I try in vain to clear my head, and finally resolve to pick up my pencil to begin revising my procedures manual. But before I have a chance to make a single note, my Nokia buzzes from its spot on my belt clip.
“Hello?”
“Hi Lisa, it’s Phil Dawson.”
Phil Dawson? I don’t know any Phil Dawson. The voice is vaguely familiar, but the crackle of my cell phone’s signal and the whir of the assembly line make it hard to tell whose voice it is.
The vaguely familiar male voice clears its throat. “Lisa, it’s Syr Phillip.”
“Oh! Right!” I exclaim. “I keep forgetting you have, you know, a regular name.”
“Most people do have regular names, Lisa. How are you?” Syr Phillip sounds a little breathless. I wonder if it’s because he’s talking to me. I know I’m already starting to show some signs of arousal just from hearing his voice. I notice suddenly that I’m sweating, and my pants feel a little too tight.
I glance up and notice Brad shooting me a dirty look. We’re not supposed to take cell phone calls while on shift. “I’m uhhhh, fine,” I say, my voice a near-whisper. “I’m sort of at work right now.”
“So?” Syr Phillip’s voice goes from somewhat breathless to somewhat agitated.
“So, it means I really can’t talk. Can I call you back when I go on my coffee break?”
“Lisa, I really need to see you.”
“When?”
“As soon as possible.” Syr Phillip has gone back to breathless again. “I really, really need to see you as soon as possible.”
The urgency in Syr Phillip’s voice is making my crotch get a little hot inside my too-tight Old Navys. “Why?” I ask, although I’m hoping I already know the answer.
Syr Phillip makes a noise, something between a cough and a grunt of pleasure. Or at least that’s what it sounds like. I suppose it could just be cell phone static, too.
The grunt-coughing stops abruptly. “Did you hear what I just said, Lisa?”
“No. You sort of got garbled up, I guess,” I say, crestfallen.
“I was just saying that I need to talk to you about a few things. I also wanted to see how you’re recovering from the weekend.”
“I’m doing fine. A little sore from all those rabies shots, but fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” he says. “But that’s not the only reason I’m calling. There are some important SCA events coming up soon and I would just like to—well, see if you’re up to accompanying me to them—and also to talk to you a little bit about what happened at Lady Ramona’s house. The house fire and the Tuchux raid are quite the controversy in SCA circles right now, as you might imagine.”
“I’m sure.” I shoot a ‘just a sec’ gesture over to Brad, who is now giving me the evil eye.
“Lisa, when do you think I could see you? It turns out I’m in your neck of the woods right now. Just finished up a sales visit over at Southview Hospital this morning in Centerville, and as I recall, that's only a mile or two from your house.”
I chew my lip and can’t think of anything to say for a moment. How does Syr Phillip know where I live?
As if reading my mind, Syr Phillip continues. “I brought you home from the hospital the other night, remember? You were pretty zonked out then, but lucky for you that Pegeen gave me directions and a spare key to your place when she came by the hospital on Saturday. I carried you into your bedroom, although you were pretty insistent about undressing yourself.”
“Oh. Right.” I guess that’s why I woke up in my bedroom groggy on Monday afternoon. I’d been wondering how I got there, especially since I woke up wearing nothing but my “I’m A Pepper” T-shirt.
Suddenly I wonder if in fact Syr Phillip and I really are just make-out partners. Although I can’t imagine actually having sex with him and forgetting about it somehow. Still, I figure it’s safer to ask.
“Right,” I stammer, chewing my lip even more. “About that. Ummm, I was just wondering, did we, you know—“
Syr Phillip sighs audibly through the tinny cell phone crackle. “I assure you, Lisa, I was the perfect gentleman. It wouldn’t have been chivalrous of me to take advantage of you in your vulnerable condition. You were still pretty groggy from the pain medicine Dr. Kavanaugh’s nurse gave you after the last rabies booster.”
At this, I’m both pleased and a little disappointed that Syr Phillip and I haven’t consummated our mutual electricity yet. I feel my crotch get hotter at the possibility of finally making that happen tonight.
“Lisa? Are you there?” Syr Phillip sounds concerned.
“Yes, I’m here, I’m sorry. It’s just that I really can’t talk while I’m at work, and—“ I trail off, not sure what to say.
“You probably have a lot on your mind right now, Lisa. So do I. I was hoping that you and I could talk more about what’s on both our minds.” Syr Phillip’s voice suddenly returns to that smooth baritone I heard him use during his knightly speeches at the Blood and Roses Tournament. “You see Lisa, I’m really quite taken with you. More so than any woman I’ve known in a long time. And I’m not entirely sure what I should do about it. Do you have any ideas? Because I’m looking for some guidance.” The passion emanating from his words is almost enough to short-circuit my Nokia. I feel myself go wet between the legs again, and a little cry almost escapes my throat. Almost, but not quite. I manage to swallow it down just in time, but that only sends me into a wild fit of coughing.
“Lisa? Are you all right?”
I finally manage to get a hold of myself. “Yes, Phillip, I’m fine. I get off work at five-thirty. How about you and I meet back at my place around six? I live alone, so we’ll have all the privacy we need.”
There is a pause. “I was thinking more along the lines of a dinner out, if you don’t mind.”
Syr Phillip’s words sting. All my hopes of a much-needed after-work tryst with my hunk of burning knight are dashed. Still, I guess there’s always the possibility of an after-dinner tryst . . .
“Lisa? Is dinner all right with you?” Syr Phillip’s voice breaks my sexual trance.
“Ummm, yeah,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “Where would you like to go?”
“I confess I’m in the mood for something simple, like pizza and beer. Any good places around here for that?”
“Well, there’s Marion’s Pizza behind the Dayton Mall. That’s the best pizza in Dayton by far. It’s always a little crowded, but it’s good, and it’s cheap, too.”
“Sounds fine, and remember, it’s my treat,” Syr Phillip agrees. “I’ll pick you up at six then.”
“Okay. Bye.” I flip my Nokia shut and clip it back onto my belt without bothering to listen for Syr Phillip’s goodbye.
I must have a strange look on my face right now, because Pegeen and Brad rush over, both with looks of concern. Pegeen is carrying a paper cup of ice water.
“Are you all right, Lisa?” Pegeen asks, handing me the water and putting a hand to my forehead. “You just went white as a sheet.”
Brad folds his arms across his man-titted chest and gives me a frown of disapproval. “Who were you talking to just now? You know it’s against plant rules to be gabbing on your cell phone during work hours.”
I don’t answer either of them. My mouth has suddenly gone cotton-dry. I guzzle down the ice water in one gulp, but it doesn’t help.
Pegeen feels my forehead again, then compares it with her own. “I think she’s sick, Brad. Maybe you should send her home.”
Brad growls. “You better not have brought your rabies into the plant, Lisa. I’d have to order a full shutdown if it’s contagious.”
“I—I’m not sick,” I mumble. “I’m just—“ I suddenly feel very dizzy.
Pegeen whispers something to Brad and he nods. “Lisa, relax. I’m going to use my coffee break to take you home.”
I open my mouth to protest, but it seems Brad has already acquiesced. “Don’t be too long, Pegeen,” Brad mutters. “I can’t run the whole goddamn assembly lin
e by myself.” He slams the door to his glass office hard enough to shake the entire factory floor.
Pegeen takes my hand, which has gone cold and clammy. “I know what’s ailing you, Lisa. And I know exactly what will make you feel better, too. Let’s go.”
Chapter 15
Ever the loyal best friend, Pegeen is as good as her word and drives me home from the Delco plant in her rusty Tercel. I’m holding a damp wad of paper towels from the plant restroom on my forehead, and I’m shaking a little. I’m beginning to wonder if maybe the rabies shots aren’t working and I am in fact doomed to die a miserable, frothing-mouthed slow death.
“What’s the matter with me, Pegeen?”
Pegeen just shakes her head and keeps her eyes on the road.
“I feel like I’m going to die,” I moan.
“You won’t die, trust me. I’ve been there myself, and these things always resolve themselves at some point.”
“What things?”
Pegeen just shakes her head again. “Be quiet, Lisa. I’ve only got fifteen minutes to get you home and then drive back to the plant, and I need to concentrate on my driving.”
I lean as far forward as the seatbelt will allow and try to put my whirling head between my knees. But that position only amplifies the bumps and jitters Pegeen’s battered Toyota makes as it hits every crack and pothole on Far Hills Avenue, so I sit back up and hold my temples.
“Owwwwww—-“ I groan. “My head hurts like hell.”
“It’s just another half-mile to your place, Lees,” Pegeen says, her voice soothing. “Hang in there.” She pops an Enya CD into the car stereo and the soft Celtic music helps ease my pain a little.
We pull up in front of my building about five minutes later. Pegeen digs my keys out of my purse for me and lets us into my apartment. She turns up her nose in distaste at the sight of my living room, which is even more trashed than it usually is as a result of my recent convalescence. Three days’ worth of dirty laundry is piled on my couch, and the remains of several Lean Cuisines and Campbell’s Soup at Hands are piled up on my coffee table. In my illness I’d only had enough energy to heat up the meals, not clean up after them.
Pegeen kicks aside an overflowing laundry basket and a pile of old magazines as she leads me down the short hallway to my bedroom. The sheets are pulled halfway off the mattress from my rush to get up this morning. She quickly rearranges them before depositing me on my bed.
“Do you have any green tea in the house, Lees?” Pegeen asks, pulling the covers over me.
“Mrrggggghhhhh. I dunno,” I groan. My headache is getting worse by the second.
“I’ll just go look if you don’t mind. Do you still keep the teapot under the sink?”
“Yeah,” I manage before I pull the covers over my head.
I hear water running and some banging in the kitchen, followed shortly thereafter by the teapot’s whistle. Pegeen appears a moment later holding my “Thank You For 5 Years of Loyal AC Delco Service” coffee cup, which is steaming and emitting a vaguely medicinal aroma.
“Drink this,” she orders. I obey and burn my tongue in the process. The hot drink tastes like a mixture of green tea and industrial-strength floor cleaner.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask.
“Just some of your green tea, along with my special secret ingredient. I always make sure to carry some in my purse for emergencies.”
“What special ingredient? It tastes like shit, whatever it is. Are you trying to poison me or something?”
“It’s not poison, Lees. It’s Korean ginseng. An aphrodisiac. Let me know how it works on you. If you like it, I can get a supply of it for you wholesale from a friend of mine. You should start feeling the effects of that in a few minutes.” With that, Pegeen gives me a wink and is gone out my front door before I can say another word.
As I listen to Pegeen drive away in her battered Tercel, I notice the hot beverage is already having an effect. My belly feels warm, but not the kind of warm your belly gets after guzzling hot chocolate or sitting in front of a fireplace. It feels, well—
It feels sort of the way my belly feels after sex. Warm, soft, relaxed, and a little melted. That same warmth starts to creep its way down my belly towards my crotch, then down my thighs—
Ahhh.
I feel a sudden burst of energy and sit up. I notice that in addition to the melty, sensual warmth that has set all my limbs to tingling, my headache, nausea, and clammy skin have all disappeared. I glance at my reflection in the dresser mirror and notice that my skin has a rosy glow, my eyes are bright and perky, the dark circles that had been underneath them completely gone. I even look a little thinner. It’s almost as if my entire body has been replaced with a newer, sexier one.
Wow. I’ll definitely have to tell Pegeen to pick me up a case or two of this ginseng stuff.
With my newfound energy, I dash around the apartment, picking up the dirty laundry, dishes, newspapers, and junk mail that is scattered everywhere. I clean the sink and tub, scrub the toilet, and mop the bathroom floor. I straighten up my jumble of a bedroom, change all the bed linens, and set out some scented candles that have been sitting in a box in the back of my closet since two Christmases ago. I wash all the dishes, clean the kitchen, and even polish all the mismatched, threadbare furniture I inherited when my parents died with an ancient can of Pledge I find under the sink. Before I know it, almost four hours have gone by, and my apartment looks better than it has in years.
I glance at the clock. 3:45. I still have almost two hours before Syr Phillip is due to show up. I ponder a trip to the neighborhood Krogers to pick up some fresh flowers for my now-immaculate boudoir and maybe even a bottle of wine, but then remember that my car is still over at the Delco plant. I start considering whether the corner Stop-N-Go carries freesia bouquets and Merlot when the phone rings. The caller ID says “DELCO ASSEMBLY.”
I pick it up, hoping it’s Pegeen and not Brad.
“Hello?”
“Well, you’re sounding a lot better,” Pegeen’s voice sings through the land line, much to my relief.
“Yeah. That ginseng stuff is amazing.”
“Glad to hear it,” Pegeen replies. “I can pick up some for you next time I see my friend Lin Soo over in Kettering. And if you think it’s making you feel good now, just wait until you get Syr Phillip into bed tonight. You are going to sleep with him, right?”
“Well, I’m certainly going to try,” I say. I stare at my hands and notice that they’re shaking a little. “But Syr Phillip says he needs to talk to me about something, and—“
“You have to do more than just try,” Pegeen shoots back, her voice almost a yell. “You do realize why you were feeling so ill back at the plant, don’t you?”
“Well—“
“You are having a major case of total vaginal shock aphasia,” Pegeen says, her voice considerably lower in volume.
“Total vaginal what?”
“In plain English, you are in deep, desperate need of a good lay, and fast,” Pegeen giggles. “Now if you come into work tomorrow morning without being laid, I will be seriously pissed about wasting eighteen bucks’ worth of ginseng on your sorry ass. That stuff is mondo expensive, and I need as much of it as I can get just to keep up with Arundel’s libido.”
“I’ll do my best,” I mutter, and hang up.
I shower and change into one of my most feminine dresses—a floaty gauze number made of Indian batik fabric that I picked up at a Yellow Springs street festival a few years back. I pair it with some strappy leather sandals with low heels, some peach lipstick, and weave my hair into a delicate French braid. I’m rummaging around in my jewelry box looking for earrings when I hear a knock at the door.
I glance at my alarm clock and notice it’s only 4:33. So either Syr Phillip is almost two hours early, or I’ve got an unexpected guest.
I fling open the front door, hoping to find Syr Phillip behind it. But instead of my tall, blonde hunk of burning knight, I find Barone
ss Barlonda. She’s peering puzzledly at the “Keep On Truckin’” sticker affixed to my rusty mailbox and carrying a garment bag.
“Barlonda? I wasn’t expecting you here today.”
The middle-aged woman bursts into the apartment before I have a chance to invite her inside. She looks surprisingly unlike a baroness today in her Levi’s cutoff shorts and tattered Cincinnati Reds T-shirt. Her hair is wet and greasy looking, and there are heavy bags under her eyes. I think she might be hung over, or at least very sleep-deprived.
Barlonda tosses the garment bag onto my couch and kicks off her dirty Nikes. “Sorry to drop in on you like this, hon. I just got off the phone with your friend Pegeen and she said you were at home. She gave me directions.”
“How did you know Pegeen’s work number?” I ask.
“She’s listed in The Gryphon Pages,” Barlonda says. “All the active Dayton-area SCA members are. At least all the members officially registered as of last month are. You’re too new to be listed, so I figured calling Pegeen was the quickest way to get in touch with you. I’ve got your dress here and I need to do some fittings on you so I can finish the repair work on it.”
I do a double take. “You have my gown? The blue one that got shredded by that horrible poodle?” I’d figured that since I’d come home from the hospital in borrowed street clothes, the ruined gown had gone to the big costume closet in the sky.
“Yep, sure do. And Syr Phillip asked me to make sure I got it fixed up for you in time for Crown Tournament. Plus, he hired me to make at least four more gowns for you. I’ll really be burning the midnight oil to get them all done in time. What do you think about that?”
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