“Maybe for you.”
With a toothpaste-commercial smile, Ginny nodded. “But if I get excited, you’ll have a good time too. I guarantee it.”
Dan’s lip twitched, and his hands opened, palms up, as if catching snowflakes.
“Somehow my stethy has returned in a bad way,” Ginny said. “I need to see and feel Ben’s muscles while we have sex. I can’t explain it. Trust me, this will be a one-time event. What alternative solution do you have?”
Nothing was said for a few moments. Dan walked around, looking at his notes, as if an answer might appear there. Returning to the couch, he held Ginny’s hands and spoke softly.
“I can’t go on like this.”
He tilted his head, his neck cartilage cracking, and his eyes opened wide enough for fists. Then he stood and backed away. He mumbled something more, but his words were inaudible to Ginny. He moved to the living room doorway.
“What? Dan, I didn’t hear you.”
He was gone.
“Dan, please, what did you say?” Ginny’s voice carried to the hallway.
Dan reappeared, looking at nothing in particular. “Set it up.”
Each syllable slowly marched across Ginny’s eardrum. Dan commanded; he was in charge.
Tears came to Ginny’s eyes. Something was different. Dan’s demeanor, his face. She didn’t need a psychology degree to know that something had changed in an instant. She’d gotten her wish—although she was unsure now that she wanted it.
Chapter 40
Mother-In-Law
Streetlights cast shadows across Dan’s knees. A small lamp projected his shadow on the living room wall, his shadow hunched and rocking. He had risen in the middle of the night. What had he agreed to? Ginny didn’t lie, but she didn’t always tell everything. Dan’s mind raced over what he knew about his wife.
Ginny Swinburne had always excelled in both academics and sports. A typical teenage girl had turned into an intelligent woman of exceptional beauty. He first learned just how complex Ginny was on the day he met her parents, at her Harvard Business School graduation.
****
Graduation Day
Ginny had obtained graduation tickets for her parents, her sister Rachel, and Dan. Rachel gawked at Dan when they met.
“It figures my sister would pick up a tall, handsome man an hour before the ceremony.”
Ginny gave her sister a friendly shove. “Hey! I didn’t just pick him up off a street corner. This is my fiancé, Dan Livorno.”
“What the fuck! You’re engaged?”
This was the first direct exchange Dan heard between his future sister-in-law and future wife. Many more would follow over the years.
A family argument ensued. Dr. James Swinburne apologized for his daughters. Dan would later learn that James’s role was family apologist.
Dr. Anna Swinburne walked with Dan across the campus quadrangle. She squeezed Dan’s arm as they went. “Yes, this will satisfy Ginny,” she said.
Dan was embarrassed. His future father-in-law mumbled, “Please excuse my wife.”
The next time he met Ginny’s family was at their homestead in Stamford, Connecticut. Anna and Rachel greeted Dan and Ginny at the door. James was out walking the family dog, Foo Foo, a yappy bichon frise. Rachel’s boyfriend-slash-significant-other, Ted Akens, arrived a short while later. Ted was a talker—the kind that didn’t hold anything back. He told Dan about his sex with Rachel, his drug addiction. Anna seemed pleased, and James apologized.
After a cordial family dinner, Anna took Dan to the family room. That was when she told him about Ginny’s “condition.”
Dan didn’t understand. He just said, “I’m pretty fit, you know.”
Anna squeezed Dan’s arm. “Yes, and I believe that you’ll be enough for Ginny. But you need to understand: she needs more than usual strong.”
Anna embarrassed Dan with questions about their dates, and even asked intimate details about their sex routine. At last Dan stood, making the excuse that he’d like to go help with the washing-up.
Anna stopped him. The Swinburne family kept no secrets, she explained. “Of course, we only talk about intimate subjects in person, not over the phone or email. That’s why Ginny didn’t tell us about your engagement.”
Dan didn’t really think sharing engagement news was quite on the same level as sharing frank sex talk, but before he could say anything more, Anna launched into more details about Ginny’s infatuation.
“In medical terms, sthenolagnia means a muscle proclivity, although it’s usually called a fetish or obsession.”
Dan stumbled over the pronunciation.
“Say it like this: steh nol neeaah.”
Anna gave him the rundown of the condition. It dated back to sometime in the late 1800s, and was first identified by a German psychologist named Magnus something or other. This particular fetish could be found among both males and females. Anna explained that sthenolagnia was sexual arousal caused by being around strength or muscles.
“Ginny has a sthenolagnia obsession, a word she dislikes,” Anna said. “I first noticed her fascination at ten or eleven, but it probably presented earlier. Her obsession increased in high school. James and I didn’t try to stop her or be judgmental. Saying no is not the way to treat any obsession.”
She took Dan’s hand. “I’m telling you this because Ginny’s obsession will have implications for your marriage.”
****
Dawn
Dan rose at six-thirty to a winter-dark sky. He wrote Ginny a note after breakfast. “I need to go away for a short time, and I’ve taken the car. I’ll be back by dinnertime. Love you, Dan.”
Two hours later, Dan had arrived at the Swinburne home. Anna opened the door to her son-in-law and greeted him with open arms. Coffee was brewed and fresh croissants were set on the table; Dan accepted the former and declined the latter. James said hello, apologized for a yapping Foo Foo, and sequestered himself in his study.
Dan gave Anna a rundown of his and Ginny’s current life together—in detail. Then he broached the million-dollar question: What could be done about Ginny’s sthenolagnia?
Anna’s initial response was to encourage Ginny to seek professional help. “Obsessions can change over time. Some people believe obsessions—or fetishes—shift or diminish, or become more intense. It depends on the fetish and other factors, both internal and external.”
“Ginny refuses to see a shrink.”
Anna raised her shoulders.
With halting speech, Dan outlined Ginny’s proposed “solution”—the one he had agreed to. Had he done the right thing?
Anna took Dan’s hand. “This isn’t my expertise, but I can say that no one can predict what will happen to either of you—like with Ben’s reaction on your first try.”
“Why? What caused Ginny’s sthenolagnia?”
Anna looked out the kitchen window. “It happened around the time Ginny was five years old. We lived in a different neighborhood, a suburban housing tract, starter homes for middle-class families. Young children were everywhere. It was a good summer ice cream truck route.
“One day I was on the phone, and Ginny heard the Good Humor ice cream van jingle. It might as well have been the Pied Piper.”
“I know. We had one too,” Dan said with a clean smile.
“Well, Ginny went out without waiting for me, the first time by herself. By the time I reached her, Ron, the van owner was consoling her. He called himself ‘Mr. Huge Humor’—and he was huge. He was an amateur bodybuilder and made enough money during the ice cream seasons to support his training. The kids loved him, and he loved children.”
The rest of the story revealed that the kids had been bullying Ginny; she was always a small child, up until her growth spurt at age twelve. Without Anna there to protect her, the children had pushed Ginny over. She had dropped her ice cream cone, and one boy threw the ice cream in her hair.
“Like I said, by the time I reached her, Ron was wiping her down with a t
owel. He had chased the other children away and given her a fresh cone. But he also said he’d protect her. He flexed his muscles, gave her a ride on his bicep, and took off his shirt. Dan, he was so big and muscle-bound, I know it impressed Ginny. It impressed me, too. After that day, Ginny received special treatment from Ron. And he flexed every time he served her.”
Dan rubbed his temple. “So a muscular ice cream man protects Ginny from the other children. That caused her stethy obsession?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“I don’t know if anyone can say there is one specific origin for this syndrome. All I know is that Ginny loved her Ice Cream Man. But there’s probably more to it. Usually is.”
Gazing across the table at the kitchen wall clock, Dan forced his next question. “Will she eventually be unfaithful to me?”
“I don’t think Ginny will be unfaithful—she’s too open and honest. In my opinion, if her sthenolagnia grows, she’ll ask for a divorce before she’d deceive you with an affair.”
On his return home, Dan found his mother-in-law’s words bittersweet. Ginny wouldn’t betray him—but big deal that was if he still lost her anyway. And Anna hadn’t provided any advice on whether Ginny’s scheme would help. Only that she was sure the results would be unpredictable for everyone: him, Ginny, and Ben.
Midway across the Bronx, Dan decided. He’d be Ginny’s new Ice Cream Man. He’d prove that manly didn’t only mean burly, bulging muscles. He would protect her. And to do that, he’d have to participate in her experiment all the way. No constraints, no complaints.
Chapter 41
A Night’s Reflection
If Dan had a fitful sleep, Ginny’s wasn’t much better. Her return home had been fraught with anxiety, and it continued on into the middle of the night. She woke to find herself alone in bed. Peering out of the bedroom door, Ginny saw a faint light from the living room. Dan was there, his faintly illuminated form slumped on the couch. Ginny had no doubt that he was in turmoil over her proposition and his agreement.
She returned to bed and reconstructed the day Dan first learned of her sthenolagnia.
****
Four Years Before
A cool early morning breeze circled through an open window in Ginny’s Connecticut bedroom. She awoke as the light silk sheet rustled; Dan was sitting on the edge of the bed. His back was to her; he hadn’t seen her open her eyes.
She watched him adjust his athletic-style briefs, his hand pushing down his left leg to adjust his penis. She was fascinated by the way men’s undergarments differed from women’s—a more practical approach based on personal equipment. Dan must have experimented, and his particular length was probably a factor. Ginny smiled to herself. Her real fascination was Dan’s well-defined body, a combination of a swimmer’s low fat percent and a weight lifter’s bulk. She knew too well his handsome facial bone structure, his cheeks set to highlight a short nose, which in turn underscored lips made for kissing. She loved his eyes, a lake blue that made her want to skinny dip. He was perfect; better than any airbrushed and photoshopped magazine cover model.
She’d been with men packed with more muscle, models stamped with handsomeness to sell cologne in glossy magazines. Dan was all that, but he was also something more: he was smart. His intelligence wasn’t something he had been taught; it came down the birth canal.
Despite her attraction to Dan’s body, Ginny didn’t want a man that only saw her for her own body. She had suspected this of Dan for a while, until in a moment of honesty he had debunked her illusion. She had smirked, acknowledging her own hypocrisy. She looked at men’s bodies first. She evaluated size, body shape, muscularity, athleticism. If they passed her evaluation, only then did she talk to them. Body before mind.
The last item in her equation was sex. Hers and Dan’s was incredible. Her body tingled in her recollection of the previous night; she’d have to give Sarah and Betsy a fiery blow-by-blow account. Ginny giggled, and Dan turned.
Ginny sat up. “Morning, sweetie.” The sheets moved down, and Ginny’s breasts filled her nightgown, a soft breeze moving the sheer fabric. Sunlight shone on Dan’s briefs and he moved his hands to cover himself.
“Dan, I don’t think you need to do that. I have seen it, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. And I want to thank you for last night. That was the best ever. You are beautiful, and I’m so lucky you allow me to be with you.”
Ginny’s grin spread so wide it might have cracked her jaw. Who is this guy? Has he read the playbook on how to charm a woman? Is he real? A gentleman or a charlatan?
“You’re welcome, Dan. Great for me, too.”
“Shall we have breakfast? I’ll make it.”
“Okay, but you need to come here first.”
Ginny tapped the bed. Dan twisted around and leaned across. Ginny took hold of his neck to kiss him, tongue deep, her breasts imprinted on his. Dan responded; no shifting of his briefs would hide the awakened giant. The rapidity of it even surprised him. “Oh, sorry, it’s beyond my control.”
“Sorry? Not me. Let’s do something about it.”
In the morning light, Ginny and Dan made love again. He devoured her, explored each breast with tongue, fingers, chin, and nose. He massaged her body, lingering on her thighs, calves, and feet. He kissed between her breasts, his desire throbbing below. She had wanted him to take her, to control her entirely with his strong arms wrapped around her. Her desire washed across her taut skin.
She pushed her breasts together, and Dan licked both nipples, his head oscillating between them.
“Sit across my abdomen, resting on your knees,” Ginny demanded.
In this position, Ginny took Dan’s elongated thick penis and pulled it between her breasts. Her nipples hardened to acorns as Dan’s pre-cum droplets fell on her.
Like the night before and all others, she reached that point when she desired Dan’s muscle.
“Flex, Dan. Flex your biceps. Make them big.”
Dan made no move, so she repeated her words. Dan lifted one arm; a round bulb formed. Ginny pulled it closer, licked it with her tongue. She moaned as Dan’s cock continued to rub the inner crevice of her tits.
“Show me the horseshoe.”
Dan stretched his arm, producing ringed triceps. Ginny touched the striations and wetness filled her; she was on the verge of an orgasm. She pushed Dan’s arm, telling him to lift up. His cock flew out as Ginny turned over to rest herself on her elbows. Her ass was high, practically into Dan’s face. She gave him a view of all her parts. She wanted him to touch all of her.
With her legs spread, she tapped her backside. Dan adjusted his position, his face on her back, his cock entering her vagina from the rear. He held himself upright, one hand on her back and the other cupping her breast.
She felt his initial penetration, his delicacy. Ginny took shallow breaths with each half-inch. She thought about his chest muscles resting on her. Her ass felt the power of Dan’s round glutes pushing, his inner leg adductors squeezing his balls to perform. For a half hour she let Dan fuck her from behind, with periodic cries of, “Yes. Fuck me.”
Her second orgasm arrived with Dan’s. His thrusting glutes had been aided by her fingers behind pushing his balls higher. After his final ejaculation he rolled onto his side. Ginny focused on his glistening sweaty chest, his rounded globe pectorals. She rubbed them, knowing Dan was too spent to flex. No matter; they felt hard and big.
He was fully dressed when Ginny came out of the shower. “I’m taking no chances with you, you Harvard sybarite. Stay away or I’ll die of starvation.”
They ate breakfast, knowing the afternoon would bring more sex. She would ask Dan to pose. While he contracted his muscles, she would walk around, surfing each sinewy ridge.
****
Sleep would not resolve Ginny’s issue. She and Dan had been happy, fulfilled, everything she could have wanted. And now she wanted more. She wanted bigger bulges, sinew that sat on sinew. Muscle crevices carved and chiseled to rival Michelangelo marbl
e. She had promised Dan this would be a one-time event, the solution to satisfy her stethy. But in the dark bedroom doubts descended: might her words be more wish than truth?
She lay motionless in bed despite her racing thoughts. She dwelled on Dan’s agreement, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind in the morning. How would she approach Ben? What could she say, given the previous disastrous attempt?
She rolled onto her side. After a while, Dan returned to bed, his pelvis snuggling her rear, his arms across her breasts. Ginny’s hand reached up, touching Dan’s muscular arm.
III.
Recall
Chapter 42
The Call
Inside Ben’s large modern condo, his restless sleep pattern mirrored the Livornos’. He’d become aware that his loneliness was not from solitude. His days were filled with hundreds of gym members, two trainees, and a dozen staff members. At night he supped solo, by choice, at a marble kitchen table. And Ben had used intense workouts to create exhaustion—as a remedy for insomnia.
That solution had worked until the infamous night with Ginny and Dan.
His new solution included a change to his sleeping pattern. After his sixth and final meal of the day, Ben would take care of his bodily necessities and change into loose pajama bottoms, leaving his chest bare and unencumbered by tight cloth. Then he would retire to his nine-hundred-square-foot entertainment den, where he lay down on a small leather couch in lieu of his super-king bed. He would choose a CD from Davis’s eclectic music collection until he was lulled into a semi-slumber.
But with Vinnie’s arrival, even this had failed. Too many memories raced through his mind.
The next change came the weekend after Vinnie moved to Ben’s condo.
Joe had suggested that Ben join him, Ellen, and Vinnie for a small party—a delayed New Year’s celebration. Ben mocked the false, fake joy—it was based on hope, not reality. He knew reality, and he knew there was nothing joyous about it. Ben knew from experience.
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