The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies

by Connie Spittler

  “Aggie, your tea exhilarates.” Lily stretched her arms and waved them above her head.

  “I need to move.” Piper leapt up. “What say we adjourn to the Hopper? There’ll be real men to watch there. Good looking, drinking men. We’ll pick our book next time.”

  “Well, okeydokey.” Aggie bounced up from her seat. “But I don’t watch men much. Haven’t in a long while.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Lily grabbed another book and her half-full cup of tea. “While we study the males on tap, we can analyze erotica from a different point of view.”

  The women tripped out of the bookmobile and into the bar. They gravitated to a table in back. As they settled in, they listened to the cable weatherman give his report on the huge bar TV screen.

  “In India, purple rain is falling from the sky. In other parts of the world, downpours are reported in shades of scarlet, green, yellow, brown and black. What causes these colors? Scientists maintain it’s the presence of sand, pollen, dust, soot or other impurities.”

  Aggie sighed. “Gypsies would say this rain of many colors is meant to reveal the mysteries of the universe.”

  “And those who value knowledge and imagination might say that all opinions are possible.” Lily noticed a tall man enter and sit in a far corner. Their eyes locked. He wore a brown tweed jacket. She imagined the touch of his hand. His body close. She shook her head as her stomach flipped over. His mesmerizing stare caught her again and held her. Made her forget to breathe.

  Piper waved at Jeremy, and he hustled up for their drink order. “Ms. McFae, did you see my nephew’s story on your bookmobile?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll get you a copy.” He looked at Piper. “What’ll you have? I saw you waving.”

  “Oh, just waving hello. This is an unofficial meeting of the Erotica Book Club. Oops, shouldn’t have mentioned that.” She looked around. “Too bad Freddie isn’t here. He’s my most sexy guy. But you know, Jeremy, you’re not half bad.”

  “Had a few already, Piper?” The bartender smiled, then worked his way through the tables.

  “Good rear quarters.” Aggie grinned. “I believe I’m getting the hang of this. I deliver goat milk to Jeremy every week, and I never noticed his backside.”

  “Indeed, he appears to be a fine specimen of the masculine gender.” Lily finished her cup of lively tea and her eyes strayed to the tall man in the corner. His face was tanned. His dark hair with a touch of gray was cropped neatly around his ears. When he looked her way, she blushed and his mouth turned up at the corners. She picked up the book she’d brought along. She picked up the book she brought along and stroked the cover.

  Piper cleared her throat. “There’s something I’ve been dying to ask you two.” Her voice rang out. “What do you know about vibrators?”

  Lily looked over at the next table. Sax had stopped talking to hear the answer to the question. Boris adjusted his chair and Maxine smirked.

  Aggie knocked on the table three times. “Gypsies vibrate enough on their own.”

  “As do librarians, to the surprise of some, so I’m not much help either, but I could look it up for you.” She opened the book she’d carried in and ruffled through the pages. “I brought Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

  “So what’s Jane got to say for herself?” Piper said.

  Lily gave a fleeting look toward the profile of the man she’d been watching. He was standing still, and the image of his lithe, attractive frame thumped against her midsection. “She says that to be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love. Think of couples dancing, the rhythmic coupling to music.”

  “Coupling, that’s a good way to put it.” Piper gazed at the bar crowd.

  Another glance at the tall fellow made Lily weak inside. “She also says A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.” Does that sound right?”

  “For some women, I guess the answer would be yes.” Piper said. “I wanted to get married.”

  Aggie winked and grinned. “Oh, there are gypsies I’ve known that took their time deciding.”

  “Well I say, cheers to all those dancers falling in love.” Piper jiggled her shoulders. “Dancing can be very sexy.”

  One table over, Sax inched closer. Lily gave a little wave toward him, and he waved back. She smiled at the strange bulbous flower tattooed on his inner arm, a work of art obviously handcrafted by Boris.

  Lily watched the stranger start toward them, then turn and walk out of the bar. “Anyone else feel overheated?”

  “Oh no, I feel very and most fine.” Aggie waved at someone on the other side of the bar.

  Piper wiggled in her chair. “Too bad we can’t go dancing. I feel like swaying and moving and loving someone who shall be nameless.”

  “I haven’t been this warm in a long time.” Lily fanned her face with the book. “Did you see that good looking man watching us?”

  “I didn’t notice,” Piper said. “I was thinking of my favorite fella, who’s not here. He could raise my thermostat a few notches. Actually, now that you say it, I believe there are quite a few guys watching us. Maybe more men are interested because now we’re lots better looking.”

  “Do you think that’s true?” Aggie looked carefully around the room.

  “Buy you pretty ladies a beer?” Boris held up his mug.

  “No thanks, we are sufficiently fortified with tea.” Piper lifted her cup. “And feeling f-f-f-fantastic.”

  Earlier, Hugh Jamison had put down the phone, after hearing the goat farm tap and the women’s arrangement to meet at the bookmobile. “It’s time,” Aggie had said. Time for what, he wondered and left for the town square in time to see two women enter the bookmobile. Not long after, three women left and entered the Hopper.

  Following them, he noted that one woman closely resembled the driver’s license photo of the ex-librarian, but was much prettier, with wisps of auburn hair framing her face. She looked younger, wearing jeans and a bright pullover. The stern Lily McFae on the official driver’s document did not seem to be present. A likely guess was that the two were related. Sisters? Cousins?

  No question, he’d enjoyed the scene of her reading at the bar, her graceful hands and lively, dark eyes. When his body tightened in a healthy reaction, he’d ordered another tap to study her, this person who elicited a response that got him flustered. He’d started toward the table to question the group and then stopped. It was not the way he usually went about business. Generally, he needed more information and a quiet place to pursue detailed questioning. Besides, the librarian wasn’t with them. He’d glanced toward the pretty woman one more time before he left, troubled by his confused feelings.

  The middle-age woman in a gray windbreaker limped into the office of the Groverly automobile auction house and leaned on the counter. “Maybe you can help me. I’m trying to find an orange bookmobile you auctioned off for the county. You happen to know where it is.”

  The clerk grinned. “Oh yeah, I remember that vehicle. A woman bought it.”

  “Wonder if she’d sell it back to me. Can you give me her name and address?”

  “Guess I could, since it’s a matter of public record. Save you a trip to the court house.” He went to the files and came back in a few minutes. “Lily McFae lives here in the city. The Groverly Gazette just did a little feature on her and her bookmobile.”

  Griffo drove toward Nolan, hauling the vardo behind him. Bits of green salve covered his irritated expression. As the miles zoomed by, he plotted against the woman called Lily McFae. Whenever he thought about the purple sapphire scammed off him by the lady in green, he boiled over. It was the first time he’d been bested by anyone, let alone a woman.

  Hugh compiled the information on his conversation with Boris about the sale of pot, including the grassy, earthy smell of the Emporium. The report also added a report on Boris’s phone talks with book theft suspects. He carefully worded his search warrant
request for the store.

  Before he turned off his computer, he double-checked for any sign of a relative for Lily McFae. None existed. As past experience proved, sometimes relations appeared out of nowhere.

  CHAPTER 21

  Boris bowed to his restless past. Through the years, his cop antenna had saved him jail time. Bong! The stranger who’d stopped by with several questions rang the gong big time. The decision to take a break from Nolan came easy. As Boris often did, he’d pick up and leave the status quo, seeking a better quo. Sometimes he returned. Sometimes not.

  He packed clothes, a sleeping bag, and all the money from the cash drawer. In a quick move, he pulled the shades, flipped off the neon sign and locked the doors. His swords were hidden in the storage room wrapped in muslin, but his favorite daggers nested in the glove compartment of his delivery van.

  Heading down a side road, his van passed several trailers pulling elaborate, painted units. One displayed monkeys flying across the outside panel. Another featured macaws and balloons, followed by a unit that showed the picture of a sword swallower, hilt touched to his lips, posed next to a beautiful snake charmer with a twisted serpent. The words, Circus of Circumstance scrolled across the top of each vehicle. Once he passed the entourage, he realized he’d become the leader of a small circus parade. To regain anonymity, he slowed down to let the vehicles overtake him, one by one, until he maintained a position at the rear. A few miles past Nolan, the vehicles turned into a pasture surrounded by a healthy stand of oak trees.

  Boris gunned the engine and aimed straight for city life. There, he’d visit vintage shops, buy old items, create fake credentials for the pieces, and then sell them for a worthwhile profit. No one would bother him or get in his way. He’d disappear down the rabbit hole, until it was time to surface again at the Emporium. If that’s what was most beneficial.

  The drawn shades at the Emporium stopped Griffo, but not for long. Boris’s vehicle was not on the premises. The neon was off and the door sign said “Temporarily Closed.” He snuck around back and poked his tuning fork in the lock.

  When the door creaked open, he called out, “Ratchov, you here? Aggie wants her book back and no smart guy tangles with a cross, old gypsy woman. Not even Griffo, the Magnificent.”

  Shadows from the DVD display cases fell across the room. The hollow sound of the place encouraged him to move quietly toward the night-light by the cash register.

  “Ratchov, you anywhere?”

  He flipped the light switch to look over the register area. No green book. He poked his head into the apartment. “Boris?” His eyes shifted over the area before he went into the office. There it was, leaning against a stack of yellow pads. He snatched it and ran out the back.

  Later, when he drove to the farm hauling the gypsy wagon, he spotted the circus vehicles parked outside town, but first things first, he slipped Aggie’s book into the farmhouse mailbox. Maybe her wrath would cool down, once her gypsy recipes were back. Since the pickup was gone from the yard, he sneaked inside the house and crept into her bedroom. Folded in the top drawer of the chest, he found the black cape. As the heavy garment settled on his shoulders, a warm energy swept through him. He felt justified. Since his uncle was gone, and his aunt hadn’t burned the cape, it was only right it should pass on to a male family member.

  At the circus parking area, he found a parking space for his decorated vardo, nudging it in between two other brightly colored vehicles. Adjusting his cape, he stopped at the trailer marked “Office,” and thumped on the window. The yip yip of a dog sounded through the panel and a short man opened the door.

  Griffo looked down at him. “Here I am, your new snake charmer and sword swallower.”

  “You talked to the manager?”

  “Yes sir, he invited me to join the circus as Griffo, the Magnificent.” He flashed a white card. “He gave me this.”

  “What kind of guy knows how to do both those things?”

  “A gypsy guy, that’s who. I can do anything and everything. Gypsies have untapped talents you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Then welcome, I guess. I’ve got something for you.” He returned from the back of the trailer with a small cage. “Please, take this sulky rat snake out of here. It’s driving my dog wacky.”

  Griffo stared at the tan serpent, with its smooth head and jagged light and dark stripes. It was folded into a plump curl. He swallowed hard and took the cage. “Where can I find the manager to discuss finances?”

  “The guy in charge just left for town to get a haircut.”

  Griffo dropped the snake back at the vardo and covered the cage with a towel. To save on money, he trudged the few blocks into town. All the way there, his fingers rolled around the coins in his pocket, money he’d saved for something special. At the Hopper, he ordered a jigger of slivovitz and gulped it down. He breathed out. Aha! With plum brandy fizzing in his brain, the caped wonder bounded into Piper’s salon with the black fabric billowing. “I have arrived,” he crowed and turned a dramatic green-faced profile.

  Piper stopped clipping and stared at him. “Heavens, Griffo. What are you doing?”

  He rubbed at the remnants of green salve on his face before presenting the card to Piper’s customer. “You might remember me. Aren’t you the manager of the circus parked outside town?”

  “I am.”

  “When we met at the Emporium, you said the circus needed a snake charmer, so I stopped at the circus and took possession of the reptile. Next, I’ll polish up my sword swallowing routine. All we need to discuss is my cut.”

  “Okay, I like your costume and the patchy green disguise. But there’s no exact cut, since the pay varies with the audience. The money comes out of the take.” The circus manager reached out to touch the cape, then leaned back in the barber chair. “We’re headed to Groverly in a few days for an engagement. We could try you out before that. Let me know when.”

  Piper resumed buzzing the clippers around her client’s nape. “I’m almost done, sir.”

  “Perfecto.” Griffo flapped his arms inside the cape. “But if I have two acts, I deserve double pay.”

  “You’ll find that most of us do double duty.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait for you outside. I left my vehicle at the circus parking lot.” He waved his arms again like an erratic bat. “Make way for Griffo, the Magnificent.” He flew out the door.

  When Aggie caught the strong scent of lilies in the air, she tromped off to her bedroom. She took the newspaper-wrapped package from the closet and placed it on the dresser. The moment she set it down, a sun shaft split the air, marking the center of the paper. It was the sign she wanted, permission to show the book to her friends. She carried the treasure to the kitchen table, washed her hands and collapsed into a kitchen chair. Gently undoing the wrapper, she bowed her head and opened the cover. She examined the markings for a fowl pen next to an orchard, the orchard near a barn, and a healing room close to rows of growing medicinal herbs. This time she examined the pages more carefully.

  Turning the page, she drew in a breath at the garden with its intricate herbal drawings next to animal dwellings. As she studied the book, she imagined onion and garlic sprouts mingling with the smell of feathers, earth and manure. Deeply scented green things of grace lived in the book, just as they’d lived in the plots of her family book and her own farm garden.

  She knew only a little French and German, but from her family book translations, she figured rain water, laurel oil, and dung were possible antidotes for snake bites, coughs, and poison.

  The back pocket stopped her with its suggestion of hidden things. Its tight seal signaled for her to wait until the three women were together. She packed candles for a ceremony at book club and rewrapped the book. “We will toast with lively tea and decide how and what to do. Send me forth, dear grandmothers.”

  She leaned the package against the inside of the goat milk carryall, and with a heart light as whipped cream, set off on her milk deliveries.

  Drea
ming of a large ancient garden that matched her small one made the miles to town trip by. She stepped lightly into the Hopper. “Here you go, Jeremy.” She set her carrier on the counter and waited for him to finish sweeping the floor.

  “I’ll be right with you. If you’re in a hurry, leave me the usual two, and I’ll put them in the cooler in a minute.” He looked over at her. “Seems the whole town’s talking about your book club meeting at the bar. Quite a change of scene from the farm, huh?”

  “Coming to the bar was done on a whim. We usually meet in the bookmobile. You know, Ms. McFae, the librarian, stays with me at the farm.” With care, Aggie pulled out the newspaper package so she could empty the carryall of its goat milk. “It’s a good thing, the sharing of books.”

  Jeremy grinned. “Yeah, I noticed you readers had a fine meeting in back.” He opened the register and took out some bills to pay her. “Say, Griffo stopped by a while ago. He was looking sharp in his fancy, black cape.”

  Her face crumbled. “Griffo? I don’t believe it. That ratnik stole my dead husband’s cape. My finest possession.” She pocketed the money and grabbed the carrier. “Maybe I can catch him. It doesn’t belong to him.” She dashed outside.

  Piper closed Boswell’s London Journal when Jeremy walked in. “Give me a minute to clean up the station.”

  “I’m going for a crew cut today. Then I won’t have to think about haircuts for a long time. I’ve got something for you.” He spotted a sports magazine and set the newspaper-covered package he’d brought with him on the entry table.

  “Sure thing. Be with you in a minute.” She shoved Boswell in a drawer and bustled around, tidying up the station.

  “All set.” Piper waved the plastic cape like a toreador.

  The electric razor chipped away his locks and afterward, Jeremy rubbed a hand over his neatly exposed scalp, soft and bristly as a baby brush.