by Vanda
She was sitting there in her bra, girdle, and nylons. In the bra, her breasts came to two sharp points. How could anyone look that gorgeous in just their underwear? Looking at her made me feel giggly and breathless. She unsnapped her nylons from her girdle.
“You don’t mind me watching you?” I asked.
“No. I like it. Do you mind watching?”
“No. I like it. A lot.” I felt my cheeks getting hot .
She smiled and slowly rolled one nylon down her leg. I took a deep breath.
“And now the other one.” She watched my reaction as she pushed it down her leg and over her perfect foot. Then she stood and tugged at the girdle. “This is almost impossible to do with any amount of grace.”
“You do it nice.”
She threw it from her. “That’s better. I can breathe.” And sat back down. “Now what?”
“Uh—uh ….” I couldn’t answer. Everything inside me felt clogged with excited fear.
“Why don’t you take my bra off?
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, I—”
“Sure, you can. You know how these things work. Take it off me.”
“Oh, gosh, golly ….”
She took my hands and pulled me toward her. Butterflies jumped out of my stomach and fluttered into my chest. I reached around her back and unhooked her bra. As I started to slide it away from her chest, “Oh, wow!” escaped out of me. Her breasts were no longer two points. They were round, and full, and looked like the kind I saw on the naked goddess statues in the Whitney Museum. No, hers were better ’cause they were real and …“Oh, gosh, Juliana, you look so … they’re so pretty, and you’re so beautiful and-and—“
“Touch me.”
I inhaled and tentatively raised my hands toward her. Slowly, lightly I put my hands on her breasts. She breathed in sharply.
“You felt that?” I asked. “I mean you really felt that?”
“I’m very sensitive there.”
I was doing this; I was making her feel something.
“Let’s get your clothes off.”
By that time I was so excited that the two of us taking off my clothes didn’t embarrass me at all.
“I love your boyish body,” she told me, when I was down to only my underpants.
“You do?” I was amazed.
“Yes, very much. Turn over and lay on your stomach.”
I felt her breasts and her hands moving down my back to my rear.
“This precious firm rear end,” she said, slipping my underpants off throwing them onto the floor.
She ran tiny little kisses over my rear and my whole body tingled until…“Juliana! You bit me.”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“I spose not.”
She pulled off her own underpants, and I stared at her there. I didn’t mean to, but …. She turned me onto my back, got on top of me, and pressed her legs between mine. She kissed my neck and then my breasts and my belly .
“Juliana, show me what to do to make you feel like you made me feel that time.”
She kissed me lightly on the lips and slipped to my side, one leg still between my two.
“Do you masturbate?”
“No! That’s horrible. You’re not sposed—”
“All right. That’s a conversation for another time. Give me your hand.”
She took my hand and put it between her legs. “There,” she said on a gulp of air. “You feel that? Move your fingers back and forth here and … oh, yes.” She started breathing deeper. “You’re catching on.”
She touched me in my place, too. “You’re wet.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s good. It means your body likes what we’re doing.”
She came closer and kissed me, and we both got lost in a whirlwind of feeling, and touching, and breathing one into the other so that there was barely any you/me.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“Hey, Julie, I’m home.” A male voice.
“My husband!” She jumped up.
“Your what?”
“Get up, get up. In the closet.” She opened the closet door and pulled her robe on. I grabbed an armful of clothes, mine, hers, who knew.
“In here. In here.” She pointed at the open closet door; I ran in and she closed it.
“Richard dear, hello. What a surprise.” I heard her call. “You’re home two days early.”
In the closet, nude, holding clothes in front of my body, I got dressed trying not to make noise. As I wiggled into my shirt—who knew where my bra was—I knocked into Juliana’s mink. I almost fainted; it was so soft and smelled of flowers, like her.
Somewhat dressed, I listened against the closet door. I didn’t hear anything. I crawled out and crouched down by the bedroom door. Juliana had left it slightly ajar. I carefully opened it, ready to slither out. They were in the hallway leaning against the bannister. She had her hands around his shoulders and he had his hands inside her robe touching her naked rear end like he had some right to do that.
“Oh, doll,” he said. “Being away from you is horrible. Let me take you to bed right now.”
Oh, no. I hurried back toward the closet.
“After we eat something, honey,” I heard Juliana say. “I like my man to be well fed. I’ve got some fish I can heat up in the kitchen.”
“What is that stuff in the parlor?” he asked, breaking away from her. “Did you have guests?”
“Just Johnny to talk about the act. He had to leave in a hurry. Problems with Dolores again. You know how that woman drinks and threatens suicide. I’ll warm up the fish. We can eat in the basement kitchen.” She took his hand and led him to the top step. She looked back at the bedroom door, nodding.
After they disappeared down the stairs, I scuttled out to the landing on all fours and listened. I didn’t hear anything. With my heart beating in my mouth I tiptoed down the stairs. I slipped out the door and ran down the street. My coat still hung in her hall closet and it was freezing out, so I ran all the way to Max’s apartment.
Shivering and stomping my feet up and down to get warm, I banged on Max’s door. He threw it open. This time he wore a green silk bathrobe with black velvet trimming.
“You again?” he said. “I thought I wouldn’t see you till tomorrow morning. Get in before the neighbors call the cops.”
Tommie with an ie came in wearing only underpants with pictures of big purple hearts. He sat on the arm of the couch.
“Yoo-hoo.” He waved. “I remember you.”
“You are killing my social life,” Max moaned.
“I need my clothes. I can’t run around the street in these pants.”
“You look nice in my shirt,” Tommie said.
“How did it go tonight?” Max asked.
“Go? Go? Just fine. Till her husband came home.”
“Oh, geez, did Richard show up?” Max lit a cigarette. “That bore.”
“You knew she was married and yet you ….” I ran into his bathroom with an armload of my real clothes and slammed the door. Then I opened it a sliver. “Is this why Shirl told me to stay away from her?”
“Maybe,” Max called in to me. “But nobody takes that marriage or Richard seriously.”
“Why did Shirl set this up, then?”
“She didn’t. Mercy did.”
“Who’s Mercy?”
“Shirl’s girlfriend.”
“But she’s never even met me.”
“Mercy’s a romantic and would like to see Juliana settle down.”
“She’s married! How more settled can she be?”
“Sweetie pie,” Tommie said. “When are you coming to bed?”
“Soon, honey. You go in and warm it up.” He turned back to me. “It’s not a regular marriage. It’s not like Richard really means anything to her. It’s business.”
I opened the bathroom door. “You mean he’s her beard.”
“Women don’t have beards, but, yes, he’s sort of like that. Only—whereas Virginia kn
ows about my proclivities, I don’t think Juliana has told Richard about her—extracurricular activities.”
“That’s what I am to her?” I shouted, buttoning my dress. “I’m like an after-school activity? Like intramural sports? The horseshoes club?” I pulled on one of my nylons.
“I have no idea what you are to her. I haven’t spoken to her in more than a year. Ever since she married that ass.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Richard?” I hooked the second stocking to my girdle.
“I thought you knew. What difference does it make? He’s hardly ever around. He goes on business trips.”
I jumped into my heels. “It makes a difference, Max. I don’t understand any of this, but I’m finished with it.” I stopped at the door. “I need a coat.”
“Where’s yours?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Guess.”
“Hey, where’s my tie?” he demanded. “Okay, okay, don’t give me that look. There’s no need to get hostile. I have a coat in here you can wear, but I want it back.”
He hurried off to the other room and came back with a thick tan coat. “I promise, Tommie, I’ll be right back. Now, you be careful with this.” He stroked it like it was a favorite hamster. “This is cashmere, not the cheap junk you wear.”
“Maxie, please , I need you,” Tommie called out like a she-cat in heat.
Max shoved the coat at me. “Take it. I have to go.”
As he dashed toward the bedroom, I asked, “What happened to Timothy?”
“Who?”
“Slag. Your boyfriend. The pretend limo driver. The one who, I guess, replaced Danny.”
“Oh, him. He’s around somewhere. Who keeps track? Tonight, I’m with Tommie. Is that all right with you?”
“Danny would’ve been better. You have lousy taste.”
“Why, you little twerp!” He marched back toward me. “I am the very definition of good taste. I live, sleep, and breathe good taste. Good taste is my business. Out! Out!”
Chapter Twenty
I slept till two in the afternoon on Sunday, completely missing Saturday. Every few hours I’d squint at the window and sense the passing of time, but I didn’t move. I hurt too much. Once, I think Aggie asked me if I was sick, and I grunted at her and quickly returned to unconsciousness.
Sometimes I was half-awake and I’d see Juliana floating by, and I knew I had to stay away from her, but just seeing her in my memory put a big ache inside me. I’d try to fall back to sleep, and when I did, I’d dream thousands of crucifixes were attacking me.
I missed Danny, my pal. I could talk to him. I turned over on my pillow and tried to go back to sleep. Danny, where are you?
Aggie and Dickie had the radio on and they were dancing in the other room. It sounded like they were having fun, and I didn’t think I could be around anyone having fun.
I had other dreams, too. I was walking through a forest wearing one of those severe business suits like Liza Elliot in Lady in the Dark. But when I looked again at myself, I had no clothes on. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Between my legs, I had a thing like boys have and I screamed. Then I saw Mary O’Brien standing under a tree laughing at me, and I felt my face, and the beard was there. I woke up sweating and lifted my blanket to make sure no awful transformation had happened under there. I was too scared to go back to sleep, so I got up and pulled my bathrobe on and went into the parlor.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, you’re finally up,” Dickie said. “You sick?”
“I guess.” I flopped into a chair.
“Your hair. Where is it?” Aggie asked.
“I got it cut. Don’t ya like it?”
“Well, uh …. ”
Dickie gave her a signal.
“Sure. It’s nice, kid,” she said. She hurried to change the subject. “Dickie’s agent sent him out for the new Rogers and Hart show All’s Fair, and he got hired for the dancing chorus. They’re going to Boston for tryouts. And, Dickie, tell her the best part.”
“I got Aggie a job in the singing chorus. She’s going with me.”
Aggie bounced up and down on the couch. “I auditioned on Thursday and they called me today. On a Sunday! I woulda told you about the audition, but I was afraid talking about it would jinx me. I’m gonna play an Amazon.”
“That’s terrific,” I said, a little too unenthusiastically.
“Tell her what it’s about, Dickie.”
“Oh, she doesn’t want to know about that. Al, you’ll get cast in something soon,” Dickie assured me.
“No, I wanna know what your play is about. Tell me.”
“Well, it takes place in a country where women are in charge,” Aggie said. “Wouldn’t that be a terrific place? These women are called Amazons. The men are the ones who stay home taking care of the kids and buying hats. Isn’t that funny?”
“Yeah. Both of you are gonna leave the city at the same time? Soon?”
“Oh, honey,” Aggie said, looking at Dickie. “It won’t be too long. And we’ll write and call. Won’t we, Dickie?”
“You betcha. Don’t you worry, kid.”
“I know,” I said, heading toward the kitchen. “Anybody want tea?”
“None for me,” Dickie called. “I got my beer.”
“Me, either. I’m fine,” Aggie said.
The slow song “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm” came on the radio and Dickie and Aggie got up to dance. They looked lovey-dovey at each other.
“Dickie, do you ever hear from Danny?” I asked, leaning against the wall waiting for the water to boil.
“No,” Dickie said. “Maybe in the army he’ll work out this phase he’s in.”
When the teakettle whistled, tears came pouring down my face. They came out even more when I poured the water over the tea bag, and it wasn’t even Turkish tea.
I brought my cup into the parlor and sat with Dickie and Aggie. The program playing dance music had gone off, and Dickie was fiddling with the dial. “I’d like to find a good swing. How about you, Ag?”
“Sounds good.”
“How ’bout you, Al?”
“I don’t care.”
“Maybe a good swing’ll cheer ya up.” Dickie clicked through the stations.
A broadcaster said, “The World Today brings you by shortwave radio …”
“Hey, either of you ever listen to this program? It tells you all about what’s happening around the world. ”
“… foreign correspondents overseas with summaries of the latest world news presented by Golden Eagle Gasoline …”
“Come on, Dickie,” Aggie whined. “Put on some music.”
“In a minute. Namura and Kurusu are negotiating with Hull today. I wanna see if there’s anything on it.”
The broadcaster said, “Go ahead, New York.” And another voice came on. “President Roosevelt has just announced that the Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, by air.
We all looked at each other, fear etched into our faces.
“The President will ask Congress for a declaration of war, and there is no doubt that they will grant it. Ladies and gentlemen we are at war.”
We knew in that moment our lives had just changed.
End of Book I
Part Two
The War Years
Chapter Twenty-One
May, 1942
It was a cool day in May, still bright before darkness set in. I hurried toward the Stage Door Canteen but got stopped by a crowd in front of the Claridge Hotel. They were looking up at the Camel cigarette ad—the huge famous one that stretched across the front of the hotel for a whole block. The Camel man blew real six-foot high smoke rings out of his mouth; his usual clothes had been painted over, so that now, he wore army fatigues.
I couldn’t dawdle over the ad. I’d been held up at Gimbels with a rich lady who couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted Evening in Paris or Shalimar. It was almost five, only a half hour before the Canteen opened.
I volunteered at the Stage Do
or Canteen as a junior hostess on West 44th Street near Walgreen’s Pharmacy four nights a week. Soldiers on leave came in for entertainment and food. Only theater people could volunteer. I qualified ’cause of the small part I had in All in Favor , even if it did close in eight days. I served sandwiches and Cokes to GIs. All men. No girl soldiers were allowed. We danced and talked, and then I’d ask them if they ever met Danny. They always said no.
I first volunteered in March. Gertrude Lawrence entertained at the opening, and Aggie and I went, sitting only a few feet away from her. I thought I would perish. Then Miss Lawrence said she was gonna volunteer at the Canteen, so I signed up. I mean, volunteering with Gertrude Lawrence from Lady in the Dark ? Then one day I met her! After she finished singing “Jenny” for the soldiers, she stood next to me handing out ham sandwiches. The whole time I stood there I was sure she’d hear my knees knocking, but I never spoke to her. She smiled at me.
When I got to the door of the Canteen, the line of service men waiting already went around the block. As I walked past them, heading for the stairs that led down into the Canteen, a few guys whistled and one called out, “Hey, doll, save a dance for me.” Aggie would’ve waved at them. I kept going.
I disappeared downstairs taking off my gloves and hat. I showed my pass to Alfred Lunt, a great Broadway actor who was married to Lynn Fontanne, another great Broadway star. They both were regular volunteers at the Canteen and worked in the kitchen. After Mr. Lunt nodded me through, I hurried past rows of tables, the milk bar, the sandwich table, the kitchen, and the poster on the wall that said Loose Lips Sink Ships. In the distance, I could see the stage lined with flags of the allied nations, including the best one, the flag of the USA. I ran past the piano toward the back room slipping out of my coat as I went.
“Nice suit,” Miss Royle called from the kitchen. “Blue’s your color.”
Selena Royle was a stage actress, but I only knew her from the radio program, Hilda Hope, MD. I was working for a real radio star !
I dashed into the back room, threw my coat and hat into my locker, and put on the frilly red and white checked apron that we junior hostesses had to wear. It looked silly on me.
