Laura grew impatient with his impassivity. “Well?” she snapped, “Aren’t you going to say something? I just told you I’m ending our marriage. Don’t you have any response?”
After another moment he finally found his voice. “You sound like you’ve had this planned for awhile.”
Her head gave a slight nod.
Then he put forth the obvious question, “So what’s all this been for the past week? We celebrate Christmas with your family, have sex like monkeys last night, and then you just dump me? What is that?”
For the first time in the history of their relationship, Laura looked sheepish, the subterfuge of her plot becoming clearer. “I didn’t want to ruin the holidays for you,” she whispered.
The audacity of her explanation infuriated him. “Well it’s certainly ruined now!” he responded sarcastically. Then, in a mocking tone, he continued, “It’s a new year! Out with the old, clean the closets, toss out the husband!”
“Lewis, you’re raising your voice,” Laura noted.
“SO FUCKING WHAT?” he shouted, as several people, including the mother of the small unisex skater, stared. “You bring me to the most public place in New York City on New Year’s Day to tell me you’re divorcing me, after we spent all night screwing, and you expect me to be quiet about it?”
The more he shouted, the softer Laura’s voice became. She had never seen him so angry. “I wasn’t intending to tell you here. I just wasn’t sure what the best time and place should be.”
“Well this was not it!” he spit. “How about a week ago? How about a month ago so I wouldn’t have even bothered coming on this trip? Did you get your jollies having a goodbye fuck last night that only one of us knew was a goodbye fuck?”
“Lewis,” she spoke up, sounding more like her usual, rational self, “sex was never a problem for us—“
“Maybe not for you,” he retorted.
“I just wanted us to have one last nice holiday together, so that you could have some good memories before I told you.”
His glare practically burned a hole through her. “Don’t you dare suggest that this was for me. This was for you, to get your kicks and try to ease your conscience. How was I supposed to take this? I know things have been a little strained between us, but I thought we could work it out. How could you decide this without even talking to me about it?”
“We’ve had months to talk about it, Lewis,” she pointed out.
“And have you?” he replied. “Did you ever once say that you were so miserable that you wanted out? I thought we had a plan. Just a little distance for awhile until we could both get jobs we wanted. What happened to the plan?”
“I never liked the plan,” she shot back. “I need someone who wants to be with me, Lewis. You haven’t even been trying!”
“So is there someone else?” he countered. She assured him that there was not, and he was inclined to believe her.
“I’m too old for a long-distance courtship, Lewis. I want a family. One that’s all together, with a partner who wants to be with me and to put us first. I just don’t feel that from you. No matter what promises you make, you just won’t sacrifice anything for me.” She paused again, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think you love me enough.”
Lewis had no counterpoint, because on some level he knew her claim was true. He recalled how, during their wedding ceremony, the minister declared that in an ideal marriage each partner put the other first, loving one another more than themselves. Lewis never fully believed that, envisioning all of the abusive scenarios in which such a policy would lead to harm. He always thought of himself and Laura as a team, sharing everything equally. But he now realized that his vision was a fantasy. Laura did not want a partner. She wanted a follower.
Laura had never asked Lewis to risk anything until the move to New Haven. Not only had he not made much effort, he had never fully realized how much the request meant to her. Beneath her cool veneer of rationality, Laura Hennig yearned for a passionate lover who would place her above everything else, worshipping her in body and soul. Lewis idolized his wife’s intellect and beauty, but she was like a prize he had won by chance rather than earned through his own efforts. Now the prize was being revoked for poor performance.
They both sat on the bench, silently frozen like the ice before them. Laura stood up first. “It’s freezing out here. Why don’t we go back to the hotel and get warmed up?”
Lewis remained solidly in place. “We have the room until tomorrow,” he pointed out flatly. “Why don’t you go get your stuff and take a train back to New Haven?”
Laura absorbed his words. “Fine,” she said, walking away at a clipped pace.
He sat on the bench for a long time before heading back to the hotel. He wanted to make sure that she was gone, but he also wanted to avoid facing the loneliness of the room by himself; the room in which just a few hours earlier they had been joining their flesh as husband and wife.
For now, he preferred the comfort of a public setting, watching the skaters. The small unisex child was still on the ice, although moved a bit further away by its mother from the insane man spouting profanities at his wife. Lewis lost track of how many times the child fell down. Some kids might have given up, begging to go home, but this little one was quite resilient. Each time it fell down, it got up more quickly than the last, placed its skates firmly on the ice and tried to move forward, cautiously and carefully, lacking grace but with clear determination. Its gliding and falling pattern fell into a rhythmic march. Swish. Bonk. Up. . . Swish. Bonk. Up.
As Lewis watched the child, hot tears streamed down his wind-chapped face. Swish. . . . Bonk.
Chapter 11
History and Memories
Jane thrashed about, waking in a cold sweat, but confident for once that hot flashes were not to blame. She glanced at Mark, breathing deeply in his contented slumber. Feeling too restless to try to sleep again, she quietly slipped out of bed and went downstairs to the darkened den. Dana had left her favorite quilt on the sofa, a handmade childhood gift from Bubbe that the teenager still cuddled like a toddler. Jane pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapped the quilt around her and buried her nose in the fabric, breathing in the sweet scent of her child. The room remained dark, save for the glimmer of a security light that beamed above the basketball goal in the driveway. Jane turned toward the window, but her eyes could not focus on anything outside. Her mind could see only the flashes from her dream. Images of a face. A face she had tried to forget long, long ago.
They met for dinner the evening of his introduction, both dressed as they had been that afternoon. He was already waiting at a booth when she entered the small Chinese restaurant with brightly painted walls. He stood and motioned for her to sit down, offering the same sexy grin that she knew well from class. She pretended to carefully analyze the menu, finding it difficult to focus on the words without staring at the firm body seated across from her. He seemed oblivious to her nervousness, cheerfully suggesting items from the menu. Her mind struggled to think of something they might be able to discuss without emphasizing their roles as teacher and student. She need not have worried. With a few well-chosen questions and a beer in front of him, the young man took over most of the conversation. That was just as well with Jane, who found his sudden loquaciousness a good excuse to stare at her companion.
While making small talk over sweet and sour pork, she learned that, despite his youthful appearance, he was in fact a 21 year-old business major. He should be a junior by now, he confessed, but by taking the minimum number of courses each semester and lifeguarding full-time during the summers, his college career was progressing very slowly. His favorite pastime appeared to be attending concerts. He could tell her about every performance he had seen since freshman year and a few he had sneaked off to see in high school. He admitted that his pious parents had initially insisted on sending him to Baptist college, but after he got suspended during his first semester for throwing a keg party on the dry campus, th
ey relented and let him attend his first choice, “the Godforsaken liberal pinko state university.”
He confessed to idolizing Jim Morrison, which explained much about his fashion sense. The boy talked on and on about Morrison’s genius and how the singer’s death was the culmination of his existential performance art. Jane tried not to reveal her amusement at this typical college student analysis of pop culture. She commented that he should have been a philosophy major, which he took as a compliment, noting that he would prefer that major to business if his parents would allow it. But since they would not and they were paying his tuition and rent, he had to follow their choice of a “useful” major. The young man did admit that he was learning some practical advice that might help his own business ventures. Jane did not bother to probe more deeply into his career interests. She shared very little about her background, content to enjoy gazing at the gorgeous young man in her presence who returned a penetrating stare and lascivious smile.
He insisted on paying for dinner and walking her to her pale green VW bug. A chill was forming in the air, which he used as an excuse to put his arm around her. As they reached the car, he carefully spun her around with her back against the door. Pausing momentarily to make sure she did not object, he leaned in for a long, deep kiss. A bit surprised by his boldness, she reciprocated with enthusiasm. She could feel the excitement in his jeans as he pressed himself against her. Never before had she kissed anyone like that on the first date.
After a few moments he leaned back. “So,” he asked breathlessly, “Where do ya wanna go now?”
She was sorely tempted to name the nearest motel, but thought better of it. “Uh, I’d better get home. I still have some work to do.”
She could see the disappointment on his face. So as not to leave him feeling rejected, she added, “But I would like see you again.” Pulling out a slip of paper, she wrote down her home phone number and handed it to him, with the invitation to call anytime.
“Cool,” he responded. She gave him a quick kiss and jumped into her car before she lost the nerve to leave.
Upon arriving home, Jane hopped into the shower, as much to cleanse her thoughts as her body. Stepping out of the water, she heard the telephone ring and ran to answer it, still naked and dripping wet. It was him. “Hey Babe. Just checkin’ to make sure you gave me a good number.”
She quickly covered herself with a towel, as if he could see her through the receiver. She could not recall anyone ever calling her “Babe.” She also was thinking that an older, more chivalrous man would have claimed he was just checking to make sure she arrived home safely. This boy had a lot to learn about dating games.
“So, wanna do it again tomorrow?” he asked.
Jane stuttered. Once again, she could not think of a good excuse to reject him. Instead, she tried to switch the subject by returning to professorial mode. “Don’t you need to get home to your parents soon?”
“Oh well, I have some business to take care of,” he claimed. “So how about a movie this time? Whatever you want to see.”
It had been so long since she had gone to see a movie that she was not even sure what was playing in the theaters. She dropped her towel as he rattled off a list of unfamiliar titles currently showing. Apparently he spent as much time in movie theaters as he did at concerts. This time, he insisted on picking her up at her apartment.
The next evening, Jane changed clothes several times as she waited for the young man to arrive. In the midst of discarding outfit number three, the telephone rang. She thought it might be her date with an update on his status, but instead it was her friend Mark Straussman. She tried to contain the annoyance in her voice.
“How’s your break goin’ so far?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well, it’s only been one day, so it’s really not going much yet,” she responded curtly, pulling a wool sweater over her head. “Look, I’m kind of walking out the door. Do you mind calling back later?”
“I just wanted to check and see when you were leaving town for the holidays and if you might wanna grab some coffee or something before you go,” he said, seemingly oblivious to her dismissive tone.
“Uhm, sure Mark, listen, I’ll be on campus tomorrow. Why don’t you catch me then? Just drop in or call anytime.” He ended the call with an amiable goodbye, while Jane immediately regretted her tone. She made a mental note to apologize to him at their coffee.
She stuck with a wool sweater and coordinated skirt. After primping and adjusting to get every detail of her look just right, she sat on the couch and waited. And waited. Her date was 15 minutes late. When she answered the door he did not even apologize for his tardiness, just grinned seductively and growled, “Hey Babe!” He was wearing blue jeans and vest, with a white, western-style shirt unbuttoned halfway down to reveal his lean, hairless chest covered only by another gold chain. She realized her outfit probably made her look like his mother.
She should have commented on his tardiness, but did not say a word as he entered the room, put an arm around her waist and kissed her hard. As she started to respond, he pulled his head back. “Well, we’d better shake it if we wanna make the movie.” He gently squeezed her bottom on their way out the door, another first for her.
They shared a large popcorn and soda as the movie started. Her escort seemed to enjoy the music in the film about a doomed female rock star, though Jane could tell the story was going to be a downer for a date movie. After finishing their snack, he excused himself to go to the restroom for a few moments. By the time he returned, the protagonist was engaged in an onscreen liplock with another female. “Cool!” her date muttered, clearly turned on by the girl-on-girl action.
As Jane watched the female lead slowly self-destruct on screen, her date slid his hand down between her legs and started stroking her inner thigh. Her mind fluctuated between thinking that she should really protest his forwardness to being relieved she had chosen not to wear pantyhose. The sensation of his caress sent a tingle throughout her entire body. He started to move his hand upward, but she stopped him, motioning towards strangers down the row. After his hand settled passively on her knee, she made amends by sliding hers between his legs and rubbing his inner thigh. As the film progressed, he leaned over and they shared a lingering kiss. After tossing a light jacket over her torso (for “warmth” he claimed), he slipped his hand underneath her sweater and cupped a braless breast. As he started to nibble her neck, she whispered into his ear, “Save it for later, Tiger.” Actually, she feared he might give her a hickey.
Rather than being offended, he looked up at her and smiled devilishly, then went back to watching the movie while simultaneously stroking her inner thigh. Now covered by the jacket, he occasionally ran his fingers up higher to fondle underneath her panties. She had never allowed a man to go so far on the second date, much less in a public place! The inappropriateness of their behavior increased her excitement. She enjoyed truly being a “naughty girl” for once. By the time the final credits rolled, she thought she was going to climax spontaneously in the theater. He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Where do ya wanna go?”
“Take me home,” she replied breathlessly.
The young man raced his Trans-Am back to her apartment at a record pace. As he drove, Jane unbuttoned his shirt and stroked his smooth, youthful chest. All the warnings she had been issued about safe driving became secondary to her passion. After too long in celibacy, she wanted sex. Hot, sweaty sex. Not some television movie scene of “making love,” but screwing. Deep and hard. And right then.
By the time the car squealed into her apartment complex parking area, she had her head in his chest, kissing him and caressing his hairless nipples with her tongue. As soon as he parked, he pulled her head up by the back of her hair and kissed her forcefully. She moved her hand down to cup the enlarged mound in his pants, stroking him from the outside. Just when he started to reach under her skirt to cup her buttocks, she opened the door and ordered him into the apartment, racing to the doo
r with him in hot pursuit.
As she fumbled with the key, he came up from behind and pressed his body against hers, biting on the back of her neck. Once inside the door, she could not get his clothes off fast enough, pulling roughly at his shirt and pants. He wore no underwear and was eager to please. After stripping him down completely, she stood back for a moment to behold his naked, erect glory. He was the most beautiful specimen of the male figure that she had ever seen, hung like Michelangelo’s David. She remained in her sweater and skirt, enjoying the sense of power that came from being fully clothed while this manchild stood naked and vulnerable before her. In the privacy of her home, she took charge, getting down on her knees and taking him into her mouth, sucking deeply. He let out a series of moans and expletives. Before reaching fruition, he bent down and carefully removed her panties. As he lifted her onto his hard shaft, she pulled off her sweater and pressed his face into her breasts. He was like a rabbit, thrusting in quick, forceful movements, each one sending a thunderbolt of pleasure coursing throughout her body.
He continued to curse, shouting expletives louder as his pleasure increased. Jane soon lost control as well, screaming in high-pitched ecstasy with each penetrating thrust. Finally, he came and they both fell back on the shag carpet in exhaustion. “Whew! That was outta sight, Babe.”
She agreed.
Still panting heavily, he sat up, groped around for his vest, then lit up a joint. “Wanna hit?” he offered. Although marijuana was not Jane’s favorite herb, she took a couple of puffs, just to be polite, but was impressed by the weed’s high quality. He graciously shared by inhaling deeply, then kissing her while blowing the smoke into her mouth, a party trick she recalled well from her undergraduate days. The afterglow did not last long. Within minutes, he had hopped up and was pulling on his pants. “You can use the shower,” she offered.
“Naw,” he said, winking. “I’d rather drive home with the smell of you on me.”
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