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At the northern end of the structure to the rear, patio facing patio, were the Beldners, who had delusions of grandeur. Other than an obligatory, “Hi, how are you?” or “Nice day, isn’t it,” they never had too much to say. The southernmost, far end unit was owned by the Gettlemans, who had thirteen and fifteen year old, rather rowdy sons. They, too, much to the delight of the other neighbors—especially the Aaronsons—stayed to themselves. The two center units were owned respectively by David and Jennifer Forman, and Raymond and Martha Neumann, two young, extremely good looking couples who had known each other before and had purposely purchased units next door to each other. And who—a fast friendship having been formed—Paulette Aaronson, Marsha Lipensky and Eileen Butz speculated were into wife swapping.
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December, 1961: Christmas Party
Although their territories bordered on two boundaries, in the near three months since returning to the employ of Transco Envelope Company, they hadn’t seen each other. But now…
Entering late, her arm linked within the arm of an—appearing to be about thirty-five—older man, nodding hello to a number of people already seated, Elizabeth Herzon found their pre-assigned seats at a table on the far side of the large banquet room.
Looking in his direction, their eyes touching, briefly nodding her head, Elizabeth and her date sat with their backs to the room.
Her nodding glance, though disappointing, warmed, yet chilled him. His heart thumping, mixed emotions surging through his brain, in one way glad they were not seated at the same table because he did not want to go through or witness the type of conversation Elizabeth and Marsha had the last time they attended a Transco Christmas dinner… He had an urge to be near Elizabeth, however he was glad he wasn’t near her. Feeling a surge of jealousy seeing her with another man. But yet, what right did he have to feel jealousy?
Facing the room, looking up from her meal, watching as they’d entered, “That’s the girl that sat with us before, isn’t she?”
“Where?” pretending he hadn’t noticed. “Oh, yes. That’s, uh, Elizabeth.”
Dismissing the girl and further conversation, Marsha went back to her meal.
****
Finished eating, surprising him, “Why don’t you see if she wants to dance with you?”
“Huh? Nah, I don’t want to.” Yes he did. “Besides, she’s with someone.”
“No,” Marsha said. “The chairs on both sides of her are empty.”
Looking, surprised at seeing no one to the left or right of Elizabeth. “It’s okay? You don’t mind?”
“Silly, I told you to!”
Her motive escaping him, “Okay.” Standing, crossing the large room…
Tapping her on the shoulder, “Lizzie,” Turning, looking upward, her beauty near overwhelming. “You like to dance?”
Standing, saying nothing, sending a sweet shock, taking Mitchell’s hand into hers, the two went onto the dance floor.
Marsha no longer a thought.
Holding this beautiful young woman tightly in his arms. Feeling this beautiful young woman’s breasts pressed to his chest and his hand upon her undulating hip. Forgetting Marsha. His face pressed to Elizabeth’s face, enraptured by the mild scent of her hair and cologne.
The people about him, seated or dancing, appeared to be seen as though through a cloudy prism. Having the sensation of lifting above the floor, of gliding above the floor, her breath warm upon his ear…
“Mitchie,” Elizabeth whispered. “I love you.”
His heart pounding, knowing he shouldn’t! Knowing he shouldn’t, “I love you, too, Liz,” he said. Then, hearing, feeling her breath quicken upon his ear, feeling her hand holding his hand tighten and her arm about his waist tightening, feeling her moving against him, “I love you, Liz!” he said again.
Their faces inches apart, each looking into the eyes of the other…
No one else on the floor now. No one else in the room now, or in the world now…
The music stopped and, saying nothing, turning away, leaving him alone on the floor, Elizabeth returned to her place at the table, and all eyes were upon him…
Looking, his wife’s eyes were upon him also and the entire room began to laugh…
The room began to laugh, and as they laughed fingers pointed in his direction and looking down Mitchell saw his pants were open and his engorged penis was jutting rigidly through. Not knowing what to do, holding himself, attempting to hide himself, not knowing what to say, what to do, he began the long walk back to Marsha…
Oh, my God!
Jarred awake, Oh, my God! his eyes opened to the darkened room and the gentle sounds of Marsha, asleep.
December 16, 1961: Christmas Party
Haunted by his dream, thankful, so very thankful that on this night Elizabeth Herzon did not attend Transco Envelope Company’s yearly Christmas dinner.
December 31, 1961 through October 22, 1962
New Year’s Eve, 1961/ New Year’s Day 1962
“No, Mitchie, don’t move!”
Running across the sidewalk every half hour or so to check on their sleeping children, Marsha and Mitchell had been invited to attend the New Year’s Eve party at the home of Ray and Martha Neumann along with the Aaronsons, and—their wifeswapping partners?—Dave and Jennifer Forman, plus friends of the Neumanns: Hal and Shirley Steinway.
As the night wore on and liquor bottles emptied, Dave suggested, if no one objected, to welcoming in the new year by watching some of Ray’s 8mm stag films.
And as no one there was feeling any pain, the suggestion was heartily approved by the Neumanns, Steinways and Jennifer Forman. Although Erwin heartily agreed also, Paulette said that she’d promised her three children that they would welcome the new year in with them so, begging off, bidding all, “Happy New Year and goodnight.”
Having had one more than his usual three drinks, Mitchell, of course, well knew what stag films were and, never objecting—unless it was in the middle of a dance floor with everyone watching, pointing and laughing—to getting horny, although having no idea what Marsha’s reaction might be to pornography, Mitchell also, very heartily agreed.
Marsha Lipensky—having two more than her usual quota of no drinks—whispered into Mitchell’s ear, “Dirty movies?”
“Yeah,” Mitchell whispered back. “Very dirty movies.”
And pleasantly, very pleasantly surprising him…
“Yeah,” Marsha said aloud, actually surprising the Neumanns, Formans and Steinways, “I wann’a watch dirty movies!”
****
After briefly stopping the projector to—the women looking to see who had a boner—sloppily kiss and wish each other “Happy New Year!” drinks were refreshed and two more “dirty” movies were shown.
In the darkened room, sitting very close to his wife, feeling her squirming and hearing the change in her breathing as she watched the figures on the fivebyfive movie screen, “Marcie,” Mitchell whispered, “I’m getting really anxious to get home. How’s ’bout you?”
“Yeah, baby!” Putting her hand behind his head, hungrily drawing his mouth onto hers and her tongue into his, doing something that further, really surprised him, wrapping her hand around his straining penis, breaking the very passionate kiss, licking the inside of his ear, “I wann’a fuck!” she whispered—she thought she whispered.
Standing, “Hey,” Mitchell said, “Marsha’n’me, we gotta go check the kids…
“No, no!” he said quickly as Ray began to stand. “Keep the movie going. We know the way out. Thanks for the party!”
After a fast check on Mikey and Ellie, no sooner was the door to their bedroom closed than her arms were about his neck, her pelvis pushed onto his, the rear of her skirt up, his hand beneath the band of her undies, cuddling a cool, bare buttock…
Two drinks and three fifteen minute stag films bringing about a very different Marsha, “Mitchie, fuck me, baby!”
Four drinks and three fifteen minute stag films bringing about a very pleasantly surprised, very true to form Mitchell. “Yeah, baby!” he said. “Let’s get naked!”
Clothing all but torn off…
Forgoing foreplay, “No, Mitchie, fuck me!” Pushing him onto his back, straddling his hips, his penis—finding its way with no help—implanted deeply into her sopping vagina, her dark, hardened nipples brushing his mouth…
Kissing her dangling breasts, his hands onto her pumping buttocks, “Marcie, we need a rubber.”
Her eyes screwed tightly shut…
“No, Mitchie, don’t move!”
Feeling them, once again in this position, for only the second time in all the years of their marriage, Mitchell felt the slight tic deep within the vagina of his wife that signaled her orgasm… Which triggered his.
January 17, 1962
Coming down the three steps into the family room.
On the sofa watching television, “Kids all settled in?”
“Yeah.” Sitting alongside her husband, “Mitchie,” putting her hand on his knee, a tone of disappointment in her voice, “I’m getting my period.”
Knowing how much she wanted this pregnancy, however not overly unhappy about Marsha not conceiving at this time, covering her hand with his, “You sure?”
Her anger never far from the surface. “You don’t think I know my own body, Mitchell?”
“No, Marsha.” Moving his hand, “I’m sure you know your own body!”
Each sitting quietly, his arms now folded, her hands clasped in her lap.
“Marsha,” putting his hand onto her hands, “we can try again.”
New Year’s morning being a purposeful accident, looking at him, “You think we can afford another baby?”
Mountains still made out of molehills. Arguments still erupting out of nowhere, followed by prolonged silences. Yet, earning a decent living now, their lives having adjusted to—for Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky—a somewhat peaceful mode.
Since the first of the year thinking she might be pregnant; accepting the fact that she might be pregnant…
Covering her hand with his, “Yeah, baby. I think we can afford another baby.”
February 7, 1962
“I love it, baby!” Enjoying the unsheathed sensation. “It’s so much fun trying to make a baby.”
“Don’t just try, Mitchell. Make one!”
March 23, 1962
Putting the magazine down, standing as she entered the waiting room, “So?”
“Yes.”
“Yes!” Talking her hands into his, “When?”
“Somewhere around the middle of October.”
October 19 to October 28, 1962
Mid afternoon. Paulette Aaronson watching Michael and Elli until Myra arrived.
“What’s in the bag?”
Heading out the door.
“Nothing.”
Her green, imitation lizard overnight case packed and in the trunk for the past four days.
“Mitchell,” smiling through the pain, “what’s in the bag?”
“Nothing.”
“Mitchell, what’s in the bag?”
Taking her elbow, “Now’s the third time.”
“Yeah,” clutching her stomach, “trust me, I know! But why the bag?”
Opening the door, helping Marsha as she sat and laboriously turned on the seat.
“Here.” Handing her the brown paper bag, “See for yourself.”
Rushing around the rear of the car, getting inside, reversing, then pulling forward, the Ford peeled out of the communal driveway.
“Mitchell,” laughing so hard she could barely get the words out…
“Hospital’s almost a half hour from here and now’s our third run.”
“You? You’d do it?” Holding a receiving blanket, towel, and a smaller bag containing scissors, a bottle of iodine and a spool of white thread. “You’d deliver the baby?”
“Well, yeah, if I had to.”
“Yeah, sure… emmm…” Clutching her stomach, “You’d see the head pop out and, if I know you, you’d faint.”
Thinking, She’s probably right. “Gee,” he said, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Retrospective
Monday, October 15, 1962: A U2 high altitude reconnaissance jet recorded pictures of nuclear missile sites being assembled in Cuba.
Tuesday, October 16, 1962: Military advisors and President John F. Kennedy discussed two options: air strikes and a blockade.
Wednesday, October 17, 1962: The military discovered that the Cuban missiles could reach as far as Washington state.
Thursday, October 18, 1962: The Soviets completely deny that they have nuclear missiles in Cuba.
Friday, October 19, 1962: The president meets with the secretary of defense and members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff before leaving on a scheduled campaign trip to Ohio and Illinois.
Saturday, October 20, 1962 The public unaware, under the public guise of an “upper respiratory infection,” President Kennedy returned to Washington from Chicago after being convinced that he must meet again with the Joint Chiefs to discuss, among other things, the discovery of additional Soviet missiles in Cuba.
****
As the world tottered on the bring of nuclear war, once again, of slightly less significance, named after Eli’s younger brother, Samuel, who was killed in the early days of World War Two, Samuel Cole Lipensky, weighing seven pounds four ounces, came into the world at 3:21 a.m. on October, 20, 1962.
Sunday, October 21, 1962
President Kennedy discussed in detail with his advisors the two major plans of action: a quarantine or air strike.
Monday, October 22, 1962
On the evening of the second day following the birth of her third child, enjoying the scent of a newborn baby and the warm, pleasant sensation, her eyes closed, Marsha Lipensky lay with her son to her breast.
In the background, the droning tone of the television changed to: “We interrupt our scheduled programming to being you this message.”
Marsha’s attention drawn to the television as:
“Good evening my fellow citizens,” the president of the United States of America said. “This government, as promised, has maintained the closest surveillance of the Soviet military build up on the island of Cuba. Within the past week, unmistakable evidence has established the fact that a series of offensive missile sites is now in preparation on that imprisoned island. The purpose of these bases can be none other than to provide a nuclear strike capability against the Western Hemisphere.
“Upon receiving the first preliminary hard information of this nature last Tuesday morning at 9:00 a.m., I directed that our surveillance be stepped up. And having now confirmed and completed our evaluation of the evidence and our decision on a course of action, this government feels obliged to report this new crisis to you in fullest detail.
“To halt this offensive build up, a strict quarantine on all offensive military equipment under shipment to Cuba is being initiated. All ships of any kind bound for Cuba from whatever nation or port will, if found to contain cargoes of offensive weapons, be turned back. This quarantine will be extended, if needed, to other types of cargo and carriers. We are not at this time, however, denying the necessities of life as the Soviets attempted to do in their Berlin blockade of 1948…
“It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.…”
The president’s speech concluded with:
“My fellow citizens, let no one doubt that this is a difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out. No one can see precisely what course it will take or what costs or casualties will be incurred. Many months of sacrifice and self discipline lie ahead—months in which our patience and our will will be tested, months in which many threats and denunciations will keep us aware of our dangers. But the greatest danger of all would be to do nothing.
“The path we have chosen for the present is full of hazards, as all paths are, but it is the one most consistent with our character and courage as a nation and our commitments around the world. The cost of freedom is always high and Americans have always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender or submission.
“Our goal is not the victory of might, but the vindication of right—not peace at the expense of freedom, but both peace and freedom, here in this hemisphere, and, we hope, around the world. God willing, that goal will be achieved.
“Thank you and good night.”
Tuesday, October 23, 1962, 6:30 a.m.
“Mitchie, come and get us. I want to go home!”
“Baby, you’re supposed to be in the hospital for five days and it’s only been…”
“I don’t care!” Verging on hysteria, “If we’re having an atomic war I want to be home!” Shouting into the phone, “Come and get us!”
“Sure, baby. I’ll drop the kids at my mom’s and we’ll get you checked out of there.”
“Hurry, Mitchie! I want to be with my kids.”
