Flesh For Fantasy

by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

“I listened to the first two stories on the CD and I think I understand what you’ve been trying to tell me.” One of Maggie’s dark brows lifted. “I guess I want to find out what’s out there,” Ellen continued. “I want to date, have some fun, enjoy what life has to offer.”

  Maggie’s grin lit her face. “Your speech is still filled with ‘I guess’ and ‘I think’ but so far so good. You’re learning that everyone has the right to good things, including great sex, and that sometimes it’s necessary to go and get it.”

  “I think I’m ready to give it a try. Where do we start?”

  Maggie gave Ellen a critical once-over. “Clothes, I think, and maybe some time at a salon I know of. Manicure, pedicure, hair, makeup, the works.”

  “You know, I still catch myself wondering whether I can afford something like that. I guess I’m not used to having the money to do selfish things.”

  “What I’m suggesting isn’t selfish. It’s a necessary part of becoming someone new and different. I worked with a woman who didn’t have much money. Her makeover consisted of a home permanent with a little new color added, a magazine article on makeup, and a trip to Wal-Mart for cosmetics. We added a new scent, a few inexpensive clothes, and voila. You don’t need money.”

  “I understand, and I do need to feel good about myself and about where I fit. I guess I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

  “What time is it? I can’t wear a watch since time has little significance to me.” When Ellen looked puzzled, Maggie continued, “Time is a relative thing. For example, it feels to me as if I just left you moments ago, but I know I’ve got new clothes and, since the sun’s shining, I assume that it’s morning now. The time in between just seems to disappear. Actually it could be a morning several months after the evening I gave you the CD. I’d never know the difference.”

  “So how do you know when to arrive? Or do Lucy and Angela make those decisions.”

  Maggie’s brown eyes gazed upward. “Oh, they’re in charge all right and they make the decisions. The other women I’ve worked with tell me that I seem to show up just when I’m needed.”

  Ellen didn’t know whether it was bad manners to probe too deeply, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her and Maggie seemed willing to answer questions. “Where do you go when you leave here?”

  Maggie seemed confused. “I’ve no idea. Sort of nowhere, I guess. I don’t age, my nails and hair don’t grow.” She ran her fingers through her dark curls. “I don’t even need a touch-up. I seem to look the same and feel the same as I did when I…died.”

  Died. Ellen still had a difficult time absorbing the fact that this woman, who seemed more alive than most of the people she knew, was really dead. “When was that?”

  “In July of 1995 I had a heart attack in my sleep. All very painless. I went to bed one night and woke up in the computer room with Angela and Lucy.”

  Ellen glanced at her watch. “It’s only eight-thirty. Want coffee? I know you drink wine, but do you eat? I don’t usually have breakfast but I can see what I’ve got if you’re hungry.”

  “Coffee would be nice but I don’t usually eat. Sometimes I get hungry or thirsty but most of the time it’s sort of nothingness in my stomach.”

  In the kitchen, Ellen put ground coffee into the top of the maker and poured in cold water. She sat at the tiny table with Maggie across from her. “What’s it like? Being dead, I mean.”

  Maggie propped her elbows on the table. “For me, except for some of the logistics, it’s not too different from being alive. I’ve had some great experiences and met some wonderful people. Strangely enough I enjoy what I’m doing.”

  Ellen had no concept of what it would be like to be dead and to be bounced around in time the way Maggie was. “Do you mind me asking all these questions? It’s just so foreign to me.”

  “I don’t mind. I’ve asked a few myself and I have to tell you that Lucy and Angela aren’t long on sensible answers.”

  Ellen couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’ll bet. Tell me about the others you’ve helped. Without violating confidences, I mean.”

  Maggie leaned back and stretched her legs beneath the table. “Barbara Enright was the first. She was a wonderful woman, as they all were really. Each one merely needed someone to open them up to the possibilities of good sex, to help them feel good about themselves.”

  “I feel good about myself,” Ellen protested.

  “You’re a bit different. It’s more your outlook. You need to learn to get out there and do things rather than peeking out at the world. You need to get your feet wet, then to soak the rest of you. Dive in. Give things a try.”

  “I try things,” Ellen protested. “I came to the city, didn’t I?”

  “You came to New York City at the insistence of your sister but once you got here you did nothing to fit in.”

  “I did lots of things,” Ellen snapped. “I’ve visited most of the places in the city that Micki told me are worthwhile. Museums, art galleries, the top of the World Trade Center, St. Patrick’s. I’ve been everywhere.”

  “I know you think you have, but did you try anything new, just for you?” Maggie leaned forward and her eyes locked with Ellen’s. “Have you been anywhere that Micki didn’t suggest? Have you done anything really different, gone to the zoo, Coney Island, or the Bronx Botanical Garden? Have you considered taking a cruise? Visiting Tokyo? Have you tasted sushi? Have you had a massage? Have you bought anything to make this apartment more than a nomad camp? Have you ever done anything daring just because you were curious?”

  Ellen sat up straight. “Maybe not, but I like just looking.”

  “Looking’s fine for a while, but now it’s time for tasting. Since I know about sex and men, I’m hoping that will be the vehicle to pull you from visiting to living.”

  “What does sex have to do with living?” When Maggie just raised an eyebrow, Ellen continued, “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m afraid I do. If I were going to color your world right now I’d have to use pastels. Now it’s time for emerald and scarlet, indigo and marigold. Let’s be honest. Even your fantasies are insipid, wimpy. What do you really want out of life? Lucy and Angela seem to think they know, but do you?”

  Ellen considered. “I always thought I was satisfied with my life. When I won the lottery I thought I’d just do more of what I’ve always done.”

  “I know but there’s so much more to life than what you’ve always had. Don’t you want to at least sample some of what’s out there?”

  Ellen slowly settled back in her chair. “You mean like taking that art class.”

  “You did that at Micki’s suggestion but it’s a start, a small step in the right direction.” Maggie grasped Ellen’s hand. “You don’t have to dive in, but you’re thirty-two. It’s time for getting your feet wet in the immense ocean of what there is.”

  “If you say so.”

  “No, not because I say so, because you’re curious and because you’re feeling just a little bit braver than you did yesterday.”

  “That little old chicken, me.”

  “You don’t have to do everything at once, and I’ll be there to hold your hand, figuratively, if not literally.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to live a little.” She held her thumb and index finger about a half an inch apart. “Just a little to start.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll take it just a bit at a time and I’ll help all I can.”

  “Thanks. Will that be enough for you? Enough to make Lucy and Angela happy?”

  “Forget about all of us. This is your life, as Ralph Edwards used to say. We’re just here to give it a little kick.”

  “That sounds okay. May I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  “How did you start? Being a call girl, I mean.” She gulped. “I’m sorry. I mean…”

  Maggie’s eyes held nothing but warmth. “Stop falling over your words. They’re only words. I was a hooker. I had sex with men for money
and I enjoyed it.”

  “But prostitution…”

  “Prostitution is such a charged word with all kinds of overtones. Let’s just say this. I loved good sex, and so did most of the men I was with.”

  “Most of the men?”

  “You know it’s interesting. Some wanted companionship, someone to be with and there wasn’t any sex at all. Just a nice decoration for a party or dinner or someone to talk to who had no other issues.”

  “No sex at all?”

  “There were a few times like that when some longtime client just wanted to be with someone who didn’t want anything from him.” Her impish grin brought a smile to Ellen’s face. “Of course there were others who wanted something unusual, something they couldn’t get with anyone they didn’t pay. Something fun and kinky.”

  “I guess you had to do all kinds of kinky stuff.”

  “I did, and I had a heck of a lot of fun too. If it’s not fun for both parties, it’s not fun for either.”

  “Weren’t there men who just wanted to, well, fuck.” Heat rose in Ellen’s face at the use of such a four-letter word.

  “If they just wanted to insert tab A into slot B they didn’t have to pay my kind of money. A clean, hundred-dollar-an-hour call girl would do the trick.”

  “You charged more?” Ellen said, her eyes wide.

  “Lots more. I charged between seven hundred and a thousand dollars a night.”

  “Phew. I never imagined. Were any of the men you were with married?”

  “Of course. Many were. Most of the married men I spent time with thought their wives wouldn’t want to do the things we did together. I think they were probably wrong, but after one or two protests that they should communicate their desires with their spouses, I gave up and we played.”

  “You think their wives would have been interested in kinky games?”

  “Sure, why not? Listen, we’ve got to get a few things straight if we’re going to have fun learning together. Your expression tells it all.” Ellen became aware that her face was registering her disbelief and her distaste. Maggie squeezed her hands. “Listen and try to open your mind. There are many ways to share good sex, ones you’ve probably never even considered: oral sex, anal sex, toys, bondage. If two consenting adults want to do it upside down, hanging from the crossbar of the kids’ swing set, what’s wrong with that?”

  Ellen sighed. “I guess.”

  Maggie stood and took two mugs from the counter and filled them with strong coffee. She inhaled. “I love the smell of freshly brewed coffee. What do you take? Milk? Sugar?”

  “Black’s fine.”

  “Me, too.” Maggie brought the cups to the table and sat back down. “You’re limited by the fact that you’ve never had mind-altering, toe-curling, fan-flippin’-tastic sex.”

  “Hey, now, wait.”

  “It’s true, whether you admit it or not.”

  “I’ve had sex.”

  “I know. With that Gerry character. He was a nice guy but a lightweight.”

  “You know about Gerry?”

  “I know everything about you.” When Ellen started to respond, Maggie held up her hand. “Almost everything, and I’m sorry that Angela and Lucy pry. It’s just their way.” She sipped the hot brew. “I don’t mean mediocre sex with Gerry, nice as he was. I mean climaxes when you’ve screamed, begged for more, literally felt like your orgasm should have registered on the Richter scale. When you’ve felt like it would go on forever, but it was over in an instant, then we’ll talk about what’s kinky.”

  “I’m sorry.” She thought about Gerry. The sex with him had been fine. Comfortable.

  “Comfortable. Right. A mediocre experience at best.”

  “I wish you’d stop reading my mind.”

  Maggie looked contrite. “My turn to be sorry. I don’t really read your mind, it’s just that some of your thoughts are so loud I can hear them. Think about it. Comfortable sex. Sweatshirts and old slippers are comfortable. Sex should be more than just satisfying.”

  “Was your sex always…how did you put it? Mind-altering and toe-curling?”

  “Of course not. I don’t mean that it has to be earth-shattering every time, but at least now and then it should make you scream. Mine? Well sometimes it was wonderful. Sometimes it was what my friends—I always liked that word better than clients or customers—wanted and I had to get my pleasure from their pleasure.”

  “What was the best one?”

  Maggie sighed. “That’s a really tough question. So many of my friends were wonderful and enjoyed our mutual pleasure. We did things that blew all of our socks off.”

  Ellen giggled. “Sounds wonderful. Your worst?”

  “A few times I had to give a man his money back because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

  “Like?”

  “I’m not into pain. Whips and things.”

  Ellen’s lip curled. “That’s disgusting anyway.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s terribly exciting for many people and for them it’s a sexual turn-on. It’s just not one for me and I decided early on that I wouldn’t do things just for money.”

  Ellen tried to wrap her mind around people wanting to be whipped. “You wouldn’t hit someone if they wanted it?”

  “Oh, the occasional slap on the ass is great. It adds a touch of a different kind of spice. I just couldn’t go further. Or, rather, I didn’t want to.”

  “You never did anything you didn’t want to do?”

  Maggie twirled a strand of black, curly hair around her finger as she considered. “I never needed money that badly. I guess I was pretty fortunate.”

  “Did you ever get into trouble with the law?”

  “No, I never did. I was on my own, no partners, no pimp. I didn’t need anyone else, I had great word of mouth. And I didn’t get into situations I had the slightest doubts about.”

  “What kind of kinky things did you do?”

  “Curious?”

  Ellen blushed slightly. “I’ve read about unusual sex in novels and such, but I’ve never talked frankly to anyone who has done anything.”

  “It’s fine to be curious. If I have my way, by the time I’m done with you you’ll have tasted lots of ‘unusual’ things.” Maggie’s eyes became distant. “I really enjoy oral sex, both giving and getting. Anal sex took a bit of getting used to but once you get past the taboos, it’s really hot. I’ve made love in some really strange places and I’ve done it with several people at the same time.”

  Ellen sat up straighter. “You did? You were part of an orgy?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Maggie stared at Ellen. “Dying of curiosity?”

  Ruefully, Ellen nodded. “Okay. I admit it.”

  “I remember one evening. We were all a bit tipsy, not too drunk to know what we were doing of course, but just enough to release our inhibitions and let it all hang out. That was one hell of a great evening.”

  “Wow. Would you tell me?”

  “Sure. I’ve got no secrets. I’ll use just first names to protect the delightfully guilty.”

  Ellen refilled the empty coffee cups and sat back down. “Okay. Give.”

  “Josh was a regular. He traveled a lot on business and usually called me when he was in town. One day he phoned and asked me if I wanted to go to a party. He made it clear that there would be lots of public sex, but that I wouldn’t have to participate if I didn’t want to.”

  “You mean he would pay you to just watch? To go to a party with him? Why?”

  “He had no one special and it was a badge of honor to bring someone who’s not hesitant to play. I have a feeling that several of the women, and maybe the men too, were professionals.”

  Ellen was shocked. “The men? Professionals?”

  “Sure. There are male prostitutes who cater to the desires of sexy, horny women. Why not?”

  “I guess I never thought about it that way.” Ellen wondered what she would do with a male prostitute and sadly realized that she had no idea what she would as
k for.”

  “You’ll learn,” Maggie said softly. “I promise.”

  Ellen reached out and placed her hand over Maggie’s on the small kitchen table. “Thanks. Just be patient with me.”

  Maggie nodded. “No problem.”

  “Okay. Tell me about the party.”

  “Josh knew me pretty well. He knew that, although I wouldn’t be compelled to do anything, I wouldn’t have a problem making love while someone else watched and that was the idea of this party. We’d done it in public a few times.

  “In public?”

  “Well sort of. He liked to go out to dinner and see how hot he could get me. He knew if he got me hot, I’d do it in a hansom cab, in a restaurant with a few waiters watching, at the beach. You get the idea. So he knew that that part of it wouldn’t be a problem. He also knew I was usually game for almost anything. He knew my rules. No drugs, and condoms always.

  “Josh is…was…probably still is…I hate trying to make sense of the tenses. Josh was a very good-looking man, tall with really curly chestnut hair that I loved to run my fingers through, and deep hazel eyes. He had a nice body that had added a few pounds over the years I knew him. With the amount of traveling he did, he wasn’t able to work out and control it so he always referred to our sex as exercise. ‘Just for health reasons,’ he’d say.” She looked at Ellen and Ellen watched her face soften at the memory. “Then he’d pat his spare tire and grin.”

  “Was he a good lover?”

  “He was a great communicator and experimenter. He loved to try new things. I have a theory. There aren’t really any good lovers; there are merely people who are great together, and maybe they wouldn’t be nearly as good with other partners. We were marvelous together.”

  “Interesting,” Ellen said, not sure she believed. Could she be a good lover? Would someone ever say that they were marvelous together?

  “We arrived at a small, neat, suburban-looking house in Brooklyn about nine and the party was in full swing. The music was dreamy and Josh and I did a bit of slow-dancing.” Maggie closed her eyes again. “I love slow-dancing, vertical body rubbing. I could feel that the atmosphere and the delicious Long Island iced teas we were consuming were having an effect on his libido.”