by Gail Bridges
Tim plucked a card from Mr. Abiba’s hand, then the rest of us took a turn.
“Very good!” Mr. Abiba said, “Well done. Everyone has a card. Remember—no trading.” He stood up. “And that’s it. My part is over. The rest is up to…you!”
Twelve pairs of eyes—guests and Guides alike—stared at him in alarm.
“Come, come, my dears. Why the consternation? Is this so difficult? It is but a game! Your game.”
Zora said what we were all thinking. “But…what are the rules? How do we play?”
Mr. Abiba held up a finger, then drew imaginary circles in the air. The circles grew larger, including all of us. I watched his hand, transfixed. “That is the question, isn’t it?” he said mysteriously, “For there are no rules until you—together, as a group—invent them!”
“But…what sorts of rules?” asked Zora.
“Persistent little thing, aren’t you?”
She shrugged, smiling. “I just want to know how to play.”
“Then I shall try harder to explain.” Mr. Abiba sounded like a teacher again. “The rules shall be whatever you wish them to be. But a rule, once established, must apply to all. Do you understand?” Mr. Abiba regarded us, his finger hovering motionless in the air. “Fine. I see further prompting is in order. Some examples, then.”
We waited, spellbound.
He pointed to Geoffrey. “Do you take your card-mate to bed? That would be a finerule.” He pointed to Nikki. “Do you use a Tool? Also good.” He pointed to Rhonda-Lynne. “Do you let your spouse watch? Do you take pictures? The possibilities, oh, the possibilities!” He pointed to me. “But, ah! What if you have drawn your own card? What then? Does drawing your own card give you free choice? Hmmm? Or does it mean you must pleasure yourself while the others watch? Goodness! You’ll definitely need a rule for that.”
I clutched the card I’d drawn, desperately hoping it didn’t contain my own name.
He paused, then pointed to Logan. “Who has your card? What if it’s not the same person you picked? How will your rules deal with that? Hmmm?” He rubbed his hands together, then pointed to Josh. “It gets rather complicated, doesn’t it? What if you have no desire—yet—to make love to someone of the same sex, and yet the card you drew belongs to another man?” He pointed to Jonathan. “Or the opposite? What if you have no desire for the fair sex? What then?”
We all stared at Jonathan, wondering. Yes, what then?
Mr. Abiba pointed to Zora. “Rules, my dear Zora. Rules! A system to regulate a game. A policy that all who play must follow or risk being cast out. Now do you understand?”
“Oh,” said Zora, staring at the back of her card. “Yes. I believe so.”
Our familiar, fun-loving Mr. Abiba was back.
He took a step toward the door, then turned around again. “These things you must decide. Nothing is set in stone. As soon as the door closes behind me, you may look at your cards. Not before. Then the game begins! Take as long as you like. Your Lessons are postponed until after dinner. That is all.”
Following Zettia, he left.
The rest of us stared at each other.
Then, in unison, as if we’d been cued, we turned our cards over.
Chapter Seventeen
Perhaps we ought to have waited.
Because it was so much harder to come up with rules once we knew whose card we had drawn. I held my breath, wanting Zenith’s card so hard my teeth hurt from clenching my jaws. I peeked at the card I’d just turned over. In my sweaty palm, in fancy embossed writing, looking exactly like mine but for the words, was someone else’s card. It said, Geoffrey Phillips, Novelist.
Geoffrey!
My eyes immediately shot over to him, but he was turned away from me, hunched and worried-looking, his thumb rubbing the card he’d drawn.
Josh pulled on my sleeve. “Look,” he whispered, showing me his card. I should have known by the way he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet whose card it was. Nikki’s. He’d been eyeing her all through breakfast. More than eyeing her. Between servings of cinnamon rolls and strawberry waffles, they had engaged in a bit of friendly find-the-cock and where’s-the-nipple. Of course, I’d been busy at the time with a flirtation of my own, with Tim. I don’t want to brag, but I had no trouble at all locating his cock.
“I’ve got Geoffrey,” I said.
Josh’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Good luck with that.”
“He’s the nicest person here. I like him! I just never…” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know if he… If I… Well, you know.”
Josh looked at me, his head tilted. “Yeah. I suppose you’ll have to be inventive.” He put his finger to his lips and nodded toward Vane.
“Hey, everyone!” said Vane, clearing his throat. “We ought to get started—this may take a while. How about we sit down again?” He broke up the two rows that had been set out for Josh’s performance, pulling the chairs into a loose circle. He dropped into the nearest one. “There! That’s better. Take a seat and let’s tell each other who we’ve got!”
I wondered if Vane had drawn my card. Because I wouldn’t mind at all if he had.
One by one, we read the names on the cards we held.
No one had drawn their own card.
Good.
One less thing to worry about.
I drew Geoffrey. Geoffrey drew Valerian. Valerian drew Logan. And Logan drew…me. I stole several glances at Logan. There was something about his quiet, attentive manner that I found attractive, something in the way he studied people and took the measure of a room that spoke to me. I was pleased with the way things had turned out. Me. Geoffrey. Valerian. Logan.
Three men and me. A closed circle. A smaller group within the larger. It hadn’t occurred to me that such a thing could happen, but why not? The four of us stared at one another, knowing we were about to know one another a lot better. We switched seats with other people so we could sit together, like a little family.
“It’s a round robin,” whispered Logan, putting his hand on my leg and giving my thigh a nice long squeeze. Something warm and urgent rose inside me. Zettia’s tea? Free-floating erotic gamma rays? I squirmed on my seat. Logan. Valerian. Geoffrey. I felt the excitement rising in me, the excitement that Zenith had started working on right before Josh’s concert. This could work.
Josh was in a closed circle too, with Nikki and Vane. He sat between them, looking quite pleased with himself.
Jonathan and Tim were a tiny group all unto themselves. Somehow they’d managed to draw each other’s names.
And that left Rhonda-Lynne, Zora, and Zenith. A girl party. The three women sat in a huddle, heads together, shoulders shaking with laughter. Or with something. For a moment I wished I were with them, part of their group, then I shook off the thought. No, I was pleased to be right where I was.
It took several chaotic minutes to figure all this out and to rearrange the seating to reflect our new groupings. What fun to be on our own, away from Mr. Abiba and Zettia’s knowing eyes, like schoolchildren let out to recess. Finally, when everyone was settled, Vane went to the center of the circle. We all quieted. Apparently Vane had appointed himself our temporary leader. Which was fine. As had already been established, we very much needed a leader. Vane stood in the middle, turning around once, twice, smiling at everyone in turn. “You all look so eager!”
“We are!” said Tim.
“And so am I,” said Vane. “Trust Mr. Abiba to come up with another fantastic game! It’s quite exciting, isn’t it? But we have no idea what to do with ourselves, do we?”
“You may not, Vane, but we sure do!” said Zenith, leaning over and kissing Rhonda-Lynne straight on the lips, then leaning across her and repeating the kiss for Zora. “Yep. No problems over here.”
Of course not. Any group with Zenith in it would be charmed.
“We need to make up some rules,” said Valerian.
I looked at Valerian, sitting on the other side of Geoffrey. He grinned at me. I b
it my lip. He was in my group, but he hadn’t drawn my name—would I get to make love to him? Suddenly, I very much wanted to. Was there a rule for that? Could we create one?
“Well,” said Geoffrey. “I think I have a rule. We already know we can’t switch cards. Let’s make a rule that we can’t switch out of a group, or split up a group.”
Vane nodded. “That’s good. No switching. No splitting. That sounds like the first two rules to me. I’ll write them down.” He went to the far wall and dragged over a lightweight easel with a pad of blank newsprint paper perched on it. Funny, I hadn’t noticed the easel when Josh was playing the guitar. Vane turned to the first page, smoothed it with the palm of his hand, then took the cap off a fat green marker. I narrowed my eyes, remembering a certain invisible lover I’d once had, remembering how tender he’d been, how delicious. Did he remember me as fondly as I remembered him?
I hoped so.
Zettia’s magical tea made itself known again as I watched Vane’s arm flex in most delightful ways as he held up the pen and wrote “Calling Card Game”at the top of the paper, his lettering small and clear and neat. This meticulous man, this very conscientious lover—he would have beautiful handwriting, wouldn’t he? I sighed. It was too bad Vane wasn’t in my group. I’d have to console myself with Valerian and Logan. I looked at Logan, then Valerian, thinking, It won’t be hard, not at all.
Below the heading, Vane added the words, “Rule Number One—No switching out of a group.”
“Nice,” said Zora, nodding.
“Rule Number Two—No splitting up a group.” Vane put the lid on the pen, then stood back. “Look good? What’s the next one?”
Voices rose in discussion. I watched the animated faces around me, then it dawned on me that this part of the process was meant to be part of the game. It must be. It had to be—look how much fun we were having, and we weren’t even having sex yet. Mr. Abiba was more of a game master than I’d realized.
Geoffrey found my hand and held it in his. “Just practicing for later,” he whispered, “touching a girl. Finding out if you have cooties.” He winked. “Don’t get too excited. It probably won’t take.”
I squeezed his hand, laughing. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”
Rhonda-Lynne cleared her throat and everyone turned to look at her. “How about we each do something new?” she suggested. “Even if it isn’t straight-out sex? Something we’ve never done before.” She was holding Zora’s hand on her lap but staring at Zenith.
“Yes, Lynnie,” said Zenith, staring back, “yes!”
I ought to have felt a twinge of jealousy but I didn’t. Well, maybe a little.
An excited ripple of murmurs flowed around the circle. I glanced at Geoffrey. A veritable boatload of enticing possibilities opened up for us with Rhonda-Lynne’s suggestion and we both knew it. I squeezed his large hand, excited. I’d told Josh the truth earlier—I did like Geoffrey. I just wasn’t sure how to show it.
“Rule Number Three—Everyone tries something new,” Vane wrote. Then he looked around the circle. “Any more?”
My hand shot up.
“Angie?” said Vane, raising the pen. “Do you have something?”
I put my hand down, embarrassed. This wasn’t elementary school. Why must I act like a perpetual student? “Um. How about we meet back here in two hours and share with the entire group what the new thing we tried was?”
“Good idea, honey,” said Josh from across the circle.
“Mr. Abiba would like that,” said Tim.
Vane started writing again. “Rule Number Four—Come back in two hours and spill the beans.”
We fell silent, pondering.
Maybe this making-our-own-rules-thing wasn’t so hard after all. I glanced around the circle of my new friends, noticing something for the first time. All four couples were separated. How had thathappened? How was it that every one of us was with different people? What were the chances of that? I wished I could ask my father—he’d know. He’d figure out the variables, the statistics, or whatever the hell they were called. Then he’d probably grab a scrap of paper and write a diagram or an equation for me, illustrating a concept I’d most likely not understand no matter how patiently he tried to teach it to me. Dad taught college-level mathematics. He pretty much knew everything there was to know about numbers. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to pass much of it on to me, his artist daughter.
Whatever the equation was, I was separated from Josh.
And it was okay.
I looked at the four small groups within the larger circle, imagining what the next few hours would hold, and shivered. Where else could sexually timid people like us—it looked as if all of us had started out at pretty much the same point—have an experience such as this?
Nowhere, that was where.
What an amazing place Josh had found for us, even though even he hadn’t known the full extent of it when he’d chosen this place for our honeymoon. The inn was safe. It was fun. It was a whole new world!
I looked at Josh, wondering.
Would he have as much fun with this calling card game as I would? I watched him whisper in Nikki’s ear, then I watched Nikki nod and whisper something back. Josh laughed and reached for her breast. How extraordinary! In what other world would I get to see my own husband making moves on another woman? In what other world would Iget to do something erotic—but as yet undetermined—with the nicest gay man in the world, with my husband’s approval?
Same answer as before. Nowhere.
I leaned over and kissed Geoffrey lightly on the mouth. “Practice,” I said.
Valerian leaned over, puckering up. “Hey! What about me? I want to practice too!”
So I kissed him as well.
“Um, Vane!” said Valerian, licking his lips, coming up for air, sitting up straight and speaking in a loud voice. “I have an idea for a rule—Angie made me think of it. How about we can fuck anyone in our group? Even if we didn’t actually draw each another’s card?” Valerian smiled at me, and added in a whisper, “Because I really want to do it with you, Angie. For days now.”
I drew in my breath. “Me too, me too. Well, since yesterday, maybe.”
“Fine,” said Vane, and began to write. “Rule Number Five—Anyone in your group is fair game.”
The circle grew louder. People moved and touched and squirmed—Zettia’s tea was having an effect on everyone, not just on me. We’d each had a cup or two before Josh’s performance while waiting in the hallway, and it was showing.
Josh cleared his throat. “Listen, everybody! I have one more. Perhaps the last one. Perhaps the most important rule of all.”
The Fine Arts Room fell absolutely quiet. Our various gropings and kissings and flirtations came to an abrupt halt at the sober listen-to-me quality of Josh’s voice.
“Yes?” said Zenith, “What is it?”
Josh waited a moment before answering. “Well. We all adore Mr. Abiba.”
The rest of us nodded. We did adore him. Yes.
“And we all feel so bad about what happened earlier, when I was playing my guitar.”
Josh caught my eye. I could see the lingering worry in his face, and it was mirrored in every other face around the circle. Josh was right. To a person we felt wretched about Mr. Abiba’s breakdown. Perhaps my poor husband felt worst of all, for he’d been the catalyst. Maybe that was why his words were so poignant.
“Go on,” said Tim quietly, “we’re listening.”
Josh sat up straighter. “Well. I was thinking. What makes him happiest? We do. He’s happiest when we’re happiest.”
“That’s because he’s such a great guy,” said Geoffrey, nodding.
“Right!” Josh continued “And we’re happiest when we’re having sex. Right?”
We all stared at Josh, holding our collective breath. Where was he going with this?
“I’m happiest when I’m having sex!” cried Nikki. “You’re right about that. And since I’m about to ha
ve sex with you, I couldn’t be any happier just now.”
Josh smiled at her. “Right. Me neither. And my dick agrees with you.” He looked from her to me then to the group as a whole. Then he began to speak slowly, carefully, enunciating each word. “We all agree. We like sex. We like Mr. Abiba. So…we invite Mr. Abiba to watch us have sex.”
Silence.
Absolute, shocked silence.
Then Zenith gasped and threw her hand over her mouth. She leaped to her feet and crossed the circle to throw her arms around Josh. “It’s perfect! Oh Josh—you’re brilliant!”
Zora stood up. She spread her arms. “It is perfect. It is! He’ll love it.”
The rest of us started talking, all at once, and Josh’s voice rang out loud and true, silencing the room again. “Here’s how it works. We invite Mr. Abiba to our rooms to watch us, to enjoy everything we do—and I mean everything. Then he moves to the next room and witnesses their happiness. He goes from room to room until the two hours are up. What do you say?”
“I say yes!” called Logan.
“Me too,” said Rhonda-Lynne.
One by one, we all agreed to the final rule.
“Rule Number Six—Invite Mr. Abiba to witness our lovemaking,” wrote Vane. He underlined it. Twice. Then circled it.
“He’s going to be so excited,” whispered Zenith, “I can’t wait to tell him.”
Vane pointed his pen at Josh. “It was your idea. You’re group number one.” Then he laughed and pointed the pen to his own chest. “We’re group number one, since I’m with you and Nikki.”
“Okay,” said Josh, “so we’re the guinea pigs.”
Then Vane pointed at Jonathan and Tim. “Group number two.”
“Gotcha,” said Tim.
He pointed at Zora, Zenith, and Rhonda-Lynne. “Group number three.”
“We’ll give him a show he’ll never forget,” promised Zora.
And finally Vane pointed directly at me. “Angie. You and your three boyfriends are group number four. You’re last. Hope there’s still something left to show Mr. Abiba when he pays his visit!”
Everyone laughed.
