by Ann B. Ross
Still, I was more than a little uneasy about the approaching party. I didn’t like the high-handed way it had been moved to my house just to accommodate Hazel Marie, who was known to have plenty of spending money. That was enough to put me off, right there.
I just wished I knew what Tina would be selling. Anything called a passion party conjured up any number of possibilities, Hazel Marie’s intimations notwithstanding, because that was too far-fetched for me to believe. Maybe Tina planned to introduce some new weight program that featured passion fruit as a calorie eater. Or maybe she was into physical fitness and had warm-up suits for sale. People who exercise a lot can be quite passionate about it, I understand. Then again, it could be a course on how to have a passion for winning souls, and she’d have study guides and books for sale.
That’s probably what it was, since Pastor Ledbetter occasionally whipped up a sermon exhorting us to put some passion in our spiritual lives.
On the other hand, it was hard to tell what Tina had in mind, for our local Baptists could work up a missionizing fervor for just about anything. It always brought me up short to see something like Workout with Jesus on a marquee in front of a church, because I just couldn’t wrap my mind around a picture of him on a treadmill.
We hurriedly finished dinner before the party guests arrived, and Sam good-naturedly took himself off for the evening. I didn’t think it was a good sign that men wouldn’t be welcome, but then they generally weren’t at an afternoon tea, either.
Little Lloyd was able to come to the table in his bathrobe, but he didn’t have much of an appetite. Hazel Marie prepared a tray of iced ginger ale and soda crackers to put beside his bed, in case he felt like eating later on. As she ran to answer the first ring of the doorbell, I straightened his bed and propped up his pillows.
“We’ll be right downstairs, Little Lloyd,” I told him. “Just sing out if you need anything.”
“I’m feeling a lot better,” he said, pushing back his glasses with one hand and reaching for a book with the other. “But I slept so much today, I probably won’t close my eyes all night long.”
“Oh, I expect you will.” I moved the lamp a little closer. “Don’t read too long, now. You need to rest your eyes, especially while you’re feeling poorly. Do you have enough blankets on your bed? I don’t want you to get chilled. Next thing you know, you’d be down with pneumonia or something.”
“Yessum, I’m warm enough.” He closed his book with a finger left to hold his place. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m a whole lot better, and I’ll probably go to school tomorrow.”
“Well, we’ll see. Call me now, if you start feeling bad again.”
I walked to the door, then looked back at him sitting up in bed with the lamplight making a halo of his wispy hair. We smiled at each other, and I pulled the door closed behind me.
By the time I got downstairs, Hazel Marie had welcomed six or seven women and was opening the door for more. I knew most of them, and knew of the rest. Helen Stroud was there and Mildred Allen, but not Tonya, which I thought unusual since she generally accompanied her mother wherever she went. LuAnne greeted me with a flurry of hands and excited giggles.
“Julia!” she said. “I couldn’t believe it when Tina called to change the party from her house to yours. Marriage has done wonders for you, because I didn’t think you’d ever be a party to a party like this.”
So LuAnne knew more about the merchandise than I did, which didn’t allay my concerns as to its suitability in a mixed company of Baptists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, and a few Catholics, as this group was shaping up to be. It was just not done to proselytize from one church to another, and I hoped Tina would keep her enthusiasm under control and not offend anybody.
Moving through the crowd of women, I noticed that most of them seemed somewhat subdued, even shamefaced, with averted eyes and less than warm greetings to each other. Hazel Marie made an effort to introduce everybody, but she didn’t know half of them. I think they were mostly independents of one kind or another.
Tina took her place in front of a card table and opened up a large black case on the table. As she organized her notes, I smiled at Miriam Hargrove and Kathleen Williams, who had just come in. They gave me a quick nod and took seats in the back of the room. It struck me that everybody had been remarkably close-mouthed about this party at the circle meeting that morning. And with that thought, I realized that Emma Sue Ledbetter wasn’t with us, though that didn’t exactly surprise me. She wasn’t very ecumenical in her thinking.
“Ladies,” Tina said, bringing to a close the murmur of voices among those present. “Ladies, tonight I am going to introduce you to some products that will literally change your lives. But before I show them to you, let me remind you that we are blessed to live in a time of greater freedom for women, but don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating women’s lib. I’m just saying that there’s no reason in the world that women, whether married or not, shouldn’t experience the full pleasure and richness of all our God-given senses.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that.
“Now, don’t worry.” Tina said. “I’m not going to give you my personal testimony, but I am going to say that when I came to know the Lord, I realized that I had a real problem. What is a woman supposed to do? How is she supposed to act? What is free and open to her, and what is not? It all boiled down to one basic question: Is it permitted, or even possible, to be both saved and sexy?”
My eyes rolled back in my head, and I had a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“And to answer that question,” Tina went on, “the company I represent, Erotica Home Parties, for which I am your official passion consultant, has come out with a number of products that will open the doors of the Christian woman’s sensual nature. Just as we are to reach our full potential mentally, physically, and spiritually, so God wants us to reach our full potential sexually.”
I felt myself rearing back in my chair, as my mouth tightened to a thin line. There wasn’t a sound in the room, for Tina had our full attention.
“Now, ladies,” Tina said with a laugh, “there’s no reason for you to be embarrassed at anything we talk about. We just have to remember that a woman’s sensuality is natural. In fact, it is a God thing, and we’re all in the same boat. We all have needs and desires that are God given, and all I’m going to do is help you fulfill them. And believe me, you will thank me for it, and if you don’t, your husbands certainly will.”
That got a ripple of polite laughter, but not from me.
“So let’s start with something simple,” Tina said, drawing out a pink plastic bottle with a multicolored label. She opened it and poured a thick, clear liquid into the palm of her hand. “This is our strawbery-flavored, organic massage oil and, ladies, it contains only edible oils from nature, and I stress edible. It creates a tingling sensation on the skin and tongue, and tastes delicious. Here, Janet, let me rub some on your arm so you can see how it feels.” She did, eliciting an amazed expression from Janet as the oil began its work. Then Tina passed the bottle around and urged us to try it on ourselves. “Just imagine what this will feel like all over your body, and even better, imagine what it’ll feel like on your husband’s body. It’s our Delicktable Massage Oil, and it will put zing into your lovemaking.”
I drew back when the bottle came around to me, not wanting to touch the thing, much less rub its contents on my arm. But it had broken the ice, for the women were laughing and exclaiming, and losing much of their earlier reserve.
“Now, ladies,” Tina called above the laughter, “I want to show you something that will start things off right from the minute your man comes in the door. If he comes home tired and cranky, just flash him with this.” Out of her satchel came a strip of pink and black lace. She stretched it over her hands to reveal what I thought were bikini step-ins, but, Lord, there was no bottom to it.
Gasps of shock and what sounded suspiciously like delight rose around the room
.
“And what about this?” Tina yelled, holding up what seemed to be black pantyhose. “Just flip your dress up when he starts complaining about dinner, and see how fast he changes his tune.”
My word, the whole bottom and back end were missing. It was the most indecent thing I’d ever seen.
“Anybody want to model this for us?” Tina said, laughing. But not a soul volunteered, which didn’t surprise me.
What did surprise me, as well as everyone else, was what she pulled out next. It took me a minute to identify the items, because I wasn’t all that familiar with the real things, much less life-sized plastic models of them. Tina carefully placed an array of what she called Erotica Love Toys on the table. Each item had its own name, which she called out and urged us to write down so we could place our orders.
“This one is called the Jelly Rabbit,” she said. “And this one is the Bell-Ringer, and here’s the Double-Duty Boy. And you can get the pulsating variety or the vibrating kind, and, believe me, with one of these nobody will be lying there thinking of England.”
I could hardly get my breath by this time, panting in outrage at the nerve of Tina Doland for lining up substitute male members on my card table in full view of everybody. I had to avert my eyes and fan my face. So realistic, don’t you know, and right there in my living room, where cultured family life was carried on.
I want to tell you that I had never seen nor heard of anything so coarse and tasteless. But Tina kept on and on, assuring us that each one of the gently curved, lifelike, lubricated, and battery-operated plastic passion toys was used by the most genteel of women.
“Ladies,” she said, “you haven’t lived until you’ve tried one of these. Turn one on, and you’ll turn him on, too.”
I couldn’t sit still any longer. “Hazel Marie,” I whispered, leaning close. She didn’t move. Her mouth was slightly agape, as she gazed in wide-eyed wonder at Tina’s lifelike merchandise.
“Hazel Marie!” I hissed, finally getting her attention. “I’m going to see about Little Lloyd.”
She nodded, absently, and I took myself off, unwilling to spend another minute in the presence of such lewd notions as were being introduced to our minds. No one paid my leaving any attention at all. They were all transfixed by what they were seeing and hearing, and the possibilities being opened up to them in the privacy of their own homes.
I tiptoed upstairs, resolved within myself to give Tina Doland a piece of my mind for going beyond the bounds of decency and good taste. Just as soon as I could do it without creating a public scene.
Chapter 11
When I heard the door close behind the last guest, I left Little Lloyd softly snoring and went downstairs. Hazel Marie shot me a worried glance, then quickly looked away to concentrate on folding up the card table. I didn’t say anything, just started moving chairs to their normal places.
“Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie finally said, as she straightened up and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I didn’t know what Tina was going to do, and I’m so sorry that you had to see it and be offended and all. She told me that she was only going to offer helpful suggestions for closer relationships.” She stopped and bit her lip. “I should’ve known something was up when she called it a passion party.”
“I should’ve, too,” I said, sighing, as I sat on the sofa. “It’s unfortunate that we didn’t. I declare, Hazel Marie, I didn’t know such things were made, much less used. And for Tina to display them and offer them for sale like they were the most ordinary things in the world, well, it just did me in.”
“Me, too,” Hazel Marie admitted, as she took a seat beside me. “I was shocked, but a little fascinated, too. I mean, where else would you find such items? You couldn’t just ask for them in a store.”
“I don’t know who’d want them. I’m sure Tina didn’t sell a thing.”
“Oh,” Hazel Marie said with a smile, “you’d be surprised. She did quite well. You should’ve stayed to see who ordered.”
“Just saying right out loud what they wanted? Oh, surely not, Hazel Marie.”
“No, what Tina did was give each of us an order form. We just checked what we wanted and gave them back to her. She’s the only one who knows who got what.”
“That alone would disturb me,” I said.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, our minds occupied with the evening’s activities.
Hazel Marie took a deep breath. “I might as well tell you, Miss Julia, I ordered something, too. But it was just that massage oil, because Tina said it was good for dry skin, and I thought I ought to buy something. But you don’t have to worry,” she went on quickly, “it’ll come in a plain brown wrapper, so nobody’ll know.”
“No need to explain to me, Hazel Marie. I understand how these home parties can put you on the spot.” I let the silence stretch for a minute, then casually asked, “Who else placed orders?”
She giggled. “Practically everybody. And some of the ladies took forever because they were checking so many things.”
“Lord, Hazel Marie, what kind of woman would want any of it?” I leaned my head back on the sofa, just undone that I now had a whole new array of indecent thoughts cluttering up my mind.
“You should’ve seen what Tina had for men,” Hazel Marie went on, an awed tone in her voice. “I couldn’t believe it. She showed us these ring things that go on a man’s, . . . well, they’re called pleasure rings, but seems like to me they’d really hurt. But the names, Miss Julia, you wouldn’t believe the names of the toys she showed us. There was something called the Coochy-Coo and something else called the Hot Potato. I never did get what you do with them.”
Since my mind couldn’t seem to be swayed from further contemplation of those offensive items, I just gave in to it, and asked, “What about Mildred Allen? Did she buy anything?”
“Oh, Miss Julia, you should’ve seen her. She laughed and giggled and checked what looked like the whole form. She kept saying she wished Tonya had come, since Tonya probably needed all the help she could get.”
“Did she really? That is so tasteless, with everybody knowing that poor Tonya will have trouble finding a man. I’m surprised at Mildred. Who else, Hazel Marie? What about LuAnne? Did she get anything?”
“LuAnne was sitting behind Mildred, all scrooched up so I couldn’t see what she was doing. But she sure took a long time doing it.”
“I guess it was a good thing that Emma Sue didn’t come,” I said, with a rueful laugh. “She’d have been so shocked she’d never get over it.”
“I don’t think she was invited,” Hazel Marie said. “And you noticed that the Baptist preacher’s wife didn’t come, either, didn’t you? Tina’s no fool. I can’t imagine that her church really approves of these parties.”
“Yes, but she tried her hardest to bring a Christian slant to what she was selling.” I sat for a minute, thinking of how often commercial enterprises painted a layer of Christianity over their wares. It was enough to make a real Christian sick at heart.
I suddenly sat up. “Oh, my goodness, Hazel Marie. Tina showed those awful things in my house, and that means everybody’s going to think I condone using them. This is going to ruin my witness, and here I am, practically an elder.”
“You mean you’re going to run?” Hazel Marie asked. “Oh, I’m so glad. Everybody wants you to.”
“I still haven’t made up my mind. But if Pastor Ledbetter hears about what was flagrantly displayed in my living room, he might well have grounds to disbar me before I even get started.”
A door closed in the back of the house, and we both turned toward it. “That’s Sam,” I said, smiling and getting to my feet. “We’d better defer this conversation. I wouldn’t want to shock him.”
She laughed. “I know what you mean. I can’t wait to see J.D.’s face when I . . .” She came to an abrupt stop, her hand flying to her mouth. “Not that I would tell him. I mean, since we’re not married or anything.”
What went on between Hazel Marie
and Mr. Pickens was one of those matters that I didn’t want to know about. To ease her embarrassment, I said, “I expect Mr. Pickens knows all he wants to know, and he wouldn’t need a party to teach him anything new.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “He’s forever surprising me with what he knows.” She turned away, her face reddening even more. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Miss Julia, but I think I better go on to bed. I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”
Later, when we’d been in bed for some little while, Sam said, “How was the party? Did you have a good time?”
“Let’s just say I’ll never go to another one.”
We lay there in the dark, breathing together. I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders, noting how the nights were getting remarkably cooler. It was most pleasant having someone warm next to me. Then Sam turned over, letting a rush of cold air under the covers.
“Sam?” I said, as his breathing slowed, and I, myself, was about to drop off.
“Hm-m-m?”
“I’m glad we don’t need any substitutes in this marriage.”
“I am, too, Julia,” he mumbled. After a minute or so, he raised his head and spoke over his shoulder. “What brought that on?”
“Oh, nothing. Just being thankful for what I have, and relieved we don’t have to buy it at a Tupperware party.”
It was midmorning on the following day when Sam called me from his house, where he’d been working on his legal history.
“Julia? Vernon Puckett just called. He’s on his way over, and I thought you might want to be here, too.”
My heart rate jumped up a few notches. “Is he bringing proof? Or what he thinks is proof?”
“I don’t know what he’s bringing. He just said we needed further discussion about the wool that’s being pulled over our eyes.”
