Impulse

by Lass Small

Connie replied softly, “I know. Thanks.”

  But then the rowdiness began. Sally had a videocassette recorder and played a tape. It was a specific film, short and explicit.

  Amy blushed scarlet and her eyes popped.

  The three others laughed and gave stage directions and appeared rather familiar with the film, for their directions anticipated what would happen.

  Connie and Amy just watched. Connie was silent and distracted. Amy was shocked. Why would women allow themselves to be filmed that way? Or men.

  After the film, the watchers began the round of men the cousins had known— and loved. Sally set it off. “He reminds me of Sam. I couldn’t believe him!”

  Chas had been right. He had known exactly how they’d behave.

  Sally urged replenished drinks, and they saw another film. Amy looked away. She wished she’d listened to Chas. What a way to spend time.

  With the end of each short film, the conversational memories of the women became more explicit. They matched and competed sexual experiences the way people in a doctor’s office compare and top operations, complications, fevers and sicknesses. It was very similar.

  Finally Sally said, “The only regret I have, in my spotted career of manhunting, is that I’ve never managed to get Chas to chase me.”

  Sally looked at Amy with an encouraging smile. “But you managed! How did you do it?” And her voice held great admiration as she went on, “I tried every trick I’ve learned on him and he tells me, ‘Behave yourself!’ I told him today that tonight was his last chance. After tonight, I’m going to be true to Tad. You know what Chas said? He said, ‘See that you do.’”

  They all laughed. Even Connie smiled. Then Kate and Charlotte related their strategies in trying to trap Chas. All of which, as they told it, were near misses. But the stories had a carefully honed sound. They were very clever.

  And there was much laughter. Amy looked at them as if they were aliens. How could Chas have predicted this would happen so exactly? How had he managed to escape their clutches?

  So Sally asked, “Amy, how did you get Chas into bed?”

  Blunt.

  When Amy could catch her breath, she asked, “Why do you ask such a question?”

  “Well, we all tried and failed, but you got him that first night! How did you do it?”

  Their eyes were all turned to her as they waited. They wanted to hear. She hesitated, then said, “Ask him.” He’d tell them it wasn’t any of their business. “Tell him I said to ask him.”

  Sally persisted, “Is he good? I’ve never even seen him naked. How is he?”

  Amy understood by then that she could never consult with any of them on how to say goodbye to Chas. She inquired quite primly, “Where are you and Tad going to live?”

  Connie said, “Brava!”

  “Come on, cousin, tell us.” It was Charlotte who gave Sally support by pressing for Amy’s reply. “How did Chas go about it? Was he clever or did he just tell you to strip and hop into bed?”

  “Are you going to keep your job?” Amy inquired of Sally.

  Remembering her promise to Chas, Connie took a hand, as she told the others, “Leave her alone.”

  “She’s the only one I’ve ever known who’s slept with Chas.” Kate argued. “What’s she got?”

  Connie continued to interfere. “Shall we order up snacks? My treat.”

  “Who can eat?”

  Amy inquired of Sally, “Are you nervous?”

  “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you, but then you’ll have to tell me about Chas. I’ll trade. I’ll tell you how Tad is, if you’ll tell me what it’s like with Chas.”

  Amy replied stiffly, “It’s private. I’m not interested in hearing about Tad. That’s private.”

  Charlotte mocked Amy, “Goody Two-Shoes.”

  Amy laughed. “Yes.”

  Kate dismissed Amy, “You’re no Cougar.”

  Amy stared.

  But then Connie told the others, “There are more of her kind than there are of us. You can see that quite clearly when you consider all the cousins of our age who aren’t here with us tonight. Actually, I begin to envy her.”

  Sally was suddenly stilled.

  But Kate retorted, “You’re mad. I wouldn’t give up one. Not one. They were all marvelous!”

  “Of course!” Charlotte agreed, but her support was somewhat dry as she added, “Even the rotten ones.”

  Sally protested, “Don’t let’s talk about the dreadful ones. I get depressed enough.”

  “How about the fumblers?” Connie put in.

  Amy listened to them and wondered how much genetics had to do with their behavior. They said Trilby had only been eccentric. Of course, there had been the kinswoman, Letty, whose scandalous behavior had barred her from her place in the family burial plot. When that story was told, someone had said all Cougars had a strong attraction for the opposite sex.

  It was Kate who set her glass down as she said, “Men have it tough.”

  “Yeah.” Sally sighed and flopped back in her chair in a sprawl. “With women it’s inexperience, but men can’t ever be unskilled.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Kate stretched her nice body rather elaborately. “I had a young one two weeks ago, and I had a good time instructing him.”

  “How young?” Sally inquired with interest.

  “Quite young, but old enough.”

  It was Connie who again commented, “You sound like old witches counting scalps.”

  Sally said, “Speaking of the talent for getting scalps. Tonight I’m passing on my green dress. You four are the most skilled of all the cousins.

  “Amy, I included you because you’re the only one of us who has ever snagged Chas. That puts you right up here with us. I don’t know how many others you’ve had, but having Chas is clout. And so it’s to you that I’m giving the green dress.”

  Sally got up and brought the dress from her closet. It was a beauty. Amy remembered hearing that Sally had worn it with some guy named Frank. If Sally’s wedding dress hadn’t arrived, she couldn’t substitute the green one because she couldn’t think of Frank when she was being married to Tad.

  This was a successful, man-snaring gown. Proven. It would come in very handy in Amy’s man-izing career. Wait until Chas saw her in that! She took the dress as she said, “Why, Sally, thank you.”

  Sally kissed her cheek. “Maybe when you and Chas break up, you’ll tell me. I can understand your being loyal, right now, when it’s new between you, but I will go wild until I know what I missed.”

  Amy looked at her incredulously. “You’ll have Tad.”

  “He’s sweet, but he isn’t Chas. Put on the dress and let’s see how you’ll look.” They laughed because Amy went into the bathroom to change.

  When she emerged, they whistled and applauded.

  Sally said, “I may have created a monster. No man will say no to you in that dress.”

  Amy was astonished by Sally’s comment. How interesting they recognized her as one of them. How had they known? It was quite apparent they’d known all along. Was it Chas moving in that had alerted them? Or was there now some look about her that they recognized?

  Amy said with respect, “The dress is gorgeous.” And it was. It was sea green. Blue green. It was chiffon and clung, but it swirled. The narrow straps over the shoulders were jeweled, green and blue with an occasional red stone. The neckline was straight, but it was deliberately slanted as if it had been pulled askew by hungry fingers. It was shockingly sexual.

  Sally told Amy, “It has a fine Cougar tradition. My Aunt Midge gave it to me, and I’m handing it on to you. Wear it only when you need it. It’s foolproof. When you give up the free life, or don’t need it any longer, pass it on to another of us. Be selective. No, don’t take it off. Keep it on. I want to see Chas as he sees you in that dress.”

  The dress was a Cougar tradition? Amy knew she couldn’t keep it after all. She would have to give it back. But she, too, wanted to see Chas as he
saw her in that dress.

  Amy decided she would leave it with Chas when she vanished. He could give it back to Sally, and Sally could pass it on to a real cousin. Charlotte? Kate? They wanted it. Connie didn’t.

  How very interesting it was that Connie didn’t want the green dress.

  The dress made Amy feel different. More careless. She watched the next film. They were amateurs. Chas was far better. The actors looked silly. That wasn’t the way a man made a woman feel. She was a poor actress. Maybe she didn’t realize what it was like to really be touched by a man. By Chas. Amy smiled at the green dress and touched one shoulder strap.

  * * *

  Amy and Connie were the only completely sober women when the men arrived to be greeted with delight. Chas saw Amy immediately and his eyes flicked down her and up to her eyes. He didn’t even greet her. He asked coldly, “What are you doing in that dress?”

  Amy laughed. “Sally gave it to me. It’s a Cougar family tradition.”

  Through his teeth, Chas said, “Take it off. We have to go.”

  Sally protested from Tad’s arms. “Not yet. Wait a while.”

  Tad laughed. “Let’s go, too.” And he hugged Sally with great pleasure.

  Amy heard Matt ask Connie, “What in hell’s the matter with you? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Connie just shook her head.

  Matt urged, “Come on. We have to talk.”

  “No.”

  “The hell ‘no’! Get a jacket. We’re going to walk.”

  “I can’t. I...I can’t. Leave me alone.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  As Amy was being dragged out of the door, she called back to Sally, “Thanks.”

  But Sally was watching Chas in a puzzled way. A thoughtful, almost surprised way.

  Out on the deck, Chas wrapped his hand around Amy’s arm and dragged her along, walking too fast. She protested a little, her breasts bouncing in the soft chiffon as she was forced almost to run. Chas took off his suit coat and draped it around her shoulders, not in tenderness but to cover her. He was acting very oddly.

  He didn’t speak.

  They went down in the elevator to the third floor, he again took her arm as if she would try to escape, and hurried her along to their rooms.

  He opened their door, almost shoved her into the bedroom and closed the door. Then through his teeth he said, “Take off that damn dress! Get rid of it!”

  He was serious. It wasn’t that he wanted her naked, he wanted her out of that dress! “Why?”

  “It’s a tart’s dress.”

  He was furious! So furious that she tried to soothe him. “It’s just a dress.”

  “It’s Sally’s! She’s a tart, and that’s her dress. I don’t want you in it. You’re not her kind of woman, and I don’t want you dressed like a whore. A high-class whore, but one nevertheless.”

  “I feel pretty in it.” Her stubborn resistance to his control was asserting itself.

  “She gave it to you deliberately. She wanted me to see you in her dress...she is doing this to try to— Take it off or I’ll tear it off.” He almost snarled.

  “I was going to give it back. I wanted to look beautiful for you.”

  “You don’t need a tart’s dress to look beautiful for me. You’re beautiful in anything. You’d be just as mind-boggling in a potato sack.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t want that dress anywhere around you. Give it to me. I’ll go take it back now.”

  With some careful maturity, she told Chas, “I believe you’re overreacting.”

  “Don’t kid yourself.”

  “It makes me think you want Sally.”

  Then he laughed. His laughter was of surprise and disbelief. He didn’t want Sally. Amy was sure of that.

  She stood there before him and removed the dress. Then she stood there before him in nothing at all but high heels, his pearl and her pearl earrings.

  He looked at her and smiled. He took the dress and wadded it up as he said, “Go bathe and wash your hair. I don’t want any taint from this nasty thing on you when I make love with you.” Then he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Amy was thoughtfully drying her hair when Chas returned. He busily came in, stripped, put out his things for the valet service. Then he showered as she glanced around, keeping track of his intrusion into her bath. He opened the curtain and emerged, smiling at her. “Now we’re back to how we should be.”

  Since they were alone, and naked, she assumed he meant to take her to bed instantly. She felt sluggish and overwhelmed with the films and talk and the cigarette smoke in Connie’s room. She said, “Chas...”

  “Let’s go out on the beach and walk in the clean night air.”

  She smiled up at him. “Perfect!”

  They put on their soft sweat suits, their socks and Nikes, and— outside— the air was sweet and invigorating. They didn’t take the elevator but went quietly down the deserted stairs and out onto the dark beach.

  All was still. The stars were awesome; there was no moon. They didn’t talk at first. They walked at a good pace, holding hands, breathing deeply and looking around.

  They walked a long way. It was coming back that they began to talk. But she avoided a good deal of the sharing he did. She still planned to leave him. Therefore, she was cautious about returning the information or ideas or opinions he shared so easily with her. She didn’t want to know him that well. Yes, she did. But she could leave a stranger much easier than she could leave a friend.

  How was she to say goodbye to this man? Her first lover.

  They had one surprise. Tad and Sally walked by them, heading away from the hotel. They, too, held hands. Their heads were down as they concentrated on each other, so deep in conversation that they didn’t see Amy and Chas.

  Amy asked in soft concern, “Second thoughts?”

  Chas replied, “No. They aren’t quarreling or disagreeing, they’re sharing...like I am.”

  She looked at him sharply in the dark. His wordage again. Sally and Tad were sharing— not as “we are” but as “I am.”

  Chas knew she was withholding herself from him.

  “What did Sally say when you returned the dress?”

  “I said, ‘Here,’ and she said, ‘I understand.’”

  “How did she say it?”

  “Like she understood exactly.”

  Amy flung out her arm. “I don’t.”

  “You don’t have to. All’s you have to do is obey.”

  “Now Chas...” But why argue? She would be leaving.

  “Would you stay over until Tuesday? I can arrange my schedule so we could have a couple more days here. The suite is available. I checked. We could be by ourselves. Can you?”

  A positive reply would throw him off his guard. She could say yes and then he wouldn’t watch her so closely. That way, she could get away gracefully.

  She’d leave a note— and his pearl— and just leave.

  Aloud, she told Chas, “I’m free this week.” It was no real answer, no commitment.

  “Good. That will give me more time.”

  She didn’t ask for what. She thought she knew. Bedtime. To change the subject she said, “I haven’t yet met Bob and...was it Jean?”

  Rather blankly he questioned, “Bob and Jean?”

  “The cousins who needed your suite.”

  “Oh, yes! Well, you see...the kid had measles, after all.”

  “I thought it was chicken pox.”

  “It may well have been.”

  She walked beside him in the starry night with the sound of the Gulf curling nearby. She considered how her attitude had undergone some changes.

  She still had to leave, but first, leaving had been because it was only a brief affair, as she preferred. Then, leaving was for his sake. But now she must escape for her own sake.

  Ah, and there was another change. The wordage had gone from leave to escape.

  Eight

  The next morning
at eight, Chas’s wrist alarm buzzed in Amy’s ear. He had to reach across her to turn it off. He said, “My arm’s paralyzed because some lazy, worthless woman slept on it all night long, and I can’t move it. Therefore that woman will have to sit up, so I can drag my arm off the bed and die a thousand deaths until the damned thing will work again. You’re that woman.”

  “You sure change a lot in just a couple of hours. Last night you were about as sweet as a man can be and...”

  “In your vast knowledge of men.”

  “I have come to the sobering conclusion that you’re not a morning man.”

  He rolled over on top of her and glared ferociously into her eyes. “Just because I had to get you so thoroughly petted last night, don’t feel so sure about my not being a morning man. I’m an any-time man.”

  “Oh.” She smiled up at him. Then she had to say it, “Your arm seems better.”

  “It hurts like hell. But there’s hurt and endurance, and there’s not letting some woman get away with being sassy.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s a good thing.” He rolled off her and held his arm, shaking it and groaning. “I would get tangled up with a cold-footed cuddler.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to envelop me last night. I seem to remember it was you who settled us down and told me to be quiet and go to sleep or you’d wear me out.”

  “You have a faulty memory. All I tried to do was put my weary bones into bed and sleep. But did you let me? No, you did not. First you make me go out and trudge up and down the damn beach. Then we had to go and soak our bones in the heated pool, and when I finally get up to the rooms, you’re hungry and must eat or you’ll faint. And when I finally get into bed, your feet are cold. Do you know how many kisses it took to warm them up?”

  “How many?”

  Chas was appalled! “I thought you were counting!”

  “No, you make my brain swoon and I can’t think.”

  “Really?” He was like a stroked cat.

  “Um-hum.”

  “But I did get you very thoroughly warm, didn’t I.” It wasn’t a question, it was a smug statement.

  “All I remember is that you fed me, finally, then the next thing I knew your alarm woke me up.”

  “You don’t remember my skillful, intricate, exquisite lovemaking?”