“Very well, Daughter. If you have to be later, please telephone so that we won’t worry. And—Maureen.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Enjoy it, darling.”
“Oh, mon cher papa, tu es aimable! je t’adore!”
“Go out there and adore Sergeant Ted. You will probably be his last piece for a long time…so make it a good one! Love you, best of daughters.”
My usual method of letting myself be seduced is to decide ahead of time, create or help create the opportunity, then cooperate with whatever advances the nominal seducer makes. (Contrariwise, if I have decided against it, I simply see to it that no opportunity arises.) That night I did not have time for the ladylike pianissimo protocol. I had just this one chance and only two hours to make it work—and no second chance; Theodore was going overseas. A warrior’s farewell had to be now.
So Maureen was not ladylike. As soon as we turned off Benton Boulevard and the gathering dusk had given us some privacy, I asked him to put his arm around me. When he did so, I reached up, took his hand and placed it on my right breast. Most men understand that.
Theodore understood it. He caught his breath. I said, “We haven’t time to be shy, dear Theodore. Don’t be afraid to touch me.”
He cupped my breast. “I love you, Maureen!”
I answered soberly, “We have loved each other since the night we met. We simply could not say so.” I raised his hand, then slid it down the full neck of my dress, felt scalding excitement as his hand touched my breast.
He answered huskily, “Yes. I didn’t dare tell you.”
“You would never have told me, Theodore. So I had to be bold and let you know that I feel it, too. The turn is just ahead, I think.”
“I think so too. I’ll need both hands to drive that lane.”
“Yes, but only till we get there. Then I want both your arms…and all your attention.”
“Yes!”
He drove in, turned his car around and headed out, turned off his lights and stopped his engine, set his hand brake and turned to me. He took me in his arms and we kissed, a fully-shared kiss, with our tongues exploring and caressing and talking wordlessly. I was in Heaven. I still think that a totally unrestrained kiss is more intimate than is coupling; a woman should never kiss that way unless she intends to couple at once in whatever way he wants her.
Without words I said this to Theodore. As soon as our tongues met I pulled up my skirt, took his hand and put it between my thighs. He still hesitated, so I moved his hand farther up.
No more hesitation—All Theodore needed was to be certain that I knew what I wanted and that his best attentions were welcome. He explored me gently, then slipped a finger inside. I let it enter, then squeezed it as hard as I could—and congratulated myself on never having skipped my exercises even a day since Ethel was born, two years earlier. I love to surprise a man with the strength of my vaginal sphincter. My passage is so baby-stretched that, if I did not work endlessly to overcome it, I would be “big as a barn door and loose as a goose”—so says my father, whose advice got me started on this routine years ago.
We were now past all shyness, any turning back. But I had something I had to tell him. I got my tongue back and took my mouth a half inch from his, chuckled against his mouth. “Surprised to find that I am not wearing bloomers? I took them off when I went upstairs…for I can’t tell my gallant warrior a proper farewell with drawers in the way. Don’t hold back, beloved soldier mine; you can’t harm me, I’m expecting.”
“What did you say?”
“Must I always be the bold one? I am pregnant, Theodore; no possible doubt, I am seven weeks gone. So don’t use a rubber on me—”
“I can’t, I don’t have one.”
“So? Then isn’t it nice that you don’t need one? But didn’t you expect to have me?”
“No. I did not. Not at all.”
“But you’re going to have me. You can hardly get out of it now. You’ll have me bare, darling, no rubber. Would you like me to be bare all over? I will be if you ask me to. I’m not afraid.”
He stopped to kiss me fiercely. “Maureen, I don’t think you are ever afraid of anything.”
“Oh, yes, I am. I would not dare be alone on Twelfth Street at night. But afraid of sex and loving? No, not anything I can think of. So help yourself, my darling. If I know how, I’ll do it. If I don’t, show me and I’ll try.” (Theodore, stop talking and take me!)
“This seat is narrow.”
“I hear that the young people take out the back seat and put it on the ground. There is a robe in the back seat, too.”
“Um, yes.”
We got out of his car—and ran into the most confounded Keystone Kops contretemps I have ever experienced.
Woodrow.
My favorite, Woodrow, whom I could happily have throttled at that moment, was in the back seat, and woke up as I opened the door. Well, I think he woke up; he may have been awake and listening the whole time—memorizing any words he did not know, for later investigation—and blackmail.
Oh, that boy! Would the world let him grow up? I wondered.
But what I said, in my happiest voice, was: “Woodrow, you’re a scamp! Sergeant Theodore! See who is sleeping in the back seat.” I reached behind me and tried to button Theodore’s breeches.
“Sergeant Ted promised to take me to Electric Park!”
So we went to Electric Park, thoroughly chaperoned.
I wonder if other women have as much trouble getting themselves “ruined” as I do?
About twenty hours later I was in my own bed, my husband Captain Brian Smith on my right, my lover Captain Lazarus Long on my left. Each had an arm under my neck, each was using his free hand to caress me.
I was saying, “Brian beloved, when Lazarus completed the ritual by answering, ‘But not “While the Evil Days Come Not,”’ I almost fainted. When he said that he was descended from me—from us, you and me—from all three of us, you and me and Woodrow—I was convinced that I was losing my mind. Or had lost it.”
Briney tickled my right nipple. “Don’t worry about it, Swivel Hips; on a woman it hardly shows. As long as she can still cook. Hey! Stop that.”
I eased up on him. “Sissy. I didn’t do that very hard.”
“I’m in a weakened condition. Captain Long, as I understand it, you decided to reveal yourself—against your own best interests, I believe—in order to tell me that I won’t get hurt in this war.”
“No, Captain, not that at all.”
Briney sounded puzzled. “I must confess that I don’t understand.”
“I revealed that I am a Howard from the future in order to reassure Mrs. Smith. She’s been worrying herself sick that you might not come back. So I told her that I was certain that you did come back. Since you are one of my direct ancestors, I studied your biographical resume before I left Boondock. So I knew.”
“Well—I appreciate your motives; Maureen is my treasure. But it is reassuring to me, too.”
“Excuse me, Captain Smith. I did not say that you won’t get hurt in this war.”
“Eh? But you just did. So I thought.”
“No, sir. I said that you will come back. You will. But I did not say that you won’t get hurt. The Archives in Boondock are silent on that point. You may lose an arm. Or a leg. Or your eyes. Or even become a basket case; I don’t know. I’m sure of just this much: you will live through it and won’t lose your testicles and penis, because the Archives show that you two have several more children. Ones you will sire after you come back from France. You see, Captain, the Howard Family Archives are mostly genealogies, with few details otherwise.”
“Captain Long—”
“Better call me ‘Bronson’ sir. Here I’m a staff sergeant; my ship is light-years away and far in the future.”
“Then knock off calling me ‘Captain,’ for Pete’s sake. I’m Brian; you’re Lazarus.”
“Or Ted. Your children call me ‘Uncle Ted’ or ‘Sergeant Ted.’ Cal
ling me ‘Lazarus’ could involve all sorts of explanations.”
I said, “Theodore, Father knows you are Lazarus and so do Nancy and Jonathan. And so will Carol when you take her to bed. You let me tell Nancy when you took her to bed; my big girls are too close to each other to keep such secrets from each other. So it seems to me.”
“Maureen, I said that you could tell anyone because you would not be believed. Nevertheless each case involves long explanations. But why are you assuming that I am going to take Carol to bed? I did not say that I would. And I have not asked for that privilege.”
I turned my face to the right. “Briney, do you hear this man? Do you see now why it has taken me more than a year to trip him? He didn’t offer the slightest objection to screwing Nancy—”
“I’m not surprised; neither did I.” My husband leered and licked his lips. “Nancy is special. I told you.”
“You’re an old goat, my beloved. I don’t believe you’ve turned down anything female since you were nine—”
“Eight.”
“You’re boasting. And untruthful. And Theodore is just as bad. He let me think he was willing to satisfy Carol’s greatest ambition once I cleared it with headquarters, meaning you…and I did, and then I told Carol not to despair, that Mama was working on it and it looked hopeful, quite hopeful. And now he acts as if he had never heard of the idea.”
“But, Maureen, I expected Brian to object. And he has.”
“Now wait a moment, Lazarus. I did not object. Carol is physically a grown woman and—I have today learned—no longer virgin…and not surprising; she’s a year older than her mother was—”
“More nearly two,” I put in.
“Shut up, you; I’m pimping for our daughter. All I did was lay down some reasonable rules for Carol’s protection. Lazarus, you did agree that they were reasonable?”
“Oh, certainly, Captain. I simply refused to accept them. My privilege. Just as it is your privilege to make them. I have accepted that you do not want me to copulate with your daughter Carol other than by your rules. That settles it; I won’t touch her.”
“Very well, sir!”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” I almost let my voice rise. “You both sound like Woodrow. What are these rules?”
Theodore said nothing. Brian answered in a pained voice, “First, I asked him to use a rubber. Didn’t matter with you or Nancy; both of you broads are knocked up. He refused. I then—”
“Are you surprised, my darling? I’ve often heard you refer to it as ‘washing your feet with your socks on.’”
“Yes, but Carol does not need a baby this season. Certainly not a little bastard before she’s considered her Howard options. But Mo’, I did concede that Ted is himself a Howard. I simply said that, All right, if Carol got pregnant from giving him a soldier’s farewell, I wanted him to promise that he would come back when the war is over and marry Carol and take her and her baby to—What’s that you call your planet, Captain? Boondock?”
“Boondock is a city; my home is in its suburbs. The planet is Tellus Tertius, Earth Number Three.”
I sighed. “Theodore, why wouldn’t you agree to that? You tell us that you have four wives and three co-husbands. Why wouldn’t you be willing to marry our Carol? She is a good cook, and she doesn’t eat all that much. And she’s very sweet-tempered and loving.” I was thinking how dearly I would like to go to Boondock…and marry Tamara. Not that I ever would; I had Briney and our babies to take care of. But even an old woman can dream.
Theodore said slowly, “I abide by my own rules, for my own reasons. If Captain Smith does not trust me with respect to my behavior toward other people—”
“Not ‘other people,’ Captain! A particular sixteen-year-old girl named Carol. I am responsible for her welfare.”
“So you are. I repeat, ‘other people,’ be they sixteen-year-old girls or whosoever. You don’t trust me without promises; I don’t give promises. That ends it and I am sorry the matter ever came up. I did not bring it up. Captain, I did not come here to bed your ladies; I came to say goodbye and thank-you to a whole family all of whom had been most generous and hospitable to me. I have not intended to disturb your household. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Ted, don’t be so damned stiff-necked. You sound just like my father-in-law when he gets his back up. You have not disturbed my household. You have pleased my wife enormously and for that I thank you. And I know that you were trapped by her; she told me months ago what she intended to do to you if she ever got you alone. This discussion is just over Carol, who has no claim on you. If you don’t want her under what I see as minimum protection for her welfare, then let her stick to boys her own age. As she should.”
“Agreed, sir.”
“Damn it; knock off the ‘sirs’; you’re in bed with my wife. And me.”
“Oh, dear!”
“Mo’, it’s the only sensible solution.”
“Men! Always doing what you call ‘sensible’ and always so wrongheaded and stubborn! Briney, don’t you realize that Carol doesn’t give a hoot about promises? She just wants to spread her legs and close her eyes and hope that she catches. If she doesn’t catch, a month from now she’s going to cry her eyes out. If she does catch, well, I trust Theodore and so does Carol.”
Briney said, “Oh, for God’s sake, Mo’! Ted, ordinarily she is quite easy to live with.”
Theodore said, “Maureen, you said, ‘A month from now she’s going to cry her eyes out.’ Do you know her calendar?”
“Why, yes. Well, maybe. Let me think.” My girls kept their own calendars…but old snoopy Mama kept her eyes open, just in case. “Today is Wednesday. If I recall correctly, Carol is due again three weeks from tomorrow. Why?”
“Do you remember the thumb rule I gave you to insure, uh, ‘ringing the cash register,’ you called it.”
“Yes, indeed. You said to count fourteen days from onset of menses then hit that day. And the day before and the day after, if possible.”
“Yes, that is how to get pregnant, a thumb rule. But it works the other way, too. How not to get pregnant. If a woman is regular. If she is not abnormal in some way. Is Carol regular?”
“Like a pendulum. Twenty-eight days.”
“Brian, stipulating that Maureen’s recollection of Carol’s calendar is accurate—”
“I would bet on it. Mo’ hasn’t made a mistake in arithmetic since she found out about two and two.”
“—if so, Carol can’t get pregnant this week…and I’ll be on the high seas the next time she is fertile. But this week a whole platoon of Marines could not knock her up.”
Briney looked thoughtful. “I want to talk to Ira. If he agrees with you, I’ll drop all objections.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘No’? No rules. Relax.”
“No, sir. You don’t trust and I don’t promise. The situation is unchanged.”
I was ready to burst into tears from sheer exasperation. Men’s minds do not work the way ours do and we will never understand them. Yet we can’t get along without them.
I was saved from making a spectacle of myself by a knock on the door. Nancy. “May I come in?”
“Come in, Nanc’!” Briney called out. “Come in, dear,” I echoed.
She came in and I thought how lovely she looked. She was freshly shaved that morning, in preparation for a swap that Nancy and Jonathan had asked for—Jonathan into my bed, Nancy into Theodore’s. Theodore had hesitated—afraid of hurting my feelings—but I had insisted, knowing what a treat our Nancy would be for Theodore (and Theodore for Nancy!) (and Jonathan for Maureen; I was flattered enormously that Jonathan had suggested it).
Father had taken the rest of my zoo to the Al G. Barnes Circus, playing in Independence—all but Ethel, too young for the circus, too young to notice; I had her crib in my bathroom, safe and in earshot.
That playful swap had gone beautifully and made me think even more highly of my prospective son-in-law. About three o’clock we four,
Nancy and Theodore, Jonathan and I, had gathered in “Smith Field,” my big bed, mostly to chat. As Briney often said, “You can’t do it all the time, but there is no limit to how much you can talk about it.”
We four were still lounging in Smith Field, talking and necking, when Brian telephoned—he had just arrived in town, on leave. I told him to hurry home and cued him in family code as to what he could expect. Nancy understood the coded message and looked wide-eyed but said nothing.
Thirty-odd minutes later she closed her eyes and opened her thighs and for the first time received her father—then opened her eyes and looked at Jonathan and me, and grinned. I grinned back at her; Jonathan was too busy to look.
What this world needs is more loving, sweaty and friendly and unashamed.
Then the children had gone downstairs; Nancy had sensed that I wanted time alone with my two men. She took the telephone with her, long cord and all. Now she stood by the bed and smiled at us. “Did you hear the phone ring? It was Grandpa. He said to tell you that the zoo wagon will arrive—that’s your car, Ted-Lazarus darling—will arrive at exactly six-oh-five P.M. SO Jonathan is bathing and I wanted him not to use all the hot water. He left his clothes up here; I’ll take them down to him, then I’ll bathe and dress up here. Ted-Lazarus dear, where are your clothes?”
“In the sewing room. I’ll be right down.”
“Cancel that,” Brian said. “Nancy, fetch Ted’s clothes when you come up, that’s my sweet girl. Ted, in this family we spit in their eyes and tell ’em to go to hell. You don’t need to dress until we do, after the doorbell rings. A husband is all the chaperon a wife needs, and I don’t explain to my children why we choose to have a guest upstairs. As for mon beau-père, he knows the score and is our shut-eye sentry. If Carol guesses, she won’t talk. Thanks, Nancy.”
“Pas de quoi, mon cher père. Papa! Is it true that Ted doesn’t have to go back tonight?”
“Ted goes back with me, Sunday night. Special duty, assigned to me-and I sold him, body and soul, to your mother, who may kill him by then—”
“Oh, no!” Both my daughter and I said it.
“Or not, but she’ll try. Now get along, darling, and set that door to latch as you close it.”
To Sail Beyond the Sunset Page 23
