by Joan Reeves
She chose the book on erotica and began looking through it. Before she knew it, she was turning the pages until she found chapter nineteen. Her face grew warm as she read the passage.
Whew, she thought, fanning her cheeks. She turned a few more pages and began reading about all the creative things one could do with a silk scarf. When the doorbell rang, she laid the book face down.
Before she could answer the door, she heard her mother there.
"Jenny, you have company," Ronnie called. "A gentleman."
Jennifer hurried out in time to hear her mother say, "Please come in, Matt. I'm Jennifer's mother Veronica Monroe. Most people call me Ronnie."
Jennifer watched in horror as Matt walked in. Her dad rose and introduced himself. The two men shook hands.
"Matt!" She couldn't think of anything else to say. She noted how pleased her mom and dad looked. Well, they could just get that look off their faces, she thought. "May I take your coat?"
"Thanks," he said, speaking to her for the first time. "I hope you don't mind my stopping by tonight. I didn't know you had company."
"No, not at all," she said, flustered. Of all the old comfy clothes she could have changed into, why had she chosen the baggy pants and oversized shirt? She took his coat and stood there holding it.
Her mother came to the rescue. "Sit down, Matt. And, Jenny, put his coat in the closet."
He chose one of the club chairs in the living room. Hastily, Jennifer hung his coat and kept one ear tuned for her mother's voice.
"What did you say your last name was?" Ronnie asked, sitting on the couch next to her husband.
"Penrose," he replied, smiling at her parents.
Jennifer saw the puzzled look on her mother's face. She knew her mother remembered. "Matt Penrose," Ronnie said as if awestruck.
Jennifer stood behind Matt and shook her head violently at her mom. Her dad frowned. Ronnie opened her mouth to speak but closed it abruptly when she saw Jennifer place her index finger to her lips to caution her mother to silence.
Ed's frown deepened. "What kind of business are you in, Matt?"
Matt smiled, not uncomfortable with the fatherly question at all. "I'm a doctor."
"GP?" Ed asked.
"Obstetrics and Gynecology," Matt answered, figuring the gruff Ed Monroe would be nonplussed by the answer. He was right. Ed didn't say a thing, but his frown turned to a scowl. Jennifer's mother blushed.
"Have you and Jennifer been seeing each other long?" Ed asked.
"Dad," Jennifer protested at the same time that Ronnie scolded, "Ed!"
"What? What did I do?" Ed asked, looking bewildered.
"No, not long, Matt answered easily. "I thought I'd stop by and see if she wanted to go to this exhibit at the Institute for Feminist Studies tonight. You and Ronnie are welcome to come along, Ed,"
"Feminist studies, huh?" Ed remarked gruffly. "Thanks, son, sounds real fascinating, but I think I'll stick with my football game."
Matt looked longingly at the television. He'd have preferred that to the feminist thing at the museum. But when he looked at Jennifer, he decided he didn't mind missing another football game. She looked adorable in the baggy sweat pants and the man's shirt that reached her knees. He hoped the shirt was her father's.
Jennifer smoothed the collar of the chambray shirt and wished she had kept her work clothes on.
"So how about it, Jennifer?" Matt asked. "The exhibit is called Enslavement: A Woman's Perspective."
Jennifer stared at Matt in amazement. He wanted to take her to see that exhibit of women and sexual bondage? Except this exhibit had a different slant on the subject. Did he know?
"Oh, isn't that the one that, oh!" Ronnie's mouth snapped shut at the warning look Jennifer aimed in her direction.
"Jen and I saw it last month," she mouthed to her husband since Matt's eyes hadn't strayed from her daughter.
Ed patted Ronnie's hand and whispered, "There, there, dear, you're having problems finishing those sentences, aren't you?"
Ronnie playfully slapped his hand away. She looked from her daughter to Matt.
Jennifer had never suspected that she had such a streak of perversity in her soul. She couldn't wait to see the look on Matt's face when he saw that exhibit.
"I'd love to go with you, Matt. Can you give me about fifteen minutes to change?"
"Sure. I'll visit with your parents while you get ready."
Oops, she thought. That could be a problem. "Mom, could you help me a minute, please? And, Dad, why don't you get Matt something to drink?"
"No need," Matt said. "I'm fine."
"No, you look thirsty," she insisted.
Ronnie followed Jennifer to the bedroom and quickly closed the door. "What is going on here, Jennifer?"
"Well, it's a long story, Mom." Jennifer stripped the shirt and pants off and dived into her closet.
"Is he the same Matt Penrose?"
"Yep. Small world, isn't it?" Jennifer slipped into a pair of gray wool trousers and topped it with a red sweater. Then she stepped into a pair of red pumps.
"Does he know that you're little Jenny Thornhill?" Her mother asked, eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"Mother. I was never little."
Her mother dismissed her comment with a wave of her hand. "He doesn't know, does he?"
"No, and I want to keep it that way. So don't say anything. And please go keep Dad from making any reference to Michigan either."
Ronnie sighed. "Okay, but I don't like this. Why haven't you told him?"
"Like I said. It's a long story."
"And why haven't you told him you've already seen that exhibit? How can you think of going to that with a man?"
Jennifer grinned. "Mom, I'm a psychologist. I know all about stuff like that."
"I know, dear, but you could at least pretend you don't. Especially around your dad. You should have seen his face when he saw those books on your coffee table." She chuckled.
"Sorry, Mom," she said and added, tongue in cheek, "At least I put away the whips and chains this time."
"Jennifer! Really. Sometimes I think you have a warped sense of humor."
"Sometimes, Mother, I do." Jennifer kissed her on the cheek and rushed out.
"I'm ready. We'll be back around ten, I imagine." She looked at Matt for confirmation. He nodded. "And Matt can have dessert with us. Mom always fixes something scrumptious for halftime," she told Matt. It would be interesting to see if he had the guts to stick around for dessert with the parents.
"Great," he said, "I'll look forward to it."
"What is it tonight, Mom?"
"Strawberry shortcake. I'll use those luscious strawberries in your fridge."
Matt tripped over his own feet, and Jennifer bumped into him. She dared not look at him for fear she'd burst into laughter. Oh, no. Strawberries. Of all the desserts her mother could have mentioned.
"Oh, dear, are you all right, Matt?" Ronnie asked.
"Uh, yeah. Fine," he said.
Jennifer looked everywhere but at Matt. She hoped her mother didn't wonder why she blushed so hotly.
"Anyway, as I was saying, I thought I'd make strawberry shortcake. How does that sound?"
"Wonderful," Matt and Jennifer mumbled in unison.
"Well, we really need to go," he said.
"Yes, we don't want to be late for the exhibit," Jennifer said. "See you later."
Matt didn't say a word as he escorted her to his car and opened the door of the Jaguar for her.
Jennifer sank onto the glove-soft leather seat. "Oh, I've always loved Jags. This is a classic model isn't it?"
He grinned. "Yeah. When I was a kid, I saw one like this and that little Jag on the hood captivated me. I vowed I'd own one when I grew up, but I don't drive it that much. My pickup is a lot more convenient."
"It's beautiful. They stopped putting the poised jaguar on the hoods of some of the new models, didn't they?"
"Yeah, too much temptation for some, I guess. Yanking ornaments of
f car hoods is some people's idea of fun."
Matt drove carefully to the museum according to the directions he'd memorized from Google maps.
As they drove, Jennifer learned that he'd been in Texas since his college days. His parents had moved out of the rust belt upon his high school graduation. They'd moved to Houston first then his father had been transferred to Plano.
"That's where they live now. So does my sister Patricia. She's an engineer, and Dad has a computer software business to pass the time since retirement. Mom got her real estate license, they both love what they're doing."
"That's wonderful. Is Treeshee married?" She asked.
Matt looked over at her. "Treeshee? How did you know that was what we call her?"
Jennifer evaded his questioning gaze. "Isn't that a common nickname for Patricia?"
"Oh, I guess it could be." He chuckled. "I thought I was original in creating that."
He seemed satisfied with her answer. Jennifer relaxed until he asked, "Tell me about you? You don't have that Texas twang either. What part of the north are you from? How'd you and your folks end up in the Lone Star state?"
"After my mom married Dad," she stopped. "That sounds funny, doesn't it? You see, my real father wouldn't marry my mother."
At his quick look of sympathy, she shook her head. "I'm comfortable with it. I know who he is. It's never been a secret. My mother got pregnant when they were seniors in high school. He never acknowledged me. My mom wouldn't give me up, even when her family kicked her out. She's a remarkable lady. She raised me the best she could. We had some hard times, but we always had each other. Then when I was in high school, she met Ed. He was the best thing that ever happened to both of us."
"He seems like a really nice guy."
"He is. He's why we ended up in Texas. He worked for an oil company and got transferred from St. Louis. We've been here ever since. He took early retirement this year, but I think he's getting antsy already."
That was a neat bit of fancy footwork, she thought. She saw the shopping center where the Institute of Feminist Studies was located and breathed a sigh of relief.
As they parked, she said, "I hope this won't be too boring for you."
"Oh, no. I like to stay informed." He lightly touched the small of her back as they walked up the dozen or so steps to the building that looked as if it used to be a branch bank.
Matt began to doubt the wisdom of the evening when he noticed how crowded the exhibit was. With women. He seemed to be the only man in the building. He made a donation of twenty dollars and so did Jennifer, despite his protests, to the woman who sat at a writing table near the door.
The thin woman thanked them and looked down her rather prominent nose at Matt. "So," she muttered, "the word has leaked out, I see."
Matt looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind," she sighed. "Enjoy." She opened up the book on her desk and proceeded to read, ignoring them completely.
Jennifer let Matt take the lead. As the women noticed him, a quiet fell over the room. She knew he noticed because his expression grew progressively pensive. She almost felt sorry for him.
Before they reached the first painting, which was large enough to cover the wall behind her sofa, she remembered, she saw the woman who'd put the exhibit together walking toward them. The woman wore what looked to be the same skintight leather pants and bomber jacket she'd had on that first night. Maybe she thought it complemented the exhibit.
"How nice to see a member of the male persuasion here," the woman said. "I'm Dr. Noreen Eder, and this is my work." She waved her hands to encompass the gallery.
"How do you do, Dr. Eder," Matt said and then introduced himself and Jennifer.
Jennifer noted that Matt didn't use the honorific doctor before their names. Of course, one pompous doctor in the room was enough, she thought, thankful that Dr. Eder didn't remember her from opening night.
"So you are interested in this exhibit?" Noreen Eder looked Matt up and down.
Jennifer could almost see the woman's hormones being released at the sight of a desirable, apparently available, man. Possessively, she hooked her hand around his arm.
"Yes, I like to stay intellectually open," Matt said.
"Really?" Noreen Eder reached into the pocket of her leather slacks and produced an ivory business card. "Well, why don't you call me sometime? We can exchange ideas."
Matt took the card and dropped it in his coat pocket. "Thanks. If you'll excuse us now, we'd like to look around."
Well, here goes the male bashing, Matt thought, as they approached a painting that opened the exhibit. As they drew closer, he could make out details and his temples began to pound. Slack-jawed, he stopped in front of the painting and stared. No symbolism was used in the painting. It was realistic in the extreme.
The oil painting showed a man, bound hand and foot to a four-poster bed. His body strained against his bonds as he gazed with rapture at the nude woman crouched between his thighs. The woman held a long ostrich plume and there was no doubt what she'd done with the feather.
His breath swooshed out of his body as if someone had pole-axed him. He didn't dare look at Jennifer. Silently, as if he were hypnotized, he walked to the next painting. He could feel every eye on him.
The next one showed a man, clad only in a frilly apron, scrubbing a kitchen floor while a woman in a gray pinstriped business suit stood over him and read a Wall Street Journal. He could see a certain humor in that, he thought, hoping that the humor angle, rather than the sexual one, would be played up in the rest of the exhibition.
The next painting was his Waterloo. There was no way he could continue. "Jennifer, this isn't what I thought it would be. I mean, I didn't know any of this."
"I wonder how that woman squeezed into that black leather bustier. It's so tight that it looks as if it were applied with a paint gun, don't you think?" Jennifer asked.
"Uh, I don't know." Matt knew his face was the color of crimson and his eyes were glazed with shock.
"Seriously. Black fishnet stockings and crotchless panties?" Jennifer sniffed. "Why bother with the panties?"
Chapter 8
Matt drove in silence back to Jennifer's condo. She hadn't spoken a word to him since they'd walked out of the exhibit. She'd probably never speak to him again, he thought, gloomily. He was glad that she couldn't see his red face in the dark. His skin still felt hot to the touch. It was disgusting, he thought, a man his age, and an experienced doctor to boot, blushing like a pimply-faced boy. But he couldn't stop his traitorous brain from imagining Jennifer in black leather and crotchless panties. Then he'd think about the sheer stockings with the black lace banding at the top that she'd worn, and he'd get so hard that he ached. Where did you buy crotchless panties?
Jennifer decided that Matt's face could have been used for an emergency beacon. It took all her will power to keep her laughter inside. More than anything she wanted to tell him the truth, but he was so apologetic, so groveling in his contriteness, that she was afraid he wouldn't see the humor in the situation.
"I know how shocked you must be," he said, finally.
"No, no. It's all right. After all, I've seen stuff like that before."
"You mean, it doesn't bother you because you distance yourself by donning your psychologist's hat, so to speak?"
Jennifer wished she'd never concocted that story about being sexually repressed. She sighed, forced to continue the pretense, at least until she could find a graceful way to put an end to the nonsense. "That's right." She attempted to weave some truth into her lies. "You unleashed feelings in me that I didn't know were inside me. Tonight, rather than be insulted," she said, "I felt rather turned on, if you must know the truth."
He glanced sharply at her. "You did?"
She nodded, smothering her grin. She'd also felt a level of hilarity that equaled watching Wile E. Coyote get clobbered by an Acme anvil in a Roadrunner cartoon, but she chose to remain silent about that.
The tr
affic was light, and they reached her condominium complex a short while later. The parking lot was brightly lit. Too bright, darn it. There were even some late night joggers around. No privacy to be found here or in her condo, Jennifer thought, with her mom and dad still there.
"Then you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive," Jennifer said, feeling a pang of guilt. She hoped that when he found out what she'd done that he would be equally compassionate.
"So you'll see me again?" He asked, turning the motor off.
Unhappily, Jennifer looked at him. She hadn't forgotten the hurt he'd caused her in high school, but he wasn't that same callous senior any more than she was an insecure, self-conscious freshman. Though her actions of late certainly wouldn't have convinced anyone of her maturity.
Even his chat with Lucas Wyman could be excused. After all, she hadn't heard what he'd said. And she did know that Lucas Wyman was a drunken blowhard. Matt could have been totally innocent, just a guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she hadn't stopped to think about that. Instead, she'd jumped to the conclusion that he was as bad as Wyman and had decided to show him what it felt like to be a sex object. She shouldn't have yielded to the temptation to play tonight's prank on him.
Heavens, she thought, wasn't she old enough to know that when you played with fire, you ran the risk of getting burned?
"Jennifer? Will you see me again?" Matt pressed.
She shouldn't, she knew. "Yes, Matt, of course I will." She couldn't hope to hide the truth from him forever. Forever? Was that what she wanted with him? The forever kind of love her mom and dad had.
"Shall we go get some of Mom's dessert?" She asked, dejected by her sudden insight.
"I'd rather have a kiss first." He tilted the steering wheel up and moved toward her.
Desire streaked through Jennifer, leaving her limbs quivering and her lungs feeling as if she'd run a marathon. Her heart beat double-time as she went eagerly into his arms. Then that glorious feeling of rightness flooded her as his lips captured hers. He kissed her as if he never intended to stop.
