“The Conversation” by H. Jekyll Story Codes: MF, oral * * * * * Copyright 2004 by H. Jekyll. Permission is granted to post on any site that does not charge for entrance, as long as full attribution is given to the author. The story should not be read by anyone under the legal age to read sexually explicit stories, or by anyone in a location where it is illegal to read such stories. “The Conversation” previously appeared at "Ruthie's Club." An illustrated and formatted version can be found there. See: http://www.ruthiesclub.com/. I love to correspond with fellow netizens: h_jekyll2000 @yahoo.com Find H. Jekyll’s stories in the Alt Sex Stories Text Repository (http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/h_jekyll/), and at "Ruthie's Club." * * * * * “The Conversation” Martine saw it, and how it changed the night! She saw it, so she has to believe it. It wasn't just a rumor or gossip. It was there. Or. They were there, and the she of they was doing it to the he. To the him. Martine is too rattled to handle the grammar. It had been a nice, but ordinary party, a sweet night in all things but one, when Martine left the clubhouse through a back French door. Ordinary and nice, but Martine felt she had to get out. She turned left onto the patio that overlooks Lake Travis. Left again, onto the gravel walk. She carried a margarita glass carefully. Don’t spill anything onto the rustic landscaping. You'll need to refill too soon, and how would that look? It’s already your second. Best slow down. She passed live oaks and magnolias, mesquites, vines, prickly pear cacti, little blackjack oaks, and cedars. Not really cedar, she told herself. Mountain juniper. She always reminds herself. It was an ordinary evening and she wanted to try to make it nice. Think of the good things. There was that Hill Country smell to the air, that she has always loved. Even it was ordinary, though better than nice. She was surprised when she first traveled out of south Texas and found she couldn’t smell it other places. She’d thought the air smelled the same everywhere. The smell is still with her. It poured into this changed night with her. There is a waning gibbous moon. Yes, that is different as well, or maybe it caused the change. Who can tell? Certainly not Martine. It's the last night it will be bright enough to light the cliffs across the way, making them shimmer, reflecting back the muted Texas greens. It is so bright she hadn't needed the path lights at all. It's half of why she saw it, saw them, why she could make out enough to know exactly what was happening to exactly whom, and who was doing it. It was when she turned left again, into the back lot, where her eyes were drawn first leftward again, to the blue wavering light of the pool, before a movement to the right pulled her head around to where it was happening. She knows everything but the why. There was a massive live oak over there, to the right. Martine reminds Herself it is still there. Well, maybe it is. Does it exist in this universe too? Or does it exist only in this one, the one where Ann does such things and doesn’t need Martine anymore? It was just off the walk, an oak so big and old that its larger branches are held in place by cables that help support them. It has, or had, a circle of plants around it, and a continuous concrete bench surrounded them. Path lights dimly illuminated the trunk and lower branches. Martine would like the plants if she paid attention to them, and at another time she would have, but not tonight, because tonight a man was standing facing the bench, and Martine could see enough to tell that his penis was sticking out of his pants, and that he was hugely erect, and that the thing stretched to the mouth of the woman. She was sitting on the bench, and she was also holding it, and caressing it. In all her life, Martine had never seen another woman do that to a man. That's not quite right. She'd stumbled onto Internet porn sites that featured oral sex and greeted her with lewd close-ups. It was hard to avoid them, but she'd never gone further. She'd always clicked off. That was demeaning. Oh she did it herself. She'd done it. She'd licked and kissed her husband's cock during foreplay, and it was fun. But seeing someone else? No. And live, right now, unfolding before her? And not just foreplay? Never. It was all so wrong. Sure there were women who did that, and more. But this wasn't a prostitute. It was Ann. Ann doing fellatio. Doing Ann’s husband of twelve years, like some debased slut, in a public place where anyone could catch them. None of it was anything Ann would do. You’d think you knew some things about your supposed best friend. A moment passed before Martine was aware she was staring. It was them, for sure. Bob was all cowboy chic, string tie and tails, Levis and fancy boots, his Stetson. Everything just like she’d seen him dozens of times, except for that inflated penis. Ann’s hair was blonde and long and straight and not from a bottle. She was dressed all in pink, a new diaphanous dress. They must be just arriving, so late as to be unfashionable, and Bob had made Ann stop to give suck before they went in. The bastard! What else did he make her do? No wonder she wanted to leave him! But she did it! It’s part of what Martine didn’t understand. Bob's hands were on Ann's head. His fingers held the back of her head and guided her, so she was moving forward and back at the same time her face was moving up and down, and she was making continuous movements, never once losing contact with his cock. Bob moved his hips and Martine could hear his voice, saying something down to Ann. Ann, of course, couldn't reply. Anyway – Martine remembered the punch line of an old joke – it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full. She began to feel queasy. A bit of gravel crunched beneath Martine's foot. She froze. She'd been still, but now she tried to become a tree, a rock. It didn't work. Bob turned his head and looked straight toward her. She didn't know what to do. He began staring at her. He never stopped doing Ann, though. His hips still went forward and back and he still held Ann's head with his hands. His eyes were just dark points in his face, points that never turned away from Martine while he fucked Ann's mouth. Finally Martine turned and walked back the way she had come, trying to act nonchalant, as though she had been alone with the moon and the swimming pool. * * * * * Now Martine is leaning on the low limestone wall on the edge of the cliff, nursing her new margarita and staring into the lake far down the hill. She had downed her last drink quickly, almost gulping it as she fled to the ballroom. She wondered, should I tell Maury? Her husband. Should she tell him? Tell him what? She couldn’t say anything about it, at least not yet. She went to the bar for a refill, but while she waited on the bartender they came in, Bob and Ann. They looked relaxed, two happy people back from a trip way out to a fishing cabin in Montana. They said hello to friends, and neither looked as though anything odd had happened. Ann wasn’t licking her lips or wiping her mouth or anything. She must have already fixed her lipstick. She kissed friends when she met them. She kissed Maury. Oh no! Martine couldn’t stay here. What would they think? They knew she knew, didn’t they? What would she say? Would Ann want to kiss her too? With that mouth? So Martine fled again, back out to the patio. She tried to look casual, not walking too quickly, carrying her new drink, looking here and there, though never toward Bob and Ann, and out the French doors. Since then she’s been frozen to the wall. She hasn’t a clue what to do, though she knows she can’t avoid Ann all night. She knows it especially well when she hears the doors open and close, then hears a single pair of stiletto-heeled shoes click across the patio toward her. She doesn’t turn around, even when the steps get close. “I hear you caught us.” Martine whirls around and forces an enormous smile on her face. “Why Ann! I was wondering where you were! But I don’t know what you mean!” They embrace, Martine careful to kiss Ann far up on her cheek. When they separate, Ann leans against the wall, leaving Martine alone standing upright. “It’s okay. We know you saw us playing. You were there for a couple of minutes.” “No. I just went out for a breath of air. I don’t know what …” “Martine, it was obvious. And it’s okay. We’re not embarrassed. Frankly I’m glad it was you and not someone who’s less a friend.” Martine leans on the wall beside her friend and takes a drink. She notices Ann has a martini glass. “Well.” She fumbles for a moment. “I wish it had been someone else.” “I guess we shocked you.” Martine doesn’t answer. “Did we?” “It’s none of my business. If you do … what you do in your bedroom. It’s not any of my business.” “But it shocked you.” Martine sighs. “Look, let’s drop it, can’t we?” “First tell me, Martine. We’re friends. I want to know.” “Yes, it shocked me. But not the way you think.” “No? Then how?” Martine sips her margarita again. A couple of men come out on the patio to smoke, but they move away from the two women. Martine thinks for a moment longer, and Ann is silent. Finally, “How good is our friendship? I want to know.” “You know. Martine! You’re my best friend in the whole world!” “I’m not sure anymore, Ann. I don’t know if I even know you anymore!” “Why? Because of this?” “No. Yes. This and more!” “So tell me.” Martine take another drink, a big one, to prepare herself. “I never thought of you doing that before. We go to the same church. I thought we believed the same things. I never thought … I just never thought of you doing something like that. I couldn’t believe it. But that wasn’t all. It’s complicated.” “Tell me.” “It’s a whole bunch of things, Ann.” “List the categories.” “Huh? Okay. I will.” Martine is getting angry now that she thinks about the full situation. “There’s first that it was so brazen, right out in the parking lot. Not private.” “Uh-huh.” “And it was him.” “Him?” “You know what I mean! Bob, who you wanted to leave because he kept trying to make you do things.” “Oh. Well, a lot has changed about that ...” “I could tell that!” Ann sighs. “Oh Lord.” “And there’s another thing.” “What is it?” The emotion comes up from her belly. Martine can’t stop it and can’t stop herself. “It’s that that was the first time I’ve seen you since you got back. How long have you been back? You never called from your trip, or came by when you got back. I didn’t even get a silly postcard!” Martine starts to get teary, and she wants to hurry, to get it out. “So the first thing I know about you in a month, you’re kneeling in a parking lot doing that thing to your husband who you don’t even like! It’s like I don’t know you, Ann, and we’re supposed to be best friends!” * * * * * They’re leaning on the wall together, apart, Martine and Ann. Martine wipes her eyes with her free hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” “I’m sorry, Martine. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I love you. You know that.” Ann puts her free hand very gently on Martine’s shoulder. “I would never hurt you if I could help it.” “Well why did you cut me off so?” She’s teary again. “I’m so sorry. You’re my best friend, but …well, it’s complicated to tell, too. But I couldn’t help it. My husband has to come first, and it’s why I didn’t call.” Ann leans to Martine and kisses her. “I was going to. I just couldn’t.” “Why not?” “I can’t tell you. We were working through a lot.” “So you were too busy to call me?” “Please, Martine. Everyone has some things they don’t tell even their best friends.” “This has to be about him.” “Call him by his name, okay? Yes, It’s about Bob and me.” “You’re getting a divorce!” “No!” Ann laughs, then catches herself. “No. The opposite. Everything has changed. Everything is wonderful. I just can’t explain it all.” “Because?” “Oh, my friend of friends! Because you’re not ready. Because I don’t want to shock you more. Because Bob and I really need privacy right now!” * * * * * They’ve gone silent, the two of them. The moon has moved just a little through the sky, pushing the shadows of the outer leaves of an oak over them. They are in dappled light. Ann has dropped her hand from Martine’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be condescending to me,” Martine says in a quiet voice. “I happen to be an adult.” “I’m sorry. But you already think we’re going to burn in Hell. I don’t want to make things worse.” “Ann Phillips! If you’re just going Lord it over me and drop these little hints, well you might just as well leave!” Ann turns to her and looks at her for a time, as though she’s weighing a decision. She reaches over and takes Martine’s glass. The doors open and more people step out into the moonlight, but the smokers have gone away, so the patio is still half empty. Martine doesn’t know the new people, who leave the patio and go off toward the parking lots. “Frozen?” Ann is holding up Martine’s glass. “On the rocks.” “Well, wait here and I’ll get you a refill. Don’t leave.” When Ann gets back a man and woman she knows are talking to Martine. Martine looks past them to Ann. Her eyes are those of a cornered person. Conversations at big parties almost never get finished, so maybe she’ll lose the chance. Ann won’t tell her anything. Ann, though, steps between the couple to hand Martine her drink, say hello to both the new people, and kiss their cheeks. Then she turns to Martine. “Ready to go?” The two of them head toward the parking lots and wend out to the bench where Martine first saw Ann and Bob. They are shadowed here, with just the little glow of the landscaping lights on the tree, and the same reflected light from the pool as before. Once they’re seated, Ann takes Martine’s hand. “Martine.” She says it for emphasis. “You have to promise me no one else will ever find out what I’m going to tell you. And I really mean it. If you told anyone, I couldn’t ever forgive you.” “You know how discreet I am.” “Swear.” “I swear.” “Do you mean it?” “Ann, if you don’t trust me then don’t tell me! Now tell me!” Martine begins to feel, really feel, the effects of her margaritas. Both of them take long drinks before Ann starts talking. “Okay. I don’t know what I can say. I have to work through this slowly, but you can ask me anything you need to know. To start with, Bob and I have a whole new relationship. It happened up in the mountains. We’re so happy and so in love! I wish we had done that years ago.” “Um-hmm. And I take it, it has a lot to do with s-e-x?” Martine barks out a short, mean laugh. Ann ignores it. “Well ... yes. A lot. But also touching and kissing and not always trying to outguess each other. We came to an understanding about it. A real understanding, not one of those situations where you each promise to try to do better and be more understanding “A compromise?” “No. The opposite. We stopped trying to compromise everything. It wasn’t working. It was the problem, not the solution. We were compromising our marriage to death. Bob would want sex when I didn’t and if I wanted to snuggle and kiss he’d take it that meant sex. We were always trying to read each other’s mood, not saying what we really meant. Neither of us was happy. It was a mess.” “Um-hmm.” Martine thinks she should stop drinking, then she takes another sip. “So we did away with compromising and set rules for ourselves.” “Rules?” “Two main rules. Not like written down rules. Not like lawyers do things. But rules.” “Like what?” “Well, like we have a rule that we have to kiss and snuggle and touch every night.” “Uh-huh.” For the first time, Martine notices that Ann is sitting in the exact spot she sat when she was playing with Bob’s penis. “And there’s more…” Martine is getting distracted. She hears Ann tell her that the touching can’t be limited to safe spots, that Ann and Bob have to touch breasts and genitals and asses too, and each is allowed to touch the other wherever the whim takes the hands, without explanation, but while she understands what Ann is saying, she keeps seeing the head of a penis, large and dark, touch her mouth, and sees Ann kiss it and caress it with her hands and take it inside her lips. Then Martine is aware that Ann has finished and is looking at her. It’s her turn. “Um, what if the touching is, you know, inside you.” Ann laughs a sweet laugh. “Well, I think that would mean he was trying to turn me on, wouldn’t you? Anyway, if that’s what he wants the rule is he can just do it.” “Well, it sounds to me like a dream for a man, to have free access whenever he wants.” Martine is imagining the penis. Did the head glisten in the moonlight? “And great for a woman. I get so much more kissing and caressing and snuggling than I ever had before. And if it turns to sex, well, by then I’m usually ready for it!” “You. What about him?” “He’s always ready. He wants sex almost every night. And day!” “You should name him Randy.” Martine laughs at her little joke and drinks some more margarita. It’s almost empty. Ann is about to go on when Martine blurts something out. “We never snuggle. It’s slam, bam, thank you ma’am.” She begins to feel maudlin. “If he touches me it’s only for sex. We used to touch a lot. I don’t really know when that stopped.” “I’m sorry.” Ann takes her hand again. “It only took a day or so to get comfortable with our rule. Now it’s completely natural. We touch all the time, even when we don’t have to.” “When we do it I almost never have a … you know …” “What?” “You know.” “The Big O?” “Yeah. The Big O.” She sighs and her voice goes sad. “Not anymore. He comes, he goes. There I am.” Martine is hardly aware she’s changed the direction of the conversation. She’s thinking of her sex with Maury, or Maury’s sex, and she’s not aware of what Ann starts to say. She blurts again. “Do you get them? Big O’s?” Ann looks at her quietly. She has a tiny smile, like the Mona Lisa. “Yes. Lots. I don’t need them all the time, but lots of times. The first rule makes sure I have what I need.” “Wha ... what do you mean the first rule?” Martine needs to work not to slur her words. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The second rule is that whoever wants sex gets it, and can get whatever kind of sex he – or she – wants.” Ann laughs. “Of course that’s almost always Bob, because he wants it so much more often than I do. My job is to go along willingly.” Martine is aware of their surroundings again and for the moment she is perfectly sober. “You have to?” “That’s our rule.” * * * * * “You have to give him sex whenever he asks for it.” “He doesn’t have to ask. He just tells me it’s time and what we’re going to do.” “So what do you have to do?” “Just cooperate and do what he tells me.” “Ann! He’s using you!” “He makes me happy.” “Giving a blow job him in a parking lot makesh you happy?” She has to work on her s’s. “Whatever he wants. I trust him. And the parking lot, well, it excited us because we could get caught. Which we did.” She pauses. “Later on tonight I may get it back.” “Ann!” Ann laughs. “Well, you asked about this. And come on. Don’t you two ever do anything besides straight sex?” Martine is suddenly shy, and she wonders why she admitted things a few minutes ago, but she answers anyway. “Not much. Nothing like you do. When we were first together, before we were married, we’d sometimes …” After a minute, Ann turns to look at her. “I’ve told you about us.” “I know. I never had much experience. Maury was the first guy I ever did much of anything with, really. The second one to touch me down there. When we were first together we’d play with each other. He’d play with my … little man in the boat. Sometimes I just did him. I did like it. Except when he ejaculated it was such a mess.” Martine looks up at the moon for a minute. The world is rocking slowly, back and forth. “When you do Bob? Like tonight? You don’t ... what do you do when he’s finished?” “You aren’t gettin’ squeamish on me, are you?” “Well, you said I could ask about anything.” “Okay. Okay. Right now Bob’s little spermies are all getting digested.” Ann laughs again, louder than perhaps she should. “I need a drink.” “Martine?” “I couldn’t do that. How can you do that part?” “He’s my husband and I love him.” “That doesn’t help. I love Maury but I couldn’t do that to him. And it’s not just me. Pastor talked about that. It’s what gays do.” “But straight people do it too. Married couples. Like us.” “I couldn’t. I’d get sick. How do you do it?” “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. When you come to that fork in the road you take it, and then it’s okay. It’s better than okay. It’s sex.” But Martine just stares past Ann and finishes her drink. * * * * * The two of them walk back to the patio, neither talking, Martine swaying just a bit and just from time to time. She pays close attention to her balance and doesn’t notice that Ann isn’t walking a straight line either. Martine goes back to the rock wall and looks down into the lake while Ann takes the glasses inside. The patio is deserted again, so she gets to be alone and gets to think. She wonders when Maury will come to get her. She wonders what is happening between her and Ann, and what will happen to their friendship. Everything had always been so simple with Ann. * * * * * When Ann returns both of them lean on the wall and sip their drinks quietly. Ann breaks the silence. “You might as well ask.” “I don’t know.” “Well, I might not be able to make myself tell you anything later on.” Martine drinks some more. “Do you do any normal sex?” “Yes.” Ann sounds peeved at the question. “Sometimes.” “It’s mostly your mouth and your hand?” “Damn it, Martine! It’s mostly any kind of sex that can’t get me pregnant!” “You mean you do…?” “All the things you can do and not get pregnant. Bob is very creative.” Ann’s tongue is a little thick too. “He comes up with things out of the blue.” “Has he done it back there?” Martine looks toward Ann’s ass. “Um-hmm.” “Very many times?” “Well, lately he’s been doing me there once or twice a week.” “Twice a week! Ann! He’s a pederast!” “No. That means he likes little boys.” Ann laughs. “He likes little boys?” “Martine! No! No! Down girl! He doesn’t like little boys. He likes me. A grown woman. His wife. And yes, he likes to sodomize me. That’s what it’s called.” Martine tries to process what she’s learning. “And you let him?” “It’s the rule.” “And you suck him.” “Whenever he wants me to.” “That’s just perverted! Normal people don’t do that!” “All kinds of people do it!” “Not in our church they don’t!” “People in our church just don’t admit it!” “Well maybe you should change churches!” * * * * * So now they’re quiet again. Martine wants to get away, but she wants to know everything, and she wants to know it more than she wants to be gone. Ann looks like she’s grieving. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you those things. Who are you gonna tell?” “I won’t tell anyone!” “How long can you keep a secret like that?” Ann reaches her arms out like she’s holding a playbill. “Bob and Ann’s Big Sex Secret! And it’s not like you’ll wanna be my friend anymore.” “I am so still your friend! And I’m not going to tell anyone, ever! It’s just that I don’t understand how you can do that. What’s ever in it for you?” “Oh, he pays plenty of attention to me in front, Martine. Lordy! Tons more than when we only did straight sex, more than you and any ten other women get. Remember our first rule?” She hiccups and then gets a wicked look. “What a wonderful mouth he’s got. And it’s not like there aren’t lots of other things he can put inside me there.” This time it doesn’t provoke Martine. “I’m sorry. I’m really not shocked anymore, Ann. This is just a lot to hear. But if it makes you happy, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone, really. You really get satisfaction? You know, the Big O’s?” “I really do.” “Doesn’t it hurt when he does it back there?” “No. It doesn’t hurt. It’s easy. Sometimes it aches a little.” “Isn’t it dirty?” “Not usually.” Ann says it flatly, but when she stands up she is suddenly swaying backwards. “Whoops!” She catches the wall. Martine laughs and puts her hand on Ann’s back. “Careful, girl. And you like it?” “Huh? Oh, he makes sure I like it. He’ll use the vibrator or something.” Martine is thinking again. Now her mind is spinning. “Yeah. Um-hmm.” She takes yet another sip. “I did something.” She looks conspiratorial. “What?” “I went and got myself a vibrator!” “Mm-hmm?” “Yes! I felt so guilty. I almost couldn’t buy it. It’s hid it in my lingerie drawer.” She has to say “lingerie” twice to get it right. “And?” “Sometimes when I know Maury’s gonna be gone for awhile I’ll use it.” “Uh-huh.” “Oh wow! I had no idea. Big, big O’s! I’m sure it’s sinful. I just wish I could figger how to show him to it!” “You know, Martine, I think you’ve had enough to drink.” “Okay. But I wanna know one more thing.” Ann sighs. Martine tries very hard to enunciate. “When he does something new. What’s it like?” “It depends. It’s always different.” “So how does he spring it?” “Well, sometimes he’ll just … just … just bring home a toy and show it to me.” “That’s it? Then you go ahead and use it?” “That’s the rule, girlfriend. Sometimes he’ll leave it on th’ bed, to let me know what kind we’re gonna play. Kind of games.” “And you let him?” Ann giggles and grins. “He’s my husband. I love him.” She takes a big, loud breath. “An ‘e loves me. So I submit gracious.” Another loud breath. Then, slowly, “Graciously. Yes. And I like it.” “What kinds ‘a things?” She sounds three sheets gone. “What?” “On the bed. To tell you what you haf to do.” “Aren’t you shocked enough?” “I can take it, Annie. Tell me somethin’ t’ shock me!” “Well …” “Come on!” “Well, he brings different things.” “Annie! Yer duckin’ th’ question. Look, tell me about last night!” She takes another drink. “Oh wow.” The words need an exclamation point, but Ann says it quietly, in a half whisper. It’s obvious she’s working hard on pronunciation. “Okay. You wanna know.” “Tell me.” Ann looks around again. Some more people are on the patio, but no one is near them. The moon has moved over the roofline, so that Martine and Ann are completely covered in shade. “Let’s go down a ways.” They stagger to the far end of the patio, both of them now giggling at how naughty they’re being. “Now tell me.” Martine’s voice has a desperate tone. “I wanna know everything my best friend is doin’.” “Don’t be like that.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s the margaritas. Will you please tell me about last night?” “Okay. Okay. Last night Bob put out ...” and here Ann starts laughing loudly. “He put out an enema bag and a green banana!” Martine’s eyes widen as she begins a sentence, and her mouth remains open when nothing comes out. She never looks away from Ann’s face. Ann, though, laughs uproariously. “I saw ‘em when I went to bathe.” She’s laughing while she talks. “I don’t know when he put ‘em there. I guess right after dinner. Oh!” She laughs some more. “If you could see your face! They were on my pillow, so I couldn’t miss them. It was so, so I could think about them awhile.” Ann finishes laughing and wipes her eyes. She looks back down toward the lake and throws her glass as far as she can. There is a tiny tinkling sound, far below, where it lands. “Are you happy now?” She chuckles. “They didn’t scare you? They’d scare me!” “Oh no! I got all hot. What’s he gonna do to me? I wanna know. I mean, they sound ridiculous, but it’s such a body rush, thinkin’ about it!” “Lemme tell you somethin’, Ann Phillips. I wish I could be as perverted. As you!” She throws her glass. “Well, you got the vibrator, so it’s a first step.” And the two of them laugh so loudly that people at the other end of the patio turn to look at them. * * * * * It’s just as well the husbands find their wives now, or the women might get falling-down drunk. As it is the men give each other glances. “I think they’ve had way too much fun,” says Maury. Bob responds, “Yeah. I guess it’s all the girl talk.” The friends kiss and Ann holds Martine close and looks her in the face. She whispers, “Remember! It’s secret!” They laugh some more. On the way home Martine leans against the passenger door, looking at Maury. She looks down at his crotch. After awhile she moves up beside him and puts a hand on his thigh, about half way to his knee. “You have fun with Ann, Martie?” “Uh-huh. It was grand.” She moves her hand up toward his penis. “Well, honeybunch. I think you’re ready for more fun.” Martine works hard to look sultry. “Mm-hmm. And, there’s somethin’ different I wanna try.” “Well surely! Are you sure you’re up to it?” “Oh yeah!” And she really believes it. But the rocking of the world turns into spinning, just about the time they get home, and Martine spends a good deal of the evening hugging the commode to keep herself from being flung off the planet. Maury gets so irritated with her for getting drunk, he doesn’t even offer to hold her hair. The next afternoon Martine picks up the cell phone and finds Ann’s number. She’s still in a dressing gown. “Hello, Ann? It’s me. ... No, I got sick. Maury was so mad at me! ... Did you get sick too? … Well, he left early to drive up to the Cowboys’ game. … Can you talk?” * * * * * Martine can’t know that when she finally does approach Maury – soberly the results will be bad. She can’t know what he’ll accuse her of, can’t know how much they’ll fight, and can’t know how it will affect them when she finally shows him the vibrator. “He made me throw it away,” she’ll tell Ann, when she calls, as she does increasingly. “I guess it’ll be okay, but he’s still mad. I’m not even getting slam, bam, thank you ma’am, right now.” She can’t know that Ann, who really is her best friend, will perform an act of true, sisterly love, so that in two weeks, when Maury is out of town, she’ll be standing at the Phillips’ door at 9:00 p.m. “Come on in,” Bob will say. “Have you talked with Maury tonight?” “Uh-huh. He called right before I left. He thinks I’m having a night out with Ann. He won’t call again, and if he does it’ll be to my cell.” Bob will be wearing a robe. He’ll be freshly showered and shaven. Martine will smell a hint of cologne. “How are you?” “Scared.” “Well, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You have to trust me, that’s all. Once you come in, you do what I say and leave the rest to me. You’ll be free to go in the morning. Can you promise to follow those rules?” There will be an awkward moment before Martine says “Uh- huh.” “Say it.” “I promise. I’ll do whatever you say, all night.” She’ll hesitate. “Will Ann be here?” “No. That would be a little too much. She’s staying at a hotel overnight. Would you like to call her before we start? I think she’s expecting you to.” “I think I’d like that.” End.