It wasn’t that it was part of a plan, something that she had given some thought to, something that had been a craving, long delayed, or suppressed.
Rather, it was an unplanned explosion of initially small steps which unexpectantly engulfed her, swept her away, found her doing what she had in no way planned to do, yet was compelled to do, once it presented.
She was thirty-eight, successful, bored, and feeling an undefined need, sensing a certain sense of unfullfillment, besieged with stories, movies, hearing younger women in her office whispering of things that they had done with men, things they longed to do with men, baby-less, or marriage-less, happy single, or adopting, or dating exciting men, or work mavens, drinkers, secret druggies, or dopers, gym addicts or sex addicts, all with something which entertained them, obsessed them, made them cry, made them laugh, made them want to tell stories about it.
It made her feel that life was passing her by, line by line, marching across her face.
All she seemed to have was her work, court cases, and boredom; but a particular kind of boredom, an empty kind of boredom, a boredom which was part complacent, part even contemptuous of those who desired more-those who were not satisfied with their lives who longed for adventure for the sake of adventure, who did not respect their bodies, who did not seem to understand men only want to use them for their bodies, who would leave them in hotel rooms after sex to wonder why they had bothered to show up; to give up their virginity for the too-many- times- to- count, or, wonder why they drank the wine when they knew what it did to them.
It left them satisfied in that sense that they had been wanted or admired; that they had taken a strong, handsome man, had rode him, had felt him release, who had felt her own power to make him release, had felt herself release or not release, because she had the choice sometimes to or not to.
It was the moving from the bed after, to get to work, or simply to get home, after the cleaning up, the shower, the rushing for the taxi, the need to get to court on time, to segregate and compartmentalize her night-times from her daytimes, from her night-time needs and her daytime responsibilities.
These were the contours of her life at 38, so many contradictions, so many decisions to be made; men, babies, career, aloneness, friends, and most of all what her life was meant to be, or going to be.
She definitely did not want to end up like her mother, old, energy-less, critical, unhappy with how her life ended up, the choices she had made, obsessed with her garden, alone, puttering with pies and cakes, living for the holidays, obsessing over whether she and her sister would or would not show up; the sense of betrayal from her, the sense of guilt for not having shown up; the stiltedness of the holiday meals, the silences, the empty chair where Dad used to sit, the empty goodbyes, and the lonely train ride back, to work.
All this until she decided upon the Denouement, upon a Denouement with a total stranger; not Roger.
She decided she would do it her way, move into the experience of it, have it done her way in her time that led her to advertise on line:
“Seeking male, 35-40 willing to experience Denouement experiences with similar female, must be willing to explore, no commitments necessary.”
End of chapter one.
Chapter Two
He could not stop looking, formerly married with two children, he looked at them, but did not act, as regards the 20 somethings, as he undressed them with his eyes, imagined how they looked undressed, how they would make love, felt them as they flirted with him, knowing what he was feeling, taking from him his hungry looks, his admiration of them, of their youth, of his desire for them.
But he sensed, and they sensed, that there was little there sexually or otherwise.
They were too young to know what sex was, vaginally dry, some of them, good girl reticent, more interested in being desired, than being penetrated, more interested, some of them, in trying to understand what sex was-no real experience, except in the back seat of cars, with young boys too fast.
Many non-orgiastic.
Was sex supposed to be rough, or tender; was sex important at all, or rather was love and commitment best; was it stroking and cuddling, was it daddy-love, was it satisfying their own sexual desires, their own desires to be dominated, or to dominate sexually?
Was sex a drug to be consumed, about something you did real good to impress and land the right man, something to be endured as a mild pleasure to have stories to tell the girls around the water-cooler; part of simply partying, to have a good time, to have alcohol burst out between your legs and make you come, or is it something to be saved for the right one. Or was it private never to acknowledged or talked about?
These were the dilemmas of the twenty somethings and he understood them, had participated with them, and had placed himself in the middle of them, among them, between them. But he was not 20 something any more.
But, at 40, he still had not understood sex, had a feeling that while he had had sex, he could not remember many of the women he gave it to , the women who gave it to him, the heavy breathing, the fun drinking, the carousing, all of it left him with a feeling he had not really experienced any one of the women deeply; had not merged with them, had not given more than his bodily juices, and, at his age, he wanted more, that more was undefined but still insistent, had it be recognized and he felt he was not moving forward, merely looking back. He needed someone close to his age-that more was becoming more and more apparent.
His mind wandered to Allise.
Chapter Three
The Denouement trend had, by rumor, started in a university as part of an intimacy training program to help couples learn the stages of intimacy, while married, or before marriage, or before dating.
It quickly became one of the most utilized modalities among professional women who wanted to avoid the dating scene and to become more acquainted with potential dating partners or marriage partners before investing time and energy and having the relationship come to naught.
Denouements quickly became the process of choice for professional women lawyers, like Jenny, apparently appealing to the legal mind.
Over the years it became fairly prevalent with over 20% of women lawyers admitting that they had participated, or knew someone who had, with many of them reporting that the process had helped them establish better relationships with a prospective partner and, better, ultimate marriages.
Now, the “D”, as it is now called, came in several varieties, the DI, the DS and the DE.
Jenny choose the DE which stood for Denouement with Erotic aspects, a type chosen by each partner beforehand.
She had filled out her confidential component questionnaire in which she specifically identified things erotic she was wanting to and willing to try, things she wanted to explore and those things she was not willing to do.
The WPA was a somewhat secretive organization and you had to be invited to join, and all things were confidential. They did not require names or any other identifiers of those participating.
The organization had a safe house where women could go and know they would be safe if things got out of hand. The mansion was where the Denouements occurred.
The house was an old Victorian and, as Jenny approached it, she became excited thinking about what could happen for her, if she could only let go, indeed, as she walked along she was beginning to look forward to her first "D".
The "letting go" part stuck in her mind as she approached.
All her adult life she had been too busy with school and establishing a career, but through it all she felt, sexually, she had not ever really let herself go, except that time when she had been drinking but that was mostly a blur.
But, she was aware in that instance, she did experience something that was explosive sexually, and at the same time, she was embarrassed about who it happened with. She had quickly forgotten him; but she had not forgotten what happened..
It made her aware of something outside her mind. It made her aware that it was something which had happened in her body, had exploded in her body, had swept her away with an utter urgency she had not experienced since. She wanted to feel that again with the right person, feel it fully and often.
She remembered hearing herself scream, shake, laugh; weep all at the same time while feeling her body, her legs shake uncontrollably, out of control.
Part of her was shocked, and she did not know what to make of it, part her was thrilled; about how alive her body felt in the experience, of what some called a "body orgasm."
Part of her was also frightened by it, and secretly vowed not to let it happened in those kinds of circumstances ever again.
Other women reacted differently. Some seemed to say that once or twice they had experienced what she experienced and it had made them look for it again and again. It became a quest which most had not succeeded in replicating-ever, after years of trying.
Some gave up after reaching her age thinking those kinds of experiences were those of the young.
Jenny had not given up.
That was something she was now ready to fully experience again and she wanted to before, it was, indeed, too late.
Chapter Four
Cass eyed her intently.
"So you are going to do it-thinking about it? Cass corrected herself. "Well, good for you Jen."
They sat quietly, ice tinkling in their glasses, as they both stirred in lieu of conversation, Jenny knew Cass was imagining her in Denouement and she knew Jenny was imagining the exact same thing about her.
"So, what's it like.? Jenny prompted. "Is it..." Jenny let the sentence trail.
"Well, Cass said looking up quickly to catch Jenny's eye, "well, there is no guarantee of success, just because you go, I mean, you know, show up. You have to work at it I suppose and get lucky with the right partner, going through it with you."
"Did you Denoue? Jenny asked using the short-hand some used to talk about it.
It was a no-no question. Jenny knew that talking about Denouement in any detail might result in an individual's never getting an invitation. The group was secretive.
Cass looked at her intently, saying "No, but I have a friend who did."
Jenny concluded that Cass was not going to reveal whether she did or not and if she did she was not about to reveal that bit of information to Jenny. After all, both of them were trying to make partner and Cass was not about to risk her chances letting that bit of information get about.
Jenny was not so concerned.
She felt confident she would make partner and that Cass was not her competition. Besides, she had deniability; she had not stated she had actually done it, but, was merely thinking about it.
Still, in fact, she had made up her mind she would do it. It as a way of making a break, doing something different, smash the unrelenting boredom she felt in her life.
She would try it, go through it, but, not with Roger.
Roger was part of the problem. Roger was nice but boring, boring, and too much all about Roger.
--------------------------------------
She had gotten her invitation a week before lunch with Cass and she looked it over. There was a long questionnaire, detailed, and she liked that.
She had been given a choice of partners, with sketchy profiles of each, nothing detailed, and several other instructions on what she would have to do to prepare for her initial meeting with a woman-Ms. Lamartiere, her guide person-and it mentioned that she could also have a docent with her in the session if she desired.
They were the standard waivers and, in essence, a contract involved which Jenny looked over carefully. She would have to give them access to her health records. She understood that for health reasons. That was a good thing too.
They are organized Jenny thought.
She also noticed that she would not, on the initial visit, go directly to the house. She would be picked up at an agreed upon pickup point and be taken to the location house with an initial session being an interview.
She should not expect to meet a partner in that initial session.
She folded the Denouement papers satisfied that it was something she wanted to try.
Chapter Five
She thought that fairness required she speak to Roger about what she had decided, and thought it best, to do it over dinner and not at her or his place.
To steel her courage she had two glasses of wine and ended up at his place.
She decided to give love-making one more try to see if she was exaggerating her critique of him. Besides the wine had made her giddy and she thought "Oh, well, what the hell."
Roger was a good-looking man and an attorney she really admired. In the cases they had worked on together she found him to have an exceptional legal mind and they were a formidable couple in court, seldom losing, in fact, never losing except one case.
She looked at herself in the mirror in the bathroom, still a pretty face, she estimated, make-up exceptional, and her breast line was still in place. She felt she had a good figure still, so why was she doing casual sex in the last two months with Roger, at her age?
As she and he went to bed, she was thinking their relationship was one of convenience as much as any other factor, and, she went along out of friendship as much as anything else.
He saw other women; the two them did not have an exclusive arrangement by mutual agreement, and this, after these two months, was running thin with her and not satisfying.
She came out of the bathroom to see his pants folded carefully across the back of the chair, him sitting in the bed awaiting her, still, she guessed, in his boxer shorts, his hand on the bedside lamp ready to switch it off, because he liked to make love in the dark.
As soon as she navigated to the bed, the room went black and she knew exactly what Roger would do because he did the same thing every time they had sex.
He groped for her in the dark lightly kissing her neck, while trying to mount her at the same time, while trying to take his boxer shorts off at the same time, fumbling, starting to breathe heavily, reaching for her underwear, all at the same time.
In seconds he would be trying to rub up against her crying softly, often she could feel his erection against her, pressing indiscriminately against parts of her and she could sense that he always felt grateful, or something like it, for letting him have sex with her.
It was like a little boy, eager, too eager, and Jenny was often left, after, unsatisfied, but more importantly noticing, that he did not notice how she felt-thanking her, telling her how much he cared about her, about how she was special.
That night she was happy it when ended quickly, and too, that night she made her decision, lying there, deciding to tell him then, as awkward as that was to do then.
"Roger," she started to say "you and I have been doing this almost two months now and I have thinking about whether or not this is working, for both me and you."
She turned away from him, looking into the dark toward the wall, "I, I have I guess, made of my mind-this is not really working for me. I need something more and I am not satisfied with this arrangement."
Roger was utterly silent. She could not see his expression in the dark and decided to reach over him to click on the light.
His expression was that of the deer in the headlight.
But his voice was calm and cool. One never could catch Roger by surprise; he always landed on his verbal feet.
"Oh." was his first word. "Jen has there been something I did....?"
"No, no." Jenny said, "It was maybe just another situation where two friends, flirt, and flirt but when they finally do it, have sex, they realize, at least I realize, it is, was not, I mean what I wanted, or needed. "
Do you understand?" she said, looking at him.
"Yes." Roger said slowing. "Just want to be friends, is that it?"
"Yes, just friends." Jenny said, "I think it is best that way."
Roger did not speak for a long moment. "Ok Jen, I guess I understand. I'll miss this."
"No," Jenny said firmly, "don't think this is just temporary; I want to move on and do other things."
Roger sighed said, putting his hand out to shake.
"Friends?" he said.
"Friends." Jenny said realizing Roger did not have a clue of what she had said to him or her feelings.
She got dressed and closed the door behind her quietly listening to him snore softly.
Chapter Six
Hubert was Jenny's driver and he had picked her up at her apartment in a SUV with dark tinted windows.
"Evening Madam" he said stiffly, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He was dressed like a chauffeur-which he was-but Jenny later came to surmise that he was more than that.
With a courtly bow he took her hand helping her onto the SUV running board his mouth brushing her gloved hand lightly in kissing her hand.
My, my she thought.
On the road, he mentioned there was literature in the driver's seat back pocket that she could read, mentioning that the trip would take about 45 minutes.
Jenny settled back, feeling for her cell phone, thinking it was good to know it was there and noticing landmarks as they drove along in case she might have to remember the route.
For now she felt secure but one can't ever be too careful.
After 45 minutes they arrived at a huge house and drove around the side of the building, the autumn air crisp and the trees in glorious hues of red and gold.
It was beautiful building, in a beautiful setting. Jenny glanced around noticing that the house was set on a huge track of land, gardens to her left, and off to the right, she could see a placid lake.
Hubert led her into a side door which was polished wood, ornate, and hand carved as far as she would tell. It opened to reveal a stunning scene.
The ceiling of the first floor of the mansion had been removed and you were confronted with a second floor balustrade of rooms which all could be reached by a long curving staircase. Centered from the ceiling of the second floor was a huge chandelier already glowing softly in the evening light.
Hubert guided her to a room off to her right and into an area which looked like a combination study and library.
A slight woman looked up slowly finally saying “Ah, you must be Jenny. I believe we agreed we would use only your first name?” she queried rising to greet her guest.
“I am Ms. Lamartiere, your hostess, and I want to welcome you my dear, delighted to finally meet you. I am always excited to welcome our new guests.”
Jenny extended her hand and Ms. Lamartiere took it gently indicating they could sit on a couch to the left of her huge desk.
They sat and Ms. Lamartiere studied her openly, making what seemed to be a preliminary assessment of her.
“You are very pretty my dear, very pretty indeed. May I offer you water?”
Jenny shook her head gently.
“I have taken the liberty of assigning one of our very best docents to work with you, Mary Lim, she really liked your profile and specifically requested to work with you.
“Here is her profile for you to look over.”
Ms. Lamartiere studied Jenny again, finally saying "I hope you don't mind but Mary Lim will start you off today, and, as you might have read in the literature, she will work preparing you.”
Jenny remembered something about "preparation" but not much more.
A slight Asian woman appeared, Jenny followed Ms. Lamartiere’s crooked finger off to her right.
She was a lovely woman, about twenty-five, dressed in white, carrying a towel, and a rather large bag.
“Mary will get you ready for your first session. Welcome, welcome, time is precious. Mary will help you. If there is anything I can do, there is a button on the phone in your room and all you have to do is buzz me or ask Mary Lim to do it.”
Jenny rose and followed Mary Lim to the outer area and up that long stair case toward a room located toward the end.
Inside Mary Lim turned and opened her bag and extracted what looked like a check list.
She said "In there," she said "you get undressed.” indicating a small bathroom off the right of a somewhat large room with a huge, stately, four poster bed in the middle of the room.
“You,” Mary Lim was saying, “had no alcohol, no cigarettes, no drugs in all of last week?”
Jenny remembered those rules and nodded. Mary Lim seemed satisfied.
“You'll find a dressing gown inside there" she said "and you can call me when you are ready. Then I'll come in and take off your make-up.
Chapter Seven
Jenny knew this was part of her preparation and she was ok with it. But the part about removing her make-up she had forgotten about.
She was curious about what Mary Lim would use. She did not bring her own creams and was a little curious about how Mary Lim would go about it.
She took the opportunity to look at her body in the floor length mirror in the bathroom which was tastefully decorated with flowers, some scents floating through the air and a vase stood off to her left filled with jutting Peacock feathers.
Her stood looking at her body in the mirror trying to take an objective look at its good points and not so good points.
She liked her nipples. In cold air they stood erect and huge-had done that her entire life.
In school she would wear athletic bras to flatten them down a bit and at other times because they hardened so easily and often at inconvenient times.
The areola were also large, half-dollar-sized, with small bumps which also seemed to have a life of their own.
In front of her was a lap-top with a note attached. "If you are interested in what other women's breasts look like, compared to your own, press this button."
She did, of course, and watched.
She touched both nipples gently and they sprang to life, enlarging almost instantly, sending a jolt of electricity directly to her vulva and beyond.
They always did that. She liked that they did that and standing there nude seemed to intensify the reaction.
She had always had a strange reaction to vulvas, the ones she had seen in showers, in locker rooms at the gym, because, she imagined becausein junior high a girl pointed to hers giggling saying that she had “bacon strips.”
It had humiliated her so and ever since she seldom looked at herself, even contemplating, at one point the idea of surgery, as some women told of how they knew someone who had had surgery done.
No, she concluded, that was not for her, “bacon strips” or no “bacon strips.”
Her breasts were still level and had a nice round to them something she liked. Once they were described as “buoyant” and the description both pleased her and stuck in her mind all these years.
The tummy was still relatively flat but a small scar which still showed from the ectopic pregnancy and while it had faded over the years it was still distinct from that other surgery which had been done in the exact same spot.
She slid her finger up and down its length remembering the whole episode but then quickly moving it out of her mind.
This ability to stop thinking of things which were upsetting for her was a skill Jenny recognized she had, somethingshe thought everyone had, and only later in life did she realize some people obsessed on past things, never letting them go.
Her thighs came together and seemed to push her "bacon strip" further out than it should, something that continually upset her to the point where she had hid herself as much as possible from men, being embarrassed by it.
The door opened and Mary Lim came in and stood behind her, looking at her in the mirror, holding what looked like a thin brush.
A touching, loving and spirtual insight of the dying process, filled with peace, smiles and starting on their journey, taking me with them as far as I could go, returning back with something I didn't have before. Will be out early in 2010..on Kindle
Goldie's daughter Chili Pepper leaves the Flirting With Food TV show & moves to Portland Oregon as Executive Chef at a new restaurant. But there is a rash of murders, all in the Pettygrove mansion where she lives with roommates.
