When Julian got home from his office, Dana was passed out already on the couch. Her laptop had fallen to the floor, and Facebook was flickering furiously. He let all of that be and set about preparing for tomorrows trip to Salem. First of all, where was it? How far away? He looked it up on Mapquest. If he went up to I68W, it was about 3 \u00bd hours west. If he took the more straight shot, 50W, it would take about 4 hours one way. So what was he going to tell Dana? He also had to think about appearances. There was nothing he could do about his paunch. Was there anything he could do about his appearance at all? What the hell was he going to wear? If he got dressed up in any way, Dana would understand what he was up to, and that would never do. He put some shoes, a shirt and a tie and an old suit jacket in a bag and took these out to the car. That was about the extent of his prep. <\/p>\n
Early the next morning, Julian and Dana met in the kitchen to talk about breakfast. They sipped the coffee that Dana had made earlier and made the decision to just eat at home. Julian paced as Dana scrambled eggs.
\n\t\u201cSay, why don\u2019t you do something useful, and put in some toast?\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK. Toast.\u201d
\nHe found the bread and put two slices into the toaster. He went right back to pacing, waiting for the pop up.
\n\t\u201cYou\u2019re as antsy as you were yesterday, Jules. Didn\u2019t you get anywhere with that book?\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, I did. I figured out how to fix the ending.\u201d
\n\t\u201cHow\u2019s that?\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, I think it fell apart after the part about the camping trip. There has to be a way to get the dude back to the city and back into the realization that it\u2019s not all some colossal waste of time.\u201d Julian was a spectacular bullshitter, and Dana had not read one single word of any of his novels. He could say anything about them really and be believed. Moreover, as soon as he started talking about his fiction, even fiction about his fiction, she promptly stopped listening to him.
\n\t\u201cThat sounds interesting, sweetie.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou know, I think a good long walk in the hills would do me some good. You want to take a walk with me?\u201d There was absolutely no danger that she\u2019d say yes.
\n\t\u201cNo, thanks! I have so much to do. I have to plan classes for next semester.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK, then. I\u2019m going to set out after breakfast and make a day of it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou think you\u2019re going to be able to stand to hike all day in this weather?\u201d
\n\t\u201cSure. I\u2019ll dress warm, and keep moving.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAlright. Here, butter up that toast, slice some tomatoes, hand me the cheese, and let\u2019s eat. You\u2019re gonna need your fortifications.\u201d <\/p>\n
After breakfast, Julian got in the shower and spent more time at it than usual. He shaved quite carefully. He used some of that cheap deodorant. He put on some boots, his long johns and jeans, a chambray shirt, a down vest, and his winter outerwear. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He kissed Dana goodbye and headed out to the car. Once inside it, he sat behind the wheel for a moment and said, \u201cnam myoho rengey kyo.\u201d It had never worked before, but he thought perhaps this time it might. He started the car and started out. He had not gotten to I81N when he began a different sort of chant.
\n\t\u201cThis has got to be the stupidest thing that I have ever set out to do!\u201d He said out loud to the empty passenger\u2019s seat, while pounding his palm on the steering wheel. He said this so many times en route that he forgot what the words meant. He had it reduced to just \u2018stupid, stupid, stupid\u2019 by the time he cleared 68 at Morgantown and headed south on 79 to 50 and to Salem.<\/p>\n
Over in Parkersburg, Lana knew the way to Salem blindfolded. She had only to think of what to wear. She had already put herself together in her mind; she didn\u2019t want to humiliate the man. She would dress as she would for a square dance. She found her old calico skirt and her most unbuttonable white blouse. Her breasts would be held as aloft as they could be by a tan sports bra. Her cotton panties were fresh from the laundry and she perfumed herself with just a hint of White Shoulders. She blow-dried her auburn tresses. She knew he\u2019d be expecting a blonde. Amy was a blonde, but Lana was not. Her hair was much longer than it had been when the shot of Amy with the scones had been taken. (Scott had wanted a blonde, and she had indulged him for a while.) She wanted to be there when he got there so she could see him arrive as she had done in her fantasy. She wanted to be good and warm. She left two hours to do her hours drive. At two thirty sharp, she put on her fur fringed overcoat, a nice long yellow scarf, a pull over wool cap, and the old kid gloves, and got into her car, the little black Honda. She felt elated, even ecstatic. She had, as she planned to, gotten into the iPhone\u2019s menus and disabled the GPS. She didn\u2019t need driving directions, and Scott didn\u2019t need to know her whereabouts. She put the Pixies on the Bluetooth iPod and sang along with \u201cThis Monkey\u2019s Gone to Heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n
Having cursed and fretted his way to Clarksburg, Julian took a pee break and changed into his coffee date uniform. It was now about 3:30 and Salem was about a half hour away. He bought a pack of chewing gum at the mini mart. There was no point in letting bad breath wreck this foolish quest. He filled up his tank with 87 octane. He twisted the kinks out of his back and got back behind the wheel. <\/p>\n
Lana arrived in Salem at 3:50. Her driving was lead footed. She pulled into the angled space where once she\u2019d had a mechanical problem. She was not particularly superstitious. She got out and strolled down to the good old Fireplace Lounge. In the pale afternoon light, the place was empty but for a few drunks at the bar. None of these men looked in her direction. This was perfect. She ordered a martini when the barista appeared. She mentioned that she was expecting someone, and accepted a pair of menus. She rearranged herself at the table so that she could watch the door.<\/p>\n
At 4:10, Julian pulled up next to the black Honda. He recognized Lana\u2019s car from Amy\u2019s description of it on \u201cTells All.\u201d She had told plenty. Now, he sat behind the wheel of the silent car and groped for the gumption to open the door to what he considered a dubious destiny. At 4:25, he did it. He walked down the street to the Fireplace. His heart was pounding in his chest.<\/p>\n
He walked in and there she was. Not blonde, but lovely and recognizable instantly. She rose, and clasped her hands in front of her. She took a few steps away from her table in his direction. He saw that she was wearing her calico. Did she intend to dance? She was small. She curtseyed. He smiled at her and bowed. A few steps now separated them. He took them slowly. He opened his palms to her, showing her the openness and vulnerability that he felt to the tips of his fingers. She spoke to him first,
\n\t\u201cJulian Gray, I assume.\u201d
\n\t\u201cLana Andrews?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou found me.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI found you. It was not hard to do.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, my god, Julian. You look exactly as I imagined. You are my off duty professor come to life right down to the jacket and tie.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAnd you are dressed for the square dance.\u201d
\n\t\u201cHow well you read your Amy!\u201d
\n\t\u201cWell, yes. I read my Amy.\u201d
\n\t\u201cPlease, sir, sit!\u201d
\nThey sat opposite one another at her table. The barista came and he ordered his neat rum. At this she raised her eyes.
\n\t\u201cNot fooling around, are we?\u201d
\nHe laughed.
\n\t\u201cWe\u2019re most certainly being foolhardy.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, put a sock in it, prof. It\u2019s good to meet, to see you. I\u2019ve been longing for this moment from the moment I knew you existed.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhich was what, two weeks ago?\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, it was more than that. It was after I put that piece in Marietta Connection.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes. I thought that was your first mistake.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou may be right. What is my second mistake?\u201d
\n\t\u201cSitting here right now.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSee, I just don\u2019t see it that way at all.\u201d
\n\t\u201cObviously.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWell, tell me what you see.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ve read the script, Lana. I can\u2019t say I can play the part you wrote. I have to find my own lines.\u201d
\nHe thought. He looked at her. He saw her small round face, her intense blue eyes, her thin lips, and her pink skin. She was a very fine looking woman, and as he looked he began to relax. He decided to tell her what he saw and also what he felt.
\n\t\u201cI see a conundrum. I see a small woman with an intense gaze. I see a ferocious spirit behind that gaze. I see a fierce intelligence. I know I\u2019ve certainly met my match. I had been lost to myself, despite the ministrations of my wife the shrink. I read your blog and it opened my eyes again to language. The conundrum is your vulnerability. I thought Amy was a bird among the cats. The paw lashed out, that was that. In reality, you are not so fragile. And in reality, you are not blonde.\u201d
\nLana laughed.
\n\t\u201cNo, not blonde. I am fragile, though. I have a big heart. It can hurt.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAll of a sudden, I want to dance with you.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWe can dance if you like. There\u2019s a jukebox in this place.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s OK. I just thought I\u2019d say the first thing that came to mind.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI see a man that is aging beautifully, Julian.\u201d
\nHe blushed.
\n\t\u201cI\u2019m old enough to be your father.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI have a perfectly good father. He\u2019d like you.\u201d
\n\t\u201cTell me about your father, Lana.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, Dad\u2019s name is Derek. Derek Andersen. He\u2019s like you in that he\u2019s a writer. He runs a small press. He\u2019s struggled for years at it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo you got your gift of gab from him?\u201d
\n\t\u201cWho knows about these things. I could have it in my blood, yeah.\u201d
\nThe barista came around and asked if they wanted something from the grill. Julian looked at Lana and raised his eybrows.
\n\t\u201cYeah, we do. I do. I want some of your shrimp cocktail. Maybe also some chips.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou, sir?\u201d Asked the barista.
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll have a bowl of fruit if you\u2019ve got it. Otherwise, I\u2019ll have some chicken fingers. Some fries.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAll right. I\u2019ll be right back with the shrimp and your chips.\u201d
\nThere was a pause, and Lana leaned back regarding Julian. She was now quite sure that this man was worth the risk. She saw his vulnerability, certainly. She was mindful of his wife, the shrink. But she also had her problem on the domestic side.
\n\t\u201cJulian.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes, Lana?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI feel that I\u2019ve known you longer than I actually have.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWords will do that to you.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAre you sorry you came?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo, of course not! I am really glad to see you. You are all that I had hoped. Really. You may not realize it, but you are a very sexy older man.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSexy? Is that useful in a friendship?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI was wondering if you were sure about that.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI won\u2019t deny that I find you hideously attractive.\u201d
\nAt this, she reached out to his hand across the table. She put her hand on top of his. Her touch was very warm. She looked into his eyes, which now met her gaze head on.
\n\t\u201cAre you sure you want this to be platonic?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo, not sure?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo. Not sure. I don\u2019t know where I\u2019m finding the courage to say that.\u201d
\nHe did not do anything with the hand under hers. She felt him tremble slightly. She took her hand away and sighed.
\n\t\u201cTell me about Dana. She sounds like a fine woman.\u201d
\n\t\u201cShe\u2019s that. She\u2019s a great teacher.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIs she sexy?\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh yeah. She\u2019s very sexy.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo you two get it on all the time?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo. I have to admit, we tend to get wasted and pass out.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s too funny.\u201d
\nHe wasn\u2019t laughing.
\n\t\u201cIt gets in the way of getting it on.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI can\u2019t get it on with Scott unless I\u2019m fucked up at this point.\u201d
\n\t\u201cJeez. Scott is your husband, I assume.\u201d
\n\t\u201cJulian, I know you know his name. Let\u2019s quit the tap dance.\u201d
\n\t\u201cRight.\u201d
\nThe barista again interrupted with plates. They nibbled. Julian began to wonder what the endpoint of this meeting could be. Lana had some ideas.
\n\t\u201cJulian, I know of a little hotel up the road.\u201d
\n\t\u201cA no tell motel.\u201d
\n\t\u201cExactly.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAs I said on the phone, you are one intense and determined woman.\u201d
\nShe laughed.
\n\t\u201cI am that.\u201d
\n\t\u201cCan we just talk?\u201d
\n\t\u201cSure. I don\u2019t mean we won\u2019t be talking. We\u2019ve always been talking. But this little dive is going to fill up pretty soon. I\u2019d like to sit down with you in a room. If I want to do that, we\u2019ll have to rent one.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK. Let\u2019s finish up here and go to your motel and rent a place to hang for a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was the paying and the suiting back up for winter. Lana sunk down into her little ride, and Julian climbed up into his. He followed her down 50 to the dingiest little hell hole imaginable. She got to the front desk where a stooped fellow in red flannel took her name, which in the tradition of such ventures became Smith. Julian paid cash out of pocket and gave the clerk his license plate number. They drove their cars around to the little lot and hooked up at the door to room 15. She took the key and opened the door. He followed her in. She found the light switch. They took their coats and such off and hung them up. Lana stood beside the bed. She held out her hand to him. He took it and pulled her to him as if to swing her ballroom style. Once in his arms, she embraced him. He was, she knew from this, quite aroused. She understood from this that though he was struggling for composure and distance, not comfortable with her assertion of her prerogatives as a woman, and, for the sake of his marriage, hoping to be \u2018just friends,\u2019 in the important biological sense, already hers for the taking. She was also aroused, and had been since she saw him enter the bar. She had no such reservations. She was married, and so was he. She wanted to have an affair. Her hands found the small of his back and she stroked him there. They were not getting much talking done<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When Julian got home from his office, Dana was passed out already on the couch. Her laptop had fallen to the floor, and Facebook was flickering furiously. He let all of that be and set about preparing for tomorrows trip to Salem. First of all, where was it? How far away? He looked it up on Mapquest. If he went up to I68W, it was about 3 \u00bd hours west. If he took the more straight shot, 50W, it would take about 4 hours one way. So what was he going to tell Dana? He also had to think about appearances. There was nothing he could do about his paunch. Was there anything he could do about his appearance at all? What the hell was he going to wear? If he got dressed up in any way, Dana would understand what he was up to, and that would never do. He put some shoes, a shirt and a tie and an old suit jacket in a bag and took these out to the car. That was about the extent of his prep. Early the next morning, Julian and Dana met in the kitchen to talk about breakfast. They sipped the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-125","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapters","comments-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/125","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=125"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/125\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=125"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=125"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=125"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}