Take Me To Bed. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
to her chair, she gave Steph a quick hug. “Not horrified or disgusted. Surprised and, I guess, a bit curious. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course. This wasn’t intended as a monologue. I wanted you to know. For lots of reasons.”
Jessie remembered the picture of Steph, draped over the lawn chair. “This obviously wasn’t the only time.”
“Actually, Brian and I are now what you would probably call swingers. We have a wonderful life together, but we also have other relationships.” When she saw Jessie’s eyebrow go up, she said quickly, “None serious. Just playtimes.”
“You have people you go to bed with and Brian does too? Like a lover? It’s not just the occasional couples swapping partners?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Steph wasn’t sure how much Jessie was ready for so she decided just to react to questions for a while. “Right now I have two men with whom I get together from time to time, and Brian is currently seeing a wonderful woman, a systems designer in the computer department at his office.”
“The mind boggles,” Jessie said, then giggled. “That’s how it all started. Boggle, I mean.”
Steph let out a deep breath. She hadn’t been sure of Jessie’s reaction but she had wanted very badly for her best friend to understand. “You’re okay with this?”
Jessie reached across the table and took Steph’s hand. “I’m fine with this, as long as it works for you and Brian. It was the lying that upset me so much before. But you don’t lie to each other. This is all very new to me, but I love you both and you seem very happy.” She pulled back and grew thoughtful. “I guess I never thought about women who make love to other people’s husbands.”
“Hold it,” Steph said. “I never make love to anyone who is married, unless the wife knows what’s going on. No lying. That’s my first and most important rule. No lying. To Brian, to the man involved, or to wives. Period.”
“No lying,” Jessie said softly.
“In my mind, that’s the cardinal sin, the commandment, if you will, that Rob broke with his bimbo, as you call her. He lied to you and he probably lied to himself. It’s the dishonesty that makes me want to wring his scrawny neck.”
“I guess I never looked at it that way, exactly. For me it was two things. The dishonesty, of course, but it was also the fact that I obviously wasn’t good enough for him in bed.” Jessie’s eyes filled and she looked down.
“Bullshit!” Steph put a finger under Jessie’s chin and gently raised her head so the women were looking into each other’s eyes. “Listen to me good, JessicaLynn Hanley, you’re not good or bad in bed alone. If you and scrawny-neck didn’t make it together, it was a mutual failing. Individuals aren’t good or bad at making love. Only couples are.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No ‘yeah but.’ You’re a warm, caring person and you’re as good in bed, or as bad, as the chemistry and communication between you and the man you’re with.” As she looked into her friend’s face, she continued, “Don’t look at me like I just told you that the earth was flat. It’s true.”
“But Rob told me…”
“Rob isn’t the sexpert of all times, you know. Besides, was he ever with anyone else beside you?”
“He says that bimbette was the first,” Jessie said, snuffing.
“What about before you two got married. Was there ever anyone else?”
“No. The first time for both of us was in the front seat of his father’s Pontiac.” Her face softened. “He almost came on my jeans trying to get them open.”
“So what makes him the ultimate judge of sexuality? Certainly not experience.”
“I don’t know. If I were being brutally honest, I’d have to admit that it wasn’t very good. He used to give me a shot of alcohol to ‘loosen me up.’ He said I was uptight and needed to relax.” Her voice dropped and she wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “He said I was frigid.”
“He can say anything he wants, Jessie, but he can’t make you believe it. And I don’t believe it.”
“But I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Jessie’s head jerked up and she was silent for a minute. “I never thought about it that way. You mean there might not be anything wrong with me?”
“Probably not. You’re healthy. No physical problems. No drug abuse. You probably weren’t excited enough to come. I read something a while ago that has stuck in my mind. Someone wrote that a man flames like a match and a woman heats like an iron. That timing requires some coordination. It takes a woman twenty or thirty minutes from a cold start.”
“A cold start.” She laughed. “That’s an unusual way to put it. It makes me sound like an auto engine on a winter morning.”
“Is that such a bad analogy?”
“Maybe not. I was always a cold start. I came to dread sex.”
“Make that forty-five minutes to warm up,” Steph said. “Jessie, relax. You’re fine. It’s scrawny-neck I want to kill.”
“Thanks for that, Steph. You always were a good friend.”
“And I still am. Let’s table this topic for the moment, get dressed up and do some outrageous damage to your credit card at Bloomingdales.”
Jessie took a deep, shuddering breath. “Good idea. You’ve given me lots to think about, and I’d like to continue this discussion another time.”
“Any time, babe. I love to talk about sex.”
Steph and Jessie spent the afternoon shopping. At first, Jessie selected outfits that were conservative and concealing. At one point, however, Steph convinced Jessie to try on a low-cut, Indian-silk sundress with a very full, soft skirt. When her friend came out of the dressing room, Steph grinned. “You look wonderful.” The dress, in shades of soft peach and rose, complemented Jessie’s red hair and sun-warmed complexion.
“I do? Isn’t it a bit much?” She yanked upward on the neckline, trying to minimize her deep cleavage. “I mean isn’t it a bit young for me?”
“Young? Come on. You’re thirty-six years old. That’s young enough for almost anything, except maybe being proofed at a bar. I think you look terrific, and with a little makeup….”
“Don’t get carried away.” She swung back and forth in front of the mirror watching the skirt move with her body. As she watched herself, her smile broadened. “But although it’s not my usual, I do like this dress.”
“Now you need shoes to go with it,” Steph said to Jessie’s back as she disappeared back into the fitting room. “And a new bathing suit and a few other things I can think of.”
When they arrived home, the two women dumped their purchases on the sofa and adjourned to the plant room with two glasses and a bottle of California chardonnay. When they had settled into long chairs side by side, and sipped some wine, Jessie reopened the earlier topic. “I guess I’ve digested some of our conversation of before. Now I’m curious. How did Brian react to your first encounter with Hank?”
“He was pretty quiet for a day or so, then, in bed a few nights later, he asked me all about it.”
“He wanted the gory details?”
“Not specifically, but he wanted to know whether I enjoyed it and whether I came.”
“Did you tell him? I mean, weren’t you worried that he’d be jealous or something.”
“Jessie,” Steph said, turning to