“Look at you,” she corrected sleepily.
They turned toward one another and wrapped their arms around each other. “I can’t believe this,” said Faranger, his face buried between her neck and shoulder.
“Believe it. I believe everyone has left. Come with me. We can take a shower. Our clothes and things are waiting for us.”
They held hands as they headed into the dark edge of the hall. The changing room was a medium sized, brightly lit space. Their clothes were hanging in a small alcove. They stepped into the shower and soaped each other, and kissed each other, and hugged each other. And then they slowly dried each other with the big fluffy towels that were at hand.
LIFE
“Ahhh, that feels so good!” said Faranger as he pulled his snug boxer briefs up to his waist.
“Yes,” said Sandra, executing the last wiggle to get her sheer tights in place. “There’s a wonderful security about clothing.”
“Do you have to be somewhere?” he asked. “Do you have time for breakfast?”
“A short one. Coffee shop? I have a meeting at nine.”
“Where do you work?”
“I’m a financial analyst at Grimsby Hawthorne.”
“No! Me too! Well, not at Grimsby Hawthorne. I actually own my own small investment firm. But it’s nice to know we can talk about our work. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I think,” she said with a smile that almost wrinkled her nose. “Can I tie your tie for you? I love tying men’s ties.” She stood in front of him and tied the tie. When she was done she ran her hands down his crisp white shirt front. When she reached his belt she slid them around behind and down and pulled their bodies together. They embraced and kissed for a long time.
They exited the building to find a glorious spring day. Faranger thought that the leaves must be just a little bigger than they were yesterday, but he couldn’t tell. They took hands and headed down the street, grinning at each other every now and then like children playing hooky. They went into a coffee shop on the corner across from the park. Faranger went to the counter to get their croissants and coffee, and when he sat down again he said, “So… was the whole night part of your contract?”
“No, not at all. I just wanted to be with you so badly! My contract only required that I stay the night so I could show you the changing room and lock the door on the way out.”
“Ah… ah.. This is just…”
“Yes, isn’t it.” Smile.
“Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
“Oh, for sure! We have to.”
“At Chez Donald? At 6 for drinks? I think it’s about half way between where we work.”
“That sounds just right.”
They ate for a while, looking up from their food repeatedly, to savor the circumstances. Finally Faranger said, “Well, I guess it’s time to start the day. I have to go say ‘Hi’ to Stephanie and Pederson.” Sandra put her hand over his, with a consoling look. They went out of the coffee shop, shared a gentle kiss and headed off in opposite directions.
Faranger walked up the street along the park, and when he entered the building and walked up to Stephanie’s desk, he was sorry for her obvious fright. Her eyes uncontrollably went to the flat front of his pants. He smiled. “Stephanie, I wanted to thank you for your help last night. And to tell you that things will be normal. You don’t need to worry about any repercussions.” She nodded, still wordless. He knew he was doing her a favor by leaving right away.
He went up the stairs at a clip and headed straight for Pederson’s desk. Pederson was always there early. Pederson wasn’t overtly frightened, but he looked at Faranger with concern. “Hi, Ralph.” (He’d looked up the first name on his phone.) “Thanks for your help last night. You were brilliant,” he said with an ironic smile. “No need to worry about any repercussions.” Pederson nodded tentatively.
On the way to his office, Faranger savored the thought that whenever he was near Pederson or Stephanie he could expect a frisson of recollection of his night at Twelve Maxbridge Street.
At five o’clock he got out the business card that Sandra had given him and dialed her work number. “I can’t wait till six. Can you get away now?”
“Yes, I can. I’ll see you at the restaurant in 10 minutes?”
“See you then.”
When they saw each other they embraced eagerly. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“Me too!”
They took a small table in the bar, ordered drinks and started nibbling peanuts.
“So, we know what I was doing there last night, said Faranger. “How did you come to be there?”
“Once or twice a year I sign up to be a sex slave for a weekend. This time they gave me to The Association for the night. Yes, I guess I know why you were there. But how did you find out about it?”
“I called a phone number I found in a cryptic ad in a magazine. I asked them to send me information. This is what they sent me.” He leaned over and picked up his briefcase. He set it on his lap and opened it just a little way. He drew out an envelope and pulled out a stiff card bordered in black. It was about three inches by eight inches. In elegant printing it said:
The Association
We can provide a night of
pain and sexual humiliation
$3000
Confidentiality is guaranteed.
There will be no permanent injury, photography or film.
Call 1-617-555-5555 for an appointment.
He smiled at her. “So I signed up.”
She said, “Do you think you’ll ever do anything like this again?”
“I don’t know. It’s too soon. Right now I have no inclination, and I have a hard time imagining that anything wouldn’t be an anti-climax. Sic,” he added, with a nod to the double meaning. “Certainly I don’t have any other people in my life like Pederson and Stephanie.” His smile turned wry.
“And you? Will you continue your weekends?”
“Probably. But maybe not. We’ll see.” She smiled back.
He put his hand over hers. “Did you see everything?”
Softly, “Yes. I saw everything.” She placed her other hand over his.
He picked it up and kissed the back of it. “I think I’m glad.”
Dinner was delicious. It fit with the deliciousness of the whole evening. They dived into getting to know each other. “Well, I’m relieved that we agree on politics,” she said. “I can’t imagine how couples like James Carville and Mary Matalin do it. Do you think they debate every evening over supper? Or d’you think that they long ago agreed just not to talk politics? What DO they talk about? Politics are their lives.”
“Dunno. It’s a mystery.”
When they’d eaten most of their dinner Sandra said, “Why don’t you come and spend the night at my house? The stores are still open. We can get you a fresh shirt and tie and run your underwear through the wash.”
Faranger laughed a little bit. “I don’t think I’ll be up for anything for a while.”
“Of course not, silly. Who knows better than I do that you need to recover. But wouldn’t it be nice just to hold each other for a long time?”
“Yes, it would be very, very nice. Let’s go get me a shirt and tie.”
*****
“I can get good seats to the Celtics tonight,” said John. “Do you like basketball?”
“Well, sure. I can’t say I’m educated about it, but it goes fast. And I really do prefer those uniforms to football and hockey,” she said grinning.
“It’s my main sport. I like football on TV,” but that’s about it.
“I like the food and company around football. But I only really watch when there’s about to be a touchdown.”
“Well, good. I’ll get the tickets.
*****
“I found a Cape Verdean restaurant. Want to try it tonight?” he asked one morning over breakfast.
“Sure! I like trying out new kinds of restaurants. I’ve always wanted to try Ethiopian, for instance.”
“I know of one. If you like that sort of thing we could make it a kind of ritual to try a different ethnic restaurant every week or so until we’ve exhausted what Boston has to offer. Wanna?”
“Yeah! That’s a great idea. Where is Cape Verde anyway?”
“I used to think it was in the Caribbean, but it’s in Africa.”
*****
“No!,” he snorted. “No way am I taking a walk in the rain when it’s 45 degrees out. I wouldn’t take a walk in the rain if it were 75 degrees out. Don’t you have a girlfriend who likes that kind of idiocy?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ll call her. I guess I ought to stoke my friendships. I’ve been neglecting people.”
*****
They had established that they had different tastes in pop music, but they had already mutually enjoyed the symphony and a chamber music concert when she asked “Do you like jazz?”
“Well, I don’t really know much about it. But one of my fondest memories, is when I was in college and heard a jazz trio at the Carlyle in Manhattan. I don’t know if the music made it so special or just the ambience.”
“Well, let’s see if you do like it. There’s a great, small jazz club I’d like us to go to.”
“You’re on.”
*****
“So how about we don’t do anything special tonight?” she said. “We can have soup and a sandwich at my place and read and then watch some movie in bed.”
“Do you have tomato soup? And cheese for grilled cheese?”
“I do. But you don’t have a book.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve got one book at my place and a different one at yours. I read them concurrently.”
“Then we have a plan. We’ll walk, OK?”
“Sounds perfect to me.”
THE END
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