Aggie stroked her chin. “You know, in our family we did not say the word at all. A hug said love. A smile. A wink. But never the word. It was that way for many gypsies, who thought if the word was spoken, it might destroy the feeling.”
Lily nodded. “All kinds of people following their own ways of loving. It’s to be honored.”
Aggie and Piper nodded.
As the wind kicked up again and the club members imbibed their magical tea, they talked on. They stitched themselves into a long and winding scarf, wound together in a knitting and purling of sexual longing and remembering.
Finally, Piper rose and paced the bookshelves. “Can I check out something erotic to take home to read?”
“Yes, indeed. That’s a good sign for the club.” Lily got up and stretched, then looked in the erotica book closet.
Aggie wobbled to her feet. “I should leave too, but I feel too tumbly to drive. I told you, I worry lately that someone watches me. Would the sheriff arrest me for driving under the influence of tea?”
Piper examined her candy-pink nails. “Maybe we all need a minute to recover before we go home. Or did you just say that, Aggie?”
“I can’t remember.” She touched Piper’s arm. “About your friend, Piper? How is she?”
“Oh, getting along okay, I guess.”
“We’ve shared some secrets and some tea.” Lily shook her head. “Who knows? Next time, you may even decide to read a book and discuss it. Like a traditional book club.” Her face broke into a smile. “But who cares if you’re traditional? You’re the nicest ladies I know.”
“Here’s to the tea and the way it makes us feel,” Aggie said.
“To our lives.” Piper folded her hands and bowed her head. “Our decisions.”
“Getting to know each other,” Lily added. “And the joys of books read together. The meaning of our book club.”
They sat back down awhile before coming back to the real world.
“We could meet tomorrow to decide what to read.” Piper grinned. “But will there be tea?”
“If my friend supplies leaves, I’ll stir some up.” Aggie gathered up the empty teapot and cups.
Lily stood by the closet door, books in hand. “Yes, use my plant and take some reading with you. Piper, try Boswell’s London Journals. For you, Aggie, Anais Nin. Browse through A Spy in the House of Love. She’s known as one of the finest authors of female erotica.”
“There won’t be much time to read before tomorrow,” Aggie said.
“Just scan to see if the writing style appeals to you. And since you brought up the short amount of time, here’s a book of haiku. Few words, big thoughts. I’m going to stay here awhile until I plummet back to earth.”
“You know the way home.” Aggie packed the books with her tea things. “And your room is still there.”
“Funny.” Piper giggled. “I feel funny. Wacky and wonderful. It’s been awhile since I felt like that.”
Lily watched the two women disappear into the dust. Exhausted from the emotion of the session, she sank to the floor. As her thoughts cleared, her mind went to the Groverly Library. Although she missed the books that filled the city library, she knew they didn’t miss her. She’d engaged in a one-sided literary relationship that was now over. On her knees, she reached for The Venus in India and found imaginary delight in words that danced across the pages … “ardor”…“delicious”…“hard”…“denying of the thigh”… “hand that glided swiftly.”
She still didn’t feel stable enough to drive the bookmobile home. Fighting the remains of blowing grit from China, she walked the two miles to the goat farm. Never mind that the present explosion of world dust was filled with heavy metals, fungi, bacteria and viruses unfurling about her. Never mind that such things could cause an impact on living things, on oceans and continents far away. The effect of magic tea and the words of Devereaux rang in her ears and kept her from worrying about incidentals. She half expected a man to appear out of a dust cloud and wrap her in his arms. Although she was too preoccupied to notice, somewhere along the way, thinking of hands and thighs and dark-haired men, a smooth rock slipped through a tiny hole in her pocket and fell to the ground.
As she walked past rectangles of fenced fields, the wind faded. The silhouettes of the barn and garage loomed ahead. Drawing closer, she saw the white shapes of goats sleeping outside, many of them snuggled together on the picnic table Aggie provided for their climbing enjoyment. Still filled with emotion, she picked a twig of elderberry as she glided up the driveway. In the calm eye of her personal hurricane, Lily took her potted plants, dropped to her knees and transplanted her herbs into Aggie’s garden.
In her bedroom, Aggie hovered over the flat package and tuned into the universe. She sniffed at the open window. No scent of wild carrot. She listened for distant violins or voices of ancestors and waited for earthly vibrations. But the wind had died down and offered only silence. So, instead of opening the package, she opened the book of haikus. Her eyes fell on the sparse words of Seifu Enomoto.
Rumbles from the rocks –
cherry blossoms in the moonlight
far from the world of men.
She gazed out the window. The mention of blossoms reminded her of Camlo’s flowering plum. And Camlo was far from the world of men. She picked up the book by Anais Nin and read into the middle of the night, sighing when the author wrote of men and their capes.
Piper read James Boswell, in his own words, strutting up and down, considering myself a valiant man who could gratify a lady’s loving desires five times a night. And she grimaced when she read that afterward, he contracted gonorrhea, asked for (and got) his two guineas back.
CHAPTER 20
In his Groverly office, Detective Jamison checked the hot line for rare books to see if there were any rumors about a stolen book belonging to the Jardin family. The experts he’d contacted verified that book theft cases were usually solved when a sale was in progress. All he had were names on a log from the library’s Special Collections Room, people who might be suspected of stealing the book, who might be waiting for the opportunity to cash in.
Plus Lily McFae, in charge of that special room, the person who’d arranged the book exhibit. Her straightforward face stared at him from the duplicate driver’s license he’d ordered.
The sergeant stood in the doorway. “As requested, I’ve collected and listened to the tapes from the bugs at the Emporium and the Used Stuff Store in Nolan.”
“Give me a rundown.”
“As you know, Boris Ratchov deals in X-rated DVD rentals, tattoos, herbal products and antique swords. He’s been operating the store for about a year and a half, after a death in the family, but it looks legitimate. The Used Stuff Store in Nolan is just as it appears, a second hand shop. The brother and sister who run it have been in business there for a number of years. Their parents owned it and they inherited.” The sergeant handed over the transcripts.
“You’ll have some questions, though, about conversations with a certain Lily McFae. With Ratchov, it concerns ‘a transaction’ and ‘highly regarded old books.’ With Maxine Morton, it’s also about books.”
“I see.” The detective drummed his fingers on the desk. “As a matter of fact, she is also under investigation.” He remembered her sudden departure.
“Another conversation of interest was Ratchov’s conversation with a man named Griffo Verkie. They talked about ‘a treasure’ and ‘a book.’ Verkie lives a couple miles outside Nolan on a goat farm.”
“From what I know, he’s not in residence at the moment. Leave the tapes.”
The detective listened to the latest cell phone taps, including an excited call from Griffo, regarding the stolen credit card of Lily McFae.
On the tapes, he heard Boris at the Emporium with Lily and then, Maxine talking to Lily at Used Stuff. Damnable woman. Her shadow passed across several areas of concern. The Neubland salesman was not included in any conversations.
The detective nee
ded to know more about all of them, but he noted several of the conversations included Boris.
Dressed in khakis and a cotton shirt, Hugh Jamison returned to the Emporium in Nolan. He ignored the X-rated DVD display and sifted through a bin of imported twig tea packets. “Boris, is it?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
He leaned down to sniff some aging star anise. “Strong odor, that. You know, I keep hearing interesting things about your shop.”
“What do you mean?” Boris asked.
“Your store, it’s off the beaten path and there’s that certain herbal smell in the air.” Jamison lowered his voice, “I was hoping to score a little smokeable herb, if you know what I mean?”
“Sorry. Today, I can rent you a hot movie or give you a tattoo.” Boris squinted his eyes and his cheek scar stood out. “But who knows about next week? You know, with my contacts up north.”
“I didn’t think you were a small town kind of guy. Where you from?”
“Do we know each other?”
Jamison shook his head. “No, just heard talk about you.”
Boris stacked DVDs. “I’m from lots of places. Just call me a traveler.”
“Then call me a collector. I’ve also heard you dabble in other valuables.”
Boris’s face lit up. “Who knows what lurks behind my doors and drapes?” He pointed to the curtain on the tattoo room. Or what I might be selling?”
“Since I can’t make a score today, any rare books?”
Boris turned away. “Sorry, nothing to offer there. Totally out of my area of interest. But stop back in a few days if you’re still interested in the pot.”
The detective stood by the cash register and let his hand slip under the edge of the counter to check on the bug, still firmly attached. He sidestepped a display of dried alfalfa bags on his way to the door.
“Let’s just say that on the chance you find a supply, or hear of someone who’d help me find a certain book, I’ll come back. There’s considerable money involved, so perhaps a rare volume will show up.”
The muscles around Boris’s mouth tightened ever so slightly. “Your chances are slim there. Not even a book store in town. What does that tell you?”
“One never knows.” The detective nodded and left.
In the salon, Piper’s eyes were glued to the pages of Boswell.
“I went to Louisa’s in full expectation of consummate bliss…”
She drank deeply from her coffee mug and sighed over the words, “slipped into bed and was immediately clasped in her snowy arms and pressed to her milk-white bosom.”
The words cut deep as the writing intensified her craving for Freddie. She tried to think of an excuse to stop by the garage, get a hug and start a conversation, but couldn’t think of a way to start that first sentence. Erotica wasn’t helping her state of mind, just magnifying it.
She put down the book and decided to clear out her mom’s boxes in the storage room. The one marked “very personal” had always tempted her. Today, she cut the tape, folded open the cardboard top and pulled out familiar clothes. Wild print scarves, out-of-style blouses and peasant skirts. A slinky jersey and some slingback pumps her mom wore when she went out on Saturday night. Piper took the lid off an empty perfume bottle and breathed in. The scent turned her into a little girl again, curled up in her mom’s arms, inhaling the heavy fragrance that made her drowsy. She sighed and looked in the bottom of the box. A long, narrow package was all that was left. She pulled out the sealed box still in original wrapping and read the label.
ECSTACY VIBRATOR. Does not only what, but when a lady wishes. Settings, high, low and in between for added control. Pulsing RPM’s to guide your waiting body to indescribable pleasure.
She wrinkled her nose and slowly tore off the cellophane. Cautiously, she opened the top and took out the slender stick modeled from nature. She read the print on the box. Waterproof. Seven multi-speeds for personal massage. Batteries not included. She reached up to the supply shelf and after inserting double AA’s, listened to the soft low hum of the stick, a throaty noise of something familiar. “Oh, that’s weird. It sounds just like my blender.” Bit by bit, she ripped up the packaging. Grabbing the vibrator, she marched from the storage room and tossed it in the waste basket. Even with only the handle sticking out from the crumpled papers, its prominence disturbed her. She lifted it with care and set it in the drawer, hidden among the curling irons.
The phone ring startled her, and she was surprised to hear Aggie.
“It’s me and I’m at odds out here on the farm. Maybe it’s too soon, but I think it’s time to meet. I’m coming into town. Want to join me at the bookmobile?”
“Be there with bells on.”
Lily sat reading in the seating area. She looked up when the door opened and Piper and Aggie appeared. “Oh, come in, come in. I’m so glad to see you. I wanted to tell you there may be a story about the bookmobile in The Groverly Gazette. A young reporter interviewed me, but we’ll see if the story makes the paper. I didn’t give your names or mention the club.”
Aggie carried in a bag with tea supplies. “A story may bring you more book renters.”
Piper flopped down. “Yeah, publicity’s a good thing.”
Aggie arranged the cups on the table. “I have another surprise for us at home, but it’s not for today. When the time is right, I’ll bring it.” She poured. “It’s a book I found at Used Stuff, more for pleasure than erotica.”
Once more, the fizzy green liquid set them free. One. Two. Whee.
Aggie gestured toward the flower in her buttonhole. “I wore this monarda today as a flower of love. Cim planted our yard with beds of them, so the monarchs would visit whenever they passed through. Mostly, the flowers attract bees. That’s why some call the monarda by another name, bee balm.”
“Freddie never brought me flowers, but he gave me a pack of wildflower seeds once. Gas company sent them out free. Still, that should count for something. He’s really a good guy.” Her voice cracked. “I wonder if I’m being fair.”
“Men flourish like determined seeds inside our minds, don’t they?” Aggie refilled everyone’s cup.
“And so hard to weed out.” Piper rubbed her temple.
The three women drank their green potion in silence, reeling inside from the tea.
“Yes. Men.” Suddenly, Lily stood up and moved to the closet. “I have a flower story too, about a serious romance I had with a man who never brought me flowers. When I finally mentioned it, he brought me a bouquet of red roses on my birthday. I set the vase on the kitchen table, so we’d see it at breakfast. The next morning after a very, uh, torrid evening, I went into the kitchen to make coffee. On the table, where there’d been red roses, now there were white ones. I almost cried. He came up behind me and whispered in my ear, “You waited so long for me to bring you a bouquet, I thought you deserved a miracle.”
Piper gave a huge sigh. “Oh, that’s the most romantic thing.”
“A gypsy would say, that’s real magic,” Aggie said. “What happened to him?”
“He was transferred overseas and we lost touch. Ladies, I have a reminder. You haven’t picked a book to read yet.” Lily brought out volumes to set before them. “Here are some others to consider. Did you have a chance to read anything from the books I lent you?”
Aggie shook her head. “Not really.”
Piper nodded. “Just a page or two. That Boswell guy’s kind of a skunk.”
“Then, browse through these.”
“Why don’t you read us a spicy selection of something? And if we like it, that will be the book we choose,” Piper said.
Lily let her forefinger play along the covers. She stopped at a deep maroon book with a filigree design. “Let’s try Candide, a classic among classics. I’ll read a random selection and you decide yes or no.” She paged through and then stopped.
“What’s it about?” Piper asked.
“It’s a series of adventures of several people. In this part,
women have been captured by pirates. I’ll read something in the middle.” The women leaned forward when she read, “‘they were immediately stripped stark naked, my mother, our ladies in waiting–’”
“Whoa, did you say stripped?” Piper said. “I’m going to pretend her mother wasn’t there.”
“I believe she said ‘stark’ too,” added Aggie.
Lily drank a sip of lively liquid. “Yes, the very words, stripped stark naked.”
“Let’s take a minute to think about that.” Aggie finished her tea. In the stillness of her mind, she pressed against Camlo’s hard body. Naked, under the moonlight, she felt him strong against her. “I might need at least two minutes,” she said.
Piper poured herself another dram and imagined Freddie slipping the silky teddy over her head and tossing it to the floor. “Yeah, at least two.”
Lily daydreamed of meeting a man in the library. But then it turned into a sailing ship. And his coat was rough against her exposed skin. A man whose name she didn’t even know.
After a while, she picked up the book. “Now, let me continue,
‘It was wonderful how quickly these gentlemen can strip people; but what surprised me more, was that they put their fingers–’”
“Wait. Wait,” Aggie said.
Lily stopped.
Aggie sighed. “I’m not sure about hearing the exact wherefores of where the men looked next.”
Lily’s voice was low. “Oh, it just goes on to say -
‘They wanted to make sure we had not hidden any diamonds there.’”
Piper giggled. “Blush to tell you, but been there, done that, without the jewelry. Boy, sorry ladies, this tea makes me really chatty.”
“Let me read on.” And Lily continued with the passage, with her listeners thinking of the men in their lives. Instead of following along with Voltaire, they thought of eyes crinkled with laughter, chiseled noses and tender fingers, tan muscled arms, firm abdomens, tight buns.
The session left them satisfied with recollections. Smiles played at the corners of their mouths. And as erotic triggers swept through their veins, their cares and wrinkles disappeared.
The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies Page 16
