Plaza Erotica

by Gia Sola

  “I’m glad it was virtual and not a literal transformation.”

  “In a way, it was that too,” Maya says. “But we had the beginnings of what I was just talking about, that idea of something larger than ourselves. I remember that. And yet, believe it or not, when I ultimately left him, I lost a lot of my memory about him. Does that make sense?”

  “No.”

  “I think it had to do with the way he’d tried to exert control over me, especially near the end when he’d talk about clipping my wings and wanting me to forget about the rest of the universe. I don’t like giving up my power.”

  “Sometimes it’s fun.”

  “Yeah, sometimes it’s fun. But in this case, all that was well, didn’t end well.”

  “I know how that works from my own experience, and not just because I’m supposed to be an expert in Literature.”

  “But, ah, the beginning was...wow! I wish we could’ve continued living like that forever, and not just on account of the sex - although we could cha-cha all night long,” Maya says, shaking off the bits of memory of the man who’d brought on so much desire. “It’s complicated my life.”

  “I also know about complicated lives,” Wendy says, “especially when we’ve got a good dancing partner.” She shimmies her shoulders and winks at Maya. “But, seriously, in your case, it sounds like he could’ve been drugging you. We hear about those things...how a wife or husband slowly poisons their spouse.”

  “It was way beyond anything as earthly as poison. And it wasn’t negative, really. Even at the end. It was such an intense connection that I swear it somehow changed my DNA.”

  Wendy puts her hands on the table, interlocking her fingers. “This sounds like science fiction, Maya. You playing some kind of game with me? If you want to play games, I know another kind that’s a lot more fun.”

  “No,” Maya says, flipping her braid back over her shoulder. “I’m serious. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to feel a connection - any kind of connection - with any other man.”

  “Well, honey, I haven’t ever felt the kind of connection you’re talking about...but if I did, I guess I’d be like you...because that kind of thing doesn’t happen too often in anybody’s life on this planet. Don’t lose the memory of the connection. But forget about the man. And stop worrying.”

  “I’m just ambivalent,” Maya says. “Nevertheless, I do think that it’s the delicate interaction of the yin and yang of evil and goodness that influences our destiny.” She looks around, and then touches the top of Wendy’s hand, tapping lightly. “Scan this room,” she says, letting her fingers rest on Wendy’s. “What you see are people who are little more than biological specimens...people who can only think creatively when it comes to their work. Not many think about destiny in the way that I do.”

  Wendy knits her brow, studies Maya’s face. “You know, I admire your depth, Maya,” she says, breaking into a wide smile. “And your flawless skin and high cheekbones, I might add.”

  Maya retrieves her hand, puts it to her blushing cheek. “A girl can use all the compliments she can get.”

  Wendy’s own face begins to redden in a blush that crawls up from her chest. “My ex-husband, he would’ve liked you,” she says. “He would’ve eaten you up with those azure eyes and long lashes.”

  “Azure eyes, huh? Sounds like a character in some dime store novel.”

  “You’re not like any of the scientists I’ve met here,” Wendy continues. “Besides your aberrant thoughts about destiny” - she smiles - “you’re more beautiful, and more sexy too. We should go out sometime - if not to continue this conversation then at least to party on our own. Since we’re both unattached, we won’t have to account for our time to anybody and can do whatever we want, whenever we want. That kind of freedom is such a turn-on to me.”

  “Being free to be spontaneous is the best thing about being single, huh?”

  “It’s the best thing whether you’re single or not. You never know what you’re going to run into if you’re open to it. For instance, did you see that cowboy in the suit leaning against the back wall?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Maya says. “But he didn’t look like a cowboy, although he was wearing nice boots. He kept his head down, as if he was contemplating those boots, so I didn’t get a clear look at his face. But for some reason, there’s something about him that seems familiar...very familiar.” She looks over toward the entrance and laughs. “Well, speak o’ the Devil and the Devil appears!”

  Wendy turns toward the door. “Our cowboy! But he doesn’t have the attributes of a Devil.”

  “He’s too sophisticated and proper looking, huh? He’s more like an angel, isn’t he?. Except for those burning eyes. Damn, I can see those eyes from here. And they’re familiar too.”

  “Eyes? Who cares about eyes? Doesn’t the Devil have a forked penis?” Wendy puts her elbows on the table to prop her head in her hands. She leans forward to whisper. “If he has a Devil dick, he could take us both at the same time. We’d make a hellish threesome, huh?”

  Maya tries to avoid looking into Wendy’s V-neckline as she puts a hand on her forearm. “Wait,” she says, “let’s not get heated up yet. We don’t want to go straight to Hell. He should first take us to Heaven!”

  “Of course! He knows the way. He’s been there too!”

  “Now that’s a turn-on,” Maya says. “The ultimate good-bad boy. My fantasy yin-yang. I’ll take that for a birthday present.”

  “Is it your birthday? When is your birthday?”

  “Next week, but I don’t advertise it. The number is getting too high.”

  “So what?” Wendy pulls out from under Maya’s hand and takes hold of it. “Let’s use that as our excuse to call him over here; tell him he’s been selected to accompany us for a birthday drink!”

  Maya doesn’t move, but she rejects Wendy’s idea. “Rather a lame line, don’t you think? When’s the last time you came on to a man, Sweetie? It needs to be his idea, don’t you know?”

  “So much for that Seventies’ Women’s Liberation thing. How many generations have to pass before we don’t have to consider the rules of the game?”

  “You’re right,” Maya says. “I once had a philosophy about rules. But it doesn’t matter these days.” She looks toward the door again. “Oh well, I don’t see him at the door anymore.”

  Wendy lets go of her hand to turn around. “Maybe he was afraid to approach us,” she says. “Or maybe he’s waiting in the hall. Let’s pray we haven’t missed our opportunity for out-of-this-world contact!”

  “I don’t think that man scares easily,” Maya says.

  “Hmmm? Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know; something about him...something about the way he was leaning against the auditorium wall. So casual, so confident. And notice the way he puts himself together?”

  “Clean-shaven, wearing expensive, well-tailored clothes, but shaggy hair.”

  “Really cool shaggy hair,” Maya says.

  “I wonder if somebody’s undressing him.”

  “Ha! I volunteer,” Maya says. “I need the experience. Even if he’s not handsome in the pretty boy way, he’s got those eyes - and his imperfect nose gives him a very interesting face. I think I’d like his face in mine.”

  “In your what?” Wendy squeezes her hand.

  “He has the body I like too, kind of a swimmer’s body, with broad shoulders, narrow waist. Oh boy. I wonder if he followed us here.”

  “If he followed us, why didn’t he come over and introduce himself?”

  “Shy.”

  “Yeah, a man who looks like that would be afraid and shy. I wonder which of us he’d prefer.”

  “How could he prefer one of us over the other, when we’re both so exciting to look at?!”

  “Men generally like a part
icular type - someone somehow compatible...just like us girls.”

  “You think we look compatible?” Maya says.

  “Who? You and me?”

  “No, not you and me. The bad boy and me.”

  “Oh yes, for sure. Or the other way,” Wendy says.

  Another thing they had in common was the tendency to blush. “What other way?” Maya says, noticing Wendy’s face had turned pink again. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her friend was attracted to her. Although she really didn’t know better. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her compact again, and a tube of lip gloss. “I need a new lipstick,” she says.

  “Ummm, if you’re free tonight,” Wendy says, “we could finish this conversation...or whatever, over dinner...or whatever. I’d like to treat you for your birthday. Do you, uh, have plans for later?”

  “I have no plans. What do you have in mind?”

  “I’ll be out of town next week visiting my family,” Wendy says. “But I have this thing about birthdays - maybe ‘cause I never had a party when I was a kid.” She bites her lower lip.

  “Well, thank you! That would be fun,” Maya says. “We can...um...do something simple, especially if you have to get ready for vacation.” She puts the mirror and lipstick away then reaches under the table to pull at her skirt while uncrossing her legs.

  “Perfect, it’s a date, then,” Wendy says. “It’s no fancy vacation and I’m just about packed. I’m not flying until Monday, arriving early for a family reunion later in the week. I’m not thrilled about the idea of seeing my mother so happy with her new boyfriend, especially when I’m still so single. I’d love to find someone who brings some happiness into my life again already, even if I used to think I could ultimately find happiness and success without a man.”

  “Yes, I know. I don’t think we’re equipped to do it. We need that ‘connection’ in life.”

  “Can’t be happy or successful--with ‘em or without ‘em.”

  “That’s not what I meant...it’s just...well, I guess I’m not sure what I meant.” Maya looks up at Wendy and smiles. “Maybe I just need to get laid.”

  “I like your attitude,” says Wendy. “Not all women think like us, you know. They don’t need - or want - sex, like some of us. But it does help to be getting it regularly...even if just to keep up the confidence level, huh? And the more confident we are, the more successful we become!”

  “Like our fantasy man who came in here. We figure he’s a success on account of his confidence. Although, maybe it’s that he’s confident on account of his success.”

  “I think it does work the opposite with men and women. I think women help each other gain confidence more than men will. A woman will hug another gal and say you can do it!”

  “Oh, but a woman can’t make love to another gal to give her confidence. We need a man for that kind of confidence.”

  Wendy laughs, lowers her voice again. “Maybe not. Or maybe that’s what dildos are for, huh? Maybe one day we’ll find out that lesbians were actually on to something. And perhaps the ideal relationship could turn out be a combination of two women and one man.”

  “Actually...that’s one of my fantasies,” Maya says.

  “Is it? Well, thanks for sharing.”

  “And, speaking of ménage a trois, I’m talking with Neil and Annalise about visiting Paris together.”

  “How cool is that? A trip to France with your ex and his new wife! When?”

  “There’s a conference I’d like to attend next summer...and although I don’t mind travelling alone if I’m away on business, for the pleasure part of a trip, I like having company. They said they’d be going to Europe and could meet me. But knowing Neil, he’d probably hope for the pleasure of a ménage a trois. Dammit, I wish I had a man in my life. I like having my own man to tour around strange cities with...and to sleep with in old hotels. ” Maya notices Wendy’s face suddenly flush again. “So, what’s up with you? You keep blushing. You okay? What’s going on?”

  “I like the notion of a ménage a trois. But, hey, girl, I saw you all fidgety yourself, crossing and uncrossing your legs every few minutes. What’s up with you?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s up with me,” Maya whispers, sharing only a part of what she’s thinking. “I’m thinking about that man from the lecture hall...the one who I swear followed us down here and then disappeared. I don’t know what it is... I don’t know if I’ve known him in my life - ”

  “Could he be the one you had the affair with? The Svengali? Is he in New York?”

  “I don’t know where he is. I think I just like the look of this guy, although the idea - ”

  “I like the idea of him too.”

  “Uh, that wasn’t what I was about to say. I was going to say that, dirty you bringing up the threesome thing, you’re making me think dirty too. And I can be a really dirty girl sometimes.”

  “Yeah,” Wendy says. “Me too...and sometimes...”

  “Sometimes...what?” Maya reaches across the table where nervous fingers touch. They let their hands linger.

  “What are you two gals getting cozy about?” Neither woman was aware of his approach. With a start, they sit back and straighten up to see Jack Barnard, the balding, boorish visiting scholar standing behind Maya. He leans over and raps fat knuckles on the table and then takes Maya’s hand. “I’m looking for honeybee sperm,” he says. Putting an eye against her lacquered nail, he chuckles. “You squeezed the balls of those boys, Maya. You squeezed ‘em so hard, they were about to explode!”

  Maya looks up at him, retrieving her hand - the hand that had touched Wendy. “What about your balls, Jack? Are they still withdrawn?” She smiles then turns toward Wendy and winks.

  “Hell,” Jack says, “I don’t want to be caught under the knife on your examining table, but it takes more than talk to scare me.” He lumbers around to the other side of the table, pulls out a chair one seat away from Wendy and sits down. “I ain’t afraid for my balls. You and your friend may like to know that I’ve got big balls.”

  “Wendy, meet Jack and his big balls.”

  “Howdy do,” Jack says. Wendy nods at him, and then nudges Maya’s foot.

  “But don’t worry about your future, Jack,” Maya says. “You’ll never be invited to lay down on my examining table with those big balls.”

  “Jealous?”

  “No, not jealous...it’s just that the man of our dreams has small balls, big cock.” Maya winks again at Wendy, who slips her foot out of her shoe and wiggles her toes against Maya’s ankle.

  “Coupla ball busters,” he says, and puts his face behind his newspaper.

  Their conversation with Jack is over, and their lunch break too. But Wendy sees that Maya’s attention has returned to her and she curls her toes, still resting against Maya’s foot. In her mind is an ancient piece of erotic verse from Sappho, You burn me.

  Maya interrupts the thought. “So, uh, when do you want to, uh, come for me?”

  “Why don’t you come for me,” Wendy says, moving her foot away. She takes a deep breath. “Come whenever you’re ready, and from my place we can walk to a quaint little neighborhood restaurant with great food.” She breathes again. “Would you like that?”

  “Sounds good. Give me your number. I’ll come. I’ll call.”

  Maya had said she’d call before six, but at 6:15, Wendy is still waiting. She picks up the phone just as it rings. “Hello Maya,” she answers. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you tonight. Was about ready to take the initiative.”

  “Sorry. I had a little death in the tub.”

  “Oh, I wish I had a bathtub in this apartment,” Wendy says. “I’ve only got a shower stall. I’ll bet it was good. Was it good?”

  “It was delicious. And you’re welcome to soak in my tub...anytime.”

 
; “Thanks. Sometime, yes. I will. So are you still coming for me? What do you want to do?”

  “Yes. I’m coming...soon as I get myself together here. What to do? Well, I imagine I, uh, want the same thing you do...dinner and...dessert. How are we dressing?”

  “It’s getting late, so let me suggest that you arrive already wearing your ball gown, darling.”

  “You mean my ball breaker gown?”

  Wendy laughs. “Or come naked, if you like. I’ll be here, all ready and waiting for you. ”

  “Am I going to be the center of our attention?”

  “Not necessarily. I like the spotlight too. We’ll practice taking turns!”

  “Taking turns doing what?”

  “Don’t be coy, Maya. Mistress Wendy doesn’t like it when you’re coy. Just get your gorgeous ass over here fast, or else I’m gonna have to lift up that gown and spank you!”

  “Oh, so that’s what you want? It’s not the kind of licking I had in mind,” Maya laughs.

  Wendy is laughing too, as she says goodbye. Then she clicks off the phone and clicks the vibrator on, thinking again about Sappho: fire...racing under skin. Later, she opens the package she bought after lunch and straps on the dildo just to see what it looks like.

  It’s after eight by the time Maya arrives at Wendy’s East Side apartment and locates her name on the building register. Too late to stop for wine, she’d taken the bottle of Belvedere from her freezer and packed a wedge of Brie and jar of caviar into her bag. She holds the vodka in her hand as she waits for Wendy to respond to the doorbell.

  “Ding dong, Devil calling,” she says when Wendy opens the door.

  Wendy greets Maya with a little kiss on the mouth, making sure it doesn’t smear either lipstick. She’s wearing a green silk kimono wrapped up with a black velvet sash. “I didn’t know the Devil was covered in fur,” she says to Maya, who hands her the bottle.

  “Oh, I must have the balls of the devil to be so politically incorrect as to wear fur anymore. But since I didn’t have a gown...”

  “Fur is always in fashion, my dear. No worries. But where’s your tail, Miss Devilishious?”