wondered if Louise might have something contagious. Some sort of shared hallucination? In their dressing room, Louise sat down in front of the painting. “There,” she said, pointing to her left nipple. “And there,” she said, pointing to her right nipple. “Areolas,” she said, drawing circles in the air, just in front of the are- olas. “Plain as the tits on my chest. I could pick them out of a police lineup. You painted my tits.” Maxine squeezed her hand. “Can I tell you something, Kinky?” Louise told her to go on. “Every time one of my brushes touched the can- vas I was wondering if I was so far out of it no one would ever see it. Then I wondered if I was being so obvious no one could ever miss it. You think it’s about right?” “I want this painting, Max. Can I have this painting?” “No. You can’t have it!” They saw George. “What the hell is going on? Is this about your something specific, Maxine?” “Hi, George. You’re in the women’s dressing room, you know,” Maxine said. 314 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh. Yes. Sorry. You guys aren’t undressing, are you?” “Not until you leave, George.” “OK. But answer my question. Is it something specific that I can’t see?” “You’ve got a good eye, George. You can see things. Now get out of here.” Maxine did not sound playful. Friday, 8/27/04, 10:20 P.M. The Ubuntu Galleries Louise got up and went to the door. “George?” “Yes,” he answered, turning. “How’d we do?” “Hard to say,” he said. His smile contradicted his words. “We’ve got some hard commitments and a lot of soft offers. “DIA wants to borrow one of the large canvases. Michigan Motors might rent one while the board decides on a purchase.” “Ever had a better opening, George?” Louise was persistent. “No. Not even close. The TV was brilliant. Got everyone all buzzed.” “So how’d we do?” “Maybe mid six.” Louise thought she knew what he meant, but she wanted to be sure. “Is five hundred thousand a ‘mid six’ number?” “Dead center,” he answered. “When do you want us back tomorrow?” “Can you get here by noon?” “Hard to say,” Louise quoted him. Then she added a smile. 23 Summer Ends

August was drawing to a close. The stores bragged that they were each the best destination for back-to-school supplies. The gardens begged for water before their gardeners went shopping. Farmers were up and har- vesting while villagers were sleeping. Two of our trio would be working, even on a Saturday. Saturday, August 28, 2004, 11:45 A.M. The Ubuntu Galleries. Louise had struggled, (her head ached) but she had still picked up Max- ine at 10:30. Ten minutes later they were sipping large coffees on their way to Detroit. They had arrived early. Today it was slacks and low heels for the special showing that separated Detroit’s Modt and Crystal from Michigan Motors. Louise spotted the new card hanging below painting number one. It read, “#1. On loan from a private collection.” She asked George. “Yes. Gus Hellstrom. He also bought number two last night.”

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“You are a helluva salesman, George,” Louise said. “I think meeting the artist impressed him,” George replied, modestly. And he added, “We’ve got nine more in other collections. They’re all tagged.” In the gallery Betty was scurrying from computer to printer to the paintings, making and hanging tags. They had painting numbers and stated, “On loan...” or “Available.” Louise and Maxine toured the gallery. Louise thought about it. “There’s a bit of a sales pitch here, isn’t there, George. Get yours now before they’re gone?” “I hope it’s a little more subtle than that, Louise,” he said. The private showing was from 12:30 to 2:00. Then the exhibit would be open to the public, through Labor Day (September 6th). The private showing was crowded. Many of the visitors had seen the ABC news story Friday night. Most had phone calls or emails from oth- ers who had seen it. Maxine made gracious compliments, evaded questions with cryptic answers and swore occasionally, but never at the visitors. She looked like she was having fun. George assured their guests, individually and in small groups, that Maxine’s work was exceptional. “The draftsmanship...” he would explain, pointing out details. (He did not miss an opportunity to point to an “On loan...” tag and mention that the painting was “Available” as recently as the previous evening.) Louise, other than being Maxine’s chauffeur, was unemployed. There were no crises. She had time enough to take good care of two print reporters that had seen last night’s news. She got them each five minutes of the artist’s time. (She copied George, being sure to point out the “On loan...” tags.) By 2:00, Louise and Maxine were saying good bye to Betty and George. Betty couldn’t help wondering at the change. These two women were obviously the closest of friends. Louise even remembered to thank Betty for not throwing her coffee. George couldn’t find enough words to thank either of them. 23 Summer Ends 317

Saturday, 8/28/04, 2:15 P.M. Louise’s car to La Pierre. Louise headed north on Woodward, pointing out the city’s other galleries to Maxine. At one of the numerous stop lights she remarked, “You know, Max, I never thought I’d find red lights so relaxing.” Maxine complained, “We missed our bike ride.” They were in no hurry. The city became the suburbs. When they got to Russet Hills Louise headed northeast. They found La Pierre Road. La Pierre Road took them home. It would be good to get home. They decided on a late-afternoon bicycle ride. A slow, look-at-the-fields sort of ride. Louise dropped Maxine and headed home to change and get on her bicycle. Saturday, 8/28/04, 3:50 P.M. Louise and Tom’s kitchen. Tom was on the phone when Louise came in. “Here she is,” he said, handing it to Louise. “It’s Maxine.” “Hi, Sexy. What’s up?” Maxine had punched ‘play’ on her machine when she got home. As she always did when she came home. And... Louise listened to the artist’s tale of electro-mechanical troubles until she was convinced that her dear friend needed to speak to another party. “Hang on. Tom does all that stuff here. Tell him.” She handed the phone back to Tom and went to change. In her cycling spandex, ready to leave, she heard the report. “I think she got so many calls her machine’s tape came to its end,” her electro- mechanical expert reported. “Tom, can you fix this? I’ve had too many crises. I want to go for a ride.” Her handsome husband volunteered and was rewarded, with a big hug and a loving kiss. He put her bicycle in the back of his SUV and together they drove to Maxine’s. Saturday, 8/28/04, 4:05 P.M. Maxine and Frank’s house. It had not taken Tom long to confirm his guess. The tape was full. He rewound to the middle and played a few messages to be sure. The 318 Explicitly Sexy II machine needed another tape. (Where, he wondered, could he get a blank audio tape? Maybe the drug store? Or all the way to the mall?) He told the women to go for a ride. He’d have this fixed before they got back. Saturday, 8/28/04, 4:30 P.M. Cycling north of La Pierre. The artist and her agent were happy again. Happy to be free from shows, free from cars, free from phone machines. Bicycling was so simple. Slow bicycling didn’t burn many calories, but it burned more than watching TV. Bicycling was good for conversations, too. Louise had a question about art. “Max, remember when George said you were abstract with a bit of photorealism?” “Yeah. What about it?” “Was that right?” “Why not? Names don’t change the paintings.” “I was wondering about ‘photorealism’,” Louise said. “Is that you, or are you more van Eyck?” “Like that little mirror in Arnolfini’s Marriage? I love that mirror.” “That’s what I was thinking about,” Louise said. “Lou, it just doesn’t matter. But if you need to name things, it’s Arnolfini that I’m thinking about when I do the really fussy stuff with light.” “And the abstract shapes? What are you thinking about with the shapes?” “Hell, I don’t know. Nothing in particular. Probably, I’m just a little girl playing with blocks. Or maybe the column is my vibrator. Symbol- ism, you know.” Louise laughed. In her art classes, symbols had been mostly reli- gious. No vibrators that she could recall. Some miles later, Maxine was struck by a disturbing combination of thoughts. “I just realized something, Lou.” Louise asked what. “You got the TV people to come visit us.” 23 Summer Ends 319

“Actually, I had nothing to do while I waited for return calls about your filters, Max. I had the phone book open and too much caffeine in me to just sit there.” “That wasn’t what I was thinking.” Louise asked for more. “I was thinking about my answering machine. How many calls does it take to fill up a tape?” Louise had no idea. “A lot, I suppose.” “That’s what I was thinking. On TV Friday. Full tape Saturday.” “Oh.” Louise digested this. “I see what you mean.” What had she gotten Maxine into? “What have I gotten myself into, Lou?” Louise knew what she had to do. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Max. That’s why you famous artists have agents.” “Oh shit.” Maxine said, almost to herself. “Are you still going to be my agent when school starts?” Sunday, August 29, 2004, 12:45 P.M. Maxine and Frank’s house. Tom had accomplished his mission. A new tape was in Maxine’s machine. Three spares were ready beside the machine. He’d shown her how to remove one and install another. Louise was punching ‘play,’ listening and writing. She had a very short list of the calls she thought Maxine would want to return. A long list was labeled ‘neighbors.’ How could all these be returned? Another long list was labeled ‘for agent.’ Here she was, Louise thought to herself, alone with Maxine and they weren’t even flirting. ‘Oh shit’ was starting to sound like an apt sum- mary. Monday, August 30, 2004, Noon. Louise and Tom’s dining room. The phone company would install Maxine’s second (unlisted) phone, it had promised, before the end of the day. Louise’s second phone (listed) would be working first thing tomorrow morning. Her lists, spread over the table in front of her, were complete through the end of Sunday’s tape. 320 Explicitly Sexy II

When she felt like taking a break she would drive to Maxine’s to pick up the latest tape and put in a blank one. Meantime she was sorting interview requests from most to least important. George had advised her to schedule the important interviews first, while they were still going to be fun. They would get tiring, he warned, as the questions would be repetitive. And, oh yes, the sales had been even better than he’d thought Friday evening. When the interviews were prioritized, Louise took the break she had promised herself. She made time for a hug and a squeeze with Maxine before she returned home with the Sunday evening–Monday morning tape. The Monday calls were mostly from stock brokers, investment advis- ers and attorneys, all kindly offering to help the newly-successful artist. Louise would return these as soon as she had her new, business-only line. Tuesday, August 31, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. Summer, in the northern United States, ends only days after August ends. This Tuesday had been mild and pleasant, the kind that makes you look forward to apples, squashes, colorful leaves on the trees and hardy mums flowering in the garden. Louise had ridden to Maxine’s house where Maxine locked her bicy- cle in the carriage house. She and Maxine then walked to Acacia’s office to meet the third of their trio for the short walk to The Rose. Their usual table had a ‘Reserved’ sign on it. Ricky greeted them and assured them that they were the people for whom the table was reserved. “You’ve hit the La Pierre ‘A’ list, Max,” Acacia commented, as Ricky distributed their margaritas. “To my fifteen minutes of fame,” Maxine toasted. Acacia and Louise laughed. Starting her drink, however, Louise looked distracted. “What’s up, Lou?” Maxine asked. Louise stirred her margarita and gathered her thoughts. “I pushed you into this, Max,” she said. “I’m just not sure how this story ends. But I think you’ve got more than fifteen minutes coming.” 23 Summer Ends 321

Maxine turned from Louise to Acacia. Acacia was nodding her head in agreement. “I agree with Lou, Max. This could be more than fifteen minutes.” Maxine said, softly, “Yeah.” And then she added, “Oh, shit.” While this thought was sinking in, Rose arrived with Jillian right behind. They were beaming. They poured endless gratitude and kisses on Maxine. Some spilled onto Louise and onto Acacia, too. The lovers certainly looked like they were heading toward happily ever after and their good spirits were contagious. Maxine assured them that her modest efforts had been well rewarded, just by seeing them together. Maxine proposed a toast, “To Rose and Jillian. Happily ever after.” Acacia and Louise joined her enthusiastically. After Rose and Jillian left, Acacia brought up the other events of Fri- day night. “Your father seems pretty young for his age, Max,” Acacia said. “And whatever did you tell him about me?” “I never said much about you, Ace. Why?” “Well, whatever you said, he wanted to chat about something. We’re meeting tomorrow. So thank you.” “I may have said you were the smartest attorney in the state.” “George introduced me to that pack of lawyers from Michigan Motors. They may be the smartest attorneys in the state. They tried to hire me right out of law school.” Louise butted in. “Let’s not let business interrupt our drinking hours.” Maxine seconded the motion. And she turned to Louise for the final chapter of the story of the weekend she had ‘lost’ herself to Tom. Acacia seconded the motion. Louise was interrupted before she began. One of Maxine’s class- mates from high school had seen her on TV Friday night and just had to tell her... Maxine was gracious. After the classmate and her husband, whom she had introduced, were gone, Maxine asked, “Who the hell was that? I didn’t even remember her name.” 322 Explicitly Sexy II

Louise started again. “Let’s see. Tom had teased me mercilessly. Then he had made me come repeatedly. It was quite awful. Now where were we?” Sunday (July 11, 2004, continued), 2:50 P.M. Louise and Tom’s bedroom. Louise was slowly recovering. The first thing she saw was Tom’s... Tuesday, 8/31/04, 6:10 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise was interrupted by Susan Brandt who greeted Louise like a close friend. (Little Todd Brandt had been one of Louise’s charges until June.) Susan just had to tell Maxine that she recognized her from the Friday night news. Yes, she thought Maxine had been so wonderful. It was such a credit to La Pierre... After Ms. Brandt left, Maxine summarized the situation. “Looks like a bad night for storytelling.” Acacia agreed. “OK. I’ll just summarize,” Louise said. “He was still aching to come. I was cruel. I made him take me to Sintilla’s and pick out a new toy. Then we went home and played and I finally made him come. After all the waiting he had quite an explosion. Here’s the end of my tale.” Sunday, 7/11/04, 6:10 P.M. Louise and Tom’s bedroom. Louise asked, “How many times did I come?” “I’ve no idea.” “I don’t know either. But you know what?” He didn’t know. “I think that was just about the perfect number of times. I’d say that was very nice.” He laughed. “Did you say ‘very’?” “Did I? Well, I guess so. It was a little bit better than ‘quite nice.’ Does ‘very nice’ come after ‘quite nice’?” Tuesday, 8/31/04, 6:15 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise barely finished adding the ‘And they lived happily... The end.’ before the next well-wisher stopped to congratulate Maxine. After dispensing with the interruption, Maxine asked Louise if she could at least provide a brief report on the Kegel balls. 23 Summer Ends 323

“Let’s see,” Louise began. “Kegel balls. Also known as Ben Wa balls.” “First, the package promises stronger orgasms. I think that might be true if your PC muscle is flabby. I haven’t found it true for me. One good exercise for your PC muscle is to have orgasms. I’ve been quite diligent about pursuing that part of my ‘wifely duties’ so I haven’t noticed a bene- fit from the Kegel balls in that regard. “But there’s something else. Ace said a woman could learn some- thing called ‘playing the flute.’ The contractions of an orgasm are an involuntary way of playing the flute. Practicing with the Kegel balls is helping me learn voluntary control of the pubococcygeus muscle.” (Louise looked at Acacia and smiled. Using the six-syllable name may have been showing off.) “I’m making rapid progress, but I’m not going to try it on Tom until I’m satisfied with my skill.” And here she looked at Acacia. “I think you said, Ace, that he might ‘go wild for it’.” Acacia smiled and agreed. She had said that. “Now what I know,” Louise continued, “is that you have to practice quite diligently. A certain amount of determination is required to learn voluntary control of this muscle.” She turned to Maxine. “Do we know anyone, Max, who might have that sort of determination?” Maxine understood Louise’s question. “Like the sort of determina- tion that a bicycle beginner might have if she really wanted to ride long distances? To hell with what her butt felt?” Louise nodded her agreement. “And do we know anyone who could assess the male response? Either a man who frequents southeast Asian brothels, or maybe a woman who has actually acquired this skill herself?” “I think we might look for the latter here at this table, Lou.” Maxine was looking at Acacia as she said this. “I think,” Louise said, “that at this point I should yield the floor to anyone who has more experience in this matter than I have.” Louise also was looking at Acacia as she said this. Acacia looked from one to the other. She was cornered. Caught red- handed, as it were. But being singled out for her determination when it came to ‘wifely duties’ was a nice compliment. “You guys are invading my privacy again. I need to put a sign up on my bedroom door. ‘Private, no trespassing’.” 324 Explicitly Sexy II

“I think there must be a very educational lecture you could give on this subject, Professor Donovan,” Maxine suggested. “Based on my experience,” Professor Donovan began, “Ms. Wilson’s pubococcygeal control” (she smiled at Louise as she used the six-syllable adjective) “will reach a rather advanced state within the next few weeks. At that time I expect she will conduct practical experiments that could be illuminating. If we wait until that time, we will have a larger sample from which to draw conclusions.” And, stealing from Louise, she added, “And, at that time, we will all live happily ever after. The end.” Louise and Maxine laughed at Acacia’s conclusion. Well-intentioned residents of La Pierre with even the slightest claim to being acquainted with Maxine continued to intrude, and Maxine con- tinued to be courteous (although her courtesy was waning) through the rest of their evening at The Rose. Acacia brought up the last subject. “I’ve had more thoughts about the Coolidge Effect,” Acacia said. “You’ve discovered the anti-Coolidge bonding cement?” Louise asked. “No. But I know what it used to be called,” Acacia responded. “Mar- riage.” She went on. “When you lived in a small village,” she explained, “you said your marriage vows—those were binding legal contracts, you know—in front of the whole village. That would be enough additional commitment, in most cases, to ensure lifetime monogamy. As a practical matter, there wouldn’t be any opportunity for infidelity, except in the few large cities.” “Interesting point,” Louise said, carefully considering it. “Before cars, hmm.” She considered. “Walking outside at night everyone in the village would see you...” “And remember,” the attorney continued, “that adultery gets its own ‘thou shalt not’ in the Ten Commandments. Not coveting your neighbors wife also gets a place. I’d call that about one and a half commandments. It’s a big deal in all western religions. “My thought is this. If humans were naturally monogamous, like swans, this wouldn’t take such a large place in our religions and vows. 23 Summer Ends 325

“You have to ask yourself if there wasn’t some recognition of the Coolidge Effect thousands of years before it was ‘discovered’ by the psy- chologists.” “Ace,” Maxine said, “you really are amazing. You should run for president.” Then she added, “And Lou could run your campaign. She’s good at running things.” Maxine made them both smile. Louise was flattered, but she was still thinking. “The converse of what you’re saying, Ace, is that Coolidge is still with us but the strength of the anti-Coolidge cement—marriage vows, religious proscription— isn’t what it used to be. We don’t live in villages, we don’t work where we live, we drive cars...” “Exactly,” Acacia agreed. “So it’s up to us to provide our own bonding cement,” Louise con- cluded. “Exactly,” Acacia agreed, again. “And by the way, Lou,” Acacia added, “I was curious about this. I kept an eye on Tom, Friday evening. He only had eyes for one woman in the gallery.” “Crappy science,” Maxine criticized. “She was the best looking one there.” “Wrong, Max,” Acacia disagreed. “You were the star of the show and between your leg and your boobs you were getting checked out by most of the men and a good number of the women. A lot of the women were watching their men watching you.” Maxine laughed. “Well,” Louise was modest, “Tom was probably watching me because he knew I wasn’t wearing a bra. Except for once in a dark restaurant he’d never seen me in public without one.” “Weren’t we talking about the power of ‘being new’?” Acacia asked. “I think you just said it all, Lou.” “We can’t all go braless,” Maxine commented, perhaps to herself. Then she looked at Acacia. Maxine squinted as if she were looking at something she couldn’t see. “You know, Ace, if my best assets were behind me I’m not sure I’d wear a suit jacket.” Acacia promptly punched her. She punched her upper arm, not too hard. Maxine was being a friend, after all. “I was attracting business, not 326 Explicitly Sexy II stares,” she defended herself. And then she thought about her best assets, and ‘being new.’ She should probably think about what Maxine had said, she told herself. Vacationing with Herman, she had not been shy about showing her ‘best assets.’ He was the one that mattered, she told herself. Our trio asked for the check. Jerry told them there was no check. “The boss’s orders,” he explained. Outside Acacia said good night and headed for her car. Louise and Maxine walked toward Maxine’s house, where Louise’s bicycle was waiting. Tuesday, 8/31/04, 6:40 P.M. The village of La Pierre. They were still passing the shops on Nepessing when Louise asked, being sweet and innocent, “Max, can we hold hands?” Maxine laughed. “I’m an artist. I can do whatever I want. But you’re a kindergarten teacher. You have to be a prude.” “But my kids hold hands all the time,” Louise objected. “Why shouldn’t we?” “Watch out, Lou. I wouldn’t mind if you lost your job, you know.” Louise thought about her job. About the new family of children she would have in a week. “You’re really quite self-centered, Ms. Gulden,” she said. “I don’t know why I put up with you.” “That would be my disarming frankness, or my big boobs.” “I suppose you’re right, Sexy,” Louise said. Then she added, “but I’m not so sure I like your frankness.” When they turned off Nepessing, Louise asked again, “Now can we hold hands?” “If you ask again, I’ll say ‘yes,’ bitch.” They went another block in silence. A new thought bubbled into Louise’s mind. “What are we going to do about From the Heart of a Friend, Max?” “You like it?” “I think it’s maybe a masterpiece. But I’m not so sure I want to be famous for modeling in the nude. I mean, if we can’t even hold hands...” “That’s why I used ‘Friend,’ not ‘Louise’.” 23 Summer Ends 327

“I should have worn something with a back and a bra on Friday.” “Bullshit. You were stunning. I loved watching you. So free.” “I guess.” She thought for a bit. “Free? Funny word.” “I know you felt it. I saw it every time you moved. I saw it every time the silk moved. It didn’t cling. It draped and flowed. Your tits were just beautiful.” Louise grabbed Maxine’s arm and leaned on her shoulder. But just for a moment. “You really are a silver-tongued devil,” she said. They came to Maxine’s driveway and turned toward the carriage house. “You’re not going to force me to kiss you,” Louise asked, “just to get my bicycle back?” “It’s been a helluva summer, Lou. Mostly your work, you know.” Louise smiled. She liked compliments. But Maxine had changed the subject. “Are you ducking my question?” Louise asked. “I thought it was an invitation,” Maxine answered as she unlocked the carriage house door. They went in, together, to get Louise’s bicycle.

24 Plans and Rituals

Officially, summer turns into fall with the autumnal equinox, the moment the sun passes the equator on its annual journey south. Unofficially, the weekend that includes Labor Day, the first Monday in September, ends summer in most of the northern U.S. In La Pierre, unofficial fall had begun. The teachers had their first half-day in school. Farmers continued filling their roadside stands with tomatoes, corn and summer squash, until the first frost (a frost that could come soon or wait until mid-October—one never knew). Tuesday, September 7, 2004, 1:30 P.M. Sam Gulden’s office. If you rode a bicycle in La Pierre, you would want every day to be just like this one. Pleasantly warm, happily sunny, dry and with a gentle breeze. En route to Sam Gulden’s Michigan Motors dealership, Tom and Louise had dropped Louise’s bicycle at Maxine’s home, parking it in the

329 330 Explicitly Sexy II carriage house below Maxine’s second-floor studio. (Louise preferred riding to driving, weather permitting.) Sam Gulden, Maxine’s father, not only owned five successful Michi- gan Motors dealerships, he was a silent partner in many businesses in La Pierre, including The Rose Café. Louise and Tom had asked for a his advice. Sam could afford an impressive office. Some would say that he deserved one. His office barely held a small desk and two visitor’s chairs. “Come on in,” he invited. “Yeah. It’s cramped,” he said, addressing the obvious. “But every time I get ready to make myself a nice, big office, some better use for my money seems to pop up. How can I help you kids?” (Sam knew the ‘kids.’ Louise had been maid of honor at Maxine’s wedding. Maxine had been matron of honor at Tom and Louise’s wedding.) Louise looked at Tom who held out his hand inviting her to start. “Well, we’ve just been lucky financially, both of us, and we’re thinking about what we might do with our extra money. We thought that you were the person to ask.” “Anything in particular you’re thinking about?” Louise motioned to Tom. “We’re thinking about a larger home,” he said. “How large?” “Well, many people want something in the 2500 to 3000 square foot size. Three or four bedrooms. That sort of thing.” “Well, you should know the market, Tom. You have enough so that won’t take all your cash?” Tom assured him that, with a conservative mortgage, they did. “Then what’s the downside?” “I’m in real estate. That’s doubling our bet. You know what hap- pened when Royal closed.” (La Pierre’s second largest employer, a man- ufacturer of car air conditioner components, had closed not long ago, driving La Pierre into a major recession.) “I couldn’t give away a house.” “Yeah. We couldn’t give away cars, either. Hope you didn’t take it personally.” “That’s what I told him,” Louise remembered. (Louise remembered other things she had told him, too. There had been a time when Tom had let it get to him. That was behind them now.) 24 Plans and Rituals 331

Sam leaned back and looked at his ceiling. Louise and Tom waited. Eventually, he asked a seemingly off-topic question. “Louise, who’s the smartest person you know?” “You mean, after Tom?” “No, I don’t. I mean Tom included.” Louise smiled at Tom. She had tried. “That would be Ace Donovan,” she answered. “Why do you ask?” “What did Ms. Donovan do?” “What did she do? About...?” “About her life once she had her degree.” “Oh. I see. She went to law school and then she came back to La Pierre to open her practice here on Nepessing. I believe she passed up some pretty big salary offers to come back.” “And she’s the smartest person you know,” Sam repeated. “I don’t think you need my advice.” Louise liked to ask clarifying questions. “You’re saying that if the smartest person we know bet her future on La Pierre, we would be smart to follow her example?” Sam smiled. “Never hurts to copy people who are smarter than you. Don’t listen to what they say. Watch what they do.” Louise and Tom smiled at each other. Their new home idea had just been doubly blessed. Sam had a bit to add. “The way I see it, we’re going through big changes. Grandpa Gulden saw this newfangled thing called the ‘auto-mobile.’ It powered itself. You didn’t need a horse. He approached Michigan Motors before there was such a thing as a car dealership. That’s why I’ve got central Michigan sewn up, from here to Grand Rapids, almost a century later. “The car created the suburbs. This was a country of farms and cities before the car. The car, and then highways for the cars, made the suburbs. Unless I miss my guess, the Internet remakes the country. Used to be that you had to drive to work in the city. Now you can meet face-to-face with someone in Manhattan, New York and another person in Manhattan, Kansas while you’re in La Pierre. I understand that Donovan’s husband is building a business around that, too.” 332 Explicitly Sexy II

“Michigan Motors is his biggest client,” Louise agreed. “Sounds like Herman’s following in the Gulden tradition.” “Yeah. Van Houten’s websites are starting to send us well-qualified prospects. We love ’em.” Sam stood up. “You kids will see some ups and downs, but I’d bet on La Pierre, if I were your age. It’s kids like you that are our future. Fact is, I’m still betting on La Pierre. Now don’t be strangers. Promise you’ll invite me to your house-warming party?” On the way home, Louise was thinking out loud. “I hadn’t thought about Ace opening her office here instead of going to a top firm in Detroit, or even in New York. That really says something, doesn’t it.” “Sure does,” Tom agreed. “I’ll get to drawing up plans. Always wanted to design a house.” “You think you can?” “Well, I’ve seen enough of them. And I know your taste, too. Tara, right?” “Oh, Mr. Wilson,” Louise responded with her best southern drawl, “I think another Tara would be quite nice.” He laughed. “OK. Tara it is. Maybe just a little bit smaller. You want the kitchen in the house, or in an outbuilding behind the house?” Louise pretended he was serious. “An outbuilding might be inconve- nient in a Michigan winter. Tara was outside Atlanta, you know.” Tom even promised her indoor plumbing before he dropped Louise at Acacia’s office downtown, (a short walk from Maxine’s home). Tuesday, 9/7/04, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café Our trio left the gym together, pleasantly tired from a vigorous workout. They were going to replace the calories they had burned with the calories in Jerry’s margaritas, which were always in season at The Rose. Jillian, their new waitress (and Rose’s returned lover) made sure that margaritas arrived promptly at their regular table. “Wait a minute,” Aca- cia had Jillian pause. “Tell Jerry that we’re expecting something for apple season. Fresh cider, and...” She didn’t know what. “Fresh cider and the perfect thing to mix with it. He’ll know.” Jillian promised to bring the challenge to the mixologist. 24 Plans and Rituals 333

Acacia asked if their aerobics instructor was working them extra hard for their first class of the year. Maxine heartily agreed. Louise thought it might be good for them. “How was your first day of school?” the attorney asked the teacher. “Nearly a complete waste of time, as always,” the teacher responded. “They give us our room assignments and our class lists. I make sure that we’ve got chalk for the blackboard and put the class list in my desk with- out looking at it.” “You’re not curious?” Acacia asked. “Yes, but if you look you make stupid assumptions,” the teacher answered. “You see Juan Hernandez and you think about the struggling, single mother trying to give her little one a decent start in school. The next day you find out that Juan’s parents are both professors at Michigan State and little Juan is reading at second-grade level already. Better not to look.” Tuesday, 9/7/04, 7:35 P.M. Tom’s room. “How’s it going?” Louise asked when she got home. Tom was in his room looking at his monitor. “Dunno,” he said, not looking up. “Been looking at house plans but I don’t think the one’s I’ve seen pack much into 2,500 square feet,” (232m2). “Can you do better?” “Dunno. But I want to give it a try.” This wasn’t going to be a mansion, but it would be twice as big as their current home. Louise was excited about the project. She was annoyed at Tom, however, for not having turned away from his monitor. She thought about saying something. Then she thought about what she should say. “Can I interrupt you for just a minute?” “Sure,” he said, finally turning to face her. “Do you like low cut tops on women?” She drew a U-shaped line on her chest, barely above her nipples. “Yeah.” This was hardly what he had expected. 334 Explicitly Sexy II

“Then I want you to go shopping for me. I think I’ll start showing a little more skin when we’re alone together. Would that be all right?” Nat- urally, having more skin was quite all right. “So tomorrow you’ll go to the mall for me? Start with bras for me to wear under low-cut tops. Maybe Vicky’s Whispers. Then ask where to find the tops. OK?” Eager to get back to his project, but more than a little interested in this new project, he agreed, then turned back to the plan on his monitor. “How big was Tara?” she asked. “A southern mansion? Maybe three times what we’re talking about, Maybe 8,000 square feet (742m2). Why?” “Just remembering Scarlett fighting with Mammy about how much skin she could show. Young Scarlett knew what ‘bosoms’ were for. So did Mammy, come to think of it.” So did Louise. She was doing a little planning. The poor boy would not be able to resist. Wednesday, September 8, 2004, 7:45 A.M. Louise and Tom’s dining room. The autumnal equinox was two weeks away. The sun rose almost pre- cisely in the east. This morning was cool, perfect for running or cycling. Tom came in from a fast 5k run (3+ miles) as Louise was finishing breakfast. “Bad idea you had last night, Lou.” “What?” “About me shopping. I know you. You’ll walk in on me showing a lot of those beautiful tits and I’ll forget about what I’m doing. That’s your plan, right?” Busted. This was disturbing. He had seen right through her little plan. “Would I do something like that?” He smiled at her. He knew, and she knew that he knew. “It’s like this. Jim says he’ll be ready to break ground, first of October. Says he can have it up before winter if I can give him plans. So I should really be focused on our house, not my beautiful wife’s sexy tits.” “Oh,” she said, quite disappointed. But what he said made sense. “As darling Max would say, ‘Oh shit’.” 24 Plans and Rituals 335

“Come here,” he said, holding his arms out. His hug softened the dis- appointment. “Can I help you with the plans? I mean, I’m really excited about the house, too. You’re right. House first. Then tits.” “You can help. Why don’t you do the shopping? You can go after work today. I can work until you get back from the mall. If it goes along I’ll feel good about knocking off by the time you get back.” That sounded like a plan to Louise. Kids first, then shopping, then Tom. Altogether a good Wednesday. She was much happier. Very happy, considering that her plan had been discovered and foiled. He knew her too well. She was going to have to factor that into her thinking. Friday, September 10, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. The day was beautiful but it had a hint of fall in the air. Light jackets would have been welcome, a contingency foreseen by the lawyer, but not by her friends. Their aerobics class leader had led them hard. Harder than last year and later, too. They had skipped showers and dressed quickly for the short walk to The Rose. Chairs to sit in and margaritas to sip would be welcome. “Jerry wants to experiment on you guys,” Jillian greeted them. “On the house if you’ll volunteer.” “How does he intend to poison us?” Maxine asked. “Sort of a hot buttered rum with apple cider,” the waitress answered. “So new we don’t even have a name for it.” “Hot sounds good,” Louise voted. Acacia nodded her agreement. “Three volunteers,” Maxine told Jillian. While they waited, they complained about the aerobics workout. They decided that their leader should join the Marines. The conversation was interrupted by Jillian’s arrival with three steaming mugs. The two women who lacked jackets wrapped their hands around the mugs. The mugs felt good. Sips revealed a tasty beverage, generously supplied with rum. They put their heads together for a private conference. When Jillian came back, their report was unanimous. Very good start. Jerry should keep working on it. 336 Explicitly Sexy II

Friday, 9/10/04, 7:30 P.M. Tom’s room. He was studying his monitor intently when she came in. She was not showing any décolletage. She massaged his shoulders. “How’s it going?” He pointed to pencil-on-graph-paper drawings on his desk. “Gotta get these into the computer so I can be sure everything fits. Make sure I’ve allowed enough for wall thicknesses and such.” “May I see?” “Nope. I’m going to surprise you.” “But don’t I get any say in this?” “You’ve already had your say. It’ll be a lot like Tara. Maybe not quite so big.” She kissed his cheek and left him to his work. She had two new, lacy shelf bras and three tops that barely covered them (to say nothing of the skin the bras would push up above their cups). She hoped he would be done, soon. Tom was a hunk and she’d taught him exactly how she liked to be kissed, too. What a shame. She would brush her own hair tonight. Tuesday, September 14, 2004, 5:00 P.M. The Rose Café. Frost was forecast for later in the week. The tomatoes at the farm stands were green and pink. Farmers were harvesting all the summer vegetables that remained, ripe or not. The aerobics class wasn’t quite so brutal, or our trio was getting used to it. They escaped just before five. Without asking, Jillian set half-filled mugs on their table as they sat down. “Samples,” she explained. “We call it the Fall Special. And Jerry says your first round will be on the house, since they were your idea.” Louise took the first sip. “Wait a minute. I can’t quite...” Louise tasted again. “Cinnamon, brown sugar, rum, apple and something...” “Secret recipe,” Jillian refused to explain. “Margaritas or Fall Spe- cials?” Maxine looked at Acacia, then Louise. By telepathy she concluded that a round of Fall Specials was in order. 24 Plans and Rituals 337

“I’ll never let on about the raisins,” Jillian said with a wink. “Are we up to Saturday,” Maxine asked when Jillian left. “Yes, and you’re rushing things, Sexy,” the storyteller said. “Did I tell you that we’re thinking about investing in a bigger house? Tom’s designing one.” Acacia and Maxine asked all the reasonable questions, which Louise answered by confessing, “He won’t tell me. Says he’ll be surprising me.” Acacia recommended that she use her feminine wiles to persuade him to show her the plans. Tuesday, 9/14/04, 7:15 P.M. Tom’s room. Again, he was concentrating on his monitor. A 3D model of a house was on the screen. He clicked ‘minimize’ when he heard her approaching. “Was that our new house?” “Hope so.” “Show me?” “That would spoil the surprise.” She rubbed his shoulders. “Our lawyer said I should use my feminine wiles to pry your secrets loose. Do you think I could?” “I bet against you once. Won’t make that mistake again.” She laughed. “Well, it’s nice to know that I could, if I wanted to. But I like surprises.” Then she added, “I need lights if I’m going to keep riding home. Can we try that new search company for ‘bicycle lights’? It’s called Googol or something like that.” “Why don’t you just drive? Not sure I like you riding after dark.” “I like riding because I really like it when my husband helps pull stockings up my legs. You like my bicycling thighs, don’t you?” That small taste of her ‘feminine wiles’ was convincing. He helped her find ‘bicycle lights’ online. In the process, she found the correct name for the new search company. 338 Explicitly Sexy II

Friday, September 17, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. The summer season was over. Winter squashes—acorn, butternut, pump- kins—were ripening. Mornings were colder. Afternoons did not always reach 70 degrees (21C). Tomato lovers mourned the passing of their favorite time of year. But for runners and cyclists, this was one of the best seasons. Our aerobicisers left another demanding workout and made their way toward recuperation under their favorite rose bower. On the way they had discussed their trainer’s new attitude. They concluded that her boyfriend must have left her for another woman shortly after her daugh- ter announced she was pregnant and the police had asked her to come bail her son out of jail. (The trainer’s possible afflictions might have been worse, but the walk from the gym was just three blocks.) Louise sug- gested that the trainer might just be pushing them harder for their own good, but Acacia and Maxine preferred their alternative theories. “Margaritas or Fall Specials?” Jillian asked after they were seated. “I’ve thought about Fall Specials,” Maxine said. “All wrong. You’d better bring Rose.” A worried waitress went to find her lover. “What’s up, Max?” Acacia asked. Maxine smiled and winked. Jillian returned with Rose, who looked concerned. “Is it about the Fall Special?” Rose asked. “We thought you were happy with the way they turned out.” “The drink’s fine, Rose,” Maxine answered. “It’s the name. I was thinking about it. You know you can say, ‘I’m going to The Rose for mar- garitas’ and people will understand, even if they’ve never been to The Rose. But if you say, “I’m going to The Rose for Fall Specials they won’t know if you’re looking for sweaters on sale or taking your car for a tune up. You’re totally screwing up a pretty good drink.” Rose took the complaint more seriously than it deserved. She left to huddle with Jillian and Jerry. Jillian returned with three steaming mugs of, “...our new, unnamed fall cocktail. Rose says there’s no charge if you can name the drink.” After Jillian left, Maxine proposed a toast. “Here’s to The Rose’s new drink, the Inn Cider.” 24 Plans and Rituals 339

“The Insider?” Louise asked, quite confused. “That’s ‘Inn’ with two ‘n’s and ‘Cider’ with a ‘c’,” Maxine explained. Came to me as I was painting this morning.” “Very good, Max,” Acacia said. “Better than ‘Fall Special’ except that this isn’t an inn, and the drink’s not cider.” “Stop thinking like a lawyer,” Maxine said. “Think about selling drinks when the weather turns cold. Sunday, September 19, 2004, 1:30 P.M. Tom’s room. So far the day had seen breakfast and church. On returning Tom had gone back to his plans. Louise had been trying things on in her room, letting him work. Tom had not turned around when Louise walked into his room. She asked if the house plans were ready. Louise was wearing a bra and top that would help her complete her own plans. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We can turn my design into drafted plans just by choosing an export option. The draftsman just has to add room names, dimensions and such. They can output straight to blue prints. Jim will have what he needs Monday morning. Watch.” He clicked File, then chose Export. Another click chose a format and he was typing in a file name. He opened his mail program and chose the architect from the list. “Dean,” he wrote, “plans attached as discussed.” He attached the file and clicked Send. Turning around he said, “Now, I’m all yours for...” His sentence ran out. His focus was on her cleavage, beautifully displayed above an obscenely low-cut peasant blouse. The black lace of the shelf bra wasn’t entirely hidden by the blouse. Her nipples weren’t entirely hidden by the bra. Louise smiled, pleased to have interrupted his sentence. Pleased to have his complete attention. “You’re all mine for what, Tom?” She ran a hand through his hair and pulled him into her chest. “You’re so hot,” he said. “I was going to say that I’m yours for the rest of the day.” She smiled. “You’re really finished?” 340 Explicitly Sexy II

“No. Got to think about the landscape next, but the house is finished. I’m finished for the day, though.” “You’re not finished. You’re just starting. I’ve got plans for you. You can start by showing my cleavage some appreciation.” He used his lips and tongue on her provocatively displayed breasts. He wrapped his arms around her, ending with both his palms full of her rear cheeks. He squeezed and then let his hands roam up and down between thighs and buttocks while he ‘appreciated’ her breasts. His wife was so sexy! She loved the attention. The mouth on her breasts said all she needed to hear about the bra and blouse. And the hands behind her were driving her crazy. “Come,” she said, holding out a hand to lead him to the bed- room. Sunday, 9/19/04, 2:10 P.M. Westbound in Louise’s car. They were westbound on the highway. Her wiper blades beat a steady rhythm. “Where are we heading,” he asked. “Sintilla’s,” (their adult toy store), she answered. “Anything in particular?” “Yes. One of my girlfriends told me about fingertip vibrators. I think she said, ‘turns a man into a magician.’ Would you like to be a magi- cian?” “You keep getting sexier and sexier,” he said. “And maybe I could get something to wear while we’re there.” “Something as sexy as you were wearing to show off your beautiful tits?” “I’m still wearing it,” she said, unzipping her jacket. “You liked it, I believe.” “Oh, no. Do you really want to have that much skin showing when we’re out in public?” “Are you worried about my skin or your stiffie?” “Both.” 24 Plans and Rituals 341

“You know, a woman likes to make her man stiff. It’s a compliment. And your cock never lies. If he says something looks sexy I know it looks sexy.” He was getting concerned. Sintilla’s fashions were likely to be the sort that a woman would not wear in public. Sunday, 9/19/04, 2:40 P.M. Sintilla’s adult toy store. The store was nearly empty. The rain may have been responsible. They parked in font of the door and ducked inside quickly, staying mostly dry. At the counter Louise asked for fingertip vibrators. They had three kinds. “You choose, Tom.” Louise asked to be pointed toward lingerie. Louise unzipped her jacket and then left Tom with the clerk. “Your wife?” the clerk asked. Tom nodded agreement. “She’s beauti- ful,” the clerk commented. Tom smiled. He still couldn’t believe that Louise had unzipped her jacket, flashing so much skin. “Yes, she is,” he agreed. After choosing the vibrators, he asked where he might find his wife. “I think I can guess,” the clerk said. “Let me show you.” “Something to wear at home,” the clerk asked Louise when they found her looking through a rack of provocative garments. “Yes,” Louise agreed. “These sizes are jumbled.” “Well, let’s take a look,” the clerk said, “and then I can suggest some things that might fit.” With that she helped Louise out of her jacket. Tom looked the other way. He had never seen Louise display so much skin in public. There was no one to see excepting himself and the clerk, but still... He knew what effect the skin would have on him if he looked at her. Its effect would not make him any less embarrassed. He kindly took the jacket from the clerk. (He may have wanted something to hold.) Louise was feeling mischievous. The clerk pulled out an obscene teddy. There were no cups to cover the breasts, and the crotch was split so the wearer would not need to take it off (in order to do the things the wearer might want to do, or have done to her). “What do you think of this one?” Louise asked Tom, holding it up to herself. 342 Explicitly Sexy II

Tom felt the blood color his face. He was glad to have a jacket to hold in front of himself. “This one’s fun, too,” the clerk said, holding up another cupless teddy. It left the wearer’s rear cheeks uncovered. “Here,” the clerk said, stretching the garment around Louise’s jean-clad cheeks. Tom was bright red. Louise said she’d take them both. Sunday, 9/19/04, 3:05 P.M. Eastbound in Louise’s car. At the door, Tom had held out Louise’s jacket to help her put it on. She had taken it from him and tucked it under her arm. The rain was letting up. The few drops that had hit her chest helped glue her blouse to the skin it covered. She had unlocked the car door and he had held it open for her. She had leaned forward to kiss him before getting in, displaying as much skin as possible. He had shut his eyes to kiss her. She had pretended not to notice. On the highway she asked about the fingertip toys. They came with batteries included, he explained, glad they didn’t have to stop again. “Tom,” she said, “will you do something for me?” Of course he would, he volunteered. “Look at my tits.” He couldn’t believe it. He tried to form a response. Eventually he settled on a simple, “Yes ma’am,” and looked as requested. She glanced at him to be sure he was looking. “Do you like what you see?” she asked. “Your tits are beautiful,” he answered. “Did you notice our clerk? She couldn’t take her eyes off me. Do you suppose she was into women?” “Uh, I guess so.” “Do you think you should have looked away when you could have been looking at my tits? She didn’t look away, you know.” “Would you rather I had stared?” “I don’t like the word ‘stared’ but I think an appreciative look would be welcome.” 24 Plans and Rituals 343

“I’ve never seen you like this, Lou. Didn’t it bother you that a strange woman was staring at your tits?” “She was helping me pick out things to wear. She had a reason to look. And I wasn’t bothered. I was flattered. “I’m trying to be a little less prudish,” Louise explained. “That felt good. Next time try to look like you’re proud of your wife, OK?” She turned and smiled at him, just long enough to show that she wasn’t angry. She had pushed herself outside her comfort zone and was quite pleased with the result. Friday, September 24, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. It had been dry, raining and dry again as our trio walked slowly, briskly and slowly again from the gym to The Rose. The Inn Ciders Jillian brought were welcome. The drink was good and the warm mugs even better. Louise was excited. “I rode by our new house on the way to Max’s.” (She had parked her bicycle in Maxine’s carriage house.) “What does it look like,” Acacia asked. “It’s very exciting,” Louise explained. “Last week it was a farm field with a giant maple in the corner. Now it’s a farm field with a bulldozer and a hole that the bulldozer made. I think the hole will be our basement. The giant maple is still there.” “And...?” Acacia inquired, waiting for more. Louise didn’t have more. “I guess that’s not so exciting if it’s not your very own hole, is it.” “You can see a house growing where there’s just a hole, can’t you Lou,” Acacia said, patting Louise’s hand, trying not to sound conde- scending. “Tell us about it as the house grows?” Friday, 9/24/04, 5:35 P.M. The Rose Café. “Let’s hear another Ace Donovan story,” Louise said. Acacia smiled to herself. Her story was immodest, though its educa- tional value might justify the immodesty. A petite woman (5' 3"—1,6m) can be quite conceited without being offensive. 344 Explicitly Sexy II

“You know Herman is pretty smart,” she began. “In fact, I think he’s smarter than me. I’ve got a story about how even a smart man can be quite, uh...” And she paused to organize her thoughts. “Well, it’s about what a woman can get away with when a man’s brain is full of dopamine.” She had her listeners complete attention. “You remember Rose’s mention of an ‘erotic ritual’ she and Jillian had? We were speaking about shaving cunts.” Her listeners remembered. “Well, I got to thinking about that. A bitch goddess is, after all, a god- dess. And shouldn’t goddesses have rituals? Especially the sort of ritual that focuses a man on parts that, uh...” She searched for an appropriate phrase. “Especially on parts that she would like a man focusing on? I finally did something about it. I laid some groundwork a week ago.” Acacia’s ritual began in the shower. Soaking hair in hot water is good preparation for shaving, of course. The ritual continued in the bed- room where the goddess’s most intimate parts were made bald, save for a small triangle above her mons. The parts to be made bald were lovingly kissed at the beginning of the ritual. Friday, 9/24/04, 5:50 P.M. The Rose Café. Maxine was half shocked. “Did I call Louise a ‘conniving bitch’? You’re ten times worse, Ace. Both you guys should be ashamed.” The other half of Maxine, the half that wasn’t shocked, may have been jealous, or at least eager to learn more. Louise laughed. “I think your sexy big boobs kept you from ever learning anything about men, Sexy.” Acacia smiled. “Why don’t you ask our men if they mind, Max. May I go on?” She told the story of the rest of her ritual. After shaving, the goddess’s barber then carefully tested his work (using his lips and tongue to be certain that she had no stubble). The god- dess had shaken violently as he tested the quality of his work. After the testing, the goddess honored her barber, rewarding him for his careful work. Maxine shook her head slowly, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have someone ‘testing’ such a result on her. “Would a man,” she asked, “not just Herman, but a man in general, do that?” 24 Plans and Rituals 345

“I believe I can double our sample size,” Louise volunteered. “In fact I think that might happen quite soon. I’ll let you know, Max.” From the way she said it Maxine understood that she expected a positive result. “I think you will be amazed, Max,” Acacia said. “No one ever called me ‘Sexy.’ Doesn’t that tell you something?” “Meaning?” “Wake up, girl!” Acacia said, with emphasis. “With assets like yours there is no limit to what you can get.” Then she thought about it. “No. There is a limit. The limit is what you ask for.” Louise agreed. She took Maxine’s hand in hers. “My dear, sheltered, well-endowed girlfriend,” she began. “Dopamine feels good. If a man thinks that your little schemes will fill his brain with dopamine he will be happy to let you pursue your little schemes. Ace’s ceremony gets his brain full of dopamine, starting in the shower, then with the kissing and straight through the shaving and then the oral for her. Afterward he gets to come. Ten out of ten men would do that if you asked. All that dopamine and an orgasm too?” Maxine tried to wrap her brain around the concept. Maxine asked if anyone wanted a second round. Her friends chose to go home. Saturday, September 25, 2004, 9:00 A.M. The church parking lot. Wind breakers covered the riders’ spandex. These jackets are thin, light and remarkably warm when the riders’ heart and lungs are not at rest. Cyclists wear gloves even in the warmest weather. These are thickly padded at the palms, to spread the weight of the upper body as the cyclist leans forward on her handlebars. They also help keep the hands warm. Protected from the chill, the riders agreed that this was a beautiful morn- ing. Wind breakers would be neatly folded and returned to the cyclists’ tiny packs before the rides were over. The ‘B’ group headed north. Louise and Maxine rode side-by-side in the middle of the pack. In just a mile (1,6km) they were out of town, the pack was spreading and they were warm again. “So what am I going to say to George?” Maxine wanted to know. “He says he’s placed all but five of my paintings.” 346 Explicitly Sexy II

“You mean five are left from the show? How many more do you have to give him?” “Two dozen, give or take.” “Including From the Heart of a Friend?” “Nah. I’m deferring to the model’s modesty. We’ll leave that one out for now.” “So where are we going next?” the agent asked. “This could be a turning point, Max. You want to stay regional or should we talk about New York?” “It’s easier to drive to Detroit, isn’t it?” “OK. Your commercially-minded agent says that New York is the capital of the art world. You’re already a major regional artist. If you stay in Detroit, you stay regional. Besides, you’ve got a new-artist contract. If we go to New York we negotiate an established artist’s contract. Your prices go up and your gallery’s share goes down.” “Glad one of us thinks about these things,” Maxine answered. “Did I mention that I’m afraid of flying?” The agent accepted her client’s objection, even though it was less than business-like. “You want to let George do another show? We can raise the prices and make it a really big deal. Probably the biggest regional show in a long time.” “You think we can?” “You’re really good, Max. Of course we can.” “I think I owe you a lot, sweet Lou.” “How about you let me fondle those sexy big boobs when we get back?” Maxine smiled at the thought. “You want more than a squeeze?” “Stop that!” Louise objected. “I’m a married woman. And you’re making my panties wet.” “I’m an artist, Lou. I like beautiful things. Things like you.” “You just like me because I like your boobs, Sexy.” “I like the way you fondle my boobs.” “Oh, shut up, Max. Be serious for a minute.” 24 Plans and Rituals 347

“I am serious.” They rode in silence, each thinking about the others breasts. Louise broke the silence without changing the subject. “So tell me something. Did you ever get tired of all your dates wanting to squeeze your boobs?” “Oh shit. I hated it. Developed a fear of groping. Big time.” Louise was pleased. “We’ve never actually talked about that, Max. About how a woman with boobs could be grope-o-phobic.” “I think that’s why I like you, sweet Lou. You caress. You don’t grope.” Louise paused. She hadn’t thought about this. “You need something better than an occasional squeeze from a girlfriend. I don’t have a penis, you know.” “I knew there was something missing,” Maxine said. Louise checked her cycle computer. “We turn east soon. Have we decided what we’re doing?” she asked. “Almost. I’ve got to make an appointment to see George.” “Is Monday too soon, Max?” “For George?” Max asked. “I’ll call George this afternoon. He’ll be in the gallery. I’ll tell him we want a show bigger than the first, and a bigger percentage than the first. Let him think it over. And I’ll make an appointment for you to see him Monday afternoon. You talk about the rest of your paintings and if he brings up money, tell him you know nothing and will do whatever I say. I’ll go easy on him. He’s done a lot for us.” The ‘B’ group’s route turned east at the next road. They were a third of the way through their ride. After the turn, Louise asked again. “Have we decided what we’re doing?” “We’ve got a plan. My commercially-minded agent thinks all the men I know will clear their schedules whenever I ask them.” “Is the one we call Sexy betting against me?” Louise challenged. “Nope. Ever since the TV crew showed up I’ve figured you could walk on water.” 348 Explicitly Sexy II

Tuesday, 9/28/04, 6:10 P.M. The Rose Café. Louise told the story of her own copy of the Bitch Goddess’s ritual. Louise had asked Tom on Wednesday. He had purchased razors the next day. By the end of the day, her private parts were entirely bald. Like Aca- cia, Louise had asked her barber to carefully test for stubble, using his lips and tongue. And she had thanked him after his testing was com- pleted. Her gratitude was not insincere, though it may have had an ulte- rior motive. It encouraged him to repeat this ritual. Acacia smiled. She was flattered. Imitation is the sincerest form. “Did you sign him up to keep you nice and smooth? It’s a lot of trouble, you know.” “Yes,” Louise said, “I’ve engaged him as my barber. Twice a week I’ll have to shower with him and then spread my legs to let him lick me carefully, then massage in the shaving lotion, shave me smooth and then test his work with his mouth. It sounds like a great deal of trouble, but it’s the least a girl can do for a good man, isn’t it?” “You conniving bitches!” Maxine exclaimed. “He does all the work while you collect orgasms.” Acacia and Louise looked at each other. Louise held out her hand, palm up, to Acacia as if to say, “Do you want to tell her?” Acacia made a similar gesture to Louise. “Darling Max,” Louise said, taking Maxine’s hand in her own. “We’ve been trying to tell you about men.” “Exactly,” Acacia agreed. “This is a test, Max. Think hard. What is running around the man’s brain as he takes care of his mate’s kissabil- ity?” “And,” Louise extended the test, “as he tests her pussy for stubble? A good man certainly wouldn’t want any stubble, would he?” Maxine shook her head. She was amazed. Men would... “Just wait a bit, Max,” Acacia said. “Soon you’ll have Frank testing for stubble. You need something to confess, right?” Maxine was thinking about being called ‘Sexy.’ A generously endowed woman (especially one who keeps a firm size 6 figure below her generous endowment) could learn to be comfortable around the opposite sex, couldn’t she? Maxine knew she had more to learn. 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties

In the northern U.S. a small group of exceptionally warm fall days is called ‘Indian summer,’ ‘Indian’ being the misnomer applied to those who inhabited North America before the Europeans arrived. Michigan- ders enjoy the warm days while they last. Our aerobicisers had enjoyed a good workout. Tiring but not exhausting. It had ended promptly at 4:50—time enough for a quick shower before they descended on The Rose. Friday, October 1, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. “It’s about time,” Acacia was saying as they sat down. “Our class was shrinking pretty fast. The gym had to do something.” (The gym had engaged a new, gentler aerobics trainer, replacing the one who was shed- ding customers faster than her customers were shedding pounds.) “But we’ve lost our very good excuse for drinking at The Rose,” Louise lamented.

349 350 Explicitly Sexy II

“No excuses needed,” Jillian said, arriving just in time to hear Louise’s lament. “And say ‘hi’ to Phil, Jerry’s replacement,” she said pointing to the new man behind the bar. Phil waved. Jerry’s departure was mourned. “We couldn’t keep him,” Jillian explained. “He was too good. But we kept his recipes.” To prove her point, she set out three Inn Ciders. “We don’t need an excuse, Lou.” Maxine said. To Jillian she added, “These Inn Ciders are still good.” She lifted her thumb in a salute to Phil. Returning to Acacia and Louise, she asked, “Who has news?” Louise said. “I’m all excited about our house, so I’ll go first. The first floor is framed! You can see where the walls will be.” “What does ‘framed’ mean?” the attorney (who had never given any thought to house construction) asked. “You, know. The boards that are inside the walls.” “I didn’t know there were were boards inside the walls. I guess something has to be there to keep the house standing up,” Acacia said. She was still not concerned with house construction. “I guess it’s more exciting if it’s your own house,” Louise finished the conversation. “Now who’s got a new story to tell?” Maxine asked. Acacia shook her head negatively. Louise volunteered that she was, “working on teddies.” “Theodores?” Acacia asked. “Could be Edwards,” Maxine suggested. “The garment,” Louise explained. (She had googled it.) “Invented a century or so ago. Was called ‘camiknickers’ since it combined a camisole and knickers—we’d call them panties. The name may come from the teddy bear, named after President Teddy Roosevelt, or it may not. Nobody’s sure. The teddy was invented as a practical garment. Lately it’s being used mostly for sexual attraction. I’m testing the attrac- tional potential.” “Ms. Wilson should get some sort of award,” Acacia opined. “Is there a Nobel prize for attractional research?” “There certainly should be,” Maxine said. “Tell us more about your study, Ms. Wilson.” 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties 351

“Well, I went to our adult toy store, where they have a rack of very provocative garments. The sales girl was kind enough to help me find two in my size. They were extremely, uh, oh what’s your word, Ace?” “Slutty?” Acacia asked. “Yes. Very slutty. Totally ‘let’s fuck.’ One claims it’s a teddy, but it covers only a bit of belly and lower back.” “No cups?” Maxine wanted to know. “Sort of a halter, but really only a strip between the tits. And no ass, either,” Louise confirmed. “The other has circles where cups might be. Highlights its lack of cups quite nicely. And the crotch is split so you really have no need to take it off while you’re using its attractional func- tionality.” “Sounds totally slutty,” Acacia said, approvingly. “Expensive?” Maxine inquired. “Dirt cheap. I also found a really nice teddy at Vicky’s Whispers. Sheer mesh and stretch lace. Half cups. Cost more than the other two combined. My plan is to try one each night, starting tonight. Find out how they effect the male. I’ll develop some sort of stiffness index.” “Very interesting study, Ms. Wilson,” the attorney said. “But be care- ful not to let the wearer’s opinion control the results. The wearer of such garments might react to her comfort, or lack thereof, with the cheaper, sluttier garments.” “Very good point. I’ll have the wearer do her best to treat them all equally,” Louise said. Louise agreed to report on her research on Tuesday. Tuesday, October 5, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. Indian summer had abandoned them. The new aerobics leader had not. Our women arrived at The Rose pleasantly tired and with fingers eager to be wrapped around steaming mugs of Inn Cider. When it came time for stories, Maxine had none. Acacia also had none, though her friends suspected that there must be something going on. Herman’s cooking kept getting better, Acacia reported. Louise and Maxine guessed that Acacia’s ‘cooking’ was not being allowed to stag- nate. 352 Explicitly Sexy II

This left Louise, who was excited that the second floor of the house was now framed. “But the contractor refuses to let me out of my car,” Louise explained when asked why she didn’t take a closer look at the site. “He says it’s Tom’s orders. And I believe him.” “You haven’t used your feminine wiles to get Tom to show you the plans?” Acacia asked. “I’m waiting to be surprised,” Louise responded. “I like surprises.” “Then what are you doing at the site?” Maxine asked. “I’m a woman,” Louise explained. Acacia and Maxine seemed satis- fied with that answer. Louise was urged to go on to explain the results of her teddy study. Friday, October 1, 2004, 7:30 P.M. Louise’s room. The test administerer had showered. Wearing a towel she went into the test subject’s room. “Why don’t you take a shower too?” she asked. “I’ve got a new garment to show you. Knock and wait, please.” She went into her own room to dress. He closed his programs, wondering what a ‘new garment’ would look like. What kind of garment? He considered the possibilities as he showered. She had three new garments to show him. Two were inexpensive and brazenly sexual. She remembered Acacia’s words about letting the wearer’s opinion control the results. She decided that the more expensive teddy should be tested between the others. She chose the cupless teddy for today. Putting it on she realized she was leaving her comfort zone. She tried to remember Acacia’s approving tone when she had said, ‘sounds totally slutty.’ She reminded herself that ‘let’s fuck’ was the heart of Thing One. Wasn’t that what this garment said? Wrapped in his own towel, he knocked on her door. “Are you naked?” “Just a towel.” “Get naked please.” The test administerer wanted to be able to watch the effect of her new teddy, as indicated by the part of the male anatomy that could be depended on for an honest report. 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties 353

His towel was hanging in the bathroom when he knocked again.. “Come in.” She sat at her dressing table, wearing her short, black-satin robe. Her black robe was an attractive garment, he thought, but one he had seen many times before. She got up, walked to him and turned around. She held her arms behind her. “Take the robe, please.” As he slipped the robe down her arms he saw the sheer panel stretched around her lower back, and then the naked rear, framed by a bit of lace. She turned slowly. He saw a naked breast from the side. Then he saw the sheer mesh halter lying against her breastbone, naked breasts on either side. He had never seen a garment that said ‘sex’ more plainly. He had expected something when she promised a ‘new garment’ and requested that he knock. Expectation had reached certainty when she demanded he be naked. But this was better than he could have thought. She felt totally slutty. Nice girls don’t dress like this, she had thought. There was only one reason to wear this teddy. She was pleased to see her cock swell so rapidly and point to the ceiling so enthusiasti- cally. “I think you like what you see,” she said, not bothering to ask for a verbal opinion. She was beginning to enjoy feeling ‘totally slutty.’ It seemed to be an effective way to do one’s wifely duties. To further test the teddy, the test administerer sat at her dressing table and asked the test subject to brush her hair. She often stroked the insides of his thighs (and some times a bit higher than just his thighs) while he brushed. This time she resisted the temptation, so his eyes could focus on her teddy. She could not, however, resist the temptation to rest a hand gently on his rear. He remained stiff, she noted, during this part of the test. Taking him into the bedroom (leading him by his stiff handle) she tested the upper part (or lack thereof) of her teddy by having him kiss and nibble on her breasts. At her request he started at the outside of her left breast and kissed his way in a slow spiral toward its nipple. She chal- lenged him. Touching her nipple was not allowed unless it stood up beg- ging for him. The challenge proved easier for the man than for the woman. Her nipples were both quite stiff long before he reached her left nipple. Fur- ther kisses, especially kisses with gentle nibbles and small licks, made 354 Explicitly Sexy II her desperate for more. While his mouth approached her left nipple, she struggled to lie still and not give further orders. The nipple was as stiff as she had ever known it when he finally applied his lips directly. When he moved his mouth to her right breast, she realized that she could not possibly wait through a complete repeat of what had been so difficult with her left breast. She ordered his mouth to continue between her legs. The crotch of the teddy slid easily to the side, a design feature which she appreciated. She was quite thoroughly exhausted (due to repeated vaginal contractions) before she remembered that the back also had a feature that should have been tested. Something for next time. Saturday, October 2, 2004, 7:30 P.M. Louise’s room. Again, the test administerer had showered and worn just a towel while going into the test subject’s room to interrupt him. “I’ve got another new garment to show you if you’ll be kind enough to shower for me. Please be naked when you knock.” She pulled on the test teddy while she waited for him. It felt less slutty. More ‘would you like to seduce me?’ than simple, ‘let’s fuck.’ She reminded herself that it was his reaction, not her own, that she was test- ing. Knowing him to be considerate, she did not need to ask questions when he knocked. She had not bothered with a robe for this test. She simply stood up, put her hands on her hips and bid him, “Come in.” This evening’s garment covered much more than the first teddy though much of the coverage was not opaque. The body was made of sheer stretch panels wrapping around to meet a front panel of stretch lace. It had black-lace half cups like a well-made demi bra. Sheer mesh covered, but did not conceal, her rear. Again, the initial test results were positive. The man stiffened promptly. The result of the hair-brushing-while-staring test was also posi- tive. She led him into the bedroom for additional testing. The same challenge was made regarding kisses and nipples, the right breast being selected for starting the test. The bra cup construction, how- ever, required that a shoulder strap be slid down and the cup folded to reveal the selected breast. This was inconvenient, although the actual folding of the cup to reveal the breast was not without certain rewarding feelings. Again, the test administerer failed to wait for the second breast to be thoroughly stimulated. The crotch of the garment was well-made and well-fitted, which might have been more appreciated in other circumstances. During the 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties 355 test, however, it required that the garment be removed to allow the test subject access to the additional areas between the test administerer’s legs. As with the first garment, the test ended with the administerer quite exhausted. The back of the garment had a panel that would have limited the value of further testing, had it still been worn at the end of the test. Sunday, October 3, 2004, 7:30 P.M. Louise’s room. To be consistent, the test administerer again showered, dressed in a towel and approached the test subject in his own room. She made a similar request, including asking him to knock and specifying his attire when he did so. The final garment was a sibling of the first in construction and cost. Unlike the first, it pretended to cover the chest. The covering was limited to circles surrounding the breasts. The back of the garment partially cov- ered her rear cheeks. A slit between the rear cheeks continued from the waist in back down and up again. The slit closed over her mons, allowing easy access to the more tender parts below the mons. Putting on the third teddy, she noticed a change in her own attitude. She liked this teddy for its brazen sluttiness, for it’s totally Thing One, ‘let’s fuck’ attitude. She smiled when she told herself, ‘nice girls don’t dress like this.’ He knocked. Again, she depended on his compliance with her requests. She stood and asked him to, “Come in.” She noticed that he was partially erect even before he saw her. The initial test results were similar, although by this time the element of surprise had been lost. The test administerer did not consider this a result of the particulars of the garment. Again, hair-brushing-while-star- ing produced results that were pleasing to the test administerer. The nipple/kisses test was repeated, beginning again with the left breast. The fact that the garment provided a circle around the breast was judged to be slightly preferable to the first garment tested. The woman administering the test may have, she confesses, not given the gentleman as much time as he desired for this portion of the test. She may have been too anxious to test the efficacy of the arrangement of fabric below her mons. Splitting the garment below the mons was, however, judged entirely successful. Unlike the second garment, this teddy allowed testing to con- tinue smoothly without any annoying stop for undressing. Although the first garment had slid out of the way easily, the split between the legs 356 Explicitly Sexy II made access even easier in the third garment. She noted that his tongue had succeeded where fingers had been required by the first garment. This led to a particularly satisfying result. It may be more accurate to say that it led to multiple satisfying results. The split between the legs continued to the rear in the third garment, a feature which awaits further testing. It might be desirable to restructure the testing to begin with these neglected features before continuing on the front-side tests. Tuesday, 10/5/04, 6:15 P.M. The Rose Café. “I think I speak for us both,” Acacia said, indicating herself and Maxine, “when I thank you for taking the time and trouble to study the attrac- tional value of this set of teddies. Do you have any summary observa- tions?” “I loved the one from Vicky’s Whispers,” Louise said. “But that’s probably just snobbery because I knew its price. If the goal is turning him on they all worked wonders. Slutty is good.” Acacia smiled. Louise looked up. “Can I add one thing about the teddies?” Her listeners asked her to tell them more. She added a summary judgment. ”Split-crotch and cupless are both nice features if you want to fully exploit the garment’s attractional value.” Louise shivered with the memory. “Very desirable features. “I’ve finally learned what you meant, Ace,” Louise concluded. “What I meant?” Acacia asked. “About ‘slutty’,” Louise said. “Slutty is good. Part of one’s ‘wifely duties,’ I’d say.” Acacia was flattered. “Perfect example of classical conditioning, Ms. Wilson,” she said. Maxine thought she must have missed something. “Conditioning?” she asked. “The test subject has been conditioned to associate ‘new garment’ and ‘shower’ with a certain result,” Acacia elaborated. 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties 357

Louise smiled, trying not to look smug. A certain amount of shop- ping would be required to reinforce the subject’s conditioning. A ‘wifely duty,’ she thought. Over their second Inn Ciders, Acacia and Louise discussed condi- tioning and wifely duties. Maxine listened carefully. Louise wondered if the conditioning carried over to Tom’s mistress. What would he expect if his mistress said ‘new garment’ and ‘shower’? Tuesday, October 12, 5:05 P.M.. The Rose Café. The farmers were filling the roadside stands with the last of the fall crops. Pumpkins invited the junior sculptors to try their hands at carved faces. The daytime temperatures seldom passed the 60 degree (15C) mark. Except for Louise, who had appreciated being pushed toward her limits, our heroines approved of the new aerobics trainer. She left them feeling like they’d had a good workout, but not like they were marines in boot camp. En route from gym to cafe they debated whether The Rose was a perfect place to unwind after the workout, or the gym was the perfect place to warm up for drinking at The Rose. (The question was left unde- cided.) Phil, having been briefed on our trio’s role in the creation of the Inn Cider, greeted them cheerfully. Louise was excited again about the house growing so rapidly for her. The attic was framed and then covered by the roof. Even Acacia, who was not interested in domestic architecture, understood the importance of the roof. After the roof there was a bit of a pause. “I, uh,...” Louise began and stopped. “Doesn’t anybody else have a story?” she asked. “Max?” Acacia asked. Maxine looked at the salt on the rim of her margarita. “Not quite ready yet, Max?” Acacia pushed. Maxine thought to herself that the little one was shrewd, not just smart. One of these days she would be ready. But not just yet. “Soon, Ace.” 358 Explicitly Sexy II

“How about next time, Max. You’ll feel better after you talk to us, you know.” “Yeah,” Maxine agreed. “OK. Next time.” Then she added, “I think Lou made a start and stopped herself. Lou?” “Oh, all right,” Louise surrendered. “I’m a bit torn between keeping a little zone of privacy and being honest.” “We’re friends, here, Lou,” Acacia said. “Friends are for listening. Or taking confessions, if you want to make confessions.” She was think- ing about Maxine while she talked to Louise. “Your sweet and innocent Louise,” Louise began. Then she stopped. She began again. “Your sweet and innocent Louise is becoming a domi- natrix in her own bedroom. Quite the cruel mistress to her loving hus- band.” She felt better as soon as she said it. Acacia asked, “You see anything wrong with that, Max?” “I guess that would depend on the husband,” Maxine said. “What does Tom think about this, Lou?” “It makes him all kinds of stiff,” Louise said. “He thinks his mistress is really hot. I guess that’s what got me started. He never said anything about it. There was never a ‘Please be my mistress’ or anything. It was just the way he reacted when I got bossy.” “The way you said it, Lou,” Acacia picked up the topic, “it sounded like there was some kind of problem. But if you act a part and your mate thinks its hot, I, uh...” She paused. “What’s the problem? You don’t like the part?” “No, Ace. That’s not the problem. The problem is that I do like the part. Dominatrix makes the domme hot, too. I’m scared.” Acacia looked at Louise. Why should she be scared? Playing a part she liked, a part that made both husband and wife hot? A lot of things seemed right here. “I’m confused, Lou,” Acacia said. “Seems like you’re doing fine. Maybe you want to tell us a story? Give us a concrete example?” Maxine agreed. “An example with lots of details, Lou. So we can really understand.” “You know those Teddies,” Louise began her story. Those teddies were still fresh in her listeners’ memories. They had been sexy and funny and wise. “Well, I tried a body stocking, too.” 25 Slutty Garments, Wifely Duties 359

“A hot one?” Maxine wanted to know. “Neck split down to the navel, Max,” Louise answered her horny friend. “Crotch split too. Split from the mons in front all the way to the waist in back. Very Thing One,” she told Acacia. “Totally ‘let’s fuck’.” The lawyer was sold immediately. “I want one,” she said. “Petite?” “Sorry, Ace,” Louise said. “One size fits all. And please sue anyone who claims ‘one size fits all.’ It should have been labeled ‘medium,’ which is fine if you’re my size.” “Oh, shit,” Acacia said. Maxine laughed. Her own line coming from Acacia was funny. Louise asked, “Well, would you like me to go on?” “Yes, please,” Maxine encouraged her. “We’ve got a sexy medium lady in a slutty medium body stocking. And then?” “The lady in the body stocking invited him to shower and join her in her room. She sat at her dressing table when he knocked. ‘Come in,’ she said. He entered and couldn’t see what she was wearing until she turned her chair to face him. His reaction (I should point out that he was naked after his shower) his reaction was pleasing. The garment stiffened his sexometer immediately. “The lady teased him a bit about his reaction, then ordered him to stand immediately in front of her, where she could play with his stiffie. She played a bit, kissed it a bit. Got him quite frantic. He had to beg the lady to stop as he knows he mustn’t come without permission. Then the lady ordered him to kneel and eat her. She came twice. He stayed stiff. “She led him into the bedroom, where she ordered him to massage her. She relaxed. He stayed stiff. “Getting a nice massage from a stiff masseur made her horny again. So she ordered him to eat her again. She came twice more. “Then the lady ordered him to stand in front of her again. He was still nicely stiff. She played a bit, kissed it a bit. He was even more fran- tic, begging her not to make him come. Then she dismissed him. Just left him stiff. She’s very cruel. “At least his wife thought his mistress had been cruel. His wife would have thanked him nicely after four orgasms, you know. 360 Explicitly Sexy II

“I guess I should add one more observation. The lady in the slutty bodystocking really did appreciate the garment’s open crotch.. Exposing that part of one’s anatomy to an aroused male can push the lust level up to its maximum. In addition to its attractional value that feature can also be quite convenient.” Tuesday, 10/12/04, 6:05 P.M. The Rose Café. At the end of her story, Louise blushed. She had been honest. Acacia stared at Louise. Louise kept her eyes down. Acacia saw her confusion. “Lou,” Acacia said, gently, “you’re mostly the sweetest per- son I know. Maybe the best I’ve ever known. But you’ve got another side. Don’t be afraid of it. Your dark side floods your poor man’s brain with dopamine. Don’t try to bury it. “You know what makes him respond, Lou?” Louise wasn’t sure. “You get hot. Maybe I should say ‘his mistress gets hot.’ He senses that. He feeds on it. For a man there is nothing in the world half as sexy as watching his woman get hot. That’s pure Thing One. It probably shouldn’t be legal if it’s sold full strength. But you’ve got him so turned on he’s burning for you.” She stopped abruptly. “Sorry,” Acacia added. “End of lecture. Be proud of yourself, Lou. You’re doing your ‘wifely duties’.” Louise thanked Acacia for the lecture. “You’ve always given me courage, Ace. Or should I say, ‘Bitch Goddess’?” “Tom’s one lucky SOB, Lou,” Maxine said. “Think about it. He’s got a beautiful wife and a red hot mistress. His wife’s OK with him having a mistress. That’s gotta be man heaven.” “I guess so,” Louise said, not sounding totally convinced. “You know what the cruelest thing his mistress does to him is?” Her listeners didn’t know. “Sometimes she makes him come without letting him plea- sure her first. Only when she’s feeling really bitchy, though.” Acacia and Maxine looked at each other. “Poor Tom,” the lawyer said. “Yeah,” the artist agreed. “Must really suck to be Tom.” “Oh stop it!” Louise protested. Louise wondered if she hadn’t explained the cruelty properly. Or if perhaps she didn’t understand it her- self. 26 Plans and Accidents

Michigan’s October weather alternated between hinting at winter and remembering summer. The final pumpkins were on their way to the farm stands and the unsold apples were on their way to the cider mills when our trio met again. Tuesday, October 26, 2004. 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. The Rose had been without our trio for the last two Fridays and the inter- vening Tuesday. Acacia had been at a seminar, on the 15th. Tuesday, the 19th was Louise’s annual “Meet the Teacher” night. Maxine had stayed in Detroit with Frank on the 22nd, to meet with DIA curators Saturday morn- ing. “It feels like it’s been forever,” Louise said. She was happy to see that their usual table was available. Acacia and Maxine agreed. “We missed you guys,” Jillian said, taking their usual fall order.

361 362 Explicitly Sexy II

When the Inn Ciders arrived, Acacia asked Louise about the house. Acacia may have been trying to make up for her lack of interest. “There’s a garage next to the house, now,” Louise answered. “They’ll be working hard, I’m told, on the indoor things now. I guess electricity and running water are important, but you can’t see them from outside. It will be slow and I’ll be impatient.” “Poor girl,” Maxine said, unsympathetically. “What do you think she should do, Ace?” “I’d recommend a strike,” Acacia said. “Complete sex stoppage until he at least lets her look at the plans.” “But I like surprises,” Louise said, plaintively. To herself, she thought, ‘And I like sex, too.’ “I think you promised us an update on your Kegels, Lou,” Maxine suggested. Louise confessed that this was overdue. “If you insist,” she said, “but I’ll be brief. Ben Wa balls, Kegel exercises, brothels and the pubococ- cygeus muscle. It sounds like a long and fascinating subject, but it isn’t. “The pubococcygeus muscle, or PC muscle, is the source of the con- tractions during an orgasm. Dr. Kegel invented some exercises that a woman can do to strengthen the PC muscle, and to voluntarily control the orgasmic contractions. Dr. Kegel thought this would help during child- birth. These exercises involve inserting weighted balls into the vagina and learning to hold them in place. “Acacia suggested that if I learned to do these contractions, my mate ‘would go wild for it,’ or something like that. Girls in southeast Asian brothels who can do these contractions are said to be ‘playing the flute’ and they command better prices. I started doing Kegels back in August, in case I might ever find myself shipwrecked and unemployed in south- east Asia. “I had really done enough practice almost a month ago, but I was afraid to try it until the middle of this month. I decided to let Tom’s mis- tress have the skill. It went like this.” Friday, October 15, 2004, 9:00 P.M. Louise’s room. Louise wore her short, black satin robe. Nothing else. “Come in” she told him in response to his knock on her door. He entered and waited for her orders. He was naked. 26 Plans and Accidents 363

“Stockings,” she ordered. “The black ones.” He knew which drawer in her dresser. He took the black stockings out and was gathering the first one when she swiveled to face him. She held her left leg out, toe pointed to receive the stocking. Her robe fell open. Her legs and pussy were making him stiff. He tried to concentrate. To keep her seam straight. After both stockings were on and carefully straightened she picked out a garter belt and handed it to him. She tossed her robe into her wing chair. He wrapped the belt around her waist and fastened the garters. Being a strict mistress, she repressed the smile that wanted to form as she looked at his very stiff cock. ‘This will get better,’ she thought. She sat down in her dresser chair, facing him. “Make me come,” she ordered. “No hands.” She was so hot, he thought as he knelt in front of her. He kissed her thighs above the stockings. Then he kissed around her outer lips. “No teasing,” he heard. “I want to come. Now.” He wanted to take her slowly, but that was not her pleasure. He sucked her clitoris into perfect position for his tongue and licked. He stroked it firmly. Steadily. In a minute she was coming. “Stand up,” she ordered. “Go turn the blankets down and wait for me.” After he was gone her smile spread. That little quickie had been just enough so she could concentrate on what came next. Friday, October 15, 2004, 9:00 P.M. Louise and Tom’s bedroom. She lay on her back in the center of the bed. “Kiss my nipples,” she ordered. “Make them stiff.” She did like it when he made her nipples stiff, but it was really him that she wanted stiff. Her order had the effect she demanded and the effect she wanted. “Now I want your cock inside me. Bury it all the way.” He was surprised. She often finished with his cock inside her, but seldom started that way. He tried to slide into her without focusing on the pussy that was enveloping his cock. She slapped his rear. Hard. It made his cock throb, which was what she wanted. “That was nice,” she said and slapped him again. “Now, feel this.” She used her Kegel-strengthened PC muscle to play her flute. 364 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh!” he shouted. The feeling was exquisitely erotic. She slapped him again. She played her flute again. “Oh, no Mistress,” he said. “You’ll make me come too fast.” He normally had excellent endurance. He could fuck her slowly for as long as she wanted. Today she wanted him to come. She had practiced for many weeks to be sure of this new skill. Today he would come for her. “Out until just the tip is inside, then down again,” she ordered. When he was buried again she slapped him again, enjoying his throb. She played her flute again. Then she slapped him again and played her flute again. “No, Mistress,” he begged. He didn’t want to come too fast. “Look at my nipples,” she ordered. She wanted him to come. Slowly was usually good, but this time she wanted it fast. Her hands caressed her breasts and played with her nipples. Her right hand slapped his rear and returned to her chest while she played her flute. It did not take long. He exploded inside her. She loved to feel him throb. Both her palms went to his rear where they rubbed and squeezed. Asses and palms were made for each other. “I’m sorry, Mistress...” he tried to apologize. She cut him off. “I’m not sorry. You came. I wanted to make you come. You have no choice when your Mistress decides to make you come.” His Mistress was very pleased. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 5:45 P.M. The Rose Café. “You said he would go wild for it,” Louise said to Acacia. Acacia was happy to hear herself quoted, and even more happy to have been proven correct. “It’s like having another hand, isn’t it?” she asked. “Yes. A hand in a very interesting place. A lot of trouble, but entirely worth it,” Louise agreed. “No wonder men pay extra for the girls who have the skill.” 26 Plans and Accidents 365

“Once you get the voluntary control, you don’t need the balls to practice,” Acacia pointed out. “I do my Kegels every day driving to work.” Louise thought that was a very good idea. “I think I’ll reserve that skill for the very end,” she thought out loud. “Keep it quite rare so I’ll be sure it always makes him come quite quickly.” “He’ll love you for it,” Acacia agreed. Maxine was jealous, and embarrassed to be listening to a conversa- tion in which she had no part. She waved three fingers at Jillian, who answered with a thumbs up. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 5:55 P.M. The Rose Café. After the second round arrived, Acacia and Louise turned to Maxine. “Your turn, Max,” Acacia said. Maxine looked very unlike herself. This was hard. She was scared. Louise had never seen Maxine this way. She put her hand on Max- ine’s. “Remember when I told you I was becoming a domme in the bed- room, Max?” Maxine said she remembered. “It was hard for me to say it,” Louise continued, “but I felt better as soon as the words were out of my mouth. That’s what friends are for.” “Yeah,” Maxine agreed. “OK. I’ll try. It started...” Maxine stopped. “Oh, shit!” she exclaimed, much too loudly. Heads turned toward the sound. Heads from the bar and the dining room, too. Maxine stood up, grabbed her jacket and went for the door. Louise stood up to go after her but Acacia’s hand stayed her. “She’s embar- rassed, Lou,” Acacia said. “It’s not a medical issue. She’ll survive.” Louise sat down. “What do you think it is, Ace?” “I wish we knew,” Acacia said. “She only sees Frank one day a week. It has to be something related to that. Hard to believe a man wouldn’t want to see her more than one day a week.” “If it were me,” Louise said, “I’d never stop squeezing those sexy big boobs.” “You bicycled?” Acacia asked. “Yes. Why?” 366 Explicitly Sexy II

“Parked in her carriage house?” “Yes,” Louise agreed. “If she doesn’t come back, you’ll have to see her to get your bicycle. Give her a big hug and tell her that we love her, OK?” Louise promised that she would. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 7:00 P.M. Maxine and Frank’s home. Louise was glad to see that the porch lights were on. Made it easy to ring the bell. Maxine looked at the clock and guessed who was calling. She wiped her eyes and opened the door. “Here for your bicycle?” she asked. “Yes,” Louise started, “but more than that. Acacia sent me.” “Why’d the Ace do that?” Maxine asked. “I was ordered to give you a big hug,” Louise said. Then she broke into a smile. Maxine laughed and cried, together. Her eyes were a wreck. A few more tears wouldn’t make them worse. She held out her arms. Louise gave her a big hug. A big, old-friends-who-love-each-other sort of hug. “Good to feel your sexy big boobs squishing my little girls,” Louise said, making Maxine laugh through her tears. “You OK, Max?” Louise asked, after the hug. “Let me get my keys, Kinky. You need your bicycle, right?” “Yes. Keeps Tom nibbling my thighs, you know.” After they retrieved her bicycle, got the lights placed and turned on, and got Louise straddling the frame, ready to pedal, Maxine apologized. “I meant to tell you guys. Really.” “Don’t know what you’re going to tell us, Max, but you can tell us. If you sinned, just confess. We’ll forgive you. For a really bad sin we might make you pay the bar tab, you know. Won’t hurt a rich artist like you.” Maxine laughed and kissed her. “I love you, Lou.” 26 Plans and Accidents 367

“Ooo!” Louise said. “Boob squish and a kiss, too. This is my lucky night.” As she left, Louise felt much better. So did Maxine. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 7:45 P.M. Maxine and Frank’s office. Why was the phone ringing? She walked into the library they now used as their office. The clock told her that a marketer could still be placing calls. Whoever, they were going to get a piece of her mind. “Hello?” The voice on the other end said, “It’s Tom.” Maxine was stunned. What could... Hearing nothing, he said, “I just got a call from the hospital. They just brought Louise into Emergency.” “Oh shit,” Maxine said. “What.. I mean, how bad?” “I think they said ‘critical.’ I’m on my way. Should I pick you up?” She thought about it. “You alright to drive, Tom?” “Yeah. I’m on my way right now. Pick you up at the curb.” “I’ll be there.” She hung up, then picked the handset up again and dialed Acacia. No one answered. What the hell were they doing? She let it ring. She’d have to hang up in two minutes to meet Tom. Then she imagined what Ace and Herman might be doing. Shit. Bad tim- ing. Maxine was ready to hang up when a voice said, “Hello.” “Herman? It’s Maxine. Louise is in the hospital. Emergency room. I’m on my way there now. Tell Ace.” She hung up. He’d just ask questions. She didn’t have time. And she didn’t have answers. Tom arrived just as she got to the curb. He opened the door before he was completely stopped. She climbed in and the door slammed. They were on their way. Maxine watched his driving as she buckled her belt. His driving was OK. She looked at his face. It was grim. 368 Explicitly Sexy II

Half way to the hospital, Maxine spoke. “You know anything?” “Run over by a truck. Critical condition.” She waited for him to go on. He didn’t. “Oh, shit,” she said, quietly. “That’s all?” He would have said more if he’d known more. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 8:10 P.M. The Emergency room At the hospital Tom pulled up behind an empty ambulance at the Emer- gency room door. His place was liberally supplied with ‘No Parking – Emergency Vehicles Only’ signs. Maxine said, “Give me the keys, Tom. I’ll park. You go in.” He looked at her. She made sense. He handed her the keys and went into the waiting room. Fortunately, there was no line in front of the receptionist. This was a quiet night. Most nights were quiet in La Pierre. “Are you Mr. Wilson?” the receptionist asked, before he got to her. “Yes.” “We spoke on the phone. Glad you could make it so quickly. Have a seat, sir.” “Where is she? How is she?” “I’m sorry, sir. They just wheeled her into the OR. I’ll let them know you’re here and I’ll tell you everything they say. You must understand that the patient is their first responsibility. I’m sure that’s what you want.” Tom had turned most of his brain off. The part of it that was neces- sary had remained operational. Driving, bringing Maxine. The part of him that was terrified had been turned off. Waiting, it started to turn on. He started to shake. Maxine joined him and returned his keys. She did not like the fact that he was waiting. His shaking didn’t look good. Maxine was not let- ting herself think about Louise. “Learned anything?” she asked. “In the OR,” he said. The receptionist returned. “She’s in critical condition, Mr. Wilson but she’s stable.” 26 Plans and Accidents 369

“What does ‘stable’ mean?” he asked. “Breathing. Regular heart beat. That sort of thing.” “What does ‘critical’ mean?” Maxine asked. The receptionist did not want to answer that question. “That it could go either way,” she said. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 8:25 P.M. The Emergency waiting room. A scratchy PA speaker had said, “Doctor Breeze. Doctor Breeze to emer- gency.” Tom and Maxine had looked at each other. There was no ‘Doctor Breeze’ in La Pierre. And why did they need another doctor? Acacia and Herman arrived. They said hello quietly. Acacia hugged Maxine. “Run over by a truck,” Tom reported. “Now in the operating room in critical but stable condition. That’s all we know.” Herman asked the receptionist how long the patient might be in the operating room. The receptionist, of course, did not know and was not authorized to speculate. Herman asked how long other emergencies like this had taken. He rephrased his questions until the receptionist finally suggested that the time might be measured in hours, not minutes. After further inquiries, Herman left through the door that led into the rest of the hospital. Ten minutes later he returned with four cups of bad coffee. He saw immediately that nothing had changed. “It’s quite awful,” he apologized, referring to the coffee. “I loaded them all with sugar and creamer to make it drinkable.” The coffees were welcome. At least they provided something warm to hold. Something to do. Tuesday, 10/26/04, 11:35 P.M. The Emergency waiting room. The table in the waiting room held a dozen empty coffee cups. A doctor approached. His badge said, ‘Dr. Breeze.’ He looked from Tom to Herman and inquired, “Mr. Wilson?” 370 Explicitly Sexy II

Tom stepped forward. “Come with me, please.” He looked at the rest of the party. “Friends of Ms. Wilson?” They agreed they were. “I have to report to the next of kin. Rules, you know. We’ll only be five minutes. Mr. Wilson can report what he wishes to you.” Dr. Breeze led Tom into a vacant examining room where he asked Tom to sit. “We’ll be upgrading your wife’s condition to ‘serious’,” the doctor began. He was watching Tom closely. This would not be easy for the husband. “That means we think her life is out of danger.” Tom reached for the doctor’s hand and shook it vigorously, holding the doctor’s forearm with his left hand while he shook with his right. He said “Thank you.” He said it repeatedly. When Tom let go, Dr. Breeze went on. Tom didn’t look like the faint- ing type, he thought. “I’m afraid that the rest is bad news,” he said. “Not after you’ve been scared for her life,” Tom said. The doctor smiled. “I suppose all things are relative.” Then he went on. “I’m sorry to say that we could not save either foot. She’s lost them both. She’s also lost three fingers from her left hand and most of the right side of her face. Her helmet split open on impact. I’m quite sure that it saved her life, however.” Tom looked at him dumbly. “Both feet?” “Below the knees,” the doctor reported. “That means that she’ll be able to walk almost normally once she masters the prostheses.” “And her hand?” Tom asked. “Her thumb and index finger should recover fully. The middle finger is gone beyond the proximal joint.” He pointed to the joint nearest the knuckle of his own middle finger. “We had just enough skin to cover the knuckles on the other two,” he said. “That was my job. I’m a hand spe- cialist. Just happened to be here visiting another patient.” “And her face?” Tom asked, getting to his last question and his worst fear. “That will take quite a lot of repair work, I’m afraid. Out of my line. For now we were able to stop the bleeding and get her wrapped up. Again, it’s not my expertise, but I think we’re talking months, not weeks. Rebuilding a face usually takes multiple operations.” Tom was silent. “Are you OK, Mr. Wilson?” 26 Plans and Accidents 371

Tom sucked in as much air as his lungs would hold. “Yeah,” he said. “As close to OK as I can be after what you’ve just told me.” Tom asked, “Can I see her now?” Dr. Breeze looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s long past visiting hours. And you really don’t want to see her. All you could see would be bandages. She wouldn’t know she had a visitor. Come back tomorrow afternoon. Her head will still be wrapped up, but she might be able to recognize your voice.” Tom digested this, then nodded his agreement. “Can you find your way back to the waiting room?” Tom looked outside the door and recognized where he’d been. “Thanks, Doctor.” “You be strong, Mr. Wilson. She’ll need you. And her friends, too.” When Tom got back to the waiting room the receptionist had left for the night. Acacia, Herman and Maxine were waiting. They saw by his face that the news was not good, but the news was not as bad as they feared. Tom spoke simply. “She’ll live. Lost both feet and three fingers from her left hand. Right side of her face is gone. They’ll try to rebuild it. She’ll be here a long time. Doctor says she might be able to recognize voices if we come back tomorrow afternoon.” Maxine hugged him. Acacia joined the hug. Tears were running down the women’s faces. Tom’s eyes were dry, but glassy. Herman looked out the window. This had been a bad evening for him. He knew that it had been much worse for the others. Looking for any way to be helpful, he appropriated the receptionist’s box of tissues. The women needed tissues. When the hug was over, Herman asked Tom if he wanted a ride home. Tom declined. He said he’d be OK. Tom thanked them for coming. “We didn’t do much good here, but I’m glad I wasn’t alone,” he said. Wednesday, October 27, 2004, 12:05 A.M. In front of Maxine and Frank’s house. Maxine was slower getting out of Tom’s SUV than she had been getting into it. “You OK, Tom?” she asked. 372 Explicitly Sexy II

“Not really,” he answered, honestly. “Probably about as good as you. Better than Lou, though.” Maxine put her hand on his. “Try and get some sleep.” Tom thought ahead. “I guess I’ll be going to the hospital in the morn- ing. Wouldn’t be surprised if Lou comes around faster than the doctors expect.” “Can you pick me up?” Maxine asked. “My brain will be there any- way.” They decided on nine o’clock. Maxine’s porch lights were still on. Tom would find all his lights still on, just as he’d left them. Wednesday, 10/27/04, 9:05 A.M. The La Pierre hospital. Tom had driven slowly and carefully. He had pulled into the driveway to pick up Maxine. At the hospital he parked in the visitors’ lot. He held the door open for Maxine as they went in the main entrance. They spotted Acacia before they reached the receptionist. She was sitting next to a policeman, laptop on her knees, listening and typing. She waved them over to her as she said goodbye to the officer. “Still heavily sedated,” Acacia reported. “I’ve been in to see her. All I saw was bandages. She didn’t know I was there.” “And the cop?” Maxine asked. “He was finishing the accident report. Told me what happened. I’ll tell you all about it. You guys might as well be as mad as I am. She owes it all to a drunk driver. Let’s go find some of that superb coffee.” At Tom’s request, they went to see Louise, first. At the nurses’ sta- tion in the corridor they were turned back. No visitors. And Acacia, “cer- tainly wouldn’t have been allowed in if I had been here,” the head nurse told them. They sat down in the cafeteria with a coffee-colored beverage, heav- ily dosed with sugar and creamer. The coffee was fresher this morning than it had been last night. “She was run over by a two-ton pickup with a three-ton load of pumpkins,” Acacia began. “The driver of the truck, a farmer, called 911. When the police got to the scene Louise was lying on the remains of a bicycle, apparently going west but in the eastbound lane. The truck was 26 Plans and Accidents 373 also headed west in the eastbound lane. The farmer had done his best to come to a stop. He had stopped shortly after running her over.” Tom started a barrage of questions. Maxine knew Acacia better. She told Tom to listen. “Thanks, Max,” Acacia said. Then she continued. “The farmer reported that he was heading west. A cyclist, also head- ing west, was riding on the shoulder. He was overtaking the cyclist. He knew it was a cyclist as there were rear facing lights from the pedals that went in unmistakable circles. “According to the farmer, a vehicle was approaching from the west. As it approached the cyclist, the vehicle drifted across the center line, then veered slightly, heading straight into the westbound lane, straight at the cyclist and the truck. The cyclist and the farmer both went hard left to avoid being struck head on. The farmer said he pounded his brakes but could not avoid the cyclist. “The farmer phoned 911 immediately after the accident, and waited at the scene. The police report that a half-ton pickup, eastbound, was found on its side having rolled into the ditch on the westbound side of the road. The pickup had not left skid marks. The pickup’s location and the farmer’s skid marks were consistent with the rest of the farmer’s story. “After getting Louise into the ambulance, the police removed the driver from the pickup. His seat belt had kept him mostly unharmed. He had passed out, however. An officer on the scene reported that he smelled ‘like a brewery.’ The official blood-alcohol level is not available yet. It seems reasonable to assume that it will be a multiple of the legal limit.” “The pickup driver had two prior DUIs. His insurance, if he had any, would have been canceled after the first DUI.” Acacia took a swallow of the coffee-colored beverage and looked from one to the other. Tom’s questions, as Maxine had assumed, were answered. Maxine acted the scene with her hands. “Truck behind. You hear it. At night you don’t even need your mirror. You can see by its lights where it is. Narrow shoulder, but enough so the truck can pass safely. Then oncoming lights, sliding into your lane then coming straight at you. Turn left to miss the oncoming and pray that the truck behind you can avoid...” “Yeah,” Maxine agreed with the report. “Lou knew what she was doing but there wasn’t anything else she could have done. Head on would have been certain death.” Her upper lip was quivering. 374 Explicitly Sexy II

Acacia looked at Maxine, then at Tom. “Forget it, Tom,” Acacia ordered him. “Think about Louise. One hundred percent focus on putting her back together. OK?” Tom looked at her. He tried to relax his fist. “Right. Louise first.” “Thank you,” Acacia said. “I will follow up. We shall leave justice to God and the law. I’ll have something to say about the law’s part. It’s likely I’ll know the judge. My rep is calm, unemotional, logical. The judge may see another side of me.” Maxine and Tom saw something in Acacia’s face that they had never seen. Later Tom would say, “She would’ve scared a pit bull.” 27 Plans and Stories

Frost covered the ground most mornings. Grey clouds covered the sky. Our trio met more often than twice a week, but around a hospital bed, not under The Rose’s bower. This evening would be different. A foursome would start the evening where the trio usually met. Friday, November 5, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. Coming from Detroit, an hour farther than the others, Frank had arrived first. He stood waiting by the door. Tom arrived before the women. “Hi, Frank,” Tom said, extending his hand. Jillian recognized Tom. “Waiting for two sexy ladies?” she asked them, leading the way to the ladies’ usual table. She suggested two Inn Ciders. Bowers declined. “Going to leave in just a minute.” “You’re going to visit Lou?” Tom asked.

375 376 Explicitly Sexy II

“Yeah. Glad you’re here. When a man goes to visit another man’s wife, even in the hospital, he ought to explain.” “I know you have some expertise to share,” Tom said. “Blew up your knee in your senior year, right?” “Yup. Went from top-ten draft pick to unemployed college senior in one good hit. I know a lot about lying in a hospital bed.” “What was a top-10 tight end worth back then?” Tom asked. “Million a year maybe. Plus performance bonuses. Another one or two just for signing.” “That must have hurt,” Tom said. “I don’t mean the knee. They’ve got pills for that kind of pain.” “Yeah,” Bowers agreed. “And you’re right. The pain in the knee was minor compared to the rest. Maxine agreed that Louise might want to hear my story.” They were interrupted by Acacia and Maxine coming through the door. The women reached their table just as Jillian and the first Inn Cider arrived. The sizes of Maxine’s husband and her lawyer contrasted. By weight, the lawyer was less than half the size of the ex-football player. The four chatted briefly before Bowers left for the hospital. When Rose approached, making her usual rounds, Acacia asked her to sit. Holding Rose’s hand Acacia said, “I voted against ‘oh four two.’ I guess that wasn’t enough.” (On Tuesday, 59 percent of the state’s voters had approved Proposal 04-2 enshrining a ban on same-sex marriage in the Michigan constitution.) Rose shook her head. “I don’t understand it,” she said. “We voted for Kerry.” Then she smiled and kissed Acacia’s cheek. “But you’re a dear,” she said. “Thank you.” “The times they are a-changin’,” Acacia borrowed Dylan to assure her. “Forty percent of us are on your side now.” Rose stood and gave the attorney a very affectionate shoulder rub. Looking at Maxine she said, “Your friend is as nice as you are sexy you know.” Maxine laughed. 27 Plans and Stories 377

Friday, 11/5/04, 5:20 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. The La Pierre Medical Center was a farm-county sized facility. It hadn’t taken Frank long to find Louise. “Hi Frank,” she said. He set the bouquet down on her bedside tray. “From Maxine.” “The last time I saw you I was talking to Sam Gulden at Maxine’s gallery opening,” Frank said. “You looked better then.” “Oh dear,” Louise answered him. “I was rather hoping you’d have a mummy fetish. Don’t I make a good King Tut?” (Only half her face was visible. The rest was still bandaged.) He laughed. “Gallows humor. Glad to hear it. Means you’re getting better.” “It’s the delicious food,” she said. Lying in the hospital had brought out a sarcastic side in Louise. “That’s what they do to make sure you leave as quick as you can.” “Maxine told me you had some expertise as a hospital patient that you wanted to share,” Louise said. “Sure. My life story as seen from a hospital bed. But let’s make sure I still know how these places work. The day starts with a bossy head nurse coming in to wake you up so she can ask if you slept well.” “What a coincidence,” Louise said. “She works here now.” “Some things never change,” he said. “So tell me your life story,” Louise invited. “I really don’t have other plans for this evening.” Frank knew the public, sweet Louise. The lady in the bed seemed to have a rather sharper, pointed side. He thought it was healthy, consider- ing. “Up for a good cry? The tragedy of my life? Or should we start with the comedy?” “Maxine tells me that Michigan Motors likes you,” Louise said seri- ously. 378 Explicitly Sexy II

“Yeah,” he said. “I like cars. Seems that marketing suits me better than football. But let me tell you about football. Tom used to be quarter- back, right?” “Yes. Quite the high-school hero. He wasn’t big enough to be a col- lege hero, though. You’re huge. That’s just right for pro football, isn’t it?” “Yup. I was near 250 (113kg), the perfect size for a tight end. There was nobody I couldn’t block and there was nothing I couldn’t catch.” He held up a huge hand. “The professional agents, the agents that student athletes weren’t supposed to know, had me going high in the draft. Ready to walk out of Michigan into a seven-figure salary. All I had to do was keep focused senior year. I was pretty serious about it, too. Worked hard in practice and harder in the weight room.” “And then the accident?” “I heard it. I heard my knee crack before I blacked out. Woke up the next day with no knee and no career.” “They couldn’t repair it?” “I was all gung-ho to recuperate and recover. Wasn’t going to let a little injury slow me down. Tough guy.” “And?” “And then I talked to the doctors. They all agreed. They could rebuild my knee but any more football was out of the question. It would just break again. Maybe break beyond repair. I was out of football.” “What did that feel like?” “It felt like life was over. Since before high school I’d been a football hero. Coaches loved me. Reporters interviewed me. Hot and cold running babes. It was great. “College was the same, only better. More coaching. More reporters. More babes. And at the end I’d turn pro and be rich. I’d really stepped in it.” He smiled at the memories. Louise said, “One of my favorite books starts, ‘It is a truth univer- sally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife’.” “Should I recognize that?” he asked. 27 Plans and Stories 379

“Popular lady author,” Louise said. “Today we’d call it ‘chick lit.’ Could have been written about you. But my freshman-year English Lit is interrupting. You had ‘really stepped in it.’ What then?” “And then the ride was over,” he continued. “I lay in the hospital bed. First few days my buddies from the team would stop in. That tapered off. Then no one. The season was still on. The coaches were busy. The reporters didn’t need to say more than, ‘he’s done.’ And the babes were replaced by a bossy head nurse waking me up to eat a bad breakfast.” “How did you...” Louise didn’t finish her question. “Did the ‘babes’ disappear that fast?” “All but one. I still remember her. Janet. Less of a ‘babe’ than the others, but she came by every afternoon. I really appreciated that. As I started to get better, she started to ask about rehab and when I could play again. When she finally got it through her skull that I wasn’t going to play again, she stopped coming. I was pissed. Rather soured me toward women in general. It’s amazing how sexy a seven-figure pro contract makes a man. What did you call it? ‘a single man in possession of a good fortune’? But when it’s gone...” “I stuck with Tom, you know,” Louise defended her sex. “He majored in accounting. No seven-figure future.” “You’re a cut above your sisters. Maxine says you’re a jewel.” “That’s me, for sure. Footless and fancy free. Oops. Is that supposed to be ‘foot loose’?” “That joke sounds bitter. I figured you would be. I was bitter.” “I try not to be,” she said seriously, “but it’s hard. How did you han- dle it?” “There was a single moment. I’ll never forget it. They were wheeling me to anesthesia. I realized that there was no future in bitter. Self-pity—I had lots of self-pity—wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Frank Bowers, football star, was history. I needed to figure out Frank Bowers, something else. “Then they put the gas thing over my face and I was done thinking for the day. I woke up the next morning and all I could remember was ‘something else.’ I had plenty of free time to think about it.” 380 Explicitly Sexy II

“And how did you get from there to Frank Bowers, Senior VP at Michigan Motors?” She knew his title? Of course, he thought. Twice a week at The Rose. Then he answered the question. “I was a history major. If football’s your career, you major in what comes easy. No career help there. I decided that I’d become Frank Bowers, MBA, because an MBA was practical and even a history major could get one. Dad could afford to pay for it since I’d been on full scholarship. My college fund hadn’t been tapped. “Second year MBA I looked around for something to do. I got lucky. Always liked cars. Now I live cars.” “It’s always good to hear a story with a happy ending. Do you have any advice for me?” “Not really. Just thought you might like to know somebody who’s laid in a hospital bed feeling bitter, in between the bossy wake up and the bad breakfast.” “Thank you,” she said, sincerely. “I really do appreciate it.” She did her best to smile with the left side of her face. Then she noticed the bouquet. “Do you think you could find some- one to put these in water?” she asked. “Oh, damn. Yeah.” Louise had decided that her own story needed a happy ending. Or at least a bitter-sweet ending. Friday, 11/5/04, 5:10 P.M. The Rose Café. After Bowers left The Rose, our usual trio sat at their usual table, except that Louise’s place was occupied by her husband. “This is new, Tom,” Maxine said. “We’ve never had a man here before.” “I’m usually home about now,” Tom said. “Well for once we can get a man’s point of view,” Acacia said. “What’s your view of being left home alone while your wife is here drinking with us, Tom?” “Actually,” he replied, “it’s sort of nice. Couple times a week I get to be by myself. Glad to be here tonight, though. Alone can get lonely if it’s all the time.” 27 Plans and Stories 381

“Sweet Lou,” Maxine said. “Sent her better half here when she couldn’t make it. Just like her.” Acacia raised her glass to propose a toast. “Sweet Lou,” she said. “May she be back soon.” An impromptu moment of silence prevailed while each thought about Louise. Maxine broke the silence. “I’m jealous of you, Tom.” He blinked as he looked at her, waiting for his brain to process Max- ine’s sentence. “Jealous? Why?” “Because your wife is so beautiful. It must be wonderful to have something so beautiful that you can kiss any time you want. Do you ever get tired of looking at her?” “No. It’s not having her that I’m tired of. It’s only been ten days but it seems like forever. I’m really going to appreciate her a lot more.” “What about her injuries, Tom?” Maxine wasn’t brutally frank, but she was facing reality squarely. “Don’t know what she’s going to do for cardio,” he said. “I guess she won’t be riding with you any more, Max.” “Actually, I was worried about you, Tom.” “Do her injuries turn me off, you mean?” Maxine agreed that was what she meant. “No. Feel sorry about her feet. But I never noticed them much before. Never had a foot fetish.” Then he thought about stockings. He remembered ordering the bicy- cling lights. Riding was supposed to keep those legs sexy. Maxine saw the pain in his face. “You want to tell us about it?” she asked him. “Nah. It’s... It’s just...” He wanted the memory to go away. “Just what, Tom?” Maxine thought he should let it out. “She said she cycled to keep her legs looking good.” That was only a part of what Tom was thinking, but he’d said enough to silence his listeners. 382 Explicitly Sexy II

She cycled to keep her legs looking good. That thought sunk in around the table. “Oh, shit,” Maxine said, with unusual feeling. Acacia broke the silence. “Let’s hope the doctors can send her home almost good as new.” The legs weren’t going to ever be the same. But she was thinking about Louise’s face, dancing lightly around the edge of a sensitive subject. “She’ll be OK,” Tom said. “She’s beautiful inside. That’s where it comes from.” Maxine wiped away a tear. Acacia looked thoughtful. “So,” she said, trying to smile, “do you think Lou would want us to sit here all teary-eyed talking about her?” “You always were the smart one, Ace,” Tom said. Maxine caught on, too. “How do you think Frank’s visit will work out?” she asked. “Hope he’s not going to be too preachy,” Acacia said. “Lou can be so sweet you don’t notice how smart she is.” “Yeah,” Tom agreed. “but I like Frank. May be good for Lou to talk to someone who’s been there.” “I think he’ll do fine,” Maxine said. “Frank’s pretty smart himself.” “Be good for Lou to see someone new,” Acacia said. “He doesn’t have to say anything wise. Just his story is enough.” “I’m surrounded by a lot of smart people tonight,” Tom said. “Hope I can keep up.” “You’re full of shit, Wilson,” Acacia said with a smile. Then she changed the subject. “You brought plans to show us?” “Oh, yeah!” Tom said, brightening. Tom pulled a folder out of his case. “You guys know that Lou hasn’t seen the plans? It’s supposed to be a surprise.” The women swore them- selves to secrecy as he opened the folder. The first page showed a traditional, two-story ‘colonial’ home in front. The rear view added a not-so-traditional deck wrapping around a sun room extending out from the kitchen. “I love the light,” Maxine said, pointing to the sun room. “What’s this?” she asked about a smaller sun space beside the sun room. 27 Plans and Stories 383

“Greenhouse,” Tom answered. “Little one. Small enough so you could keep it heated, but big enough so you could have some flowers year round. I needed a passage between the house and the garage. Think Lou will like this one when there’s snow and sleet outside.” Acacia’s attention was drawn to the office to the right of the entry hall. Double doors opened it to the dining room. “Right,” Tom agreed. “You don’t use the dining room most of the day. If you’re doing office work you might have papers to spread out on the table. Thought I’d let the office and dining room share space.” The home’s second floor excited the women. The master suite included a bedroom with a king-sized, four-poster bed, a lady’s dressing room (labeled ‘Boudoir’ on the plans), a master bath with a whirlpool tub and a giant shower. The suite was accessed through a closet room bigger than the bedroom. “Wow!” Maxine said. “A girl could do some serious shopping with- out filling up those closets.” Tom agreed. “I thought if we could finish these closet units like fur- niture they’d make a nice entry, instead of being hidden away some- where.” “What’s this?” Acacia asked, pointing to an octagonal stand in the dressing room. “Those are full-length mirrors,” Tom explained. “Hinged so you can angle them to look at front, back and sides all at once. Let’s a lady be sure her seams are straight when her husband’s not handy.” Tom had designed the boudoir before the accident. A cloud passed over his face as he thought about straight seams. “You want to design a house for me, Tom?” Maxine asked. “Actually, I was thinking about you,” he answered. “You know how your studio window faces south?” “And lets in all that sunlight, but only when the leaves are off the big maple?” Maxine asked. “Right,” Tom agreed. “Would you like it if there was a south-facing corner with glass facing southeast and southwest around your easel?” “So I’d be bathed in light, dawn to dusk?” the artist asked, picturing it. “Yeah,” the designer agreed. 384 Explicitly Sexy II

“And no big tree to block the sun?” “Well, we could have air conditioning for the warm months,” he sug- gested. The real estate sales part of Tom had something in mind. Maxine was lost in a dream studio. Acacia turned back to the new house. “What’s this room?” she asked about the room to the left of the entrance hall in the new house. “Library,” Tom answered. “Actually you could call it a media room. Big screen viewing. Shelves for books, CDs, DVDs, whatever. Doubles as a guest room for company.” And he added, “Might be a bedroom for someone who couldn’t do stairs.” He didn’t know how long it would be before Louise could walk on her own. She might live on the first floor until she could do stairs. “What about your gym, Tom?” Maxine asked, deliberately changing the subject. “I’ve got 200 square feet in the basement where we are now,” he answered. “The new house has 1300 empty square feet (110m2) inside the extra insulation in the basement. I think I can squeeze in a gym. Maybe a game room, too.” “Impressive, Tom,” Acacia said. “I was right about you, by the way.” “Being full of shit?” he asked, grinning. “Being really smart when you focus on something,” she answered. “I drove down Harrison Lane yesterday. Looks like it’s almost ready.” (The Wilson home was the only building on this farm access road.) “Deceptive,” Tom corrected. “The house gets framed up and enclosed really fast but that’s only the first quarter of the job. You can’t see the rest from outside. You know, plumbing, electric, walls, floors, paint. And my design has a lot of built-in units too. Takes time.” “When will it be ready?” Maxine asked. “Christmas time. Be a nice present for Louise if everything runs on schedule.” Acacia and Maxine looked at each other. “That’s a helluva Christmas present,” Maxine said. “You can tell Lou that you like it. Tease a little. But no details, OK?” Tom collected his plans. 27 Plans and Stories 385

“Shall we go rescue Lou from your football player, Max?” Acacia asked. “I think Herman’s on his way there, too.” Friday, 11/5/04, 6:40 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. Frank had left in search of a vase. He returned with a crowd. Louise’s room became pleasantly noisy. Acacia and Maxine missed their drinking partner they told her as they kissed her left cheek. Herman and Rose shared her right hand. Tom kissed her lips, but delicately (to not disturb the reconstruction under the bandages on the right side of her face). “You guys have a good talk?” Tom asked. “Yes we did,” Louise smiled. “We talked about the delicious food in these resorts.” “No, no, you can’t touch me there,” she said to Maxine, who had set her hand gently on the blanket covering a thigh. In answer to everyone’s ‘how are you’ questions she quipped, “I told Frank I was footless and fancy free, but he said it sounded bitter. I meant to be witty. Oh well. It only hurts now when I think about it.” “We all miss you, Louise,” Rose said. “My walls are much prettier than these, you know.” “Did you bring me a margarita?” Louise asked. “Or an Inn Cider?” Then she remembered. “Wait a minute. You were drinking with Tom sitting in for me, weren’t you,” she said to Acacia and Maxine. “Did he show you the plans for our new house?” “It’s wonderful,” Maxine said. Acacia agreed, vigorously. “I think the inside’s twice as big as the outside. Tom’s got so much in there. The master suite looks like some- thing from a mansion.” “You may have company every morning for breakfast,” Maxine teased. “Will my breakfasts be special?” Louise asked, taking the bait. Maxine just smiled. 386 Explicitly Sexy II

“Well, I hope I’ll get to see it some day. You know more than I do. Tom says its a surprise, you know.” “And we’re sworn to secrecy,” Acacia added. They all chatted happily, though the happiness had an edge. Louise was delighted to see the loving faces. But she was lying in a hospital bed, waiting to get temporary plastic feet. The loving faces were all happy to see Louise alive and healthy. But the ones who knew her well saw a bit- terness they’d never seen before. Completely understandable, of course, but still... Tom filled her in on the house. The plumbing and wiring were ready for fixtures. Drywall joints were plastered. The landscape was graded and the footings for the landscape walls were ready. She’d have a lot to see when she got up and about. Herman promised her pictures the next time he came. Maxine mentioned that her next show was postponed to early next year. “I didn’t want to face all those crises on my own,” she explained. Louise had news, too. “Well,” she said, “I’ve got something coming that none of you can have.” Of course they all wanted to know what that could be. “I get my first plastic feet on Monday. When I learn how to use them I’ll be able to pee all by myself. Isn’t that exciting?” She laughed at her own joke and her friends laughed with her (though the joke may not have been very funny). She explained that she would start with temporary prostheses since her ‘stumps’ (that was the accepted name for the remaining parts of her calves) would take some time to settle to their final size. She was looking forward to getting out of bed. Eventually, Louise sent them away, by ones and twos. She told Rose to get back to her cafe, and to give Jillian a kiss. She told Herman to take Acacia home so she could rest before tomorrow’s ride. “You get some sleep too, Herman. Her butt will need relief tomorrow.” Then she sent Frank and Maxine home. When only Tom was left, Louise realized she was drained. She smiled but tears rolled down her unbandaged cheek. She held out her one and a half hands. She laid his head on her chest while she cried. He was careful not to put any weight on her. And he shook. When he got up the blanket was wet between her breasts. A nurse told them that visiting hours were over. Before he left, Louise asked, “You getting your workouts in?” He had been slipping. 27 Plans and Stories 387

“Do a 10k for me tomorrow morning, OK? I’m not going to get my Saturday morning ride. One of us has to stay in shape.” He promised he would.

28 Beginning Again

A typical day in mid November, the sky was gray and the wind blew from the northwest. It wasn’t cold enough for winter sports (no ice skat- ing yet), but it was cold if you liked to cycle or run. The gardens and the fields were bare. Deciduous trees had shed their leaves. Even the pines were shivering. Friday, November 12, 2004, 5:40 P.M. The Rose Café. The man entering The Rose Café did not look like a desperate criminal. He looked like a young businessman. In fact, he looked like Tom Wilson. In spite of his attire—a suit, no necktie—he was carrying a cyclist’s hydration pack (a sausage-shaped backpack that a cyclist would wear, carrying a large supply of water and a microscopic supply of other neces- sities, such as a windbreaker and a tire-repair kit). He ordered a half dozen Inn Ciders and requested that they be used to fill the pack’s water bladder.

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“Phil,” the bartender said, extending his hand. Tom shook it and introduced himself. “Your wife used to sit right over there?” the bar- tender asked as he mixed the drinks. (He pointed to the empty table where our trio had been regulars.) Tom nodded his head. “Going to the hospital?” Phil asked. Tom smiled and said, “You know you can’t drink in a hospital room.” He was ignoring the difference between ‘cannot’ and ‘should not.’ Friday, 11/12/04, 6:00 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. Acacia and Maxine had arrived just before six. They stopped in the cafe- teria to buy four medium coffees. Tom arrived promptly at six. “That’s funny,” Louise said. “I used to have a pack just like that.” “Not quite filled the same way,” Tom assured her. Maxine took three coffees and the hydration pack into the toilet room. Tom sipped the fourth coffee. He said ‘goodbye’ when Maxine handed him the empty hydration pack. The women raised their ‘coffee’ cups and said, “Cheers” as he left. They all smiled. Asked for her news, Louise said, “Here. Let me show you.” She pulled on the special socks worn over stumps, inside the prostheses’ sockets. “Aren’t these lovely?” she asked. “Like stockings, only sexier.” (The socks were thick, elastic and absorbent. A triumph of function over form.) Then she pulled on her plastic feet and stood up. She leaned on the walker next to her bed and did a semicircular tour, from the left side of her bed to the right side, where she left the walker and took off her feet and socks. Acacia didn’t know what to say. Maxine applauded. Louise smiled. “It makes a girl feel so proud when she can go pee all by herself,” Louise said, revising Acacia’s aphorism. Getting serious, Louise explained that she was a ‘btk’ (below the knee) amputee, which was much better than above the knee. She would learn to walk with her walker, then with crutches and finally on feet, “like a toddler,” she said. “And then they’ll teach me about stairs.” She expected a rebuilt face (she was still bandaged) to be finished by early December, when she could finally go home. “To hell with home,” Maxine said. “How about we go back to The Rose?” 28 Beginning Again 391

Acacia sipped her ‘coffee.’ “It’s odd,” she said, “how much the ‘cof- fee’ here reminds me of The Rose.” Louise and Maxine laughed and agreed that their ‘coffee’ reminded them of the Inn Ciders they used to enjoy. “Story time?” Louise asked, brightly. Acacia and Maxine pulled their chairs closer to her bed. “Who’s got a story?” Acacia did. Maxine didn’t answer the question. Louise and Maxine both turned toward Acacia. Friday, 11/12/04, 7:45 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. “I’d tell you more, but it’s getting late,” Acacia concluded. Outside the window, night had closed in. Tom knocked on the open door. “May I come in?” He had actually arrived earlier but glancing in he had thought that he would be interrupt- ing. Killing time, he had found another coffee in the cafeteria. The coffee was still hot. He guessed that it wasn’t more than two or three hours old. He came in as Acacia and Maxine began getting ready to leave. “You know, Ace,” Maxine said, “my place is a lot more out of the way for you than it is for Tom.” “Go home with Ace, Sexy,” Louise intercepted the request. “The Wilson’s don’t get much family time these days.” Louise had something to say to Tom. Only Tom. When they were alone, Tom asked about her face. “They unwrap me and send me home early next month. Earlier than they thought.” “Any idea what we’ll see when they unwrap you?” “They don’t like me to look, yet. I got a peek by accident and it was not pretty. Lots and lots of scars, but they say those will go away. When I ask if the right side will look like the left side they don’t make me any promises. I doubt it will look better than it used to.” “Couldn’t look better,” her husband said. “Hope it looks more or less the same.” She smiled as best she could with the left side of her face. Then he reported on the progress of the house, but she looked strangely uninterested. 392 Explicitly Sexy II

She patted the bed beside her and asked him to sit. She’d made up her mind and prepared a little speech. She knew it would be hard. Maybe the hardest thing she would ever do. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, Tom,” Louise started. “I know what I have to do. This is painful. Painful to say. Probably painful for you to hear. But if you love me, Tom, you’ll listen. And if I cry a little, you’ll just listen. And I don’t want you to say anything. Let me talk, and then leave me, please. For both our sakes?” He could not refuse her. He nodded his head. He would let her talk and then he would leave. She went on. “Our lives won’t include each other, Tom. We will get divorced. Not right away, but as soon as I can walk again. As soon as I can get a place of my own. We have to. “Don’t cry for me. I’ll have a happy life on my own. Every year I get thirty children to love and they love me, too. That’s a lot of love for any- one. At first I’ll cry when I think about you, but I’ll get over it. Then I’ll just smile when I think of you. We’ve had so much to smile about. I get called ‘Mrs. Wilson’ a lot, Tom. All my kids say it. I’ll probably cry the first time I hear it again, but I’ll learn to smile. That was a happy thing, being ‘Mrs. Wilson.’ “I have a wonderful husband, Tom. He’s incredibly handsome. And so loving. I was ‘his lady.’ I think he loves me almost as much as I love him. But I love him way too much to even think about him being tied to a crippled woman. He didn’t marry a crippled woman. He deserves better. “You’re just getting your life going, Tom. You’re already successful and you’re going to be a huge success. “You deserve a whole wife. So I want you to find yourself a pretty wife with a sweet smile. A sweet smile in a face that doesn’t have sepa- rate left and right parts. A pretty wife with a nice body that has two hands and two feet. Legs for you to pull stockings up. Find her Tom. And love her. Love her like you loved me. I know you will. “We’ll say goodbye, but there’s a Tom and Louise that will never be gone. They’ll live in our memories. Their love will be in our hearts for- ever. We had our brief, shining moment. That will never grow old. The lovers who lived that moment will never grow old. That’s the Tom and Louise that we knew just a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago and forever, Tom. Forever.” 28 Beginning Again 393

She had said it. She had said it without breaking down. Louise told him to go. She turned over and hid her face in her pillow. He watched her back heaving as she cried. He tried to comfort her, but she ordered him to leave. She had wanted to show him how to be strong but she wasn’t strong enough. She didn’t want him to remember her like this. Friday, 11/12/04, 8:45 P.M. The hospital parking lot. Tom heard the words over and over. “Our lives won’t include each other, Tom. We will get divorced.” Each time he heard it he said to himself, ‘No we won’t. I won’t let you go, Louise.’ He had started crying when she got to, “I can get a place of my own.” When he left her room, enough of his brain was working to get him to the parking lot but keep him out of his driver’s seat. He leaned on his SUV and cried. His memory echoed, “We will get divorced.” ‘No we won’t,’ his mind argued. ‘No we won’t.’ After a half hour outside, he realized that his jacket was still in Louise’s room. The breeze had picked up and he noticed that the temper- ature was near freezing. So was he. ‘I won’t let you go, Louise,’ he thought once more as he got into his SUV. Then he focused on the tasks at hand. Putting the key in the igni- tion. Turning the heat on. Shifting into ‘R’ to back out of the parking space, then ‘D’ to drive home. Monday, November 15, 2004, 3:30 P.M. Acacia Donovan’s office. Tom had called Acacia first thing Monday morning to arrange a meeting. She hadn’t asked why. She made time for him. He was Louise’s husband, after all. They met with a business-like handshake. “What may I do for you, Tom?” she asked. 394 Explicitly Sexy II

“It’s about a friend,” he lied. “His wife has asked for a divorce.” Acacia thought to herself that one seldom visits an attorney on behalf of a friend. To Tom, she said, “Sorry to hear that. But sometimes these things happen. Is there any particular cause? Infidelity would be the most common, sorry to say.” “No, nothing like that. His wife was in an accident. Told him she loves him too much to see him stuck with a crippled wife.” Acacia had guessed that it might not be ‘a friend.’ She was beginning to be sure. “Most unusual, Tom. Divorce caused by an excess of love? Tell me, what does your friend think of this?” “He’s still mad about her. Doesn’t want a divorce. Is there any way he can prevent her from divorcing him?” Acacia was deeply troubled. What the hell had Louise been think- ing? Acacia answered as an attorney. “We have a ‘no fault’ divorce law, Tom. The party requesting the divorce does not have to specify the reason. ‘He’s cruel’ or ‘he’s slept with every woman I know’ or ‘I love him too much’ are all fine, though the last is a bit strange. He cannot argue against her reason in court, because her reasons are her own. It’s enough if she says she wants a divorce.” “That’s not very encouraging, Ace.” “I’m just an attorney, Tom. I don’t write the laws.” “Probably have better laws if you did write them, Ace.” She smiled and thought fast. She had to know what Louise was thinking. “Your friend’s wife said, ‘crippled.’ Is she really crippled?” “Some serious injuries, but I wouldn’t say ‘crippled’ describes it,” Tom said. “Lost a bit in the extremities but she’ll get replacement parts. I guess you could say, ‘damaged’.” “Your friend, Tom. Does this ‘damage’ really amount to much, in his view?” “No. He doesn’t really care. No, I don’t mean that he doesn’t care. He’s sorry for her, but the ‘damage’ doesn’t bother him much. Except that there’s maybe some stuff she won’t do. Some sports she couldn’t play. Stuff like that.” 28 Beginning Again 395

“Then tell me, why do you think she used the word ‘crippled’ to describe herself?” Tom shook his head. “Don’t know.” And he tried to piece it together. “I guess she was all her life a very attractive woman. Pretty near the per- fect ten. Maybe a little damage has shattered her self confidence.” Acacia had heard what she needed to hear. And she had seen him think what he needed to think. “OK, two points, Tom. First, it sounds to me like he doesn’t need legal help. I can imagine how a serious accident could be a huge psycho- logical blow to a beautiful woman. But what she needs is some psycho- logical help. I would imagine that there must be some sort of counseling that would go along with physical rehabilitation. Tell your friend that he needs to look into this.” “Thanks. What’s the second point?” “Legal issue. If she does go forward with divorce proceedings, a smart lawyer could make the process take a long time. I’d say a year after she files would be pretty easy. Her husband might take advantage of that. If she’s made a hasty decision, time might be on his side. He’s got some time, if he wants it.” “Thanks, Ace. You’re the best.” He held out his hand. Acacia shook his hand, as one does at the end of such a meeting. Then she added a personal note. “You know, Tom, if Louise ever made a decision like that I couldn’t represent her or you. We’re too close. I certainly wouldn’t help her if I thought she was making an unwise decision. But I couldn’t actively oppose one of my very best friends, even if I thought it was in her best interest. I’d have to stay out of it. “Of course, if an attorney representing a man in a situation like your friend’s called me to discuss delaying tactics, I’d be willing to advise her or him as long as that attorney had sense enough to discuss the law, not the people involved in a particular case.” Tom thanked her again. She had answered a question he didn’t want to ask. He needed all the help he could get. Psychological rehabilitation? He’d take that advice, too. 396 Explicitly Sexy II

Friday, November 19, 2004, 7:00 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. November is not, for weather, the best month in Michigan. Some would say it is the worst. Skies are gray. Winds are common, often strong and from Canada’s northwest. Fields and trees are barren. Our trio met infrequently as the absence of one was acutely felt by the other two. Tom had met with Louise’s doctors. No, they told him, they had not sought psychological help for Louise. She had no real symptoms of post- traumatic stress disorder. He had met with psychologists. Yes, they had told him, PTSD wasn’t just a problem for soldiers. PTSD was also common after motor vehicle accidents. Louise would probably never be able to get on a bicycle again without extensive counseling. But without feet, she would never get on a bicycle again, regardless, so there was little point. The psychologists had all stressed the importance of a support group. Her husband and her friends were invaluable. And one had given Tom a gentle lecture on the need for the husband to take care of himself. Tom resumed his workouts, with extra vigor on the weights as he wasn’t often getting out to run. Outdoors isn’t always good in Michigan’s Novembers. Acacia had visited Louise earlier in the day. She kept Tom’s ques- tions to herself, but they were never far out of her mind. Louise and Tom were alone. Neither one wanted to talk about their future (or lack of future) together. Tom had brought daisies. He thought they looked cheerful. She was arranging them in a vase. “There,” she said, “now they’re smiling at us.” “How about you?” Tom asked. “I can walk with forearm crutches,” she said, pointing to the pair standing beside her bed. “It’s a pretty good workout but they won’t let me do more than two half hours each day. I’d do twice as much if they let me.” “Must be good to be able to get out of bed on your own,” he said. “Yes. You learn to appreciate little things. You have no idea how humiliating it was to have to get a nurse to go to the bathroom.” “How’s the face?” 28 Beginning Again 397

“Last operation (they think) is tomorrow. I may get unwrapped in a week.” “Still don’t know what you’ll see when they unwrap you?” “No. I’m afraid to even think about it.” “Well, maybe it will be a nice surprise. You like surprises, right?” “Speaking of surprises,” Louise said, changing the subject, “how’s the house?” “Coming along great. The walls are painted. The extra rooms in the back are done. Kitchen’s got cabinets. Bathrooms have got toilets. Best part is the landscape walls.” “Did you tell me about these ‘extra rooms’? I forgot.” “No you didn’t. They’re a surprise.” “And the ‘landscape walls’? Another surprise?” “Yeah. I made the house about ten percent smaller than our budget allowed. Put the extra ten percent into the landscape. Really looks good.” Louise thought about ‘their’ house being Tom’s house. She wouldn’t see it for long. Tom thought about ‘their’ house being a wonderful Christmas present for Louise. They could be happy there. If only... “Lou,” he started. “I’ve thought about what you said.” She steeled herself. “I want to make this simple. You’re lying in a hospital bed. You’re thinking like a person lying in a hospital bed. Understandable, but don’t think that way. I’m not going to let you go. You’re going to come home with me. You’re going to fall in love with our new house. And we’ll live happily ever after. Or as close to it as people ever get.” She knew he would say something like that. She knew he loved her. That he would be loyal to a fault. But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what he needed. “Tom,” she said, “you’ve got to do what I asked. If you really love me, you’ll agree.” He looked at her. His mouth was set in a straight line. He didn’t blink. “I knew you’d say that, Lou. I knew you’d say, ‘if you really loved me...’. So let me just be as plain and clear as I know how. I really love you and I’m not letting you go.” 398 Explicitly Sexy II

She was crying. He was trying not to. “No point in arguing,” he said. “The important thing right now is that you learn to walk. You do that. I’ll get our house finished.” “No, Tom,” she started. “Hush,” he said. “No point in arguing about December when it’s still November. December will get here whether we’re arguing or not.” She’d change her mind when she saw her new face, he thought. He’d change his mind when he saw her new face, she thought. And she dreaded it. Monday, November 22, 2004, 2:00 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. Louise heard the knock on her door before she saw the hand. The hand was a dark chocolate brown on the outside. She called, “Come in,” to the hand. George had saved his very best smile for walking in on Louise, unannounced. His was a very bright smile and a very welcome sight for the woman in the bed. “George!” she exclaimed, returning his smile as best she could with her lopsided face. “Receiving visitors?” her visitor asked. “Especially if they’ve come all the way from Detroit,” Louise answered. George held out the bouquet he had been hiding behind his back. He’d gone overboard on the flowers. Louise was delighted. She pressed the button that would, if one were patient, summon non-emergency help. “Oh no!” Louise remembered. “We were supposed to be having a show.” “The artist and the gallery owner thought the show was so important we’d wait for our indispensable crisis manager. How long until they let you out of this jail?” Louise smiled. She liked compliments. Big compliments that were genuine were the best kind. “Your crisis manager is getting out early next month. She should be walking on her own before Christmas. And I’m so glad you guys are waiting for me.” 28 Beginning Again 399

“Good things seem to happen when you’re around, Louise.” George was gone before the aide finally arrived. Louise asked her to split the bouquet. She kept half for herself and sent the other half out to the nurse’s desk. Arranging the flowers the aide asked,“You all right?” Her patient was crying. “It’s just happiness,” the patient answered. “Sometimes the best things are the ones you don’t expect.” Tuesday, November 23, 2004, 6:00 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. For business, Herman carried a commodious case. Room enough for a lawyer’s briefs and a fat laptop, too. Or for a laptop and a projector, if you only carried a minimal amount of paper. Or for a bottle of Irish whiskey and a can of whipped cream, if you left your equipment at home. Herman and Tom had arrived, wearing warmup suits and carrying business cases, just before six. Maxine and Acacia arrived at six, carrying a paper tray with three hospital-cafeteria coffees. A third of the coffee had been poured out before they set the cups on the tray over Louise’s bed. Herman added his best guess as to three ounces of Irish to each cof- fee and then a spiral of whipped cream to top each one. He examined his work critically. “The presentation isn’t quite right, Tom,” he concluded. Entirely by coincidence, Tom’s business case contained a jar of maraschino cherries and a jar of cinnamon sticks. One bright red cherry on each Irish coffee, a stick of cinnamon and the presentation was per- fect, the women thought. And for their trouble, the gentlemen were asked to leave. (There would be just enough light at the high school track for running laps. The gentlemen had, apparently, made plans together.) The ladies toasted each other. The visitors drew chairs up to Louise’s bed so they could have a nice, long chat. The men were due back at 7:45. Louise reported on her progress walking. She was tolerably self-suf- ficient with forearm crutches. Her final prostheses were due to replace the temporary ones on the first of December. She hoped to be able to walk without crutches before then. Stairs were yet to be tried. “And your face?” Maxine asked. 400 Explicitly Sexy II

“To be unveiled on Monday,” Louise answered. “You must be looking forward to that,” Acacia speculated. “Actually, I’d prefer a nice root canal,” Louise quipped. “I have no idea what I’ll see and they are remarkably short on promises.” “Don’t worry,” the lawyer told her. “It’s their lawyers talking. Lower expectations. Don’t get sued.” “I hope you’re right,” Louise said, not daring to believe. “Now, who goes first?” Maxine surprised both her friends by asking to say a word first. She sat with Acacia on her left, Louise on her right. She reached with her left hand for Acacia’s right, with her right hand for Louise’s left. Acacia smiled as her petite right hand disappeared under Maxine’s left. Louise involuntarily snatched her left hand away and offered her right instead. Maxine had just wanted to hold hands while she made her little state- ment. Acacia seized the moment. “Lou,” Acacia asked, “is your left hand too tender to hold?” “Not really,” Louise answered. “But...” “Then let Max hold it,” Acacia interrupted. “We don’t discriminate based on your sex, religion or number of fingers. Says so right in the Constitution.” Louise looked down. Then from one to the other. She held out her left hand and Maxine wrapped her right around it with love, love that did not discriminate based on number of fingers. “I just wanted to say,” Maxine started, “that I know I’m not pulling my weight here when it comes to stories. In fact, you guys are carrying me. And I know how much I owe you. Maybe someday I’ll be able to do my share. Now all I can say is I know and I love you both.” Three pairs of eyes were misty. “Max,” Acacia said, “when you want to talk about it, we’re here for you.” Maxine nodded her head. “Thanks, Ace. I should take you up on that.” Maxine told herself to think about it. Think seriously. She could use some help. Louise said, “Thanks for being here, Max. For me, right now, that’s more than enough.” Maxine squeezed Louise’s left hand. Maxine really didn’t discriminate based on number of fingers. 28 Beginning Again 401

Tuesday, 11/23/04, 7:40 P.M. Louise’s hospital room. Acacia had told a story about a Bitch Goddess playing with her Fuck Toy. Louise applauded it. Maxine had been half serious about calling them both ‘conniving bitches.’ (Half serious and half jealous, perhaps.) They had assured Maxine that the victims of their conniving loved it. This was how they used to be, Acacia thought. How they were going to be again? Then she thought about Tom. Louise without Tom? She didn’t have long to think about Tom, as the gentlemen returned from their running. The gentlemen saw by the ladies faces that the evening had been a good one. Herman could see that even Louise had been enjoying herself. “Who’s driving?” he asked. (The question may have been rhetorical.) He reached into his case, retrieved the Irish bottle and whipped cream can and added a generous splash of whiskey with a generous spiral of whipped cream to each of the ladies coffee cups. Tom, seeing Her- man’s plan, had retrieved three cherries and the jar of cinnamon sticks to decorate the beverages. “Cheers” were wished all around. Acacia consulted her mental calendar. “Shall we meet at The Rose in two weeks, Lou? You’ll have your final feet, you’ll be unwrapped and you’ll be living at home again.” Maxine seconded the motion. Louise was more cautious. She sug- gested they meet in three weeks, not two. “Just in case. Two weeks is challenging Murphy’s Law. I’d rather drink his whiskey.” After the women entertained the men with tales of their delightful girl talk, and the men entertained the women with tales of the laps they had run, Herman and Acacia left with Maxine. The Wilsons were given their bit of family time. Tom smiled at Louise. She had obviously been enjoying herself. Tom was happy for her. Louise smiled at Tom, as best she could with the left side of her face. A good workout always made him mellow, she remembered. Tom was standing where Maxine had been sitting. Louise wanted to make a gesture. She used Acacia’s idea. It didn’t feel natural but she 402 Explicitly Sexy II decided to force herself outside her comfort zone. She held her left hand out. He took her hand. He held her left hand for the first time since her accident. He squeezed it gently, lovingly. Her thumb and index finger squeezed his hand. She was in turmoil. What did this mean? He held her hand and saw her turmoil. He was going to ask what was wrong, but she spoke first. “Go home,” she said. “Go home before I cry.” 29 Going Home

December was five days away. November’s cold gray skies would give way to December’s colder, bluer skies. Children would think about ice skating and snow and Santa Claus. Louise was beginning to think about the wide world outside the hos- pital doors. George’s ‘release from jail’ analogy seemed fitting. Friday, November 26, 2004, 11:00 A.M. Louise’s hospital room. As he unwrapped the bandages, the surgeon told Louise that she would still have plenty of scars, but they would disappear. Louise watched him carefully. He seemed to be looking forward to seeing her unwrapped. That was a good sign. As the last of the bandages came off, he looked intently and smiled. He moved his head from left to right. Inspecting for symmetry, she guessed. He looked pleased. Louise hardly dared to hope.

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The nurse had placed a hand mirror on Louise’s tray. When the sur- geon stepped back the nurse rolled the tray up. Louise turned her head so she would only see her left side. Then she turned slowly, letting the right side come into view a little at a time. The scars were horrible. She reminded herself that they would heal soon. Her shape was the thing that mattered. She studied the shape. The right side was actually quite like she remembered it. She turned her head from side to side, comparing the original with the new face. They were almost the same! Her shape was better than she had hoped. Far better than she had feared. She broke into a smile, a smile that would destroy her brief moment of happiness. The left side of her face smiled. The right side did not. The surgeon told her not to worry. Smiling was just one more thing that she had to learn again. It would never be the same, he said, but it would be just fine. If she didn’t insist on perfect symmetry she would have an appealing smile, he assured her. Louise did her best to thank her surgeon and praise his work. If she forgot about the smile and the scars she was almost as good as new. Somehow she could forget about the scars, but not the smile. ‘Another thing I just have to learn,’ she tried to persuade herself. Wednesday, December 1, 2004, 9:30 A.M. The hospital rehabilitation center. “Ready to meet your feet?” the prosthetist asked. Louise was indeed ready. The swelling in her stumps had gone down and her temporary prostheses, even with extra thick socks, no longer fit properly. She looked at the new feet with considerable interest. They would become a part of her life. She would learn to walk on them without crutches. The prosthetist helped her put them on. The physical therapist helped Louise walk to the ramp. Louise handed the therapist her forearm crutches and grabbed the bars. She took a few tentative steps, supporting too much weight on her arms. The new feet felt good. By the middle of the ramp, Louise was holding the bars lightly, using them for balance, not to support her upper-body weight. Before she got to the end of the ramp she lifted her hands completely off the bars and walked three steps! Her therapist applauded. Louise smiled her left-sided smile. 29 Going Home 405

She was going to walk again. She wanted to master stairs before the end of the month. Wednesday, 12/1/04, 9:45 A.M. Louise and Tom’s new house. At the Wilson’s new house, an apprentice electrician was screwing in light fixtures over the sinks in the master bath. He was supposed to have all the lights done before the end of the day. Lights were almost the last thing to install. Friday, December 3, 2004, 11:00 A.M. Louise and Tom’s home. Before he went to the hospital, Tom had pulled Louise’s car out of the garage. It would have been hard for her to squeeze past it with her crutches, he thought. The paperwork they received before leaving the hospital had been voluminous. Louise’s excitement had given way to impatience. On finally reaching the front door she had turned to wave. She waved to the receptionist, to the visitors waiting in the lobby, to the hospital itself. Stepping outside she inhaled deeply. The air in La Pierre was clean and wholesome, she thought. There was so much that most people took for granted. Arriving home, Tom had helped her out of his SUV and handed her the forearm crutches. He held out his arm but she turned it down. “I’ve held on to too many arms for too many weeks,” she explained. “I’d rather hobble along on my own.” She hobbled through the garage and into the kitchen. She’d expected a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, but there were none. Tom had been up early, cleaning, sweeping and generally putting things in order. A close inspection would have revealed a good supply of frozen dinners in the freezer, but otherwise there was no evidence of a bachelor having been in charge. Louise stood up straight in the kitchen, lifting her crutches. She walked a half-dozen steps to the dining room table where she sat down. Tom turned the percolator on. Thinking about the hospital coffee, he had filled it with coffee and water before he left. 406 Explicitly Sexy II

Louise looked around. The kitchen was tidy. The living room was neat and clean. Even the patio looked good, though it also looked cold. She inhaled deeply. “Enjoy it,” he said. “Ten more days and the new one will be finished. They’re laying carpet today.” “I don’t want to leave this house, Tom. It’s full of happy memories. You can feel it in the walls.” Tom smiled. She was right about the memories. “Yeah,” he said. “Know what you mean. But I think you’ll like the new one, too.” She heard the percolator gurgle. Soon the whole house would smell th like coffee. It would be her first decent coffee since the 26 of October. Wednesday, December 8, 2004, 9:30 A.M. The hospital rehabilitation center. Louise missed no opportunity to walk when she was at home. In the liv- ing room she would get up from the chair to walk to the couch. It took four small steps. The arms of the chair made getting up easy. The couch was harder to leave. But she had learned. You just moved forward to the edge of the couch and then bent at the waist until your weight was over your feet. Then you straightened your waist and knees together. That mastered, she had begun to take little detours between couch and chair. The trip grew to six steps, then eight... As he did every morning, Tom had driven her to rehab. This morning she asked him to come with her instead of waiting in the cafeteria. She wouldn’t be long, she assured him. She had left her crutches beside her chair in the rehab center. She half-smiled at the physical therapist. Then she asked the therapist to step aside instead of helping. She walked to the ramp and stepped onto it without touching the rails! Her therapist applauded. Tom said, “Wow!” Louise didn’t touch the rails until she reached the far end. She didn’t quite manage to turn around without a bit of help from the rails, but that would come. Louise wondered what babies feel like when they graduate from creeping to toddling. This was another thing she would never again take for granted. Louise returned to the near end of the ramp with no more help from the rails. Her therapist told her to rest a bit. Louise disobeyed. She tried 29 Going Home 407 the turn again. This time she made it. Down to the far end, turn and walk back. She held her arms out to the side, partly for balance, and partly to prove to herself that she could walk. Her therapist didn’t like being disobeyed, but she was thrilled with Louise’s progress. She talked to Louise about the practicing she could do over the weekend and where they might be Monday morning. Louise lis- tened attentively to this good advice with no intention of following any of it. She thought she would learn to jump and skip and run. In fact, she learned to catch herself as she fell. In her living room she learned to crawl to a chair and then pull herself into the chair. (At first she had needed Tom’s help to get back on her feet.) She took her feet off frequently as too much practice hurt her stumps. Resting with her feet off, she added ‘waltz’ to the list of things she wanted to learn. Friday, December 10, 2004, 6:00 P.M. The Rose Café. “Does she look anything like you?” Rose had asked Maxine about her sister. “She’s very attractive,” Maxine had answered, “but from the German side of the family.” “Of course she’s welcome here,” Rose the proprietress had said. “And,” Rose the lesbian had added, “I do enjoy meeting attractive single women.” Jillian had glared at her. Rose grinned. They set up a table in front of the bar for Monica. She had a carton full of her new book, Before the War on the table and she was signing them. It was a study of the Pierce and Buchanan presidencies immedi- ately preceding Lincoln and the Civil War. It was selling well nationally, and Monica had become a local celebrity. La Pierre’s WQUS (the ‘ultimate classic rock,’ it boasted) was broad- casting the event live. After The Band sang ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down’ the author interview continued. “It’s about how the two par ties could not solve the slavery problem. The abolitionists thought slav- ery was abhorrent. The South thought it was vital. They could not com- promise and a million young men would die because the problem was not solved,” Monica explained. Professor Gulden’s book, the critics said, brought the period alive. Three signed copies of Before the War were on the table often occu- pied by three women on Friday evenings. Acacia and Maxine would 408 Explicitly Sexy II deliver the third copy to their missing companion. They were looking forward to being a threesome again, next Tuesday. Tuesday, December 14, 2004, 5:05 P.M. The Rose Café. Acacia and Maxine were already seated at their usual table. With his left hand, Tom opened the door for Louise. His right hand held her forearm crutches. Louise stepped through the door. A sharp left turn was needed to get to their table. She negotiated it with small steps. Tom waited at the door. Jillian saw Louise and applauded. Rose soon joined Jillian. Louise smiled and continued walking to their table. Maxine and Acacia were up to hug her, but she waved them back. (Hugs were dangerous. The one being hugged had to be released upright and balanced if she were to avoid a fall.) Louise drew her own chair out and sat down. By this time everyone in The Rose was watching and applauding. Perhaps half of them knew why. The left side of Louise’s face was beaming. Tom set the crutches beside her. “See you about 7:00,” he said as he left. People’s attention returned to their own concerns. Rose welcomed her trio of regular customers back with great warmth. Jillian asked Louise if she wanted an Inn Cider. Louise chose a margarita, “For old time’s sake.” When the drink arrived, Maxine raised her mug. “To walking,” she said. Louise raised her glass. “To walking.” She took a sip. The bartender was new but the recipe was the same. The left side of Louise’s face smiled happily. “Before I forget,” Louise started, “we’re opening the new house at 10:30 tomorrow morning. You’re invited. Tom says I’m going to turn the house on.” “Shit,” Maxine said. “It’s hard enough to turn a man on. Now she’s going to turn a house on?” “I think there’s a switch, Sexy.” “Oh,” Maxine said. “You use a vibrator.” “Yes,” Louise agreed. “You have to touch just the right spot. I think it’s in the basement.” 29 Going Home 409

The lawyer, when she stopped laughing, asked for a story. She got blank looks. “How about from you, Ace,” Maxine suggested. “I think I’d rather hear from Lou,” Acacia said. She had thought about it. She knew she was putting Louise into a painful spot, but she thought it best for her. “I’d rather hear what it’s like to restart your sex life after nearly two months’ break.” Louise looked at Acacia. Then she looked at her glass. She licked a bit of salt off and took a sip. She kept looking at her glass. “Lou?” Maxine nudged. “Earth calling Louise.” Louise looked up. She turned to Acacia. “We haven’t restarted, Ace. We’re not going to.” “What?” Acacia had guessed correctly. She did her best to sound sur- prised. “What?” Maxine asked. She was totally surprised. Louise licked a bit more salt off her glass. She wondered how they had ever enjoyed margaritas when the weather was so cold. Then she wondered what her friends would say when she told them. “I’ve told Tom I want a divorce.” There was complete silence while that sunk in. “No, that’s not right. I’ve told Tom that he wants a divorce. I don’t want such a fine man to be tied to a crippled woman. He deserves better. He deserves a woman that can smile with both sides of her face.” Acacia already knew what she was going to say, but she didn’t want it to looked planned. “What does Tom have to say about this?” she asked. Louise turned her glass slowly. She was wondering how many addi- tional licks it had before the salt was gone. She’d never actually finished all the salt before. She’d come here to laugh and hear stories from her friends. She didn’t want to... “Lou,” Maxine said seriously, “tell us you’re joking. I don’t know Tom that well, but I know he loves you. He’s mad about you. Please!” “I’m not joking, Max. I’m thinking about what’s best in the long run, not about what’s easiest today or tomorrow.” “I’ve got a question for you, Max,” Acacia started. “Supposing Tom loved Lou just for her tits. OK? Didn’t care about anything else. Where would he go to find a good replacement?” 410 Explicitly Sexy II

“Impossible,” Maxine responded. “Venus de Milo is the classical model of perfect tits. Louise’s tits are better. Perfect, I’d say. I wouldn’t paint any others.” Acacia nodded her head. “I see,” she said, thoughtfully. “Perfect tits. Sometimes I wish I had tits. I’d settle for less than perfect. “So tell us, Lou, what does Tom think of your tits?” Acacia pursued her reasoning. “I don’t know,” Louise said, with false modesty. “I guess he used to like them.” “You don’t think he’ll like them any more?” Acacia asked. “I don’t think he’ll like my feet, now that they’re made of plastic,” Louise said, changing the topic. “And you think he’ll be looking at your feet, not your tits?” Acacia persisted. “Please don’t,” Louise begged. “Please. This is hard enough already.” “It’s hard?” Acacia grabbed the thought. “Because you still love him?” “Yes. Yes I still love him. I’ll always love him. But I’ll learn to live without him. It’s for his sake.” “And he still loves you?” The attorney’s questions were really answers. “Yes. But he can find someone else. He used to help me put my stockings on. It was so sexy. Pulling them up my legs. Trying to keep the seams straight. He should have a woman with feet so he can pull her stockings up. Real women have feet. Two of them. Two feet that you can put stockings on.” Louise was crying. “Herman doesn’t help me with my stockings,” Acacia said. “You get help with yours, Max?” Maxine wanted to hug Louise. To comfort her. But she thought Louise was trying to do something that was completely wrong. Some- thing told her that Acacia thought Louise was wrong, too. That Acacia was trying to tell Louise she was wrong. “No,” she answered Acacia, “I always put my own stockings on.” 29 Going Home 411

Acacia handed Louise a tissue. “We used to call you the dopamine queen for moves like that, Lou. For getting him to help you put your stockings on. I’ve been stealing moves from you for months. At least until the end of October.” “Shit,” Maxine agreed. “I learned everything I know from listening to you guys.” “I used to think you learned from me, Lou,” Acacia stated. “Used to.” She sounded disappointed. In fact she was very disappointed. “But can I tell you something?” Louise assented. “You haven’t really learned a thing yet. You’ve just been pasting Ace Donovan on top of a perfect ten face and figure. It’s ‘How To Be Sexy If You’re Really Beautiful.’ Any- body can be sexy on top of perfect ten looks. I’ve been trying to tell you how it’s done if you’ve got no tits and your face doesn’t get past five or six. I thought you’d learned, but I was wrong. “And that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Throwing out a man who loves you. Just because he can’t pull stockings up your legs.” Then Acacia turned to Maxine. “Max, on a scale of ten, what was Louise before the accident?” “Easy,” Maxine answered. “Ten. She was the scale you measured from.” “And what is she today, Max?” “Today?” Maxine asked. “Don’t know about the scars. When they heal she’ll be in the eight or nine area. Nice face but not perfect like it used to be. Perfect ten figure north of the knees. A one-tenth deduction for the left hand’s fingers, but just a tenth. That’s not important.” “Eight or nine area, Max. OK. How would you rate me?” “Oh, cut it out, Ace,” Maxine objected. “I love you too much to go there. And you’re a lot cuter than you think. Ask Herman.” Louise was glad they weren’t talking about her, even just for a moment. “Let me ask it another way, Max,” Acacia continued. “On the basis of looks alone, would you rather be Louise or me?” “You’ve got a cute ass, Ace.” “Anything wrong with Louise’s ass?” Acacia shot back. “No. Yours might be better, though.” 412 Explicitly Sexy II

“What about tits?” Maxine simply shook her head. “OK,” Acacia agreed. “We’re comparing perfect to nothing at all.” “Don’t nipples count for something?” Louise said. She wanted to boost Acacia’s score. “Point well taken,” Acacia agreed. “Nipples are part of tits. If yours are a perfect ten, Lou, my score is above zero. Want to trade? I’ll trade my feet for your tits.” “Don’t do it Lou,” Maxine warned. “Your score would go down.” Then Acacia got serious. “Louise Wilson, listen to me. I’m going to tell you what I think and then I’ll shut up. OK? But you listen while I talk. “You have lived all your life as a perfect ten. You’re having a hard time wrapping your brain around Louise Wilson, merely an eight or nine. That is symptomatic of a deep vanity that you don’t want to claim. That you don’t even feel. Eight or nine is just fine. Eight or nine is more than you need to make a good man happy. “Eight or nine plus a good dose of Thing One is sexier than most men ever know. It’s sexier than most women even dream about being. “Eight or nine and trying to get rid of a man, a man as good as Tom, is lunacy. Eight or nine, if you used to be a ten means that you have to adjust. You have to think about how you keep the dopamine flowing like the rest of us who’ve never been perfect tens. You know, like real people. “Let me tell you something about divorce. It’s a sorry legal proceed- ing that people get to when everything else is a failure. It’s not something people do because they think their mate might find something better. If you think he might find something better, ask yourself how you can be better. You can always be better. Thing One is not about your looks. It never was and never will be. Thing One is about your mate. It’s about how he appeals to you. It’s about telling him how much you want him. He’ll want you if you tell him you want him. That’s what’s sexy. “And let me add one more thing about divorce. You might want to hire an attorney. If you ever even mention your stupid idea to me as an attorney I will give you this lecture again. I have too much self-respect to ever take a case where I thought my client was doing such grievous harm to her mate and to herself. Divorces are not for people who love each other. 29 Going Home 413

“Now ask me about any part of my opinion that you don’t think is perfectly clear, and then I’ll shut up.” The tears were running down Louise’s cheeks. She was splitting her- self from Tom. And now she saw that she was splitting herself from her dearest friends. Friends she had loved. Louise forgot about her issues with walking. She stood up, put her coat on and started for the door. She was unsteady, but she was leaving. She had to leave. She realized she couldn’t open the door on her own. Luckily a man was on his way in. He was polite and held the door for her. She mumbled a ‘thank you.’ And she was outside. Maxine said, “Shit. She forgot her crutches. I’ll go get her.” Acacia asked Maxine to give her some time. “Patience. She’ll be back.” “Shit,” Maxine said. “Divorce Tom?” “I was afraid of this, Max. She’s been beautiful all her life. This is a blow. She’ll adjust. She’s still beautiful. And her looks aren’t bad, either.” Acacia looked at her mug. She usually suppressed her self-doubts. Usually. “Was I too hard on her Max?” “You were trying to beat some sense into her thick skull?” “I guess that’s one way of saying it.” “You think you got through to her, Ace?” Tuesday, 12/14/04, 6:10 P.M. Downtown La Pierre. There was a Murphy gas down the street, five blocks from The Rose. Practical matters were forcing their way into Louise’s brain. The gas sta- tion would have a pay phone. She could call Tom. He wouldn’t have left yet. If he picked her up she could send him into The Rose to get her crutches. She could see the Murphy station two blocks away. Two more curbs to step down. Two more to step up. And five blocks was a very, very long walk compared to the distances she walked in her living room. She was wobbling. She needed to rest. A cop was driving her way, a block behind her. ‘These kids,’ he was thinking, seeing her long skirt and wobbly gait. ‘Wearing hippie clothes and doing hippie drugs.’ He had tried a drug or two himself, when he was 414 Explicitly Sexy II a kid, he remembered. ‘Probably be doing her a favor if I take her in.’ He caught up with her quickly, pulled over and got out. “Excuse me Miss,” he said loudly. She had not known someone was there. He sounded polite, not threatening. She tried to turn, but nearly fell. “Miss, do you think you could walk a straight line for me, please?” This was an old-fashioned sobriety test. Widely applicable in suspected substance abuse cases. He hoped she could pass. She didn’t look like a trouble maker. Louise saw that he was a cop. That was good. It wasn’t late, but the street lights weren’t bright. And she knew she must have appeared drunk or high on something. She tried to find words to explain, but couldn’t. She’d show him. She’d pull her skirt up. She opened her coat and slowly gathered her skirt’s sides in her hands. He watched her skirt rising. What was she doing? “Miss...” And then he saw the prostheses. “Oh, God,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I understand. Here, can I help you?” He held out his arm. “Would you like to sit down?” She needed to rest. He helped her sit in the front seat of his cruiser. Sitting down was a relief. Having a cop with her was a relief. “Are you the woman who was hit because of the drunk driver? Bicy- cling?” She was. “I read about you in the County Press.” “I’m just learning to walk,” Louise said. “I was heading to the Mur- phy to use the phone. My husband was going to bring me home.” “I can take you home,” he offered. “In La Pierre, right?” She thanked him but declined. She didn’t want the cop to go into The Rose for her crutches. That would be impossible to explain. Just a ride to the gas station. The cop waited for her outside the phone booth. She reached Tom and he was on his way. Why did she call from the Murphy? Tom wondered. When he got there he wondered why she was sitting in a police cruiser. Louise thanked the cop and leaned on Tom’s arm as he helped her into his SUV. 29 Going Home 415

They hadn’t spoken to each other. She started with, “Thank you for coming. Can we stop by The Rose? I forgot my crutches.” “Sure,” he said. He waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he asked, “You going to explain?” “I’m afraid we had a little disagreement. Ace and Max ganged up on me. I left them to get a little air.” With Louise, understatement was a trademark. Usually a joke. This time, Tom thought, understatement was concealing the truth. “A ‘little disagreement’ Lou?” “I told them we were getting a divorce. I told them it was my idea.” He pulled over in front of The Rose. “Anything I should tell them?” he asked. Louise was thinking. She was thinking that Tom must have told them. Her husband and her so-called friends were all in this together. He waited for her, but she didn’t say anything. Without a message, he went for her crutches. Acacia and Maxine were at the usual table. They were worried. “You’ve got her, Tom?” Acacia asked. “Yeah. She’s in the car. Sent me in for her crutches.” He looked from one woman to the other. He knew that Louise needed help. He needed help. Maxine read the expression on Tom’s face. “Tom, tell her that we love her,” she said, simplifying something that was very complicated. Tom wasn’t sure that would be enough, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt. He nodded his agreement. He was leaving with the crutches when Acacia spoke. “Tell her that I forgot to mention her hair, Tom. I’m jealous of her hair, too.” Tom promised to deliver the message. He had no idea how it fit but he assumed that Acacia had her reasons. Tuesday, 12/14/04, 6:35 P.M. In Tom’s SUV going home. He put the crutches in the back, returned to the driver’s seat and looked at Louise. 416 Explicitly Sexy II

She was confused. She had known what needed to be done and everyone was ganging up on her. Tom shouldn’t have told them. She should have had a couple drinks and some good laughs with her friends. That was all she wanted. She was too angry to speak. “They both had messages for you, Lou. Want to hear them?” She didn’t want to. Then curiosity overcame her anger. Probably she’d just be more angry, but... “Sure.” It didn’t sound to Tom like she wanted to hear them, but he could go with what she said, not how she said it. “Max said that they love you. Ace said that she’s jealous of your hair.” “They love me,” Louise said. “They sure didn’t show it. And what the hell does hair have to do with it? How can she talk about hair when I’ve lost both my feet?” She sounded as angry as she felt. Then she let her anger loose on him. “And you,” she yelled, “You told them, didn’t you.” Then she yelled at her supposed friends. “They knew. They were waiting for me. It was like a trap you had made for me. It was so cruel.” And at Tom, too. “Why do you all hate me?” Tom wanted to defend himself. He hadn’t told anyone. But he remembered. He hadn’t done too much to hide the truth from Acacia. He’d told her in a way that she could say, ‘He didn’t tell me.’ He knew she’d guess the truth. Had Ace told Max? Women do talk, he thought. He pulled into their driveway without saying anything. He turned the car off and they both sat in the darkness. The only light came from their living room window. He turned toward her. Rays of light from the win- dow bounced off her hair. Ace was right. She did have beautiful hair. “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked. She looked straight ahead, saying nothing. “When we get inside?” he asked, giving her a little more time. “If you’ll tell me what you did,” she said. She wanted to know. “Sure,” he agreed. He stepped out, got her crutches from the back and went around to open her door. Before he got there she was stepping out. She took the crutches from him. Unsteadily, holding the crutches in her right hand, she walked to the front door. He hadn’t unlocked the front door. He went in through the garage and then through the living room to open the door for her. She was 29 Going Home 417 standing, still holding the crutches but not using them. He noticed that the front door was one step up from the walk. Tuesday, 12/14/04, 6:50 P.M. Louise and Tom’s home. Louise walked to the chair she had been using for training. She sat down and placed the crutches beside her. He sat on the couch, four small steps away. “My turn first?” he asked. Without looking at him, she nodded her head ‘yes.’ “OK. I wanted to know if you could actually divorce me. I made an appointment to see Ace. I didn’t actually tell her. I said I was asking for a friend. I don’t think she believed me about the friend.” “And what did the attorney tell you?” Louise wanted to know. “She said we’re a ‘no fault’ state. A woman can get a divorce if she wants one. No reason required.” Then he added, “And she said that if a similar situation came up between you and me, she wouldn’t represent either one of us.” Tom didn’t bring up the possible delaying tactics. “Is that all?” Louise asked, not quite satisfied. “Yeah. Never mentioned it again. Arranged for you to meet them at The Rose, but no hint that anything was wrong between us. Didn’t you say that you had told them yourself?” Louise sat quietly, digesting this information. She trusted him. At least she trusted him to have told her if there had been any plan that he knew about. Ace must have talked it over with Max. Maybe while they were waiting. She turned to look at Tom. She was sorry she’d chosen the chair. She needed to be held. “Your turn,” he prompted. She told him about the conversation at The Rose. She left out the part about being an eight or a nine. She didn’t believe it. Sometimes women make compliments that aren’t true, she told herself. She told him about Acacia’s lecture and how she left. And about the cop who’d read about her in the paper. He digested what she said. He knew that a person would leave out a lot if they were describing a long discussion in just a few minutes. He 418 Explicitly Sexy II wondered what she had left out. Knowing that she had walked out with- out her crutches, he decided, was enough. “May I ask a question?” he said, breaking the silence. She nodded her assent. “You asked why we all hated you. I just wondered if you might think that actually we all love you?” If ‘actually we all love you’? She thought. They had. Before the acci- dent. No, not just before. After, too. Ace had told her to give Maxine her left hand. Tom had held her left hand. Maybe she was the one who had to learn to love herself? She knew she was about to cry. She didn’t want to cry alone. She pushed up out of the chair. She was glad they hadn’t put the cof- fee table back in front of the couch. She walked to the couch and turned. She turned carefully, taking little steps. Then she lowered herself care- fully, bending at the waist and knees to keep her balance. She was learn- ing. Tom was smiling. She saw his face as she sat down. She could see his relief. This had been hard for him, she thought. She didn’t want to make his life hard. He’d held his arm up so she could snuggle. The tears came as she put her head down on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her. He stroked her hair while she cried. Sometimes, he thought, a woman needs a good cry. He knew that there were different kinds of crying. This felt like the good kind. Maybe they did love her, she thought. That thought, the thought that they did love her, found its way from some place deep inside, maybe some place it had been hiding while it wasn’t safe to come out. Now it stood up in the front of her brain. Just a shy little thought, but she knew she could trust it. Her tears flowed faster than before. Sometimes a woman needs a good cry. A good cry and someone to hold her. 30 Moving On

The morning sun was just below the horizon. The day promised to be warmer than the dawn. Not warm, actually, but warmer. This morning one bedroom had a special sort of warmth. Wednesday, December 15, 2004, 7:45 A.M. Louise and Tom’s bedroom. Her head was still on his shoulder and he was still stroking her hair. Somehow they had left the couch for the comfort of their bed. And Louise had stopped crying. “You’re awake,” she announced without opening her eyes. Someone was stroking her hair. It seemed a reasonable deduction. “Going to be a nice day,” he said, confirming her deduction. She hugged him. “Your wife is an idiot, Mr. Wilson. Can you still love her?”

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“Well, maybe,” he answered. “I’d love her if she stopped being so hard on herself. You did what you thought was best. Actually, that’s not right. You did what you thought was best for me. Maybe a little more selfish would be a good idea.” “Can I ever make it up to you?” she asked. “You could let me brush your hair,” he said. “Haven’t done that in six weeks.” “Actually, it’s been seven weeks,” she corrected. “Oh,” he said. It wasn’t just hair brushing that had not been part of his life for seven weeks. Wednesday, 12/15/04, 8:30 A.M. Louise’s room. She had made oatmeal. This was probably simpler than anything else that could be called ‘cooking,’ but this was the first meal she had made stand- ing on her new feet. She had been proud of herself. She sat at her dressing table in her bathrobe and held out her brush. He went to her closet in search of her short black satin robe. When she saw it she stood up, took her bathrobe off, turned and held her hands behind her so he could slip the black one on. He was careful not to knock her over. The black robe covered the top half of her thighs. It hid the garters if she wore stockings. It didn’t hide the prostheses. Her long red robe would hide the prostheses. At least it would cover the sockets. She’d have to learn. She sat down again and held out her brush, then she withdrew it. “What about you?” she asked. “Oh,” he said. “Yes, My Lady.” He stripped in his own room and returned, naked. “That’s better,” she said, smiling with the left side of her face. “Here.” She held out the brush. He applied it with pleasure. She had beautiful hair. The morning sun was pushing its way through the blinds, as if it wanted to glint off the gold in her hair. He felt her hand between his legs and moved his feet farther apart. He brushed and she stroked the insides of his thighs. “You know, yesterday my girlfriends were telling me that I still looked better than I 30 Moving On 421 thought. I didn’t believe them. Women’s compliments can be quite mean- ingless, you know.” “Ace said she was jealous of your hair,” Tom replied. “Don’t know what that was about, but you do have beautiful hair.” “Oh, to hell with Ace. I’ve got my true love here and he never lies.” She kissed her ‘true love’ on the tip and stroked the balls below him. Her ‘true love’ pointed to the ceiling. “I’m not sure how much you should trust him right now,” Tom said. “He hasn’t come in six weeks, you know.” “What?” She was amazed. “You’ve been a monk? I thought men did it themselves when they couldn’t find anything better. And it’s been seven weeks since the accident.” “I haven’t done it myself since before we were married,” her monk said. “Why would I when I have a woman who looks like you?” She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “Oh shit,” she said, quoting a woman they knew. “How could I have been so selfish? I had no idea.” “You’re learning to walk. I figured one thing at a time. And I think we’re ready to do the left side.” He switched sides and resumed brushing. “Could we take care of this when you finish brushing?” she asked. He thought about it. “Am I the only one who hasn’t come since October?” he asked. While he brushed, she hefted his balls. “These really are big, aren’t they. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this big before.” “Probably a little swollen,” he said. “But what about you?” “I don’t have balls, you know,” she answered. “But don’t you get horny?” “No. Not in a hospital anyway. I think it’s something in the paint they use on the walls. Keeps a woman from thinking about sex.” “You know what I’ve missed most?” he asked. 422 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh, shut up,” she said, hugging his waist. She knew what he had missed most. She knew what his favorite thing was. Or at least what it had been. Was it still his favorite thing? He was brushing her hair again, enjoying the fingers gently stroking his thighs, keeping his cock pointing to the ceiling. She wanted to be sure. “What have you missed most?” she asked. He held out his arm. She pulled herself up. He led her to the bed- room. Wednesday, 12/15/04, 9:10 A.M. Louise and Tom’s bedroom. She sat on the bed, then stretched out without stopping to remove her feet. He climbed over the foot of the bed, between her legs, then up to her breasts. “Maybe I’ve missed these,” he said applying fingers and lips to her chest, exploring ribs and breasts, areolas and nipples. “We’ve got a house to turn on,” she reminded him. “I’ve got a woman to turn on,” he said, and continued to lose himself in her beautiful breasts. She was moaning in pleasure before he moved down to her vulva. His fingers spread her lips and his tongue found the opening of her vagina. It wasn’t wet enough, he thought, making circles around it. Then his tongue licked its way up to her clitoris where he focused on making her wet again. She said, “Oh yes,” and “More.” He was making her wet again. “Yes. Oh fuck. More,” she repeated. Then her hips began to bounce. Her orgasm took over and she entirely forgot seven weeks without sex. Afterward she snuggled, squeezed and cried on his shoulder. But not for long. Then she asked, “What about you?” His eyes were moist, too. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “What’s your idea?” She was intrigued. “Want to be the first to ever do it in a new house?” “An inaugural fuck?” she asked. “Sound good?” 30 Moving On 423

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen the house. How about we go turn it on and you can fuck your woman if she’s turned on?” He smiled. “I think I like your plan. Will the fuck be especially good if the house really turns you on?” “The best,” she said. She decided. She was going to be the sexiest crippled wife a man ever had. She chose her underwear with care. Wednesday, 12/15/04, 10:30 A.M. Louise and Tom’s new home. The new home’s owners arrived fifteen minutes early. Tom had pulled up in front of the walk that led from the street to the front door. The straight brick walk led to the centered doorway of a formal, ‘colonial’ (two-story) home. The old maple still stood in the northeast corner of the lot. “Probably too big for the farmer to cut down,” Tom explained. It was nearly five feet (1,5m) in diameter. “Would have been four feet across a hundred years ago. “Imagine the lawn around it,” Tom went on. “We get six inches of topsoil and then grass seed come spring.” “Very nice,” Louise said. “I love those planters,” she added, referring to two gracefully curved planters that flanked the driveway on the north- west corner of their lot. “Are those yours, Tom?” “The design’s almost all mine,” Tom said. “If you find an outlet any- where for plugging things in, that’s Dean’s work,” he added, giving the architect credit for his technical skill. Tom parked in the far corner of the paved area beside the garage. Others started to arrive, parking outside and walking into the garage. Jim, the builder, was there with some of his crew. Dean, the archi- tect, was there. The plumber was there to check that the furnace turned on properly. Three people from Tom’s office were there to help Tom cele- brate (and to think about his design’s commercial potential). Maxine and Acacia arrived together. They wanted to talk to Louise, but not in a small crowd. They saw her face and the way she talked to Tom. Something had changed. Something had changed, and very much for the better. They decided that talking could wait. The house had to be ‘turned on’ first. 424 Explicitly Sexy II

Tom had orchestrated the ceremony. They gathered around the main electrical panel in the garage. All the principals made speeches. Tom’s rule limited the speeches to a single sentence each. Jim thanked his crew. Dean gave full credit to Tom for designing the house. Tom said the house was all for his beautiful wife. She blushed and pulled the switch. Anticlimactically, little happened. The electric meter started turning. The water heater in the basement was now doing its job. The furnace’s pump was pumping, but that was also in the basement, out of sight and out of hearing. Jim flicked a switch and the overhead light in the garage went on to a small cheer. Everyone but the new owners went inside through the door in the back of the garage. Tom led Louise out through a vehicle door to the paved drive. They crossed the drive to two steps that led down, through one of the planters. Past the planter a brick walk led to the front door. At the steps up to the small entry porch Tom gathered his wife in his arms for the traditional, bride-over-the-portal carry. She smiled. Jim was there, inside, to open the door. Tom set her down in the front hall. The entry hall’s stairs were generous. Not quite a mansion’s stairway, but wide enough for two, side-by-side. Jim opened the double doors that closed the entry hall from the rest of the home. The entry hall looked through the kitchen, out into the sun room at the back of the house. Turn- ing left led them to the family room. A ‘library’ off the family room did double duty as a guest room. For Louise, its couch would open into a bed. The master suite on the second floor was inaccessible if you couldn’t climb stairs. Louise was liking what she saw. It wasn’t until she got to the other front room, Tom called it ‘her’ office, that she began to fall in love. The corridor led into the dining room. The dining room and office shared the entire west side of the house, separated by a pair of pocket doors that were now opened to make one large room. The office was paneled, there were bookcases in the corners and upholstered seats under both windows. It looked very warm. The crowd had gone upstairs, leaving the first floor to Tom and Louise. A medium-sized kitchen was centered in the back, but the three- season sun room behind the kitchen made it special. They went through the family room out onto a spacious deck that wrapped around the sun room. “Not much for the winter,” Tom said. Louise could almost feel the early summer breezes. Then she saw the view. Their acre (0,4ha) flowed seamlessly into farm fields, stretching to 30 Moving On 425 the horizon. Tom pointed to the sun. “We face just about due south,” he said. “Should be good for a little gardening.” They made their way back into the family room as the others were coming down from the second floor. Acacia and Maxine met them as they came in. “Tom,” Maxine said, “you are definitely going to design a house for me. I want that master suite. It’s even better than the plans.” Tom hushed her. “Louise still hasn’t seen it. It’s a surprise.” Louise, of course, begged to be taken upstairs immediately. Tom refused. “Not until you can do stairs on your own.” “Tom,” Louise said, slyly, “you remember our deal? Don’t you want to impress me?” He laughed. “You’re not impressed yet? Show her the greenhouse, Max.” Tom left to mingle with the others. “Greenhouse?” Louise asked. Acacia and Maxine took her in hand. The kitchen was separated from the dining room by a large pantry. An outside door led from the pantry to the garage by way of a small greenhouse. (The others had come in through the greenhouse while Tom and Louise had gone around to the front.) Louise looked and mouthed the word ‘wow.’ The greenhouse was just big enough so they could have flowers on the table through the cold months. Maybe a little fresh basil for the pasta sauce, in January. Acacia took advantage of the fact that they were alone. “Are we OK, Lou,” she asked. “I might have been a little gentler.” Louise smiled at her. “You were cruel and I’m never speaking to either of you again,” she said, trying to push the right side of her face into a smile. “At least not until Friday. Is Friday at 5 OK?” Acacia grabbed her and hugged impulsively. “Don’t let go,” Louise said. Acacia realized she had made a mistake. She thought the best plan was to keep hugging. Maxine joined them. The trio was reunited. After too long just hugging, Louise directed them to the doorway, where she could hold the wall while they carefully let go. They made their way back into the kitchen where they inspected stove, fridge, cabinets and built-in ovens. The sun room let in huge 426 Explicitly Sexy II amounts of daylight. “See why I’m coming here for breakfast?” Maxine asked. “You’ll have sunlight from dawn to dusk.” Tom was being a good host, saying ‘goodbye’ and thanking his guests as they left. The women found the stools on the outside of the kitchen counter. The stools let the extra-wide counter double as a table for informal meals. Maxine asked Louise what had happened to change things. “Someone realized that she was being a perfect idiot,” Louise said. “And when she figured that out, she had the very best cry of her adult life. Her loving husband held his idiot wife and let her cry. It must have been for hours. She felt loved and happy when she finished crying. “Somewhere along the way she decided that feet weren’t really that important. Nice to have, of course, but not really necessary. Like being a perfect ten, you know. Very nice, but not really necessary. I remember someone I know trying to explain that to me.” The last of the other guests had gone, Tom joined Acacia and Max- ine. “Ace,” Maxine said, “have Tom show you something interesting. I want a minute with Louise.” Acacia looked at Tom. “Have you seen the attic?” he asked. “Let’s go,” she said. Maxine looked at Louise. Louise wondered what she was thinking. Maxine let her wonder as the footsteps disappeared up the stairs. Then she asked, “You guys going to stay here for a bit after we leave?” “I guess so,” Louise agreed. The choice was hers, after all. “Good. And you’re going to fuck his brains out?” Maxine asked. “I guess so,” Louise agreed again. It seemed like the right thing to do. “Now listen to me, bitch,” Maxine said. “I will never forgive you if you don’t come at least three times before he does. Got it?” Louise laughed. “Darling Max,” she said and held out her arms. Maxine embraced her while Louise sat on her stool. Louise lay her head on Maxine’s sexy big boobs. Maxine stroked her hair. Louise let go when they heard footsteps coming back down the stairs. While they were still alone, Louise added, “Should be easy. I’ve already had my first one this morning.” Maxine laughed and gave Louise’s head one final squeeze. 30 Moving On 427

“Wow!” Acacia exclaimed as they returned to the family room. “Can I tell her, Tom.” “Nope,” he said. “Still a surprise.” “The attic?” Louise asked. “Yup,” Tom said. “We went up to the attic.” “And there’s something to see in the attic?” Louise pressed. “It’s sexy,” Acacia said, without saying too much. Wednesday, 12/15/04, noon. The library in the new house. They went outside to bring things in from Tom’s SUV. Tom said he didn’t need help, but she had insisted on going with him. She wanted the practice. A woman doesn’t learn to waltz on her plastic feet without prac- tice. Tom had parked in the far corner. She had been looking at the house when they pulled in. Now she noticed the fence. Looking over it she saw that they were eight feet (2,4m) above a fenced in area. “What’s this?” she asked. “That gets a foot of topsoil in the spring,” he said. “Garden?” “Yup. Veggies and flowers for cutting.” She thought of the greenhouse. “We can have fresh flowers year round?” “If you like.” She definitely liked. She was falling in love. But she still wanted to see if she could squeeze a little more out of him. “Why won’t you tell me about the master suite?” “It’s a surprise. I want you to see for yourself.” “So give me a hint. What will I be looking at?” “There’s a bedroom. And a bathroom, too,” he said, unhelpfully. “Tell me something I don’t know.” “OK,” he agreed. “It’s got a closet room.” 428 Explicitly Sexy II

“Oh, stop it. I knew there’d be a closet.” “Not just a closet,” he said. “A closet room. You’ll like it.” Tom could keep a secret if he wanted to. “I’ll get even with you for this,” she threatened. “Well, you’ll like it when you see it.” “You’re forgetting about today.” “The house isn’t turning you on?” “Not as much as it could. I’ve heard from a reliable source that even the attic’s sexy.” “Not finished yet,” he said, “but it could be sexy. Good word for it.” She decided he’d have to wait for his release. “You know what Max made me promise?” He didn’t know, of course. “She made me promise to come three times before I let you come.” That, of course, was not the way to threaten Tom. “Would you rather go for four?” he asked. She realized her mistake. “But you don’t know what I’ll be wear- ing.” That got his interest. “Something sexy?” “Wouldn’t you like to know. You’ll just have to wait until you see it. It’s a surprise.” He smiled. He liked that kind of surprise. She carried her small case back to the house. He carried a bag packed with groceries, pans, dish soap and paper towels—enough, he hoped, to make a breakfast or lunch. She tried, but failed, to open the couch in the library while he packed his bag’s contents into fridge and cabinets. Joining his wife, Tom pulled out the bed that unfolded from the couch. He had placed sheets and a blanket in the library’s closet. When he brought these out, Louise smiled. Her husband had prepared to stay, she saw. After he made the bed he asked, “Like the house?” “The first floor’s very nice,” she conceded. “Just wait until you see the master suite,” he reminded her. 30 Moving On 429

“And the sexy attic?” He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his arms. She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You think you could be happy here?” he asked, seriously. “I think we’ll be very happy here, Tom. I knew when I saw those beautiful planters that your heart was in it.” “Those came out better than I’d hoped.” “Now you get out of here,” she said, “and give me five minutes to dress. This is my room now, isn’t it?” He kissed her, lifted her off his lap, set her on the bed and left with a quick glance at his watch, shutting the door behind him. She planned. Things that needed feet had to come before going foot- less. Off with her skirt and blouse. She was wearing the garter panty he had picked out and a black-lace shelf bra. Stockings and fingertip vibra- tors came out of her bag. Last, she took out and put on her near-transpar- ent lace robe. Then she put the bag away and sat on the bed, facing the door. She took her feet off, including their socks, and set them beside the bed. She was nervous. Three deep breaths, each slowly exhaled, did not help much. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. It wandered back to Maxine’s studio. She lay on the bench while the artist sketched her tits. She’d been nervous then, too. Her memories were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said. She studied his face as he came in. His eyes roamed and then focused on her breasts. She drew her robe around herself more tightly. This was an unconscious, modest gesture but pulling it tighter did more to reveal than to conceal. He was temporarily speechless. “Help me with these, please,” she requested, holding her stockings out. “And naked would be nice.” He undressed, then took the stockings from her. He gathered the first stocking as he had before. Then he saw that there was no need to gather it all the way to the foot. He slid it over her stump, knee and up her thigh where he attached the garters. He gathered the second stocking, but not as far as the ankle. He slid it on and fastened the garters. 430 Explicitly Sexy II

“Stand up,” she requested. His cock was already standing up. She was pleased. Pleased, relieved and turned on looking at it. She stroked it lovingly. He thought her strokes were sensuous. He hadn’t known how he would react, but now he knew. Feet were better, but not by much. Her thighs were exquisite. He knelt to kiss them. He kissed the tops of her stockings. He kissed the tender skin above the stockings. He kissed and licked without a plan, without method. He had forgotten how beautiful she was. Eventually he found his lips on the tender skin between thighs and vulva. He kissed and licked and was drawn toward her center. She lay back. She was lost. More lost than he was. There had never been anything to fear. She felt his lips and tongue. She felt his love. She felt his lust. When his tongue circled her vagina the day’s second orgasm started its first contraction. He heard her say, “I’m coming.” She was surprisingly peaceful. He wasn’t trying to make her come. He was just returning to places he had loved. Places he had made her happy in the past. Places that made him happy. He slowly licked his way up to her clitoris to see if that would be peaceful or something else. “Oh, fuck,” she said as his tongue touched her clitoris. Her hips didn’t lift as they used to. But it felt just as good. Another orgasm pushed its way through, or maybe the first one just got bigger. “Oh, fuck. Don’t stop,” He licked firmly, neither slowly nor quickly. Just fast enough to keep her orgasm flowing. He felt her hips bouncing gently. They weren’t throwing his head off her as they used to. He slid his hands under her rear cheeks and squeezed. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. “More. Squeeze harder.” The contractions kept rolling through her. This was like no orgasm she had ever had. It wasn’t furious but the orgasm was strong and it just kept going. The hands were squeezing and the contractions seemed to flow from them. She rubbed the head that was between her thighs. It might have gone on, but she was out of breath. Her heart was beat- ing too fast. She told him to stop. Her body needed more oxygen, more blood. He relaxed his hands, holding her rear gently. He went back to kiss- ing the tender skin at the top of her thighs. 30 Moving On 431

The thought ran through her brain. She knew the words were totally inappropriate, but she had to. For old time’s sake. “That was nice,” she said. “Quite nice.” He laughed. He had his wife back. Only Louise! He moved up to kiss her mouth. Saucy, impudent, well-loved mouth. “Didn’t get a ‘very’ for that?” he asked. “No,” she said. “I think you need to get back in practice.” Then she asked, “Would you like a turn?” He laughed again and hugged her, glad to have her back. “Yes, I might,” he said. “That might be nice.” She laughed and turned toward him. He was on her right. She reached toward his cock, his very stiff cock, with her left hand. It did look ready to explode. She held his shaft between thumb and forefinger, thumb on bottom, finger on top, and stroked delicately up and down. “Stop,” he ordered, pulling away. “I won’t last.” ‘How could he last?’ she asked herself. And the answer came to her just after the question. She looked at him. Her eyes locked into his. “Yes, you will last,” she said. “You’ll do it for me.” She reached for the toys and handed him one. Then she pushed him onto his back and slid on top of him with her rear on his abs. Sitting up, facing his feet, she took his cock and placed the tip at the opening of her vagina. She slid down until he was buried inside her. Then she lay down, her back on his chest. “Play with my tits, please.” Nothing could have given him more pleasure. He stroked them gen- tly. He drew circles around them. His fingertips spiraled in until they cir- cled her areolas. “Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s been so long.” He slid the toy over a finger and turned it on. He buzzed around her areolas again and then touched her nipples. “Oh, fuck. Yes.” Her nipples were sending sparks to her clitoris. “Hold still until I start to come,” she ordered. She placed both his hands on her breasts. Then she took the second toy and slid it onto her left fore- finger. She turned it on and let it slide slowly into her center until it just touched her clitoris. She raised it until she could barely feel the vibra- tions and then she let it drop until her finger was in firm contact, starting 432 Explicitly Sexy II an orgasm. She raised it and lowered it repeatedly, starting and stopping her orgasm. Then she gave in and lowered it with no intention of raising it again. “Now,” she said. He thrust. In slowly, then withdrew even more slowly. He held her breasts firmly and then released them to make delicate circles. Then he held them firmly again. His orgasm built slowly, as if his body had for- gotten how, but then it attacked with the violence of seven weeks absti- nence. His whole body shook. She felt him inside her and under her. That launched another orgasm deep inside her that came crashing out in huge waves. “Oh, fuck!” she shouted. They continued coming together for what seemed like minutes. Eventually, both spent, they turned the toys off. She held her hand over her clitoris as if to protect it. He held her breasts tenderly. He rolled onto his side, carrying her with him. They nestled like spoons. “I knew you’d last,” she said when she could talk again. “Anything for My Lady,” he replied. She squeezed the hands that were holding her breasts. His softening cock showed its contentment by sliding out of her. “How are your balls?” she inquired. “Better than they were a few minutes back. Seven weeks is too long.” She squeezed the hands that were holding her breasts. She was hold- ing his right hand with her right, his left with her left. She was reminded that her hands were smaller than his. Her left was much smaller. She squeezed more tightly. The sun was low in the sky when they woke up. They decided to go home and come back in the morning armed with pillows, towels, blan- kets and such. The movers were coming on the third of January. They weren’t waiting. 31 The Mistress Suite

The weather threatened snow, almost every day. So far there had just been flurries. Bing Crosby was dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones you used to know. Homes and stores had put on holiday ornaments. Children were get- ting excited. Even adults were not immune. Monday, December 20, 2004, 5:30 P.M. Louise and Tom’s new home, upstairs. “Lou!” he shouted. “I’m home!” The trouble with a big house was that you never knew where she’d be, he thought. “Up here,” a voice floated back. From where? Then he realized what she’d said. ‘Up’ could only mean one thing. He ran to the stairs and up them three at a time. The door to the bathroom at the top of the stairs was ajar. He pushed it open. The inner door (separating sinks from toilet and bath) was also ajar.

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Until today he had carried her up and down the stairs when she wanted a bath. “Come in,” she invited. Pushing aside the shower curtain, he saw her soaking in a warm bath with lots of bubbles. She was smiling, smiling like a cat next to an empty bird cage, ever so pleased with herself. “How’d you...” (He stopped himself. Some questions don’t need to be asked.) “I didn’t fly,” she said. Her feet were waiting, standing primly together outside the tub. He stared. He had expected her to take at least another week before she could do the stairs. “I guess it’s time,” he said. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He dashed into the master suite, into the master bath and turned the water on in the whirlpool tub. She flipped the drain lever and the water started gurgling out. And she smiled to herself, thinking about being told to ‘wait here.’ She would be in the master suite in minutes. Returning, he helped her dry. She put on her feet, then a bathrobe. “You didn’t peek?” he asked. “No. I like surprises.” Monday, 12/20/04, 5:40 P.M. The closet room. He led her through the double doors that opened into the master suite, into a corridor with a huge closet area on the front side of the house. The door to the master bath was on the back side. She heard the water filling the whirlpool tub. “Wait a minute,” she said. “This is the closet room, right?” He con- firmed her guess. She wandered into the first of two aisles leading toward the front of the house. It had a huge hanging space/drawer unit on the right, a shelf unit on the left. “Just this one unit,” she said, referring to the hanging space/drawer unit, “is bigger than any closet I’ve ever seen, Tom.” The unit had the space of a closet twelve feet deep (3,6m) with hanging rods on one side, floor-to-ceiling chests of drawers on the other side. The shelf unit attracted her attention next. “And here?” she asked, opening a door. 31 The Mistress Suite 435

“Anything you like,” he said. He’d designed enough space for 700 pairs of shoes. But ladies with plastic feet aren’t going to be buying a lot of shoes, he thought. Coming out to the corridor she turned toward the next aisle. The two units there were duplicates of the first ones. “Tom, I could shop forever and not fill this up.” “That’s the idea,” he said. She pointed to the door at the end of the corridor. “Here next?” “That one’s your boudoir,” the designer said. Monday, 12/20/04, 5:45 P.M. The boudoir. She opened the door into a pink room with polished wood units including a built-in dressing table with huge mirrors surrounded by light bulbs. Under foot, making the room very quiet, a deep, light-gray carpet cov- ered the floor. The room also had a stand, like the ones in good clothing stores, with angled mirrors that let a woman see her front, sides and back, all at the same time. He turned on the dressing table lights. Like a vanity table, the mis- tress of the house might sit here to apply makeup. Unlike a vanity table it occupied the whole southeast corner of the boudoir. “I’m not sure I’m vain enough for this vanity, Tom. You’ve even put me on a pedestal.” The floor of the unit was raised three inches (7,5cm). “You’re beautiful enough,” the designer assured her. She spun the table’s chair around to face into the room and sat down. She spun herself back around to face the mirrors. “Wow!” was all she could think of. He stood beside her and ran his fingers through her hair as if he were brushing it. “Wow!” she said, again. In the mirror, she saw the divan behind her. She stretched out on the divan. A small table stood beside it. A shelf, just right for books or magazines, was behind it. “Almost perfect, Tom. Just one thing.” “What?” he asked. “A box of chocolates,” she said, tapping the little table. He grinned. “Bedroom’s in there,” he said, pointing to the door behind the mir- rored dressing stand. A print (she thought) hung on the wall beside the 436 Explicitly Sexy II door. It showed a single white rose almost 40 inches (1m) square. “Better than the bower at The Rose,” she said as she entered the bedroom. Monday, 12/20/04, 5:55 P.M. The master bedroom. The bedroom was just large enough for its king-sized bed with a four- poster surround. At each bed corner pink drapes were tied back in grace- ful curves. The pink walls and gray carpet of the boudoir flowed into the bedroom. Corner cabinets matched the details of the bed posts. Polished wood wainscoting complimented the furniture. ‘Wow!’ she said, for the third time. Then she saw the print on the wall. A woman, nude, was reclining on a divan or bed. “Don’t I know her, Tom?” “Probably,” he said. “Titian, Venus di Urbino, 1538. Couldn’t get the original so I settled for a print. She was the goddess of love. Lust and sex, too.” “She needs a good aerobics class,” Louise observed. Venus’s tummy was not flat. “Yeah, but look at that smile. She’s irresistible. Like you,” he said. “She’s a little poufy in the thighs, but still sexy as hell.” Then Louise remembered the original. “Tom, you chopped her feet off. The little dog, too.” He laughed. “Sorry. Picked her out before your accident. Needed a square print so I cropped her. Didn’t think the feet were that important. Just look at her smile.” Louise smiled as she studied Venus. The model, probably Titian’s mistress, was one of history’s most famous courtesans. Actually, Louise thought, her thighs really were a bit ‘poufy.’ And her breasts were smaller than they might have been, considering the rest of her figure. But Tom was right about the smile. I’ll have to learn to smile like that, she thought. “Want to see the master bath?” he asked. 31 The Mistress Suite 437

Monday, 12/20/04, 6:05 P.M. The master bath. The bath was blue. Blue tiles, blue walls, blue whirlpool tub and a huge shower enclosed in blue tinted glass. The tub was two-thirds full when he turned it off. The toilet hid in its own blue enclosure. He pointed out the shower. It had three shower heads, each on a long hose, each with a massaging (water-pulsing) head. There was a corner where a person could sit on built-in seats, one above the other. Tom knelt in front of the seats to demonstrate. “Just the right height,” he said. If she sat on the high seat, her navel would be level with his eyes. “It looks perfect for a shave,” she said. “Do you want to test those massaging shower heads?” he asked. “They look like they need testing,” she agreed, stepping out of the shower to shed her robe and feet. He carried her back into the shower and set her on the high seat. He handed her the middle shower head and turned it on. “Warm enough?” “Hotter please.” She pointed it at the inside of her wrist and waited while he moved the dial from warm toward hot. “Just right.” She turned the shower head’s outer rim. It went from gentle spray to massaging pulses. She chose pulses and pointed the spray at herself. She sprayed her shoulders, her breasts and then steadily lowered the head until it pointed between her thighs. He held her against the back of the seat. Her eyes closed, opened and then closed again. She said, “Oh” and then “Oh, fuck!” as she came. She bounced as he held her. After she stopped bouncing she turned the pulsing back to gentle spray. Tom said, “I guess we should have installed seat belts.” She laughed. “This is a nice shower, Tom. I think I’m going to like it. Do you want to shave me now?” “We need razors, My Lady. I’ll get some tomorrow. Let’s try the tub. I think it’s safer.” He carried her out of the shower, lowered her into the whirlpool tub and showed her how to adjust the massaging jets. Still dressed, though not dry, he didn’t join her. Let her play, he thought. She earned it. She climbed the stairs. 438 Explicitly Sexy II

She found an underwater jet at just the right height and pointed it at just the right place. She adjusted the speed and massaging action until... “Oh, fuck!” she repeated. This was even better than the shower. He held her left hand while she played with the controls with her right. Faster, slower... Faster, slower... She came again. After she figured out ‘off’ she lay her head in his lap. His pants were changing from wet to soaked. He didn’t care. “You know what, Tom?” He didn’t know. “I think the master suite is better than anyone told me. Will you bring me my meals up here?” He laughed. “Is the house turning you on, My Lady?” The mistress of understatement smiled. “It’s not just turning me on, it’s making me come.” He laughed again. “Glad you like it.” “You’re a genius, Tom Wilson,” she said, hugging his waist, getting him even wetter. “You want to go try that bed?” he asked. “Let Venus watch while we fuck?” she asked. “If you like.” “You sure her eyes aren’t sexier than mine?” “Dunno,” he answered. “But your thighs are way sexier. And her tits aren’t even in your league.” Monday, 12/20/04, 7:05 P.M. Louise and Tom’s new bedroom. He had carried her into the bedroom and laid her in the center of the bed. “Do these bed curtains close?” she asked. “You don’t want Venus to watch?” “No, I don’t want anyone except Venus to watch.” Venus hung on the wall to the left of the bed. Tom closed the curtains at the foot of the bed and on the right. The 16th century courtesan smiled at her 21st century rival. 31 The Mistress Suite 439

Monday, 12/20/04, 8:20 P.M. Louise and Tom’s new bedroom. Louise was cuddled into Tom, her head on his shoulder. “I love you, mas- ter home designer,” she said, with a very contented, if lopsided, smile. He returned her smile. “You think maybe we could call this the ‘Mis- tress Suite’?” he asked. “Good idea,” she agreed. “Calling it the ‘master suite’ is totally sex- ist.” “I was thinking of Titian’s mistress,” he said. There was a moment of silence. She decided it was time. “I was thinking of your mistress, Tom. You haven’t seen her in a while, have you.” Memories floated in both their minds. He spoke first. “You’re right. You suppose she’s OK after her accident?” “I wonder,” Tom’s wife said as she thought about Tom’s mistress. “Would you like to see her again? Maybe she could take her gigolo out to dinner. The two of you could have a nice, long chat. Would you like that?” They both remembered a warm evening in July. Tom agreed that a long chat would be nice. “I think she’s getting even more vain,” his wife said. “Vain?” “She was telling me that she wanted to take her stockings to a seam- stress to have them sewn closed so she could wear them while she wore her feet.” “Stockings are sexy,” he said. “I’m not sure that’s vanity.” Louise was intrigued. “Not vanity?” Tom thought about it. “It’s manipulative. She knows her stockings turn me on.” “Tom Wilson!” Louise Wilson pretended to be shocked. “She manip- ulates you? And you let her?” He smiled at the memories. And at the expectations. He hugged his wife. “Yeah. She’s so hot. Almost like a drug.” 440 Explicitly Sexy II

Tom’s wife smiled. ‘Like a drug,’ she thought. She looked into his eyes and drew a line down his cheek. “Like a drug,” she said. “Like a powerful, addictive drug. You’ll never escape her, you know.” His cheek tingled where her finger had drawn the line. “She’s so hot,” he repeated. “You’re so hot.” He knew he would never escape. Tom’s mistress was thinking about what she would wear over her corset. It would not be opaque. Venus smiled at her. Louise thought Venus was cheering her on. 32 Return to Miyamoto

It was late December. All day the sky had threatened, but not delivered, snow. The Wilsons’ new home had been finished in time for Christmas. They had moved in (the shower and whirlpool bath were irresistible) although most of their belongings were in the old house, waiting to be moved. Wednesday, December 22, 2004, 4:30 P.M. Her boudoir. Louise was lounging on the divan in her boudoir when he came in. Her long robe covered her stumps. A magazine lay in her lap. “We’ll have to be quick,” she said. “Our reservation’s for 5:30. You have just enough time to kiss me.” She was naked underneath her robe. She pulled the top apart so he could see her breasts and she glanced down, in case there was any doubt about where she wanted to be kissed.

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He knelt beside the divan. “I knew this was right for you,” the designer of the boudoir said, bending over to kiss her breasts. His kisses were gentle. Sensuous. There wasn’t time for many. “That’s enough,” she said. She sat up and put her feet on. She handed him the corset and stood on her dressing stand. He wrapped the corset around her. She hooked the busk while he worked on the laces. “Tight, but not stay-at-home tight,” she directed. “Tight enough?” he asked, when he thought the laces were snug. “No. I want it tight,” she answered. He tightened and asked twice more before she was satisfied. She turned to face him. “You like what you see?” She saw her cock’s opinion under his slacks. “Time for one more kissing,” she told him. The dressing stand raised her cleavage almost as high as his lips. He bent forward for the final kissing. “No stockings yet,” she lamented. “We’ll have to do something about that, but I don’t want lumps under my stumps if we’re going out.” She added panties over the unused garters. He took her new blouse off its hanger. He held his hand behind it. He could see his hand plainly through the sheer fabric. “Are you sure...” he began. “Am I sure I want you looking at my tits? Of course I am,” she answered. She held her arms out behind herself so he could slide the blouse on. “You know how dark the restaurant is. I want you to see what I’m wearing. And I’ll be dining with a very good-looking man. I’d like people to notice me, too.” Wednesday, 12/22, 5:30 P.M. Miyamoto, Russet Hills. Tom had driven. (She would start prosthetic driving the day after Christ- mas. She planned to be a driver again at the start of the new year.) The coat check girl took their coats. The well-lit entryway showed Louise’s corset and cleavage through her blouse. She acted as if this was perfectly normal. He was not so sure. The head waiter remembered, perhaps helped by the reservation and the fact that they were again the first to arrive for dinner. “The Wilsons?” he inquired. Louise smiled and agreed. “Same table, madame?” 32 Return to Miyamoto 443

Louise was impressed. Impressed that he remembered the table and impressed that he remembered to address her, not him. He held her chair, but Tom took over. A certain delicacy was still required to allow for her prosthetic feet. Tom sat on her left, as she had requested. Out of the entry, the restaurant was darker. The flickering electric ‘candlelight’ was very flattering. It worked very well with sheer lace over a black corset. She ordered a bottle of sake. “You like what you see, sir?” she inquired as his eyes focused on her chest. He forced his eyes to behave. “Madame is stunning,” he said, approvingly. “Madame’s plastic feet are wrapped in running shoes,” she pointed out. “I want people’s attention a little bit higher. And I don’t mind if you stare. I dressed just for you, Thomas.” Thomas? He didn’t recall hearing her use his full given name before. He didn’t recall ever seeing her dressed quite so provocatively, save for once in Sintilla’s (an adult toy store that, somehow, didn’t quite count). The waiter arrived with menus and sake. She intercepted both and filled their sake cups. She set the menus aside. “I haven’t seen you since your accident,” he began, letting her know that he was addressing his Mistress. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’ve been learning to walk. Letting you drive tonight reminded me how important driving is, too. I couldn’t do what I really wanted while you drove.” “What did you want to do?” “I wanted to make you quite mad with lust. I wanted you totally focused on my tits, but that might not have been safe.” “I wondered why you were so quiet.” “Give me your hand, Thomas.” She took his right hand in her left. She had asked him to sit on her left for just this reason. She held his hand with her thumb and her remaining one and a third fingers. She turned a bit to face him. Their eyes locked. She dropped her voice. “I’m glad to see you again. I intend to make you quite mad with lust now that you’re not driving. Are you OK with that?” He could not look away. He didn’t know what to say. 444 Explicitly Sexy II

Speaking softly and slowly, she ordered him to look at her corset. “You like this corset, Thomas?” He was speechless. She leaned closer. “Go ahead. You can stare. You like the way it pushes my tits up?” “It’s... It’s...” Her tits were so hot. She was so hot. He was thrilled. He had thought she would take months to recover. Maybe years. She saw. She knew he was stiff. She wished she could see his erec- tion, but she knew how stiff he was. His lust showed in his eyes. This was so good! “May I ask a question?” He nodded his agreement. “How’s your cock?” He bowed his head. “It’s stiff, Mistress.” “Good,” she replied. “Shall we keep it that way?” He was silent. She gave him time to collect his thoughts. He didn’t know what to say. “Why don’t you stare at my tits while you’re thinking. They’ll help you answer my question.” He lifted his eyes to her breasts. They were covered by her blouse, but not at all hidden. And they helped him. “You’re so hot. I want to... I mean, your tits make me...” She waited. He couldn’t find the end of his sentences. “Look at my corset, Thomas. Look at the way it holds my tits up. Does it make you want to kiss them?” The question was very specific, so he found an answer. “Yes, Mis- tress. Kiss them. Caress them. Hold them. They’re so hot.” “Why don’t you think about me stroking your cock. Think about my fingers stroking you while you stare at my tits. Does it feel good?” “You make me ache for you, Mistress. I want you so bad...” They were interrupted by the waiter. Louise ordered the catch of the day and sushi appetizers. She resumed the conversation when they were alone again. 32 Return to Miyamoto 445

“I’ve decided not to be so bashful, Thomas. My accident made me realize you never know what will happen to you. I’ve decided that we should take advantage of what we’ve got while we’ve got it. You may find me lustier than before. I may dress more provocatively. Talk more bluntly. Be more uninhibited. Do you think you can adjust to having a lustier mistress?” She studied his eyes. He stole glances at her cleavage. He could barely believe what he was hearing. It promised to be... The sushi arrived and she refilled her sake cup. “Aren’t you sorry you have to drive?” she asked, not refilling his cup. “And I’m going to ask you to tell me all your secrets, too,” she said. “You’ll share them with me. Why don’t you start by asking me to share my secrets?” “Do you have secrets to share, Mistress?” “Of course I do. You want to make me hotter, don’t you? Why don’t you ask what makes me hot?” This sounded too simple. He knew that she had something in mind. He was being led. But it sounded so fair. “What makes you hot, Mis- tress?” “Why, Thomas! I thought you’d never ask. Let’s see.” She paused, as if she were thinking about it. “Why don’t you stare at my tits while I think about your question.” He knew it was an order, however gentle. He stared. “That’s good, Thomas. Don’t look up. Having you stare at my tits makes me hot. Stare at them. Think about kissing that creamy flesh. Think about the nipples hiding under those cups. That really makes me hot, Thomas. I love it.” She touched another sushi to her wasabi and put it in her mouth as he stared. Then she fed him one with a little extra wasabi. “Ask me what else, Thomas. Probe a little.” He was so hard he could barely think. He knew he was being led but he didn’t want her to stop. “What else makes you hot, Mistress?” She leaned toward him and spoke very quietly. “I get hot when I’m in control. When I’m controlling you, Thomas. Like right now. My panties are wet. I wish you could slide a finger inside and feel just how 446 Explicitly Sexy II wet I am. I love controlling you. I love controlling you with my voice and my tits. Do you love making me hot?” He inhaled deeply. “Yes, Mistress. Yes, I love making you hot. And you are controlling me with your voice and your tits and I love it. You own me. I’ll do anything for you. Anything you ask. Anything to get my lips on those beautiful tits. You’re so hot. You make me so hard.” She leaned back and inhaled deeply herself. He had breathed deeply to calm himself. She inhaled to push her breasts out. His eyes were glued to her cleavage. “Are you ready for me to ask you questions, Thomas?” Before he could answer, the entrees arrived. She refilled her sake cup and exchanged polite remarks with the waiter. When they were alone, she asked, “Ready?” He said, “Yes, Mistress.” “Don’t sound like it’s a sacrifice, Thomas. You want to tell me what makes you hot. The last time we were here you told me corsets turn you on. Now look at me.” He looked. Her corset and breasts made him totally stiff. Stiffer than ever. “Are you glad you told me corsets turn you on?” She pictured his cock as he looked. She was sure the veins were bulging. She had him on the edge. “The more you tell me, the more I’ll turn you on. You like being turned on, don’t you?” “Yes, Mistress.” He was amazed at her skill. He wanted to help her find all his secrets. “Do you think this sheer blouse is sexy? I’ll wear more like this one if it turns you on.” “Very sexy, Mistress. Your tits are so sexy... The corset makes... and the lace... You’re so hot!.” She knew. When he couldn’t make sentences, she knew. She dripped. “Well, I’ll have to give you shopping lessons. Teach you how to buy sexy things for me. Would you like that?” “Yes, Mistress. I’d like to fill your closets with sexy things.” “Good. That wasn’t hard, was it? And what about toys. What have you seen in Sintilla’s that we should get?” 32 Return to Miyamoto 447

“I, uh...” He didn’t know what to say. “They have handcuffs, you know. Should we get some?” “I’m yours already, Mistress. Would you like to lock me up?” “Oh, Thomas. Pay attention. What makes me hot?” “Controlling me, Mistress?” “Yes. That’s just about my biggest turn on. So...” She waited for him. “I guess you’d like to have handcuffs to lock me up, wouldn’t you?” “Very good, Thomas. But let’s talk about you. You know what I like. Would you like being handcuffed?” “I, uh,...” He was afraid of losing control. “Look at me, Thomas. Does that scare you?” He nodded his agreement. “You’d be putting me in control, wouldn’t you.” He nodded again. “What would that mean for me, Thomas?” “Would it make you hot? Or hotter?” “Just talking about it is making me drip. You want to make me hot- ter, don’t you?” “If it makes you hotter, Mistress, I’d like it. I’d like it very much. I’ll get handcuffs for you to use.” She smiled and squeezed his right hand with her left. “That wasn’t hard, was it? This is all about what makes us hotter. Now what about you? Do you like being spanked?” She leaned closer. “What about being spanked when you’re helpless, locked in handcuffs?” He saw her eyes looking deeply into him. To escape her eyes, he dropped his own, but they were captured by her corset and cleavage. “I want to make you hot, Mistress,” he answered, simply. “Would that make you hot?” “I’m not sure. But it sounds hot. I think it might get me hot. It sounds controlling. I like control.” “If it pleases you, Mistress.” 448 Explicitly Sexy II

“No, Thomas. Not if it just pleases me. I want you to tell me all about it. I want to learn all about it and I want you to tell me because you want me to be so hot I’m practically burning. That will be totally hot for both of us, won’t it?” “Yes, Mistress.” “No, don’t just tell me ‘yes.’ Tell me how hot it will make you. Promise and make me hot, Thomas.” He finally understood. The more he told her the higher she would take him. The more he surrendered, the hotter his mistress became. He wanted to make her hotter. “You own me, Mistress. You want to spank me and I want you to do that, too. You want me to tell you exactly how I feel. How I feel when I surrender to you. When I let you own me. Just the thought of that is making me rock hard, Mistress. I can’t wait to get home.” “Oh, Thomas!” She was delighted. She smiled, looked into his eyes and spoke softly. “You are making my pussy drip. That’s so hot! I can’t wait. Now let’s have some dinner. We’ll need our strength for later. And I’ve got something else I want to discuss.” They ate and he wondered what else was on her mind. She was so hot! “Have you heard of ‘manumission,’ Thomas?” she asked him before they finished their entrees. He hadn’t. “That’s the formal name for a slave owner freeing his or her slaves. A document of manumission let a black man prove that he was a free man, not an escaped slave, before the Civil War.” “Oh,” he said, completely confused. “Something Monica is research- ing?” (Professor Monica Gulden, Maxine’s older sister, was an authority on the Antebellum Period.) “I guess so,” she said. “but that’s not why I brought it up. I’ve decided to set you free, Thomas. This is my night to free you. Manumis- sion is the legal name.” “I, uh...” He didn’t know what to say. “Not every slave wants to be freed, Mistress.” She leaned closer and spoke earnestly. “Valued slaves, slaves who had been treated well, slaves who felt appreciated, often would stay with their masters or mistresses after they were freed. But they’d stay of their own free will. They’d be paid a 32 Return to Miyamoto 449 proper salary and they’d have a legal document that said they were free. Slaves could not leave their owners. Servants could walk away whenever they chose. Would you like to stay with me, then?” “Yes, Mistress. I’ll do anything just to stay with you. I adore you.” “That’s why I’m setting you free, Thomas. This is so hot! You’re not doing my bidding because you have to. You’re my servant because you want to serve me.” He was not quite sure he understood her. “Stare at my tits, please.” He stared. “You’re enslaved by my tits, aren’t you Thomas? By my tits and my voice. This is so hot!” And then he knew. Staring through the sheer fabric covering the beautiful cleavage he knew. More than anything he had ever wanted, he wanted to lay his head on those breasts and feel her fingers in his hair. Just to shut his eyes and feel her fingers in his hair. She saw his face change. She saw his need. This was beyond lust. This was something more. She lifted his right hand to her lips and kissed it. “You have no idea how wet you’re making me,” she praised him. “Come on, Thomas. It’s time for my loyal servant to drive me home.” Wednesday, 12/22/04, 7:40 P.M. The Mistress Suite. She had turned the conversation to state capitals while she settled their check. Madison, Wisconsin was a lot like Lansing, Michigan. Neither was its state’s biggest city. Both were state capitals. Both helped him deflate. She had talked about driving on the way home. She thought he should be focused on the road. She, however, was not driving. To herself she was entirely focused on the dinner conversation. It gave her so much to work with, but it did not make her patient. ‘Lustier mistress’ was more true than she had known when she said it. Arriving home they had wasted no time getting to the mistress bath. This was totally unfair, she thought, as he handed her the middle shower head. His cock pointed at the ceiling. She pointed the pulsing spray between her legs. And she forgot about fairness as the pulsing 450 Explicitly Sexy II spray hit her clitoris while Thomas held her on the seat. And she forgot about fairness while Thomas knelt in front of her and used his lips and tongue to make her come the second time. He carried her from the shower to their bed. She reminded him about the spanking. She asked, “Would you rather eat me to another orgasm or have a spanking?” He chose the former. She was going to spank him, but not tonight. “From now on, Thomas,” she said, “I’m not going to ask. If you want to be spanked, you’ll tell me. You’ll tell me that your ass is for your mistress. For making your mistress hotter.” Just the thought made her hot. She wanted to hear him tell her how badly he wanted her. “Right now I want your lips on my tits, Thomas. But only if you beg for the privilege. Convince me that you really want them.” He begged. She thought he could do better. “You’re warming me up. Tell me more.” Listening to her servant articulate his lust for her breasts made her nipples hard. She made him stare and keep begging until she couldn’t wait any longer. His lips and tongue coaxed her nipples out as if they were intent on being in his mouth. His teeth nipped them, firing nerves she didn’t know existed. Her pussy screamed for attention until she pushed his head down from her breasts. He nibbled her abs, then her mons. He detoured around her clitoris to make circles at her vagina’s entrance. She moaned. He moved up to her clitoris, sucking it into his mouth while he licked it. “Oh, fuck. Fuck yes. More!” She became inarticulate as his mouth made love to her clitoris. “Oh yes. Don’t stop!” Her rear came off the bed, pushing her clitoris into his mouth. After he ate her to her third and fourth orgasms she made him come with her left hand. Her left hand’s thumb and forefinger were on his corona and frenum. Her right hand massaged his perineum while she whispered in his ear about corsets, cleavage and bondage. His explosion was spectacular. He thought she was sexier than she’d ever been. Hotter than he’d ever imagined. Could she... His footless mistress was making plans for her new life with her loyal servant. She would drive him wild. Titian’s mistress smiled at Thomas’s mistress. A bond was growing between the two women. 33 House Warming

Bing Crosby had kept children (even full-grown children) dreaming of a white Christmas. The weather had kept threatening. The forecasters talked about New Year’s day. Tuesday, December 28, 2004, 7:00 P.M. Louise and Tom’s new home. Their new home was packed with visitors for the house warming. Tom had started downstairs, greeting guests, while Louise held court upstairs in the Mistress Suite. Acacia and Herman arrived, followed shortly by Maxine and Frank. Hearing that Louise was upstairs, the women promptly abandoned the men.

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Tuesday, 12/28/04, 7:15 P.M. Downstairs. Tom started the men in the kitchen. Herman began making plans for all three ovens. Frank was impressed by the office. He liked the way it included the dining room. “Like having your own boardroom,” he said. That was exactly what the designer had intended. Tuesday, 12/28/04, 7:20 P.M. Upstairs. Upstairs, Louise told her friends that they had given her no clue about how fabulous the Mistress Suite was. “Mistress Suite?” Maxine asked, looking first at Louise and then at Acacia. The petite one rolled her eyes and said a single word, “Dopamine.” Then she added, “I think the queen is back.” Louise had the petite one remove her shoes and then sit on the high seat in the shower. “Now picture someone kneeling in front of you,” Louise said. “Perhaps for a ritual.” Maxine was examining the shower heads. “And just in case you don’t have someone to kneel in front of you...” she speculated, pointing to the ‘massage’ setting. Louise grinned. “That was the first thing I tested, Sexy.” Sexy inquired about the results of the test. Louise assured her that the ‘massage’ setting had led to a satisfying conclusion. “It’s best if you’ve got help,” she explained. They went on to examine the jets in the whirlpool tub. Acacia asked if they were ‘relaxing.’ “They’re amazing,” Louise explained. “Maybe even better than the shower heads. Perfect if you get a backrest. The sort of backrest that wraps his arms around you while you lean against him.” Tuesday, 12/28/04, 7:35 P.M. Her boudoir. Downstairs, Tom excused himself when he remembered something that Louise should know about the Mistress Suite. Up the stairs, three at a time, he arrived in time to catch Louise leading Acacia and Maxine out of the mistress bath. “I haven’t told her yet, Max,” Tom said. “Told me what?” Louise wanted to know. She liked surprises. 33 House Warming 453

Tom led the way into the boudoir. He stood beside the large rose on the wall and pointed to the lower-right corner. It said:

Full Sail M. Gulden ‘04 This was oil on canvas, not a print. Louise read the signature, looked at the painting and reread the signature. She would have known if she had only looked. She shook her head. “No, Max,” she said, “You didn’t...” Maxine smiled. “I did,” she said. Louise cried and hugged her. For the first time, she stepped back and took a good look at the single, perfect white rose. “Full Sail?” Louise asked. “That’s the name of the variety. One of the great hybrid tea roses,” Maxine explained. “And ‘Full Sail’ is what they called it when a ship set all its sails to catch a favorable wind. You can read it lots of ways. I thought it was a beautiful rose.” It began to dawn on Louise that this was not only a thing of beauty and a gift of love, but the painting was also valuable. Tom guessed her thoughts. “George told me how to insure it,” Tom said. Louise’s mind held a crowd of thoughts. Then a simple idea pushed out the others. “Tom,” she spoke slowly, “I’ve still not seen the attic. Why don’t you show Ace again and we’ll be up in a minute.” Acacia and Tom took the hint. “Close the door, Sexy,” Louise said when they were alone. With the door closed, Louise walked behind Maxine and wrapped her arms around the artist. Louise held one big breast in each of her small hands and squeezed. “How can I ever thank you?” Louise asked. “This works for me,” Maxine answered, rubbing both Louise’s hands lovingly. Maxine could tell the difference, but she didn’t discriminate. They both felt good. Sometimes palms are more important than fingers. Maxine pushed both hands into her breasts. “I love you, Max,” Louise said quietly. “If it weren’t for you, Kinky, this painting would just be an ama- teur’s present to a friend. I owe you.” Maxine may not have been think- ing about money. She may have been changing the subject so she didn’t start to cry. So they both didn’t start to cry. 454 Explicitly Sexy II

Louise kissed her neck and let go. “Let’s go look at the attic, Sexy. Tom and Ace both called it ‘sexy,’ you know.” Then she added, pointing to her dressing table, “There are tissues over there.” Maxine grabbed tis- sues for both of them, opened the door and they walked out hand-in-hand into the closet room corridor. Tuesday, 12/28/04, 7:50 P.M. The attic. Leaving the Mistress Suite, they had strolled toward the stairs to the attic. “Was it white or red that won The War of Roses,” Louise had asked. Maxine had remembered, “Bill did the most Don Juans but Sue’s New Dawns were really exquisite.” Louise had explained that she was thinking about the English War of Roses. Maxine told her that Frank was a history major as they reached the attic. The attic walls were finished though it had neither doors nor heat. A sitting room occupied the center at the head of the stairs, casement win- dows looked south. In a smaller room behind the sitting room, pipes were waiting for the fixtures that would make a bathroom. Two spacious bedrooms-to-be waited at the attic’s east and west ends. The bedroom ceilings sloped gently under the south-facing dormer. Beside the dormer, ceilings came down to the floor at the steep angle of the roof. Gable windows looked out to east and west. “Wait until you see the view,” Acacia said, pointing to the casement windows. “Like the view from the deck, only we’re higher up,” the designer explained. “Tom,” Louise said, “if we finished them, these rooms would be magical.” “If we had finished them,” Tom responded practically, “we’d be pay- ing taxes on a five-bedroom house.” “What about a space heater?” Louise asked. Tom smiled. “Spaces that aren’t heated by the furnace don’t count as part of the house’s square footage,” he explained. Then he added, “The roof has a full foot (30cm) of insulation.” Even unheated, even in late December the attic was not cold. 33 House Warming 455

Tuesday, 12/28/04, 8:15 P.M. Downstairs. Tom left the women, returning to their guests on the main floor. Sam Gulden was there with Monica Gulden. They had toured first and second floors after they arrived. Sam pulled Tom aside. “You know, Tom, your house is half the size of mine but it’s got more room. You’ve got a real flair for design. You think this is the sort of house that new- comers will be looking for?” Tom thought so. “If you decide to become a developer, Tom, I want to see your business plan.” Tom assured him that the only thing holding him back was the availability of good building sites. Acacia had come downstairs and heard the end of this conversation. “Tom,” she said, “supposing we could show our farmers a way they could cash in on the value of their land, but still keep on farming. You’ve built on the edge of a farm, right?” (The south windows, from the sun room up through the attic dormer, overlooked farm fields.) Tom was lis- tening carefully. So was Sam. “Let’s talk during business hours,” she said, having both her listener’s full attention. “I’ve got an idea.” Tuesday, 12/28/04, 8:35 P.M. Family room. Maxine joined them. “Did I tell you, Daddy,” she asked, “Tom’s design- ing a house for me? It’s going to have a master suite just like Louise’s.” Tom grinned. “Would you like one that’s even better, Maxine?” “Better? What could be better?” “Now that I’ve seen it I know how it could be better,” Tom responded. “How much are you charging for a design?” Sam wanted to know. “For my wife’s best friend?” Tom asked. “I think I’ll give her the design if she lists her village house with me.” “Deal!” Maxine exclaimed. “Ace, you’re the witness.” “An oral contract,” the attorney grumped, “isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.” 456 Explicitly Sexy II

Sam laughed and put his arm around the grumpy attorney’s shoul- ders. Maxine said, “Add some fine print to that contract, Ace. My master suite has to make Louise jealous.” Even the grumpy attorney smiled. Tom asked Maxine if she knew that ‘master suite’ was a sexist term, one they had decided to replace. ‘Mistress suite’ was no less sexist, but it made Louise smile. Tuesday, 12/28/04, 8:55 P.M. Library. While this group chatted, The mistress of the ‘mistress suite’ had joined Herman and Frank. Louise was discussing injuries. “You thought my injuries were more serious than your knee, Frank. That misled me for a while but then I realized you were hurt much worse than I was.” He didn’t think a knee, a knee which could be repaired, was at all comparable to losing both feet, even without her other injuries. “You’ve got to look at what’s superficial and what’s fundamental,” Louise explained. “Your knee was life-changing. Finished a promising career before it started. My feet didn’t really change anything. I go back to teaching next month. I’m still Max’s agent. I’m still Tom’s wife. Only thing I change is that I need something to replace cycling to get my car- dio.” “You’ve mellowed,” Frank said. “Good to see. It took me years to get over my accident.” Louise pointed out that he was confirming what she was saying. Then she asked about The War of Roses. Frank smiled. It was a course he had enjoyed. “That should be plural. Wars of Roses. On and off for thirty years. Henry VII, red-rosed Lancas- ter, defeated Richard III, white-rosed York, to finally end them. Battle of Bosworth. 1485.” “Oh dear,” Louise thought out loud s. And she thought about Venus, on the opposite side of the wall, painted 53 years later. “But Henry promptly married Elizabeth of York to unite the country,” Frank explained. “Oh,” Louise said, reassured. “So the real answer is ‘both.’ They compromised.” “Right,” Frank agreed. “Both.” “If you like love stories,” Frank added, “Elizabeth and Henry were a couple for the ages. Like Ron and Nancy in our time.” 33 House Warming 457

Louise was happy to have Elizabeth’s white rose in her boudoir. A war-ending queen’s rose. “Have you thought about swimming?” Herman asked, returning from Tudor history to cardio. “Put some swim fins on and you’ll have a great workout for your thighs. Upper body, too.” “I’ll ask my prosthetist about that,” Louise agreed. “I’d rather roam the countryside than just do laps, but I suppose you could look inside your brain for scenery.” Tom joined them. “We were just getting Louise in the pool to swim, now that she won’t be cycling,” Frank said. Then he added, “You know, Louise, the prosthe- ses company might make special feet for swimming. I’ll bet you could get yours free if you agreed to model for them. What do you think about being married to a swimsuit model, Tom?” Louise liked the idea. “You know, I never wanted to model before,” she said, “but I think I might be able to do some good for other amputees. Losing a bit of limb can be upsetting. I might show them that life’s not over just because you’ve lost a foot.” Frank and Herman thought ‘a bit of limb’ and ‘upsetting’ was vastly understated. Tom thought this was Louise at her best. Tom returned to Frank’s question. “In general, I wouldn’t want to be married to a swimsuit model, Frank. But I think Lou’s right about this. It might be a chance for her to do some good.” Louise looked forward to talking to her prosthetist. Tuesday, 12/28/04, 10:15 P.M. Louise and Tom’s entrance hall. The last guests were departing. Before Acacia and Herman left, Tom had pulled them aside. “Would you guys want to think about moving into the village?” he asked. “A place where you could have your office, Ace? And we could remodel a little to get a gourmet kitchen, Herman?” “I wouldn’t mind having a shower like yours, Tom,” Acacia had said. Herman was definitely ready for an up-to-the-minute kitchen. No restau- rant would be without the new convection ovens. Tom thought he had buyers for Maxine’s village home. He would get to work on a design ‘to make Louise jealous’ right away. 458 Explicitly Sexy II

And he would keep Louise comparing herself to Venus of Urbino. Louise really did have the better figure, he thought, trying to be objec- tive. And a woman’s sex appeal had everything to do with her self-confi- dence, not with her feet. Louise and Tom were with three of their last four visitors when they realized Herman’s wife was missing. “Angela del Moro,” the missing wife said, rejoining them. “And nice office, Tom. I like the window seats. Good Internet, too. Only took me a minute to google her.” “What?” Maxine asked, fearlessly exposing her complete ignorance. “Titian’s Venus,” Acacia explained. “Her name was Angela del Moro. Courtesan and Titian’s ‘dining companion’ if you believe in euphemisms.” “Oh,” Maxine said. “Manet’s Olympia has nicer tits, you know.” “Maxine is a connoisseur of tits,” Louise explained. “Venus and Olympia are 350 years apart but the pose is the same.” Tom looked at the model favored by the ‘connoisseur of tits.’ The model smiled sweetly, if asymmetrically. “Some of us feel that other parts are important, too,” the attorney said. Acacia’s mind changed subjects. She whispered briefly to Maxine. They reached agreement. “We’ve decided,” Maxine said addressing Louise, “that Friday should still be on. We think it will be OK if we meet and leave at our usual times.” (Though The Rose would be packed on Friday for New Year’s Eve, it might be nearly empty between 5:00 and 7:00.) “We’ll be expecting a detailed report on stimulation and relaxation from pulsing water in the mistress bath.” Frank looked confused. Herman would ask Acacia about the ‘detailed report’ on their way home. Louise understood perfectly. “You’ll have to help with this study, Tom,” Louise requested. “We’ll need to thoroughly test the shower and tub’s pulsing functionalities.” Louise and Tom would begin researching this topic before they went to bed. Acacia winked at Maxine. She believed that Louise, no doubt with Tom’s help, would perform thorough tests. “I think we can trust Louise to 33 House Warming 459 take care of her wifely duties,” Acacia said to Maxine, “whatever per- sonal sacrifices might be required.” Acacia was thinking about pulsing devices. Perhaps Tom could help them remodel more than just the kitchen. Louise’s report, she thought, would be helpful. As they locked the front door, Louise smiled at Tom. She did her best to smile like Angela del Moro. Louise wondered if del Moro’s smile was symmetric. She decided to take a closer look. Tuesday, 12/28/04, 10:30 P.M. The mistress suite. Louise sat on the bed, studying del Moro’s smile. Titian, Louise thought, must have been really mad about his mistress. Poufy thighs and tummy, and not even a full ‘B’ cup but she was very sexy. Her smile said it all. So confident. So knowing. Tom came in after turning the water on in the whirlpool tub. Louise patted the bed next to her. She put her head on his shoulder when he sat down. “She’s sexy, isn’t she?” “Yeah,” he said. “Your figure’s sexier, though.” She looked at Venus. “We’re not really seeing her, you know. We’re seeing the woman as Titian saw her. That’s what he thought of her. What do you think was going through his mind while he painted her?” Tom thought about it. He thought about the artist and his mistress. “A lot like you and me, I’d guess. He adores her. Must have been hard keeping his hands off her long enough to paint her.” “That’s what I see, too, Tom.” They sat together, thinking about Titian and del Moro. Thinking about what Titian and del Moro thought of each other. Thinking about what Tom and Louise thought of each other. Louise broke the silence. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “I understand it now!” Tom asked what she understood. “Her smile. But now it’s time to get to work. I think we should start with those shower heads. They might be more interesting if you held them, not me. Can you think of anything to do using two at once?” Free ES III

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